Mina barely moved from her sister's bedside. The monitors beeped in steady rhythm, but every sound felt like a countdown. Her fingers clutched Mariam's pale hand as if sheer willpower could drag her back to consciousness.
Adam stood by the doorway, hands in his pockets, watching quietly. He'd told himself he'd leave after arranging things with Hassan, but somehow his feet wouldn't obey. Something about Mina's silent vigil wouldn't let him walk away.
"You should rest," he said finally.
Her head lifted, strands of hair slipping from beneath her scarf. "Rest?" She gave a broken laugh. "How do you rest when the only family you have might not wake up?"
Adam hesitated. He understood that kind of fear more than he liked to admit. "I'm not saying forget her. Just… breathe. Even for a minute."
Mina shook her head stubbornly. "If I close my eyes, I'll see her lying here. I can't."
Her voice cracked. Adam's chest tightened again.
He crossed the room slowly, dragging a chair closer. "Then let me sit with you. You don't have to do this alone."
Mina turned to him sharply. "Why?"
Adam blinked. "Why what?"
"Why are you here? Why are you doing all this? You don't know me, you don't know her. You have no reason."
The weight of her stare pinned him. For a second, Adam had no answer. He thought of all the reasons—because he couldn't stomach helplessness, because he'd once lost someone and still carried the sting, because walking away felt like betrayal. But none of those were things you told a stranger.
So he just said, "Because sometimes life puts you in a place where you either walk past… or stop. I stopped."
Mina's lips parted slightly. No words came, but her eyes softened—just a fraction.
They sat in silence for a long time, broken only by the hum of machines.
At last, Mina whispered, "She's all I have. My father died when I was little. My mother… she remarried and left us with our grandmother. Mariam is the only one who makes me feel like I still have a family."
Adam listened, each word carrying the weight of years. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "Then we fight for her. Together."
Mina's head whipped toward him again, disbelief flooding her face. "We?"
"Yes," Adam said simply. "Until she opens her eyes, until she's fine—I'm here."
For a long moment, Mina just stared at him. Then her eyes shimmered, and a tear slipped free, though this time it wasn't only from despair.
"Why do I believe you?" she whispered.
Adam gave a small, rueful smile. "Maybe because I don't know how to lie about something like this."
Later that night, Adam found Dr. Hassan in his office.
"You're serious about this?" Hassan asked, arms folded. "The bills aren't light, Adam. You've been struggling yourself."
"I said I'll handle it," Adam replied firmly.
Hassan studied him, then sighed. "You haven't changed. Still jumping headfirst into other people's battles."
Adam smirked faintly. "And you're still complaining when you know it's the right thing."
Hassan shook his head but reached for the paperwork. "Fine. But don't come crying to me when this turns your life upside down."
Adam glanced through the glass wall back toward Mina's room. Her silhouette was bent over her sister, unmoving but resolute.
"Maybe my life needs turning," he murmured.
By dawn, Mina had finally dozed off in the chair, head resting against Mariam's bed. Adam had never planned to stay that long, but he found himself still sitting across the room, watching her shoulders rise and fall with shallow breaths.
For the first time since he'd met her, she wasn't crying. She looked peaceful, vulnerable even, as if some invisible weight had shifted, even if just for a moment.
Adam rubbed his eyes. He should leave now, before questions formed, before this stranger's burden rooted itself any deeper into his life.
He stood, adjusting his bag, ready to slip out quietly. But as he reached the door, Mariam's fingers twitched.
The faintest movement.
Adam froze. He turned slowly, heart hammering. Mina was still asleep, unaware.
"Mariam?" he whispered, though the girl couldn't hear him.
The fingers twitched again, more deliberate this time. The machine beeped a sharper rhythm.
Adam's eyes widened. She's fighting back.
And at that exact moment, Mina stirred awake, blinking in confusion. Her gaze followed Adam's, landing on her sister's hand.
"Mariam?"
Her voice cracked the air like lightning.
Mariam's eyelids fluttered.
Mina gasped, clutching her sister's hand as tears spilled anew—but these were different, wild and desperate with hope.
Adam stood frozen, his chest rising and falling fast. He had come here by accident, or so he thought. But watching Mariam's hand grip her sister's weakly, Adam realized this wasn't chance.
It was the beginning of something neither of them could have imagined.