"Roosa! Wait!"

I freeze on the stairs as one of my favorite voices in the world reaches my ears. I bound up the stairs without watching my steps and fly into Afshi's arms.

"It's been too long," she says, her voice muffled as she buries her face into the crook of my neck. "Which ward are you assigned to today?

I tighten my arms around her as I realize it's been a while since I've last seen her. My face burns in disappointment and dejection as I tell her what happened. She responds by squeezing me even harder. "I've heard of that before," she murmurs sympathetically. "It's why Prince Rafay and his siblings never went to primary and secondary school with us even though we are around the same age. They had a private tutor. I failed to remember that you would be in the same category as them after marriage."

"How can this be happening?" I manage to say, my voice choked with emotion as tears stream down my face. Losing my family, my home, even my dignity—all of that was devastating, but this feels like the ultimate punishment. Not being able to obtain my medical license. It's a cruel blow, one that invalidates years of hard work, tears, financial sacrifice, and dedication. Medicine isn't just a career for me; it's my passion, my lifelong dream, and now it feels like it's slipping away from me.

Afshi sighs in dismay and rubs my back. "I think it was a safety concern. Prince Rafay did try to attend a public law school but he quickly became a target for blackmailers."

"Political law does not require him to finish training in a public place, but medicine does," I reply woefully. "Afshi, I can't not practice medicine. Ishq hai apne kaam se."

"I know, and we'll figure something out, meri pyaari dost," She says, gently wiping the tears off of my face. "I can't bear seeing you like this, let's talk about something else."

I pull back and study Afshi's face. It appears sallow, with her cheekbones more defined than usual, which is concerning given her already remarkable bone structure.

Frowning, I say, "Afshaneh Rizwan, you're not on a diet, are you?"

She lets out a breathy laugh. "No! Randah has been working me a lot, that's all. In between rotations and the diner, I've barely had time to eat or sleep."

My heart jolts painfully. After Afshi's family had died in the war, Randah, her estranged khala, was given sole responsibility of her. It's safe to say that she hasn't been treated like a niece. More like a servant worker.

"You know you can always come stay with me at the mehel," I suggest, squeezing her shoulders. "It's too quiet and empty there."

Afshi cups my face with her hands. "Yes, my beautiful behen, and I love you for that. It's not much longer until I graduate and start practicing. I think I can hold up until then."

"I was saying it more for my sake than yours. Main wahan rehe kar paagal ho rahi hoon!"

She lets out a hearty laugh and places her arm in the crook of mine. "Fine, I'll come over today since I got off early. Let me get my things from my locker."

Afshi and I race down the stairwell like we have always done and burst through the doors of the main floor, panting discourteously.

I stop short when I see Zohair standing at the front desk, engaged in an animated conversation with the receptionist.

Immediately, I pivot on my heel and stride swiftly back toward the emergency exit hidden in the stairwell. Under no circumstances do I want to have an interaction with Zohair, especially since it has already been an emotionally taxing day.

Freedom is so close, almost within reach as my hand grasps the handle of the cement door. But just as I prepare to push it open, I hear the unmistakable voice of the one person I was hoping to avoid today

"Mahroosa."

I purse my lips in annoyance.

Wasn't my day already bad enough?

"Zohair," I say, taking care to devoid my face of any emotion. Our last encounter ended on an unpleasant note, but I cannot bear to intentionally hurt his feelings. After all, we spent our entire childhood together.

He runs a hand through his combed hair, displacing the carefully styled strands. "I—," he starts. He takes a deep breath before continuing. "How are you?"

I hold his gaze for a moment, letting the silence linger before responding flatly, "Fine."

Zohair's confidence wavers, clearly rattled by my demeanor. "You must be miserable," he ventures tentatively.

"I just told you I'm fine," I reiterate, a hint of annoyance creeping into my tone.

He hesitates, clearly unsettled by my response. "Yes, but are you really? Or are you just saying that because it's a reflex?" he asks softly.

"Yes, I really am," I assert, unwilling to divulge any more about my situation to him.

Zohair raises his hands in surrender. "Okay, okay, I don't believe you, but I'll take your word for it. Just remember, I'm just a message away. If you need me, I'll be right here waiting for you."

"Thank you for the offer, I don't take help from people who like to wrongfully label their friends," I say sharply, reminding him of his offensive accusation.

Zohair offers a rueful smile and replies, "I'm sorry, I was just trying to protect you. The Prince is not a good man, Roosa, I can get you out of there. Just say the word."

My chest aches as I realize he is trying to justify his sickening actions from the night of my Haldi, no sign of an apology in sight. "I don't need your help."

A fleeting emotion flickers in his eyes, too brief for me to decipher.

"One day, you're going to need my help, and even if you're too proud to ask me, I'll still come to take you away from whatever torture you're going through," he says with a tone of finality. "We're meant to be together, and I'm going to do whatever I can to get you back."

I open my mouth to counter when Afshi bursts through the doors. She halts when she sees Zohair crowding me against the emergency exit.

"Oh great, I'm going to have to disinfect myself again! This is the third time I've had close contact with filth today, the first being foot fungus," Afshi says loudly with sarcasm flooding her voice. "Although, that was definitely preferable to this."

I suppress a laugh as Zohair shoots her a disdainful look and exits the stairwell. "Oh, how I've missed your humor," I say, draping my arm around her. We leave the hospital, not bothering to greet anyone else or acknowledge the stares I was receiving.

She laughs and then sighs wistfully. "I wish things were the way they used to be. Remember how close we were? Staying overnight in the library to study for finals, celebrating with doodh patti chai when we passed."

"Yes, and the many Zohair made a pass at me. Remember that?," I remind her pointedly.

She shakes her head disappointedly. "I don't know what's gotten into him. He's so nasty to be around these days, I can hardly examine one patient with him without wanting to gouge his eyes out. I'm telling you, it's gotten worse after you got married."

I grimace, remembering that I hadn't told her about the Haldi incident. "Yeah, you should've seen him at my Haldi. The things he said, I didn't even know he was capable of thinking like that."

"What things?" Afshi asks, latching onto my arm and digging her nails into my skin. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I was busy getting married?"

"Right, sorry. Continue." We turn on to Darmiyani Sarakh and walk leisurely down the street, not bothering to cut through the bazaar.

"Well, for starters, he declared his love for me."

"Gross."

"It was awkward and uncomfortable. You know how I am with these things."

"Yeah, and it's gross."

I smack her arm playfully. "You only say that because you're afraid of it."

"Untrue. I say it because it truly is revolting. Imagine giving up your freedom to be with someone. Why would anyone subject themselves to that?"

I frown. "I mean, I can't really speak because my situation is different, but I'm sure love isn't supposed to be like that."

Love is supposed to be about compromises, and undying support. Love is supposed to be instant happiness when you see that special person. Love is supposed to be a lifetime of excitement and fun.

But, I don't tell Afshi these things because saying them out loud might instill very dangerous feelings of hope in me.

"Whatever, I'm still going to go by my mantra." She stops for dramatic effect and flourishes her hands. "Love is for the weak."

I raise an eyebrow at her, glancing around to see if anyone heard her. "Believe whatever your heart desires, meri behen."

"Anyway, keep going! What did you do after? Did you dramatically declare your love for him too?"

"If I were in love with him, I wouldn't be married to Rafay, would I?"

"Knowing you, you probably would. Sacrificing your happiness is like a reflex to you; you do it without thinking." Afshi wraps an arm around me and gives me a side hug. "I don't need love or marriage when I've got an amazing sister like you."

* * * * *

A knock on the door startles Afshi and I. Currently, we're reading medical journals while hanging upside down off of my bed, our favorite unconventional study method. Despite not having any exams to prepare for, courtesy of the royal family's generous laws, I still enjoy delving into anything medical-related. Afshi, however, is cramming for her upcoming medical licensing exam in three months, determined to absorb as much knowledge as possible under the weight of her impending stress.

"Can I come in?" I hear Rukhsaar from the outside.

Afshi and I exchange a quick glance before scrambling to get into a normal position. The hassle leads to both of us tumbling, limbs entangled, and landing in a heap on the ground. An ache spreads through my lower back and my injured ankle throbs from the impact.

I groan from the pain. "It's unlocked."

Rukhsaar pushes the door open and then hesitates when she sees us tangled on the floor. "Are you alright? Do you need me to get Prince Rafay?"

"Absolutely not," I say, groaning again as I attempt to stand up with Afshi. "We're fine, we were just studying."

Rukhsaar drops into a curtsy. "You must be Afshi. I've heard so much about you. I'm Rukhsaar, the mehel cook."

Afshi waves her hand dismissively. "Please, no formalities. I'm just your regular diner waitress."

"You're in the food industry too?" Rukhsaar asks, her eyes lighting up in excitement.

"Not exactly," Afshi says, her disdain for her job evident in her tone. "I'm just the server. I work at my khala's diner, which she runs with her two money-leeching pests."

"It's still a job, right? Some of the wealthiest people were left jobless and homeless after the war," Rukhsaar says softly.

"Ever the optimist," I reply, offering her a box of namak parey, which we were snacking from earlier. She takes a few and pops them into her mouth, a small smile appearing on her face.

"I haven't had these since I was a child!" She grabs a few more and happily plants herself on my bed.

I push the container to her. "Take the whole thing. These were a staple in my house, so I've had them quite often."

Rukhsaar smiles with gratitude, taking the box into her lap. "I heard what happened at Rashid Jahan Hospital. It's a pity they can't let you work. I mean, if anything you could be a mehel doctor, right? It would be better than nothing."

"News travels fast," Afshi mutters.

I sigh tiredly and run a hand through my disheveled braid. "Yes, but in order to be able to practice, I would need to take the medical licensing exam, which I can't do if I don't finish my rotations, and I can't finish my rotations because of that abominable law!"

A rustling sound outside the room causes me to freeze. The door handle turns, prompting me to do a quick survey of the room. Afshi has resumed her previous position lying upside down off the bed, while Rukhsaar now lounges comfortably against the pillows, munching on namak paarey with the sheets pulled up to her chin.

Before I can signal anything to them, the door opens and Rafay peers into the room.

I scramble to find my dupatta, but by the time I locate it, he's already inside. "I'm indecent," I blurt out, slapping my hands onto my head in an attempt to cover my hair.

"I'm your husband," he responds, throwing me a questioning look, nodding towards my hands.

I grab a random scarf from my closet and loosely throw it on. "On paper."

His eyes wander to Rukhsaar, who sits frozen with a namak para halfway to her open mouth. He raises an eyebrow and the hair on my arms stands up. "Shouldn't you be preparing dinner? Isn't that what I pay you for?" he questions, his tone cutting.

Ashamed, she cringes and scurries off of the bed. I quickly grab her arm before she can escape. "Stay. You deserve a night off," I insist

Clearly uncomfortable, Rukhsaar looks back and forth between us, attempting to free her arm from my grasp. "He's right, I should be fixing supper, I don't know what I was thinking," she mumbles, eager to retreat.

"Are you offering to make my dinner?" Rafay asks me, ignoring her, his eyes roaming over my face languidly.

"If you give Rukhsaar a free evening, then yes," I reply coolly.

He meets my gaze with a level stare. "It better be palatable. I trust you won't try anything devious. You wouldn't want your family to suffer any more consequences," he says in a low, slightly threatening voice. Stepping back, he puts some distance between us, and I realize how close we had gotten.

"I expect dinner in an hour," he declares as pulls the door open and steps outside.

Words to be Defined

Ishq hai apne kaam se - I love my work (very loose translation, sentences in Urdu often carry more weight and emotion than in English)

Meri pyaari dost - my lovely friend

Meri behen - my sister

Khala - aunt (specifically, mother's sister, or mother's female cousin)

Main wahan rehe kar paagal ho rahi hoon - I'm going crazy living there! (paagal is also used as an insult, I will be using it later on so you can see how it plays into context)

Doodh patti chai - traditional South Asian tea which consists of just milk, tea, and sugar (no water)

Namak parey - a type of South Asian snack that is savory and crunchy