As Yasmin continued to chatter away on the phone, I couldn't help but roll my eyes, stuffing another bite of white glazed donuts I had whipped into my mouth. Who knew being a nurse could be so stressful? Besides the obvious life-and-death situations, there's also the added pressure of dealing with nosy friends who think they know everything about your love life.
I chuckled to myself as I listened to Yasmin's voice on the phone, her words mixing with my munching. She always had a way of getting straight to the point, even if it meant interrupting my sweet snack time.
"Come on, spill the beans, Aisha," she persisted, her tone teasing. "Who's the mystery guy that's got you all flustered?"
I choked on my mouthful of sweets, coughing and sputtering as I tried to respond. "What are you talking about?" I managed to wheeze out between fits of coughing.
Yasmin's laughter echoed through the phone. "Oh, come on, Aisha. I know you better than you know yourself."
I rolled my eyes, pretending to be engrossed in the patient data on my computer screen. "No one's got me flustered," I mumbled around a mouthful of food. "I'm just... enjoying my break, that's all."
Yasmin let out an exaggerated sigh. "You're impossible, you know that?" she said, exasperation evident in her voice. "But seriously, spill. I need some juicy gossip to get me through this boring case."
I snorted, almost choking on my food. "Gossip? Yasmin, you're worse than a high schooler," I teased, unable to suppress a grin. "And there's nothing to spill. I just bumped into him, that's all."
There was a brief pause on the other end of the line before Yasmin spoke again, her voice laced with skepticism. "Uh-huh, sure. Just bumped into him, huh? And I suppose you accidentally pulled his tie and stumbled into his arms?" she quipped, her sarcasm dripping like honey.
I felt a flush creeping up my cheeks at the memory, but I brushed it off with a nonchalant shrug. "Yeah, well, accidents happen," I muttered, my attempt at nonchalance failing miserably.
Yasmin laughed, clearly enjoying my discomfort. "Sounds like someone's got a crush."
I shot her a glare. "I do not have a crush. I have better things to do than waste my time pining over some arrogant jerk who thinks he's God's gift to humanity."
I rolled my eyes, refusing to dignify her comment with a response. Instead, I focused on finishing my snack, determined to put the conversation behind me. After all, I had patients to attend to, and they were far more deserving of my attention than some overgrown man-child with a superiority complex.
Yasmin laughed, her voice echoing through the phone. "Oh, Aisha, you're too cute when you try to play it cool," she said, amusement evident in her tone. "But seriously, spill. I want details."
I scanned the records, checking for any anomalies or irregularities that might indicate a problem. Call it paranoia, but I like to stay on top of things, especially regarding my patients' health and well-being.
Thankfully, it seemed like smooth sailing so far. No major accidents or traumas to report, just the usual assortment of minor ailments and routine check-ups. I breathed a sigh of relief, grateful that my patients were all doing well.
I sighed, knowing there was no escaping Yasmin's relentless interrogation. "Fine, fine," I relented, rolling my eyes. "His name is... well, I don't actually know his name."
Yasmin gasped dramatically. "A mystery man? How scandalous!" she exclaimed, her excitement palpable even through the phone. "You have to find out more about him, Aisha. It's practically fate!"
I chuckled, shaking my head at her enthusiasm. "Yeah, we'll see," I said, faking it. "But for now, I've got patients to check on. Love you, Yas." She responded, "Love you too, and text me later, girly."
As I hung up the phone, I couldn't help but smile at Yasmin's antics. She always knew how to brighten my day, even when I was knee-deep in work. But just as I was about to delve back into my patient data, my phone rang again, with my mother's name flashing on the screen.
I groaned inwardly, knowing that a call from my mom meant trouble – or, at the very least, a lecture about eating too many sweets. With a resigned sigh, I answered the call, bracing myself for whatever she had to say.
"Hi, Ammu! (mom)," I greeted, trying to sound casual despite the impending doom I sensed in her call.
"Aisha, Shona (my dear), how are you?" my mom's voice came through the phone, warm and familiar.
"I'm good, ma," I replied, trying to keep it short and sweet. There is no need to give her any ammunition for a lengthy lecture.
My mom's tone turned slightly stern. "Are you eating well, beta? (child)" she asked, concern evident in her voice.
I rolled my eyes, resisting the urge to scoff. "Yes, Ma, I'm eating fine," I assured her, though I knew she wouldn't believe me.
"Are you sure?" she pressed, her maternal instincts kicking into overdrive.
"Just busy with work," I said, mumbling.
"Good, good," she said, her voice brightening. "But remember, don't forget to take care of yourself, okay? You've been working too hard lately."
I stifled a laugh at her motherly concern. "I'm fine, Ma, really," I reassured her, even though I knew arguing was pointless.
"Okay, okay," she conceded, her tone skeptical. "But just remember, too much work and no play makes Aisha a dull girl."
I chuckled at her attempt at humor. "I'll keep that in mind," I promised, knowing full well that I would probably forget as soon as I hung up the phone.
"So, what are you doing right now, beta?" my mom asked, her tone casual.
"Oh, you know, just going over some patient files," I replied, trying to sound nonchalant.
"Patient files, huh?" she mused, her tone becoming more curious. "Anything interesting?"
I hesitated momentarily, wondering how much to share with my mom. "Well, there's this one patient who keeps insisting that chocolate is the best medicine," I confessed, unable to suppress a laugh.
My mom chuckled on the other end of the line. "Sounds like someone I know," she teased, her voice tinged with amusement.
I rolled my eyes, knowing exactly who she was referring to. "Yeah, yeah, I get it. I have a sweet tooth," I retorted, unable to hide the smile in my voice.
There was a brief pause before my mom spoke again, her tone turning serious. "Beta, I know I tease you about your love for sweets, but I just want you to be careful," she said, her voice filled with genuine concern. "You never know what kind of trouble you might get into."
I sighed, feeling a pang of guilt for worrying her. "Don't worry, Mom, I'll be fine," I reassured her, my tone sincere. "I promise to stay out of trouble."
My mom chuckled a hint of mischief in her tone. "Speaking of trouble, did I tell you about when your uncle Shafiq accidentally dyed his hair bright pink?"
I laugh at the mental image, my mom's stories never failing to entertain. "No way!" I exclaimed, wiping away tears of mirth. "How did that happen?"
My mom tossed into the story, her voice animated as she recounted the hilarious accident. Apparently, my uncle had mistaken a bottle of hair dye for shampoo and ended up with a neon pink mop atop his head.
I grinned, knowing that my mom was fishing for gossip. "Well, there was this one patient who claimed she sprained her ankle while trying to breakdance in her room," I said, unable to contain my amusement. "Turns out she was just trying to impress her crush."
She laughed, the sound warm and infectious. "Kids these days," she said, shaking her head in mock disapproval. "Always trying to show off."
I chuckled, enjoying our banter. "Tell me about it," I agreed, feeling lighter with each passing moment.
But just as I was about to delve deeper into the conversation, my mom's tone turned serious.
"Aisha, there's something I need to tell you," she said, her voice grave.
I perked up, intrigued by her sudden change in tone. "What's up?"
"We're going to visit Mrs. Khan on Friday," my mom announced, her voice tinged with excitement.
I frowned, trying to recall who Mrs. Khan was. "Wait, which one is Mrs. Khan again?"
"She's the grandmother of the Khan family, the one who invited us to their party last Saturday," my mom reminded me, her words jogging my memory.
"Oh, right," I said, the memory returning to me in a rush. "The party with all the amazing desserts."
My mom laughed, the sound warm and familiar. "Yes, that's the one. Mrs. Khan was in the hospital recently, so we will visit her and the family to show our support."
I frowned, worried for the woman who shared the same name as one of my patients. "Is she okay?" I asked, my voice betraying my concern.
"She's stable for now, but she could use all the prayers she can get," my mom replied solemnly. "It'll be good to catch up with everyone," she said. "And who knows, maybe they'll have more delicious desserts."
I grinned, looking forward to the sweet treats awaiting me at the Khan household. "Count me in," I said, excitement bubbling in my chest.
With that, we said our goodbyes, and I hung up the phone, feeling lighter than before.
But as I set my phone down, a nagging feeling tugged at the corners of my mind, like a persistent itch that refused to go away. There was something I was forgetting, something important, but I couldn't quite put my finger on it for the life of me.
In my head, I thought, there was a Mrs. Khan as one of my patients..is it her? That can't be right? Nah, it can't be her. I mean, there are so many Mrs. Khans out there! What I didn't know, I felt like I was forgetting something. Nothing terrible won't happen, right? But seriously, what do I need to recall..? I swear it's going to be the death of myself. I feel like I'm forgetting somebody, though.
I shook my head, trying to dispel the unease that had settled over me like a dark cloud. "Stop being paranoid, Aisha," I scolded myself, my voice echoing in the empty room.
But try as I might, I couldn't shake the feeling that something was off, creeping just beyond my consciousness's edges. It was like trying to grasp at smoke – no matter how hard I tried, it slipped through my fingers, leaving me empty-handed and frustrated.
With a sigh, I pushed the troubling thoughts to the back of my mind, focusing instead on the task.
My phone buzzed with a new message, pulling me out of my daydreaming. I glanced at the screen to see a notification from a colleague asking if I could cover her shift tomorrow. I groaned, realizing my plans for a relaxing evening were officially dashed.
"Sure, because my life wasn't hectic enough already," I muttered, typing a quick reply. "No problem. I'll take care of it."
As I hit send, another message popped up on my screen, this time from Yasmin. "Hey girl, wanna grab dinner tonight?" she wrote, accompanied by a string of drooling emojis.
I grinned, relieved at the idea of some much-needed girl time. "Absolutely!" I replied, my fingers flying over the keyboard. "I could use a break from reality. Meet you at our usual spot?"
Before Yasmin could respond, my stomach growled loudly, reminding me that I hadn't eaten since breakfast. "Okay, okay, I get it," I muttered, glaring at my unfaithful stomach. "Food first, then plans."
•••
Hey readers, what's cooking?
Is Mrs. Khan the same person Aisha's mom mentioned on the phone, or is it just a coincidence? And what's with Aisha's nagging feeling of forgetting something? Could it be related to Mrs. Khan or something entirely different?🍬🕵️♀️