Day.4. Cafe and Canteen.

“Isn’t she home?” Naaz asked.

“She had a call from work—said she’d be back soon,” Saba replied.

Just then, the door opened, and Aiza walked in.

“Here she comes,” her mother said.

As they ate, Naaz leaned forward. “So, Aiza, what are you doing now?”

“I’m doing a diploma in paramedics and working as an assistant at City Hospital.”

“Wow… working and studying? That must be tough!”

“Not really,” Aiza said with a small smile. “Most of what we study is connected to what we already do as medical specialists and assistants. It works out somehow.”

Naaz’s curiosity deepened. “And what exactly do you do?”

“We’re like emergency doctors,” Aiza explained. “We handle first aid, stabilizing patients, and everything that needs to be done before actual treatment starts.”

“That sounds like a job that needs a lot of tolerance,” Naaz said, impressed.

They continued talking about her work until Aiza’s phone buzzed on the table.

“Sorry, excuse me,” she said, stepping aside to take the call.

When she returned, she quickly grabbed her keys and coat.

“Hey! Where are you going so late?” her mother asked.

“I’m sorry, Ma. My colleague needs to discuss tomorrow’s work shifts. I’ll be back early,” she said, rushing to the door.

“At least finish your food!” her mother called after her, but the door had already closed.

---

IT was late when Aiza finally returned. The house was quiet, her aunt already gone. She slipped off her shoes and placed the keys gently on the table—only for the lights to snap on.

“Ma?”

Her mother stood there, arms folded. “Aiza! Do you know what time it is? And leaving your food like that, making your aunt wait for you… that’s not good manners.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to. It was an urgent meeting. There won’t be a next time, okay? Now… can we sleep?” Aiza tried to soften her voice.

---

The next morning, on her way to City Hospital, Aiza spotted Naaz by the roadside with her children, standing beside a car.

“Morning, Aunt. Is something wrong?”

Naaz looked relieved. “The tyre’s punctured.”

“Don’t worry. There’s a mechanic shop across the main road. I’ll send someone here and drop the kids at school. Do you want me to drop you at your work too?”

“No, dear, I’ll wait for the mechanic. Thanks for taking the kids.”

Aiza nodded and carried out the plan before heading to work.

---

That afternoon, Omu, after his university classes, stopped by a café with his friends. He took the window seat, idly sipping coffee, when something across the street caught his attention.

Through the glass, he could see the hospital canteen. A young woman in scrubs sat there with a paper cup, scrolling through her phone. Her focus was intense, but when a colleague said something, she laughed—a light, unguarded smile that made her look entirely different from the first time he’d met her.

“Omar, are you listening?” his friend asked.

He nodded absently, but when he turned back to look for her, she was gone.

From then on, he started visiting the café more often, always choosing the same seat, scanning for her. Sometimes she was there; sometimes she wasn’t.

---

One day, while taking his order from the cafe, he ran into her.

“Hi, Omu? How are you? How’s uni? Settling in okay?” she asked warmly.

“…Yes… um… bye,” he mumbled, placing his order and going to his friends.

Aiza got confused by his action but decided not to think too much about it.

---

Another afternoon, after finishing his tests, Omu went to the café again. She was there, opposite the street, seated as usual in the canteen. Soon, her collogues joined her, chatting animatedly. The boy sat a little too close for Omu’s dislike. He watched as they tried to convince her about something, but she kept shaking her head. Then, she turned—her gaze sweeping in his direction.

For a moment, their eyes met.

But there was no recognition in hers. She simply turned back to her friends.

Something in his chest sank. Without another glance, he stood and walked out.

Later that night, he buried himself in his books, but that moment—her eyes on him, yet not seeing him—lingered in his mind like an echo he couldn’t shake.

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