Chapter 2

Two Weeks later

"Gabby, are you sure you packed enough socks?" Maria, my little sister, chirped from the floor of my bedroom, surrounded by an explosion of clothes, toiletries, and travel essentials. 

I chuckled, glancing around my room which was lit by the soft glow of the setting sun. The air was filled with the comforting scent of mom's cooking from the kitchen, mixed with the distinctive aroma of newly purchased luggage. Outside, the usual evening chorus of our small Mexican town commenced - children playing, the distant chatter of neighbors, dogs barking, and the faint rhythm of a mariachi band practicing somewhere. The familiar sounds were comforting, a reminder of home that I would soon leave behind. 

"I think three pairs should be enough, don't you?" I shot back, folding another shirt into the suitcase. 

At the side of the room, Mom was sitting on the bed, watching us with a soft smile. I could see the lines of pain etched around her eyes, but she was trying to hide it with humor, as always. "She'll be back before you know it, buying all the fancy socks from the Arab markets," she quipped. 

Laughter bubbled up in the room, a sweet respite from the undercurrent of emotions we were all struggling with. I looked around at my family - their laughter, their love, their unending support - and felt a pang of fear mixed with anticipation. 

A sharp knock at the door interrupted our family moment, and in walked Kes, her face flushed with excitement. Behind her, I could hear the familiar purr of her boyfriend's car. "Ready to go, Gabby?" she asked, her voice a blend of enthusiasm and sentiment. 

Kes grappled with my overstuffed suitcase, a playful struggle that momentarily lightened the atmosphere. But beneath the banter, I could feel a raw tide of emotion surging up within me, pushing against the dam of my control. 

"Gabby," Kes said gently, turning to face me with earnest eyes. "It's okay to be scared, you know." 

Her words hung in the air, a tangible truth that seemed to draw breath from my lungs. Scared was an understatement. I was leaving everything I knew for a world that was completely alien to me. 

"But remember," she continued, "You're not doing this for fun. You're doing this for your mom, for Maria. For a chance at a better life." 

Her words crashed over me, grounding me in the chaos of my thoughts. Tears welled up, blurring my vision. Suddenly, my sturdy resolve seemed as fragile as a glass ornament, on the verge of shattering. 

"Hey, don't do that," Kes chided gently, her fingers catching the first tear that slipped down my cheek. "We believe in you, Gabby." 

Her words, so full of confidence and faith, pulled me back from the precipice. Laughter soon filled the room again, tentative and choked, but laughter nonetheless. The conversation resumed a balm to the emotional sting. We discussed everything from the weather in Al-Qamar to the possibility of my adopting a pet camel. The sillier the conversation, the more the tension eased. 

But the levity couldn't hold off the inevitable. Goodbyes were never easy, and this one was the hardest I'd ever faced. Hugs were shared, tightly woven with unspoken emotions. Tears, earlier stemmed, now freely flowed, marking the painful separation. 

As Kes and I left the house, I turned to look back. There stood my mom and Maria, their faces glowing with pride through the veil of their tears. I raised a trembling hand to wave at them one last time, and it hit me with a force that nearly knocked the breath out of me - this journey wasn't just about me. It was about all of us. 

****************************** 

"Gabby, step on it! Auditorium ASAP! The big boss himself is addressing us," Dr. Khalid, my senior resident, boomed, his authoritative voice rebounding off the towering walls of our hospital. The anticipation in the air was palpable, a hum of excitement coursing through my veins. 

As I hastened, a vivid memory swept over me. "Welcome aboard, Gabby," Dr. Khalid had greeted me on my first day, his eyes, warm and encouraging, mirrored the hospital's pulsating vitality. This splendid beacon of healing was my new sphere. 

However, some were not as amiable. "So, you're the fresh meat?" Morgan, a fellow nursing assistant, had asked, her icy gaze capable of cutting glass. I shrugged off her cold demeanor, anchored by my noble mission - to administer care, save lives, and amass funds for mom. 

The hospital, a whirlwind of activity, somehow brought a sense of serenity. The rhythm of organized chaos soothed my yearning for home. Amongst these healing corridors, I found a unique sense of belonging. 

Entering the jam-packed auditorium, nostalgia washed over me, carrying me back to my quaint Mexican town, to Mom, to Maria. Shaking off the longing, I focused on my purpose. My journey had just embarked, and this hospital, my new battleground, awaited my determined strides. 

My stomach growled amidst the flurry of thoughts, a stark reminder of my skipped breakfast. Snatching a packet of snacks and a drink from the crowded cafeteria, I found a quiet nook and bit into my humble meal. 

Caught mid-chew, I froze as a towering figure cast a shadow over me. Raising my eyes, I encountered the most mesmerizing gaze set on a face chiseled to perfection. He was a walking embodiment of a men's fashion magazine, complete with tousled hair, an intimidating stature, and an undeniable air of arrogance. 

His gaze washed over me, a brief flash of distaste flickering in his mesmerizing eyes. Annoyance prickled at me. "Can I help you?" I retorted, snack crumbs tumbling from my mouth. 

His response was a cold, dismissive glance. Without uttering a word, he strode off, leaving a trail of his rich cologne and a perplexed me in his wake. 

Hurriedly finishing my snack, I brushed off the crumbs and darted back into the auditorium. I slipped in next to Janet, a strikingly beautiful and incredibly intelligent nurse from California. Her cheerful smile warmed me, momentarily dissipating the earlier irritation. 

The auditorium buzzed with hushed whispers as the Chief Medical Officer strode onto the stage. His arrival signaled the commencement of the briefing. He cleared his throat, and the room fell into a reverential silence. 

"Ladies and Gentlemen," he began, his voice echoing through the hushed hall, "I'd like to introduce someone very important, the man at the helm of our institution..." 

My heart drummed in my chest, a strange feeling of anticipation washing over me. The silence was pregnant with expectancy as everyone's attention was riveted to the stage. 

"Please welcome, our CEO, Sheikh Aasif of Al-Qamar." 

The curtain lifted, and there he was. My heart dropped into my stomach as the same imposing figure from the cafeteria stepped into the spotlight. The man whose arrogant gaze I had challenged just minutes ago, stood on the stage, radiating authority and power. 

For a moment, I felt the room spin around me. The man I had just rolled my eyes at was the CEO of the hospital, and not just that, a Sheikh, no less!