I slowly raised my head, watching as Mohamed pulled his phone out from the pocket of his white coat.It wasn't a normal movement...His fingers moved as if holding something fragile.
The coldness of the scene had nothing to do with the room's temperature,but with the way he breathed…slowly…heavily.
His breaths carried the scent of antiseptics, floating through the air and piercing my nose with every movement he made.
He stopped, then looked at his phone screen.For a long time.
It wasn't a contemplative look…but more like an embrace.
As if that screen held the past…memories…and maybe regret.
"Maybe he lost someone..."
I couldn't stop that silly thought.What a fool I am.
I felt warmth rising from my neck to my ears, and I said:— St–… Stop, if you're not ready, it's okay. Sorry, maybe I shouldn't have asked you...
I was nervous.My voice was shaky.
But he… ignored my words.Gently, as if everything had already been said and needed no answer.
He turned the phone toward me.There was a picture.A woman, a little girl, and a man standing beside them.
My breathing quickened.I didn't know why.
I felt confused, my mind clouded for a moment.Something in the picture made me feel like I knew them.
I stared closer… then:— ...Wait a second, Mohamed? You're… married?!
He raised his hand and, with strange tenderness, gently passed it over my head like I was a child he remembered too late.
He gave a faint smile and said:— Yeah… Didn't I tell you?
Then he handed me the phone and added with a laugh:— Oh… maybe I forgot. Sorry.
But I didn't hear him.At that moment, I couldn't hear anything.
I was lost in the picture.The woman's smile…the little girl…And Mohamed's eyes.
They were saying something completely different from their smiles.
I whispered:— Did… you lose them?
I didn't raise my head, I didn't want to.I had a feeling…an instinct…that any answer would be shocking.
Then…A light slap on the back of my neck.
I gasped, grabbing the spot.I turned quickly, eyes blazing.— Damn you!
He was laughing.Mohamed was laughing.Or maybe… pretending to be angry.
— Why are you being so grim?!My daughter is only a year younger than you!And my wife's not dead, you maniac!If she were…I don't even know what I'd do!
His voice wavered, rising and falling, cracking like it was searching for a steady tone.He stepped forward twice, then back once.His shadow dragged across the cold floor,the sound of his feet echoing in the room.
Wait…was he dancing?!
I laughed.No, I actually laughed.From my heart.
I laughed until I felt like my chest would explode.
— You think this is funny? — he said with a stunned look.— My daughter says she wants a boyfriend!Can you believe that?!She's too young, way too young!And you…you're not even listening to me!
His face was close.His hot breath touched mine,while the evening breeze played with the curtain behind us.
But I wasn't hearing him.I was laughing…
Because I thought he was carrying a dark secret.But instead… he carried life.
A moment.The room filled with light,jokes,and small memories.
It turned from a sterile, silent space into a gathering of friends about to have a barbecue.
I finally calmed down, then said:— Mohamed… why did it feel like you were carrying guilt?This isn't something to hide…
He raised his head to the ceiling,as if searching among the cracks in the paint for an answer,then looked back at me.
He said quietly:— My family… and hers.They didn't accept our marriage.We ran away together.
…
His voice carried no complaint.Just exhaustion.Like he had told this story a thousand times…in silence.
He whispered again,with a tone full of warmth and longing:— It was hard…but we made it.Love won.And we were blessed with a daughter.
.
And I smiled.
But inside me, one question kept stretching:— But… why didn't they accept? I mean… what's the real reason?
Mohamed didn't look at me directly,but just gave a half-bitter smile.
A glint sparkled in his eyes…I don't know if it was a tear,or the shadow of an old memory that passed by there.
— Her family… was well-off.And me?They saw me beneath her.Lesser… much lesser.
…
It was like something suddenly boiled in my chest.Anger?Sadness?Or maybe… a stupid guilt I didn't even own?
— Isn't it because… you're not handsome? Or unemployed?!
The words slipped from my mouth with sarcastic lightness…but they were bitter.
I didn't really know why.Maybe I was looking for a reason to vent my anger?Or because I assumed he regretted… something so trivial?What a… fool I am.
Mohamed glanced at me sideways for a long moment,then smacked his forehead with his palm,and the sound of the slap echoed through the empty room like a rebuke:
— Damn you…You're touching sensitive strings, man.
But his voice wasn't angry.It was closer to a soft complaint…As if my words had unearthed a grave inside him that he had been trying to seal shut for a long time.
But… I wasn't really listening.My head was drifting far away…
From the very beginning, a question had been screaming inside me, refusing to leave.
Doctor Mohamed looked completely ordinary.Dark brown hair, slightly curly, sometimes reaching his earlobes.Brown eyes, pale skin with the kind of pallor that comes from working in medicine.A decent height — maybe around 185 cm…An average build.
Nothing particularly striking.
But…In the picture, the wife had blue hair.And blue eyes.Even the little girl… same eyes.
I get the hair… maybe it was dyed.But the eyes too?!
I slowly opened my mouth…preparing to ask a question that wouldn't be comfortable.
— Mohamed, are you…?
Clickkk...
The door to the room opened.It was like time froze at that very instant.
A small girl entered, her steps light.She smelled like wildflowers,but there was a salty note…like she had just come from the sea.
— As-salamu alaykum…
She said it in a soft, shy voice,barely brushing the ground with how gentle it was.
She was barely 160 centimeters tall.Her long hair… blue.Her eyes… perfectly blue.
She had stepped out of the picture.Yes… the same girl.
But now…Older.Much older than what I remembered.
"My daughter is a year younger than you," that's what Mohamed once said.Damn… is she… her?!
She walked toward him with small steps,her eyes shimmering with faint concern.
— Daddy…Tomorrow I have school.Mom said I'll stay with you tonight,because she won't be home…
She paused for a moment, then whispered:— She's not coming back tonight.
…
The room froze.
She said it in a low, sad tone,and a heavy silence fell over the room.
It wasn't just Mohamed who froze in place…Even I, who always claimed to "read people,"stood still, unable to determine the real emotion in her voice.
Then suddenly…
— I was joking with you!
She said it with a light laugh,her tongue sticking out playfully,like a skilled actress playing a little girl tricking the audience.
I felt my mind stumble…Did I… believe her?!
And before Mohamed could respond,the door opened again,with utter softness,followed by even gentler footsteps,and a warm scent like vanilla mixed with rain.
A tall woman entered, probably around 170 centimeters tall,carrying a classy cake box,and a warm smile that entered the room before she did.
She said, in a tone like the melody of a soft night:
— Himari, stop bothering your father. Don't you see he's busy?
But Himari puffed out her cheeks,and tilted her head a bitlike she was performing a well-rehearsed act of childish protest:
— I just wanted to play with him!
Mohamed raised his fist,then ruffled her hair with a bit of force:
— Himari!
— Aaah! Daddy, stop!
I laughed.
Her movement was light,closer to a little dance,while Mohamed looked like a giant chasing a butterfly.
The features on his face combined playful sternness with fatherly tenderness.
I don't know why,but my heart clenched for a moment.
The scene before me,with all its tiny details—her hair swaying under her father's hand,her voice,his laughter,the mother standing there—awakened something inside me.
Something like nostalgia...for a memory…I've never lived.
I laughed softly,and the echo of my laughter filled the room,blending with the sound of little feet circling around the bed.
But the wife soon cut off the chaos with a serious smile:— Stop! You'll break her neck like that.
Himari suddenly broke free,catching her breath as if she'd just won a decisive battle.
The mother turned toward me,and bowed slightly, embarrassed:— Sorry... we disturbed you with our shouting.
I replied warmly,my eyes shining with honest feeling:— On the contrary… this is the best thing that's happened to me in a while.
But Mohamed didn't let the calm atmosphere linger.He said mockingly, pointing a finger at me:— Of course… he's a patient! He doesn't care about what's happening around him!
Before he could finish his sentence,he received a light smack on the head from his wife.
The sound was soft,but it echoed like a small slap that woke everyone up.
She said in a serious tone that barely hid her smile:— Don't talk like that! Apologize right now!
Mohamed furrowed his brows with a childlike confusion,and his joking quickly faded.He sighed:— Okay… sorry.
I laughed again…but this time,I laughed just to tease Mohamed.A pure, clean laugh rising from my chest.
That laugh was gentle,but to Mohamed, it must have felt like bullying.
And how could it not,when his expression turned into a clenched fist—mock-angry in a way that was almost funny,as if afraid his wife would notice and scold him again.
As silence fell,the only sound was the passing wind behind the window.
The white curtain danced in the light breeze,as if whispering to them all:"This… is family."
How I loved that moment.
I felt something inside my heart melt in the midst of that strange warmth.
The air was cold,entering from the open window,brushing my face like a gentle breeze that brought me back to life.
It stirred the edges of the white curtain,fluttering like the wings of a lazy bird in flight.
Then Himari suddenly approached with small steps,her soft rustling audible on the polished floor,and in her sweet voice, she said:— Can't you walk?
I looked at her…her curiosity was innocent,but it caught me off guard.
I answered while trying not to show my nervousness:— No… I can walk now.Today's my last day in the hospital.
She replied simply,twisting her body with childish energy:— Alhamdulillah.
She said it like she was congratulating me,with no exaggeration or pretense.
And I—who saw her as just a slender body,half-covered in long blue hair—found myself thinking:
Why does that cat earring in her ear…suit her expression so well?
I stopped thinking…Just idle curiosity, nothing more.
The mother said with a voice full of warmth:— I thought I'd celebrate at home,but maybe this is better…
She opened the cake box slowly,as if she were opening a treasure chest.
Mohamed said in surprise,his eyes reflecting the light of the sunset:— Celebrate what?
And once the box was open,the smell of sweet chocolate spread throughout the room.It mixed with the afternoon breeze,as if sending joy into every breath.
A cake appeared,decorated with light brown cream,with elegant lettering that read:"Happy Birthday – 36"
Everything paused for a moment.Time…voices…even the air seemed still.
I saw him—the doctor who always appeared strong and composed—unable to speak.
His eyes shimmered with moisture he couldn't hide.
It was his birthday today.And he had forgotten.
Maybe from the weariness of the days...or from how often others had overlooked it.
But now…he remembered—because two people who meant the world to him reminded him.
Mohamed smiled,then pulled his family into a tight embrace.
I heard their small voices saying,"Happy Birthday,"in unison,
blending with the soft wind outside,which sounded as if it too was clapping for them.
And with sudden excitement, Mohamed shouted:— Oh! Alright, let's start eating the cake!
I tasted a slice…soft and moist,melting on my tongue,leaving a warm trace of sweet chocolate.
I said softly,as the wind rustled from the open window:— Delicious.
Mohamed's wife laughed briefly,her laugh scattering in the room like tiny bells:— I made it myself!
She covered her mouth with her hand in shy modesty,while her face lit up with a pure, bright smile.
I found myself smiling without thinking…but something inside me remained heavy and silent.
I wasn't part of this family.
They were living their moment…And I…just a visitor,a passerby in a memory,watching their warmth from behind cold glass.
After a while,when the gathering was over,I approached Doctor Mohamed,the sound of my footsteps echoing on the smooth floor.
I said quietly,my voice tinged with a hidden note of gratitude:— I think my time's up… I've stayed too long.
The family said their goodbyes with genuine warmth.
The farewell was touching and sincere,as clear as winter morning sunlight,as if silently saying:"Take care of yourself."
I stepped out of the hospital door,which closed slowly behind me.
I stood for a moment,gazing at the nearly empty street…
Who would be out in such heat?But I didn't expect that I would see—and forget—something so important at the same time...