Arranged by Fate

Phone call

The hospital corridor felt strangely quiet, despite the distant sounds of monitors beeping and soft footsteps echoing against the cold tile floor. Rivan stood outside the waiting area, his fingers resting against his temple as he exhaled a deep breath. Telling Reem about Mishti’s condition had been one of the hardest things he had done in a long time. The pain in her eyes, the way her hands had trembled as she clutched the edge of her dupatta—he could still feel the weight of that moment pressing against his chest.

He ran a hand through his hair, his mind racing with thoughts. He had seen many difficult cases before, but something about Mishti’s situation made it feel more personal. Maybe it was her innocent eyes or the way she had giggled earlier, believing this was just another game. Or maybe it was the helplessness in Reem’s voice when she had pleaded with him to save her daughter.

The night air felt cool as he stepped onto the hospital balcony for a moment, needing a second to gather himself. The city lights stretched in the distance, flickering like stars. He took a deep breath, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

His phone buzzed in his pocket.

He pulled it out, glancing at the screen. It was a message from his mother, Neelam.

Neelam: Son, when will you come home? It’s getting late.

Rivan sighed. He had almost forgotten how long he had been at the hospital. A quick glance at his watch told him it was already past midnight. He had promised Arya he would meet her tonight. But after everything that had happened, his mind was too occupied to think about anything else.

He hesitated for a moment before typing back.

Rivan: Mom, it got late today. There was an emergency case. I’ll have to cancel my plan to meet Arya.

A few seconds later, his phone vibrated again.

Neelam: Is everything okay?

Rivan leaned against the railing, staring at the message for a moment before replying.

Rivan: No, Mom. There’s a little girl… Mishti. She has leukemia. I told her mother today… it was really tough.

This time, the reply took longer. He knew his mother was probably thinking about what to say. Neelam had always been a kind-hearted woman, and she understood how much Rivan cared about his patients.

Finally, her message came through.

Neelam: My son, you will make everything right. Just take care of yourself too.

A faint smile touched his lips. His mother always knew what to say to ease his burden, even if only slightly.

As he pocketed his phone, his gaze drifted back toward the hospital. He knew he couldn’t leave yet. Mishti’s treatment needed to begin as soon as possible, and Reem… she needed support. He had seen families fall apart in situations like these, and he wouldn’t let that happen here.

With a determined breath, he turned around and walked back inside.

Meanwhile, inside Mishti’s hospital room, Reem sat beside her daughter, gently running her fingers through her soft hair. Mishti had fallen asleep, her tiny hand resting against her mother’s lap. The rhythmic sound of the heart monitor beeped steadily in the background, the only thing breaking the silence.

Reem’s eyes were swollen from crying, but now, she just sat still, staring at the little girl who meant everything to her.

A soft knock on the door made her look up.

Rivan stood there, his usual confident expression replaced with something softer, something understanding.

"May I come in?" he asked quietly.

Reem nodded, quickly wiping her face before he could see the remaining tears. She didn’t want to look weak, but she knew that no matter how much she tried, the fear in her heart wouldn’t leave.

Rivan stepped inside, his gaze immediately moving to Mishti. She looked so peaceful in her sleep, unaware of the battle she would soon have to fight.

"How is she?" he asked, pulling a chair beside Reem.

Reem swallowed hard before speaking. "She doesn’t know anything yet. She just thinks she has a fever and that all these tests are just normal check-ups."

Rivan nodded, understanding the weight of her words. "That’s good… Let’s keep it that way for now. Children should never have to carry burdens like this."

Reem looked down at her hands. "Doctor, can you really save my daughter?"

Rivan met her gaze, his voice firm but kind. "We will do everything we can, Mrs. Reem. If we start the treatment on time, her chances are strong. You just need to stay strong for her."

Reem nodded slowly, but the fear in her eyes didn’t fade.

Rivan leaned forward slightly. "You’re not alone. We’re all here for Mishti."

Reem let out a shaky breath, gripping her lap tightly. "I never thought I’d have to watch my little girl suffer like this. She’s only five, Doctor… she’s so small."

Rivan placed a reassuring hand over hers. "I know. And that’s exactly why we can’t give up. Mishti is a fighter. We just have to support her."

Reem wiped her eyes again and looked at her daughter, who was still peacefully asleep.

"When will the treatment start?" she asked softly.

"As soon as possible," Rivan replied. "I’ll arrange everything tomorrow."

Reem nodded, her heart still heavy, but for the first time since hearing the news, a tiny spark of hope flickered inside her.

Rivan stayed for a while longer, making sure she was stable before finally standing up. "Get some rest. From tomorrow, everything will start, and you’ll need to stay strong for Mishti."

Reem gave him a grateful look before he quietly walked out, leaving her alone with her daughter.

As he stepped into the dimly lit corridor, Rivan closed his eyes for a moment, letting out a slow breath. Tomorrow was going to be a long day. But he was ready for it.

He rubbed his temple, trying to push the exhaustion away.

Just as he reached for his car keys, his phone vibrated in his pocket. A call.

He frowned slightly, pulling the phone out and glancing at the screen. Unknown Number.

For a second, he considered ignoring it. It was late, and he was in no mood for unnecessary conversations. But something made him hesitate. Maybe it was the long day, or maybe it was the thought that it could be something important.

With a quiet sigh, he swiped to answer and brought the phone to his ear.

"Hello?" His voice was steady but carried the weight of exhaustion.

There was a brief silence on the other end. Not the kind that indicated a poor connection, but the kind that spoke of hesitation.

Then, a soft voice—uncertain yet composed.

"Hello… Dr. Rivan?"

Rivan straightened slightly, the familiar yet unfamiliar voice pulling his focus. It was a woman’s voice, gentle, with a hint of nervousness woven into the syllables.

"Yes," he replied, his tone instinctively professional. "Who’s speaking?"

Another small pause. He could almost hear the hesitation in her breath.

"It’s… Arya."

For a moment, Rivan said nothing. The name settled between them, carrying an unexpected weight.

Arya.

The woman he was supposed to marry.

The woman he had never spoken to before.