So the least you can do is support me a little 🥺

I’m also trying to save up for a new phone.

Please show your support on Stck.me and Instagram—it truly means the world to me. ❤️

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She recognized his face… even in the darkness.

Even when the night was draped in shadows, even when thunder growled above and the sky threatened to break open — she knew it was him.

But he didn’t recognize her.

Because the night was cruel, the fog was thick, and the clouds hung low, swallowing everything in their path. The chill in the air carried a warning, and the storm made the world feel like it was holding its breath.

She saw the police approaching him, suspicion in their eyes.

“Sir, you need to come with us,” one officer ordered, stepping forward. “No ID? No excuse. We can't just let you walk free like that.”

He tried to explain, but the men in uniform weren’t listening.

They were about to drag him away — and that’s when Amaal stepped in.

“Excuse me!” she called out, her voice cutting through the tension. She walked forward, calm but commanding. “Where are you taking him?”

The officers turned to her, visibly annoyed.

“Ma’am, he’s out at this hour without identification. We can’t let him go just like that.”

“But he’s with me,” Amaal said, unfazed. “He’s my relative. A traveler. Doesn’t know the local rules — just forgot his ID at home. We were just out looking for him.”

She gave a soft, diplomatic smile.

“You know me. You’ve seen me around. He’s under my care, I give you my word. Next time, he won’t step out without it.”

The officers looked at each other, hesitated, then gave in.

“Fine. Since you say so, memsaab… but next time, we won’t be this lenient.”

“Thank you, officer,” she said gently.

When they left, she turned to him.

And he looked at her with confusion, trying to place her face — not knowing she had already memorized his a long time ago.

“You’re… helping me?” he asked, hesitant.

“There’s nothing to thank me for,” she replied. “We’re humans before anything else.”

He gave a small, grateful nod and walked back to his car.

But Amaal wasn’t done.

She walked up, tapped gently on the window. He rolled it down, eyes wary.

“You’re heading in the wrong direction,” she said. “The hospital’s not this way. It’s across the highway. If you tell me which one you're looking for, I can guide you through a shortcut — one where police won’t bother you.”

He looked at her, defeated.

“I… I don’t know where I’m going. I just  My daughter — she’s one. Burning with fever. I didn’t know what else to do. I just… needed a hospital.”

Amaal’s breath caught in her throat.

“Your daughter… where is she?”

He pointed silently to the back seat.

She opened the door, and there she was — a cute baby,  two year old, her body shivering violently under layers of blankets.

“Oh no…” Amaal whispered, placing her palm on the child’s forehead. “She’s burning up…”

She turned to him sharply.

“You can’t drive around like this. Not in this storm. Not with the curfew. No hospital will have a doctor available this late.”

He swallowed hard, helpless.

“I don’t have a choice…”

Amaal paused for just a second. Then she looked him dead in the eyes.

“You do now. If you’ll trust me — I can help. Come with me. I know a place. Somewhere safe. Somewhere warm.”

He blinked, unsure. “I’ve already troubled you enough…”

“You haven’t,” she interrupted. “But your daughter? She’s suffering. Please… don’t wait.”

He nodded slowly.

“Alright. I’ll come.”

She slid into the passenger seat, guiding him through narrow roads until the city lights faded into trees, silence, and cold mist. They reached a quiet settlement — homes nestled between hills, scattered like stories waiting to be told.

She stepped out and knocked on a small gate.

Moments later, it opened.

Mahar stood there, worry written all over her face.

“Amaal?! Where were you? We’ve been calling you for hours! I was about to go out looking—"

“Baji, please, listen,” Amaal interrupted, breathless. “I found him on the road. His baby — she’s very sick. High fever. There was no hospital open, no help. I brought them here. You’re the only one I trust to do something.”

The man came forward, holding his daughter close. Mahar looked at the little one — sweat clinging to her forehead, eyes barely open — and she didn’t need to ask anything else.

She reached out and touched the child’s burning skin.

“She’s burning up,” Mahar said, voice grave. “Bring her inside. Quickly.”

The door shut behind them.

As soon as they entered, Amaal gently took the baby from his arms and laid her carefully on the bed.

The lights inside the house were glowing warm — and for the first time that night, she saw him clearly.

His face.

Unmistakable.

Her eyes stayed on him for a moment too long, heart thudding.

But he didn’t look at her.

His entire focus was on his daughter, watching her with the helplessness of a father who’d already lost half the battle.

Mahar stepped forward, calm but in control.

“Please stay with her,” she said softly, handing him a blanket. “Cover her properly. She needs to sweat it out.”

She turned to Amaal. “Come with me.”

And before Amaal could respond, Mahar grabbed her wrist and dragged her into the kitchen.

As soon as they were alone, Mahar hissed, “Are you out of your mind?! That’s Zayan! Have you forgotten what happened this morning?! Where the hell did you find him? And why on earth did you bring him here, Amaal?!”

Amaal stood still, taking it all in.

“I know, Baji… I know. I haven’t forgotten anything,” she whispered. “But did you see that baby? How could I walk away from that? She was burning up. He didn’t know where to go. What was I supposed to do?”

“And where did you even find him?!” Mahar snapped.

Amaal explained everything — the road, the police, the curfew, the desperation.

She took a shaky breath.

“I promise you… once his daughter is okay, I’ll never try to see him again. I won’t talk to him. I just… I couldn’t leave that baby like that. Please, Baji…”

There was silence.

Then Mahar sighed. The fight drained out of her eyes.

“I hope you know what you're doing,” she muttered, turning to a jug of cold water. She added ice, soaked a clean cloth, and headed back.

Over the next few hours, they worked in silence — switching cold compresses, checking the baby’s forehead, whispering prayers into the quiet air.

And finally…

The fever began to fall.

She stopped trembling.

Her breathing steadied.

Color returned to her cheeks.

The man — Zayan — stood up slowly, eyes full of something raw. He brought his palms together, facing both Amaal and Mahar.

“I… I don’t know how to thank you,” he said, voice cracking. “I don’t know if I ever can. What you did today for me and my daughter… I owe you everything.”

Mahar shook her head. “I’m a doctor. It’s what I’m meant to do. But if you must thank someone… thank Amaal. She’s the reason your daughter is alive tonight.”

Zayan turned slowly toward Amaal.

His eyes stayed on her for a long moment.

And then he blinked.

“…Wait,” he said slowly, confused. “You… I think I’ve seen you before…”

Amaal’s face stiffened.

“Yes. You were at the college this morning. Miss Amaal…?”

She looked away, nodding silently. Her fingers curled into her sleeves.

Zayan’s face paled.

And then shame washed over him like a wave.

“I… I’m so sorry. I had no idea… no idea that someone I was so rude to could turn around and be so—human. So kind.”

He looked at her like she was made of something he didn’t deserve to touch.

“I was… I was harsh. I shouldn’t have raised my voice. It’s just—my daughter’s health was getting worse and my time was slipping through my fingers and I panicked. But I shouldn’t have taken it out on you. I can’t tell you how wrong I feel.”

He lowered his head.

“I don’t know how to ask for your forgiveness. I don’t know how to ever repay you.”

Amaal stepped closer and gently held his hands.

“No… you don’t have to ask for forgiveness. Your daughter is better now. That’s all that matters.”

But Zayan suddenly pulled his hands back.

“I should leave,” he said quickly. “I’ve already overstayed…”

Both Amaal and Mahar stepped forward, stopping Zayan before he could leave.

“You shouldn't go tonight,” Mahar said gently but firmly. “The weather outside is getting worse. You might not even make it to a hotel safely in this storm. And without your ID… most places won’t even let you in.”

Amaal nodded in agreement. “And your daughter… she's still not fully stable. Her fever might come back. Please, don’t take that risk.”

Zayan looked at both of them, hesitation tightening his brows. “I… I don’t think I should stay. I’ve already caused enough trouble.”

“Why not?” Amaal said softly, trying to make it sound simple. “There’s an outhouse just across the courtyard. It’s quiet, it’s warm… you can stay there tonight. I’ll set everything up for you.”

Zayan still looked unsure, but eventually gave a small nod.

“Alright… thank you. Truly.”

Amaal quietly led him outside to the small outhouse and helped set up a bed for him and his daughter. She watched as he gently laid his daughter down and sat beside her, phone in hand, tapping something quietly.

From her bedroom window, Amaal could see everything.

She sat at the edge of her bed, hugging her knees, her eyes drawn to the man across the courtyard.

She watched him tenderly lift his daughter into his arms, pacing with her softly. Then, when she seemed calm, he lay beside her and pulled the blanket over them both.

A strange warmth settled in Amaal’s chest.

So much had changed in just one night.

And yet, so much still remained unspoken.

Eventually, her eyes grew heavy, and she drifted into sleep.

The next morning, when Amaal and Mahar woke up, they went to check on him…

But the outhouse was empty.

The bed was made.

The blanket folded.

And beside the pillow lay a neatly written note:

“Thank you so much. You’ve done more for me than I could’ve ever asked. I didn’t want to burden you any longer.

The weather cleared, so I thought it was best to leave.”

Amaal stared at the note in silence.

Her chest ached in a way she didn’t understand.

She didn’t say a word until Mahar placed a hand on her shoulder.

“Don’t worry,” Amaal said finally, her voice barely a whisper. “Just… please don’t tell Mom about any of this. You know how she is…”

Mahar sighed, then gave her a small nod.

“Fine. But now get ready for college. Whatever happened yesterday—let it go. You’re stronger than this. You’re a confident woman, Amaal. Don’t let one moment shake you.”

Amaal nodded slowly, her eyes still on the note.

She turned away and walked to her room to get ready.

Amaal got ready for college.

Her heart still felt heavy, her thoughts scattered — but she took a deep breath, pulled her dupatta over her shoulder, and told herself, You’re strong enough. You can do this.

With quiet determination, she stepped out.

By the time she reached the college gates, Fatima and Kabir were already there, pacing restlessly.

The moment Fatima saw her, she rushed forward and wrapped her arms tightly around Amaal.

“Oh thank God!” she breathed, “Are you okay now? We were so worried!”

Amaal gave her a faint smile, one that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I’m fine. Don’t worry so much. Let’s just go — we’re already late for class.”

But the moment she walked past the gates…

every pair of eyes turned toward her.

The hallway seemed longer, heavier. Whispers buzzed faintly.

And though no one said anything aloud — Amaal could feel it.

The judgment. The curiosity. The silent assumptions.

She clutched her bag tighter, her steps hesitating just a little.

Fatima and Kabir immediately flanked her.

Kabir placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

“Don’t let it get to you. We’re with you. Always.”

“Come on, let’s go to class before the bell rings,” Fatima added.

Just as they reached the corridor near their classroom, Amaal stopped.

“You guys go ahead,” she said quietly. “I… I think I need to go see the Principal first.”

Fatima blinked. “The Principal?”

Amaal nodded. “I want to apologize. After everything that happened yesterday, it’s the least I can do. He was humiliated in front of everyone… because of me. And he’s always been so kind. I need to make it right.”

Kabir said gently, “We’ll come with you.”

“No,” Amaal smiled softly. “You both head to class. Don’t miss it because of me. I’ll be fine. I promise.”

They hesitated, but finally nodded.

Amaal turned and walked alone down the corridor toward the Principal’s office — each step heavy, her stomach tied in knots.

What if he was angry? What if he didn’t want to see her?

She reached the door, took a deep breath, and knocked softly.

“Come in,” came the voice from inside.

She pushed the door open slowly.

The Principal was at his desk, eyes focused on his laptop, glasses slipping down his nose.

He looked up — and the moment he saw her, he smiled warmly and removed his glasses.

“Amaal! What a pleasant surprise. How are you, beta?”

Amaal stepped inside, nervous, her eyes lowering as she spoke.

“I’m… I’m fine, sir. I actually came to… to apologize. For yesterday. I—I’m really sorry for all the trouble I caused. You had to go through so much… and it was because of me.”

The Principal chuckled softly, shaking his head.

“Oh no, no, my child. That’s nothing to apologize for. These things happen. Students are like our own children — and sometimes, children stumble. What matters is that you stand back up.”

Amaal looked up, surprised by his kindness.

“But,” he added, his eyes twinkling, “I do have some good news for you.”

“Good news?” she repeated, puzzled. “For me?”

He leaned back in his chair, smiling.

“Yes.

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Thank you ♡