Faisal got out of the bathroom, he walked towards her, sitting at the edge of Alan's bed. He looked at her, an expression of confusion and determination. He opened his mouth a few times and closed it.

"What is it, Sir?" Fiza asked. She couldn't get used to calling him Faisal, especially as he sat on the bed with her. Somehow, it sounded intimate.

"Fiza, I'm just worried about you," he blurted out.

Fiza raised an eyebrow.

"It's just..." he started but couldn't continue.

"He isn't using me," said Fiza, a little irritated. It wasn't Faisal's place to comment on her relationship with Alan.

"I didn't say he was," said Faisal quickly, picking up on her annoyance. "It's just that I think you both use..." he stopped, looking for the right words as Fiza's eyes were now narrowed to just slits. "You use physical intimacy to patch up your problems rather than communicating."

Fiza was beyond irritated. No one had asked for his unsolicited advice or opinion. Yet here he was.

"You are blinded by your lust to see what your relationship really is. And as an outsider, I just see two people with no real connection, just using each other for physical pleasure," he stated. With that, he got up and left, picking up his bag, not waiting for her response.

Fiza was shocked at his audacity. But she also found herself questioning her relationship with Alan. Was it really without meaning? Wasn't it an expression of love? Or  had it just been lust? They were there for each other.

She remembered how Alan would hold her and console her when she freaked out before exams, how he had taught her how to play basketball, how they loved singing together, how everything had always seemed better and easier when she would see him. They knew each other inside and out.

What had changed in the last year or so? How and when had it become so complicated and hard? Why had they started fighting and misunderstanding one another? She believed they just didn't have time to with each other anymore.

She got up, deciding to grab breakfast before heading over to Mangalore. "I miss you already," she typed. No response. He was probably already scrubbed in.

As she reached the hostel, she was hit with some more bad news.

COVID-19 was back again, this time in the form of the delta strain. It was spreading faster than the previous variant, and even children were being affected. The uncertainty of what kind of restrictions would be put in place and what it would mean for the hospital added to Faiza's growing stress.

It was overwhelming. She felt exhausted, wondering how much more she could take. And then there was Alan. Tears welled up in her eyes. Would it be like the last time? Would they once again be unable to see each other for over six months? Would distance wedge itself between them again?

The memories of the past haunted her. The last time around, she at least had Faisal by her side. He had provided some semblance of support, but now she felt utterly alone.

Wiping her tears away, she tried calling Alan again. No response. She sighed in disappointment.

Then she dialed Farzana's number.

"Hi Farz," she greeted, her voice lacking enthusiasm.

"Hi Fiza!"

The last time they had spoken was when Fiza had miscarried. Farzana had been a pillar of strength, offering comfort in a way nobody else could.

"What's wrong, Fiz?" Farzana asked, her tone discerning.

"Everything, Farz," replied Fiza. She delved into the details of how there seemed to be no time for her and Alan to catch up. With the pandemic resurging, things were about to get worse again.

"Don't assume things, Fiza," scolded Farzana. "You always expect the worst out of everything. But you're more prepared this time to deal with the pandemic. You know what works and what doesn't. And even in your relationship, you've learned what works and doesn't. And if he..." Farzana paused, "if things don't work out, maybe it's for the best."

It felt like a cruel replay of the past. Elective surgeries were once again being canceled. Tight restrictions on travel were put in place, dictated by the unpredictable surge of COVID-19 cases. Fiza felt like she was stuck in a loop, her ability to potentially see Alan hinging on the fluctuating numbers of cases.

Now, a month and a half had painfully elapsed since she last saw Alan. She had learned from their past mistakes and strove not to unleash her frustrations onto him. Surprisingly, Bharti had become her unexpected pillar of support. They frequently worked together and having someone who understood helped ease Fiza's burdened mind.

"Watch out, this mother has COVID," Bharti warned as Fiza entered the labor room, clad in protective PPE. The hospital's protocol dictated that term babies wouldn't be separated from mothers with COVID, though premature infants were kept isolated.

This marked Fiza's first encounter with a COVID delivery in a while. Memories flooded back, reminding her of the heartbreaking loss of a new mother during the initial stages of the pandemic. She remained vigilant, assessing the mother for any potential complications while completely shifting her focus to the baby once it was born.

A healthy baby boy was brought into the world this time. Following her initial assessment, Fiza carefully handed the newborn to the mother, ensuring a precious moment of skin-to-skin contact despite the challenging circumstances.

As she exited the room, she carefully removed her gown. Her phone buzzed, and she saw it was Alan. A smile crept across her face.

"Hey, Sweetheart!" she greeted, her voice laced with affection.

"Hey, Fiz!" Alan's voice chimed with a hint of amusement.

"I have a couple of days off, and I'm trying to see how I can come and see you."

"How do you suddenly get time off just when I'm swamped and restrictions are in place?" Fiza inquired, a trace of sadness in her tone.

"We're only handling emergency surgeries. And there isn't as much COVID cases here as before, so the medicine department doesn't require our help," Alan explained.

"Oh," Fiza responded. "I don't want you to sneak in here when you're not supposed to. We have more COVID cases in Mangalore compared to Manipal. I wouldn't want you bringing it there." They also wouldn't have a place to stay.

"Fiz, I just want to see you. To feel you. I want to kiss you awake. I-" Alan's words were filled with longing.

"Alan!" Fiza interjected, a mixture of emotions in her voice. "I'm in the hospital!"

"Unless you put me on speaker, no one can hear me. Are you on speaker?" he asked, teasing her.

"No," she confirmed. "But I have to go now. Our OP is busier than ever. These children are experiencing asthma-like issues due to COVID."

After wrapping up, she sent a text to Alan. "Done with work. Call me when you're free."

Almost immediately, she heard a buzz and felt her heart skip a beat. But it wasn't Alan. The caller ID displayed an unknown number.

"Are you really Alan's girlfriend?" the message read.

Fiza's curiosity mixed with a touch of apprehension. "Who is this?" she quickly responded.

"His fuck buddy," came the immediate and unsettling reply.

Fiza's heart sank, and she couldn't bring herself to respond to the message. It might be Aradya trying to sow discord between them, but deep down, doubt gnawed at her. She clung to the belief that Alan loved her, just as she loved him. Yet, it had been months since she last visited him. The nagging "what ifs" started to creep in, but she fiercely suppressed them. She wouldn't let herself think that way.

Driven by emotion, she found herself dialing Alan's number frantically. Each call went unanswered, and her anxiety grew with every attempt. Her fingers shook as she called him repeatedly, desperation taking over. Eventually, her better judgment kicked in, and she reluctantly decided to divert her attention elsewhere.

Her trembling fingers picked up her phone, and as she scrolled through Instagram, her eyes fell on Alan's post. He had shared a song on Alizamusic, captioning it, "My angel, this one's for you. #johnlegend #allofme."

How many times do I have to tell you?
Even when you're crying, you're beautiful too
The world is beating you down, I'm around through every mood
You're my downfall, you're my muse
My worst distraction, my rhythm and blues
I can't stop singing, it's ringing in my head for you

My head's under water
But I'm breathing fine
You're crazy and I'm out of my mind

'Cause all of me
Loves all of you
Love your curves and all your edges
All your perfect imperfections
Give your all to me
I'll give my all to you

You're my end and my beginning
Even when I lose, I'm winning
'Cause I give you all of me
And you give me all of you

Fiza smiled as she listened to Alan's strumming, his expression of love wrapping around her heart. The message from the stranger blinked on her screen, and although her initial impulse was to delete it, she decided to capture it by taking a screenshot. Saving the number under the name "AFB" for Alan's fuck buddy.

When she settled onto her pillow, preparing to sleep, her phone buzzed once more. It was Alan, bringing news of a traumatic case involving a railway suicide attempt. "I'll be too late to call. Talk to you later. ❤️" his message read.

"Try to get some rest. Love you," Fiza responded, her words laced with affection. She plugged her phone in to charge and surrendered herself to sleep.

Both Alan and Fiza had received their COVID-19 vaccinations. Now three months into the second wave and nearly halfway through their second year of postgraduate studies, they navigated through a period of heightened challenges. Fiza began to observe signs of long COVID in children.

Strangely, despite the surge in cases, Fiza found a sense of equilibrium in herself and her colleagues. The stress remained, but somehow it was more manageable, a skillful compartmentalization born out of necessity.

Alan made it a ritual to talk to Fiza almost every night, despite her frequent lapses into sleep driven by exhaustion.

One morning, Fiza woke to a barrage of messages from 'AFB'.

Her heart raced as she opened the chat and read the unsettling text, "Tell your bf that he needs to calm down. He was way too rough last night." Attached were pictures of bruises on someone's neck and wrists.

Panic and disbelief surged through Fiza, making her feel dizzy. No, this couldn't be real. Alan would never do something like this. But he had declined her call last night and texted, "Busy, ttyl." His calendar hadn't shown him as being on call.

"Who is this?" she typed, her fingers trembling.

"Aishwarya," came the response.

-------------------------

Author's note

The delta strain claimed more Indian lives than alpha. But the restrictions were eased due to the economic crisis that the initial Draconian restrictions had caused.

On a different note, do you think Alan is cheating on Fiza?

Link to "All of me" John Legend above

Comment and vote!
❤️
Faiza