Zahra looked at the clock on the white wall. It showed 5:02 AM. She blinked slowly. Her eyes were red and dry. She had not slept for 24 hours.She was sitting on a blue chair outside the emergency room. Her white coat was open, and her stethoscope was hanging around her neck. Her dark hair was tied in a simple bun. A few strands had fallen out. She did not fix them. She was too tired.Zahra looked calm from the outside. But inside, she felt like a tree in a storm—shaking, but still standing.She was tall, with clear brown skin and sharp black eyes. People often said she looked too young to be a doctor. But she had a serious face and a strong voice.Zahra was from Lahore, Pakistan. She had worked very hard in school. She was always the top student in her class. After finishing her degree, she came to New Zealand.Now, two years later, she was working in one of the best hospitals in the city.The hospital was clean and cold. Everything was white—white walls, white floors, white lights. Machines beeped. People walked fast. Some cried. Some prayed. Some waited in silence.Zahra leaned back on the chair and closed her eyes for a second.Just then, someone flopped down beside her.“Good morning, my queen!” said a cheerful voice.It was Ryan.Ryan was also a doctor. She had short curly blonde hair, round glasses, and always wore colorful socks. Today, her socks had tiny pizza slices on them.Zahra opened one eye. “You are loud,” she said softly.Ryan smiled and stretched her arms.“I’m not loud. The world is just too quiet,” she said, grinning. Then she added, “Also, I smell like three-day-old coffee. Please don’t come too close.”Zahra gave a tired laugh. “I think I smell worse.”Ryan looked at her. “You okay?”“No,” Zahra replied honestly. “My brain stopped working two hours ago. My feet feel broken.”Ryan nodded seriously. “I feel like I’m floating. Like I’m not here.”“You are here,” Zahra said. “And you’re wearing pizza socks.”“Exactly,” Ryan said. “Which means I’m a professional.”They both laughed quietly. Laughter was rare on nights like this.Then Ryan sighed. “Why are we still here? Did we sign up to be robots?”“Yes,” Zahra said. “Robots with feelings.”“And with no sleep,” Ryan added.Suddenly, a nurse rushed toward them. She looked worried.“Doctor Zahra, Doctor Ryan,” she said, “a patient just arrived in Room 7. His condition is serious.”Zahra looked at Ryan.Ryan raised both hands. “Nope. Not today. My soul just left my body.”Zahra shook her head. “I can’t either. We’ve been working for 24 hours.”The nurse looked unsure. “Are you sure you want to leave now?”Zahra stood up slowly. “Yes. Someone else can take care. We are not machines.”Ryan followed her. “If I stay here one more minute, I’ll cry on someone’s chart.”The nurse nodded quietly and walked away.Zahra and Ryan left the hospital. The sky outside was grey. A few birds were flying. The cold wind touched their faces as they walked to the parking lot.But inside the hospital, in Room 7, the patient’s condition got worse. He needed help. Fast. But the two doctors were gone.$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$The next morning, Zahra sat alone in the small hospital café.She was holding a cup of tea. But it was cold now. She didn’t drink it. She just stared at it.Her phone buzzed. It was a message from the hospital manager.You and Dr. Ryan must come to the boardroom at 10 AM sharp. Important meeting. No delay.Zahra’s heart sank. She already knew what this was about.A few minutes later, Ryan came in, holding a banana in one hand and her phone in the other.“Guess what,” Ryan said, sitting down, “We’re officially in trouble.”Zahra didn’t smile.“They know,” she said quietly.Ryan nodded. “The patient got worse. ICU. The nurse reported we walked away.”Zahra closed her eyes. “I knew this would happen.”“I thought we were safe,” Ryan said, taking a bite of her banana. “But no. Of course not. We’re in the drama now.”They both sat in silence for a few seconds.Then Ryan added, “Can we cry now or should we wait for the meeting?”Zahra gave a tired smile. “Let’s wait. We might need all our tears later.”At 10:00 AM sharp, Zahra and Ryan stood in front of a large brown door. On the door, it said: “Boardroom – Staff Entry Only.”Ryan whispered, “I feel like I’m going to court.”Zahra took a deep breath and opened the door.Inside, a long table stood in the middle. Around it sat six serious people—three men, three women. All in black or grey suits. All looking very... cold.The head of the hospital, Dr. Alfred Grant, was sitting at the center. He was old, tall, and wore thin silver glasses. He looked at Zahra and Ryan with no smile.“Please sit,” he said.They sat.No one spoke for a few seconds.Then Dr. Grant cleared his throat.“Do you know why you are here?”Zahra nodded. “Yes, sir.”“Say it,” he said.Zahra looked down. “We refused to treat a patient.”“You walked out,” said one of the board members, a short woman with red lipstick. “You left while a critical case came in.”Ryan leaned forward. “We had worked 24 hours, no break, no sleep. We were not in shape to treat anyone.”“You are doctors,” another board member said. “You took an oath.”Zahra said slowly, “We are also human.”Another silence.Dr. Grant looked at them both.“You are young,” he said. “You are smart. You are skilled. But what you did was serious.”“We know,” Zahra said.“The patient is now stable, but he could have died.”Zahra swallowed hard.Ryan looked down at her hands.Dr. Grant continued, “You need to understand the weight of your job. And for that—there will be a consequence.”Zahra waited. Ryan stopped breathing.“You both,” Dr. Grant said clearly, “will be transferred.”Zahra blinked. “Where?”“To a government city hospital,” he replied. “Where the most serious, most dying patients are treated. The poorest. The forgotten ones. The ones who have no family, no money, and no time left.”Ryan frowned. “And what will we do there? Surgeries? Emergency calls?”Dr. Grant shook his head. “No. You will collect last letters.”Both girls looked confused.He explained, “Each patient there writes a final letter before they die. To someone they love. Or someone they hate. Or to no one. Your job is to sit with them, listen, and help them write it.”Ryan whispered, “That’s… dark.”Zahra didn’t say anything. She just stared ahead.Dr. Grant stood up. The meeting was over.“You leave tomorrow morning. Report to the City Mercy Hospital at 9 AM.”Zahra and Ryan stood up.Zahra bowed her head and said softly, “We understand.”Then they both walked out.Outside the boardroom, the hallway was quiet.Ryan finally said, “We’re going to a hospital full of people who are dying. To collect letters?”Zahra nodded slowly. “Yes. That’s our punishment.”Ryan sighed. “This is going to be… something.”Zahra looked ahead. Her face was still. But her heart was full of questions.The next morning, the sky was cloudy.Light rain touched the streets like soft tears.Zahra stood in front of the old building. Her coat was wet from the rain.Next to her stood Ryan, holding a broken umbrella.“So,” Ryan said, looking up, “this is our new home.”Zahra looked at the hospital.It was nothing like their last hospital.The walls were old and pale.The windows were small and dusty.There were no fancy signs.Only a simple board that said:“City Mercy Hospital”The building looked tired.Like the people inside had cried more than they had smiled.They entered through a narrow door.The floor was clean but cracked. The smell was strong — medicine, bleach, and sadness.A nurse at the front desk looked up. She was in her 50s, with kind eyes but a strict face.“You must be the new girls,” she said.“Yes,” Zahra replied. “I’m Dr. Zahra, and this is Dr. Ryan.”The nurse gave a slow nod.“I’m Nurse Maria. I’ve worked here for 27 years. I know every corner, every ghost, every goodbye.”Ryan smiled. “We’re honored, Nurse Maria.”Maria didn’t smile back. “Let’s begin. You’ll meet the team during the morning round.”---They followed her through the hallways.The hospital was quiet, almost too quiet.Most rooms had only one patient.Some were sleeping. Some were staring at the ceiling. Some were whispering to themselves.Then Maria pushed open a door.Inside, four people were waiting.“This is the staff team,” Maria said.“They don’t smile much. Don’t take it personally.”A tall, thin man stood up. He wore round glasses and had tired, sharp eyes.“I’m Dr. Harris, head of the unit,” he said.“This is not a normal hospital. We do not save lives. We say goodbye to them.”Zahra looked down.Ryan stayed quiet for once.A young man with a notebook stepped forward.“I’m Adam, social worker. I help families, fill papers, and sometimes hold hands when no one else does.”Next to him was a woman wearing a long scarf.She looked gentle and calm.“I’m Amira, I’m a counselor. I listen to their last stories.”Then a short, strong-looking nurse added,“I’m Tina. I give the medicines and sometimes hug them when they cry.”Zahra and Ryan introduced themselves again.No one clapped. No one smiled.This was not that kind of place.---Maria handed them a clipboard.“Here are your first three patients. They are in Rooms 12, 15, and 19.”Zahra took the paper. Her hand shook a little.Maria said softly, “You are not here to heal bodies. You are here to hold hearts before they stop beating.”Ryan looked at the hallway.She said, “It’s so quiet.”Amira replied, “Death doesn’t shout. It whispers.”---Zahra and Ryan looked at each other.This was not what they were used to.There were no beeping machines.No rushing doctors.No bright rooms.Only silence.And stories waiting to be written before it was too late.—%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%Nurse Maria stood in the hallway, holding a small blue file.Her face looked tired. Her hands were still.She walked toward Zahra and Ryan, who were sitting on the bench beside the nurse station.“She’s ready,” Maria said quietly.Zahra looked up. “Who?”Maria gave the file to her.Zahra opened it.Patient Name: AanyaAge: 6 yearsCondition: Critical head injury, internal bleedingFamily: All passed away in car crashExpected life: 2–3 daysRyan was still chewing her pen. She looked over Zahra’s shoulder.Then she froze.“She’s… just six?” Ryan whispered.Maria nodded.“She doesn’t know anything yet. She thinks her family is in the next room.”Zahra closed the file slowly.Her fingers were cold now.“Does she… want to say something?” Ryan asked.Maria took a breath. “She said she wants to send a ‘note’ to her Mama. She wants to draw a flower too.”Zahra didn’t speak.She just stood up.Ryan followed her, more slowly this time.---Room 12 was filled with soft sunlight.A small girl lay in bed. Her cheeks were pink from fever, not health.One of her legs was in a cast. Her hand was taped with IV tubes.But she was smiling.She had a teddy bear beside her.Her hair was tied in two short ponytails.Her eyes were bright, like nothing had gone wrong.“Are you the drawing ladies?” she asked.Ryan blinked. “What?”“You will help me write my note and draw the flower, right?” Aanya said sweetly.Zahra gave a soft nod. “Yes, Aanya. We will help.”Ryan sat beside her and opened her small notebook.Aanya spoke in a light, happy voice.“I want to draw a red flower. Mama likes red. And I want to write, ‘Mama, please come soon, I’m bored here.’”Ryan looked at the page.Aanya continued, “Also tell Baba that I want to go home today. He said we will go for ice cream this week. I want strawberry flavor.”Ryan’s hands started shaking.Aanya was talking like her family was just down the hall.Like nothing had changed.She didn’t know…They were all… gone.Zahra stood still in one corner. Her eyes didn’t move.Ryan tried to write. But her eyes filled with water.Aanya was now singing a small song to herself. Her voice soft and broken.She smiled at her teddy bear and kissed its forehead.Ryan stood up quickly.She didn’t say a word.She walked out of the room, fast.---Outside, in the garden, Ryan sat on the hospital steps.Her hands covered her face.Tears rolled down, again and again.She was crying like someone who had been strong for too long.Zahra came and stood next to her. She didn’t say anything at first.Ryan finally said, between her sobs,“She doesn’t even know she’s dying.”Zahra looked at the sky.The clouds were heavy. But the sun was still trying to shine through.“She’s talking about strawberry ice cream,” Ryan whispered.“She thinks her mom will come back.”Still, Zahra didn’t cry.She sat beside Ryan and said quietly,“She should live.”Ryan wiped her face.“She should,” she repeated.But they both knew the truth.Zahra looked straight ahead. Her voice calm, but full of pain.“She should live… but sometimes the ones who deserve life… don’t get it.”Ryan cried again.And Zahra just sat there — silent, still —as if holding a world of prayers inside her.The rain had stopped.Only a few drops hung on the leaves now, shining in the dim light like tiny tears that had nowhere left to fall.Ryan sat still, wiping her face with the sleeve of her coat.Her nose was red. Her heart was heavy.Zahra, sitting beside her, looked ahead quietly.She didn’t speak right away. She let the silence sit between them — calm, but not empty.Then finally, Zahra said it.Her voice was soft… but strong.“Nothing is final.”Ryan looked at her, confused.“What?”Zahra turned to her.“They gave us a job to write final letters,” she said.“But what if… we try to make sure there is no final letter?”Ryan blinked.“But she’s dying. That’s what they said.”Zahra shook her head.“They said she has three days. Not three minutes.”She stood up now. Her voice got firmer.“That means we have three days to try. To ask. To push. To fight. To hope.”Ryan stared at her.Zahra continued,“She’s a child. She doesn't know she’s dying. That’s not weakness. That’s faith. That’s innocence. We can’t carry that much pain and then walk away.”Ryan slowly stood up too.“But we’re not surgeons. We’re here to collect words.”Zahra smiled a little.“Then let’s write something better. Let’s write a different ending.”There was a long silence.Then Ryan took a deep breath.“Okay. Let’s try. Let’s try with everything we have.”Zahra nodded.The wind blew gently through the trees, almost like a whisper of approval.They had three days.Three days until Aanya’s time could end.Or change.And Zahra — the tired, quiet doctor from Pakistan —was ready to fight for her.So was Ryan — the girl who once laughed at everything,but now had learned how to cry…and how to hope.%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%It was just after lunch. The clouds had cleared.A soft golden light filled the halls of the hospital again.Nurse Maria came toward them with her usual calm walk.“I have something for you,” she said.Zahra and Ryan looked up.“There’s a team I want you to meet,” Maria continued.“They work in the second building. The other side of this hospital.”“What do they do there?” Ryan asked.Maria’s eyes softened.“They work for the ones… who still have a chance to live.”Zahra stood up. “You mean the patients who can be saved?”Maria nodded. “Yes. Not everyone here is dying. Some still hold on. Some still fight. And that team helps them fight harder.”She paused, then added,“I want you to see it. You need to remember what hope looks like.”Zahra and Ryan looked at each other.There was a time, not long ago, when they were that team.Bright white coats. Confident footsteps.Running toward life… not walking beside death.And now?They just wrote goodbye letters.But today, something stirred in their hearts again.---The second building was across a small garden path.They walked under trees filled with sun, their shoes making soft sounds on the stone path.As they reached the doors —everything changed.The building was taller, wider, newer.White walls, clean floors, big glass windows.Doctors moving quickly, charts in hand.Nurses laughing softly in corners.Screens beeping, monitors flashing.The smell was different too — not bleach or silence —but fresh air… and hope.Ryan looked around.“Wow…” she whispered.Zahra was quiet. She was taking it all in.A child in a wheelchair passed them, holding a balloon. His mother held his hand and smiled.Zahra looked at him… then at the hallway ahead… then leaned close to Ryan.“What if we succeed… in shifting Aanya here?” she whispered.Ryan turned slowly.Her eyes widened — not with fear, but with surprise.Then… a small smile grew on her face.She whispered back:“Then maybe… we win.”They didn’t say anything else.But both of them stood there, in that bright hallway…And smiled — softly, secretly — like two girls holding a tiny light in a dark world.&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&Back in their own unit, the walls felt smaller again.Dimmer. Still. Heavy.But something had changed.Zahra was holding her notebook tighter now.Ryan walked beside her — no longer slouched, no longer making jokes.They were both quiet.But it wasn’t the old silence.It was the kind of silence that holds a plan.Inside the break room, they sat at a small metal table.Ryan opened her phone and said, “So… where do we start?”Zahra answered softly, “The file.”She pulled out Aanya’s file again.It was thin. Too thin for a life so small and so important.“Her injuries are serious,” Zahra whispered.“But she’s young. And her heart is strong. That’s a good sign.”Ryan nodded.“She made it through three surgeries already. That means she’s still fighting.”Zahra leaned forward, her voice calm but firm.“I think she needs one more chance. A second opinion. A fresh set of hands.”Ryan frowned. “And how do we get that?”Zahra didn’t blink.“We talk to the other building.”Ryan’s eyes widened. “You mean… ask them to take her?”Zahra nodded.“They have better equipment. More staff. More surgeons. And more hope.”Ryan bit her lip.“That won’t be easy.”Zahra looked her in the eye.“Nothing worth saving ever is.”---Later that day, they walked across the garden again —this time not just to look… but to ask.They stood at the front desk of the second building.A kind-faced nurse looked up. “Can I help you?”Zahra stepped forward.“We’re from the palliative unit,” she said. “And we need to speak with the surgical coordinator.”The nurse raised an eyebrow.“Are you making a referral?”Zahra nodded.“Not officially. Just… requesting a review. For one patient.”The nurse hesitated, then picked up the phone.Five minutes later, a tall woman in green scrubs arrived.She looked serious, but not cold.“I’m Dr. Elise. Surgical coordinator. What’s the case?”Zahra handed over the file.“Aanya Ahmed. Six years old. Multiple trauma injuries. Currently stable… but not improving.”Dr. Elise flipped through the pages.“She’s in end-of-life care, right?”Zahra took a breath.“Yes. But we believe… she might still have a chance.”There was silence.The hallway behind them buzzed with movement, machines, voices.But this moment… stood still.Dr. Elise looked up.Her eyes held no promises.But they held curiosity.“I’ll review it. If there’s even a small window… we’ll open it.”Zahra and Ryan looked at each other.Not with smiles.Not with excitement.But with hope —that small, steady thing that doesn’t scream…but waits patiently at the door.—$¢$$$¢$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$The morning light fell cold through the window.Zahra sat by her desk, a warm mug of tea untouched in her hands.Ryan was pacing slowly across the room, arms folded, biting her lip now and then.There had been silence between them since last night.They had handed in Aanya’s file, waited, hoped… and now the wait was over.A soft knock came at the door.Nurse Maria stepped in. In her hand, a plain envelope — white, official, folded at the corners.“No message,” she said. “Just this.”She placed it on Zahra’s desk and left quietly.Ryan stood still now, watching the letter like it was a verdict.Zahra opened it slowly.Her eyes scanned the page. She read every line twice.And then once more.Ryan finally asked, “What does it say?”Zahra didn’t answer immediately. She gently placed the paper on the table between them and slid it across.Ryan picked it up and read:> Medical Review: Aanya AhmedAfter thorough evaluation of patient’s condition, it is concluded:Traumatic brain injury, non-operableInternal organ damage with no recovery progressHigh risk of cardiac failureNo positive response to previous treatmentsRecommendation:Patient is not eligible for transfer to Building B (Advanced Surgical Unit)As per policy, only patients with a strong and immediate chance of survival are considered for transferComment from Surgical Coordinator, Dr. Elise:> “You both are new to this side of medicine. Slowly, you will learn.Sometimes, the best we can do… is stand still beside those who are leaving.Doctors must not always fight.Sometimes, they must simply witness.”> “Building B is not a place for hope. It is a place for action.We only send people there… who still have a life to fight for.”Ryan dropped the letter to the table.She sat back on the edge of the desk, blinking hard.“So that’s it?” she whispered.Zahra stayed quiet. Her eyes were on the paper, but her mind was far away.“They didn’t even say her name in the last lines,” Ryan said.“Just ‘the patient’. Like she’s… already gone.”Zahra finally looked up.“She’s not gone,” she said.Ryan gave a short, sad laugh. “No. But they’ve already closed the door.”Zahra’s voice was very soft now, but steady.“Not every door opens. I know that.”She stood up, slowly.“But the fact that we knocked… means something.”Ryan looked at her.Zahra’s eyes were calm. Tired, but calm. Not broken.“We didn’t lose her,” she said. “We just didn’t move her.”There was silence again.But this silence was different.It wasn’t hopelessness anymore.It was a silence filled with love — and a quiet decision to stay with someone… even if you couldn’t save them.Even if all you could do…was be the one who stayed.$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$The next morning, Zahra and Ryan walked into the hospital with quiet confidence.They had not given up.They still believed… that even if the door had closed, a window could still open.They had made notes. Collected ideas.They were planning to talk to another doctor today — maybe someone would say “yes.”But as they stepped into the unit, they saw Nurse Maria waiting for them.Her face was not calm today.“Zahra. Ryan,” she said quickly. “Come with me.”They followed her into the office.Maria turned, looked at both of them carefully.“Doctors came in early today,” she said. “Aanya’s body is failing. Blood pressure dropped. Heart unstable. They say it’s close.”Zahra blinked.Ryan’s mouth opened, but no words came.Maria's voice lowered.“You have to write her final letter… today.”Ryan sank into the chair.Zahra pressed her hands together.“But she was stable yesterday.”Maria looked down.“She was holding on… for something. Maybe someone. But the body… it has limits.”She handed Zahra a blank paper.“She’s asking for you.”---When Zahra and Ryan entered Aanya’s room, the girl was sitting quietly.A soft toy in her lap. Her tiny face pale.Lips dry. Cheeks hollow.But her eyes…Still bright. Still clear.She looked up.“You’re back,” she said softly.Ryan smiled and nodded.Zahra sat beside her.“How are you feeling, sweetheart?”Aanya shrugged gently.“I’m tired. But it’s okay.”Then she added, after a pause,“I know about Mama and Baba.”Zahra froze.“I heard the nurse yesterday,” Aanya whispered.“But it’s okay. I already saw them… in my dream.”Ryan was quietly crying now.Aanya looked up at Zahra.“Will you help me write… a letter to life?”Zahra nodded slowly.She opened her notebook.And Aanya began.---Aanya’s Letter to LifeDear Life,I’m sorry I couldn’t stay longer.You were short for me… but you were beautiful.You gave me a Mama who sang to me every night.A Baba who carried me on his shoulders in the rain.A room full of stars on the ceiling.A cake with pink flowers on my last birthday.You gave me friends at school.A blue dress I loved.And one day at the beach where I laughed until I couldn’t breathe.I wanted to stay.I wanted to learn to write better.To ride a bicycle without falling.To grow tall like Mama.But I guess… some children don’t grow tall.Some stay small, and soft, and then… go away.Please take care of my Mama and Baba in heaven.Tell them I’ll find them soon.Tell them I was brave.And if someone finds this letter,Tell them to smile when they think of me.Because I smiled a lot.Even when it hurt.Goodbye, Life.You were my first friend.Love,Aanya---When Zahra finished writing, the room was silent.Ryan had turned away, shoulders shaking.Zahra looked at Aanya.She was resting now, peacefully.Eyes closed.A faint smile on her face.As if she had finished everything she came to say…And was now ready…to sleep.$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$¢¢$$$$$$$$$$$The hallway felt colder now.More real. More silent.Zahra walked slowly, her fingers still holding the corner of her notebook, where Aanya’s words lived forever now.Ryan walked behind her, wiping her eyes quietly.Neither of them spoke as they returned to their small shared office.It wasn’t just grief they carried.It was a weight much heavier: the quiet truth that this would happen again.They had stepped into this job thinking they were being punished.Then they found purpose in saving one girl.And now… that girl was gone.But the job remained.A knock on the door broke the silence.It was Nurse Maria.She stepped in with a clipboard in hand and a different kind of look on her face.Not sorrow. Not kindness. Not coldness.Just reality.“I’m sorry,” she said softly, “but I have to be honest with you both now.”Zahra looked up slowly.Ryan wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand.Maria sat down across from them.“You came here for a punishment,” she said. “That’s what the board called it.”She paused, then looked at them carefully.“But this place is not a punishment. It’s a mirror. It shows you what you carry inside you.”She placed the clipboard on the desk.Zahra glanced at it.It had names.Seven of them.Maria continued.“Seven patients. All in critical condition. All in their last hours or days.”Ryan’s eyes widened.Maria didn’t blink.“I need you both to begin collecting letters… every day.”Ryan opened her mouth. “Every day?”Maria nodded. “One letter. One life. Every day.”She took a slow breath.“This is not something you can prepare for. You won’t ever be ‘used to it’. You’ll never become numb. That’s not the point.”Zahra was still quiet, her eyes on the list.Maria leaned forward.“You will cry sometimes. You will walk out of rooms and wish you never walked in. You will hear stories that will stay with you when you’re old and grey.”“But… if you do this with honesty — and heart — you will also give the world something it doesn’t always have.”Ryan whispered, “What’s that?”Maria smiled gently.“A listener. A witness. Someone who doesn’t run away.”She stood up.“These people… they are dying. But they are not invisible.And you — both of you — are now the ones who will write down what they couldn’t say before.”She turned toward the door, then paused."And you must be strong," she added, more gently now."Not because you don’t feel.But because they need someone…who still believes their last words matter."The door clicked shut behind her.---For a long time, neither Zahra nor Ryan moved.Then finally, Zahra reached forward and picked up the clipboard.She read the first name aloud.It was an old woman.Eighty-two.Stage-four cancer.No children. No visitors.Ryan let out a slow sigh.“Okay,” she said.“Let’s go meet her.”Zahra nodded.And just like that…Their next letter had already begun.$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$The room was quiet when Zahra and Ryan entered.The light coming through the wide window was soft, golden — like the kind that visits only once in a day, just before sunset.There, lying peacefully in the middle of a neatly arranged bed, was the woman from the list.Her name: Eleanor Mae.Eighty-two.Stage-four cancer.Alone.But Zahra, at first glance, didn’t see sickness.She saw… grace.Eleanor’s face was old — yes — but it was breathtaking.Her skin, pale like morning clouds, held soft wrinkles that looked more like pages of poetry than signs of age.Her lips were thin and dry, but curved naturally in a peaceful half-smile.And her eyes…Oh, her eyes.Lavender.Not quite blue, not fully grey.Eyes that looked like they’d seen wars and weddings,birth and burial,grief and grace…And survived them all.Zahra stood still for a moment.So did Ryan.Eleanor slowly opened her eyes, blinked once, then smiled wider.“I was… wondering,” she whispered, her voice like a soft wind through leaves,“when… you’d finally come.”Zahra stepped forward gently.“Hello. I’m Dr. Zahra. And this is Ryan. We’re here… to talk. To write your letter.”Eleanor’s gaze moved between them slowly.“Lovely… names,” she said, like tasting each syllable.“Zahra. Ryan.”She nodded, very slightly.Ryan pulled a chair closer to her bed.Eleanor watched them for a moment, then spoke again —slowly, softly, as if her words were drops of honey melting on the tongue.“Do you know… what people forget?” she said,“…they forget… that the world keeps turning.”Zahra tilted her head.Eleanor smiled again.“When you are young, you think… things stop when you cry.That pain… freezes the earth.But it doesn’t.”She looked toward the window.“The sun… still sets.The tea still boils.And the wind still blows your hair into your eyes…even when your heart… is breaking.”Ryan was watching her like a child listens to a bedtime story.Zahra opened her notebook.“Would you like to write something to someone?” she asked gently.Eleanor gave a quiet laugh. It was dry, but musical.“There’s… no one to write to, my dear.”A pause.“…But I will still write.”She closed her eyes for a long second, then opened them again.“Because… someone out there… might need to read it.”Zahra readied her pen.And Eleanor Mae began —her voice slow, her eyes full of lavender light.—$#$$$$$$$%%%%$%%%%%%"I was ten when he moved in next door. His name was Charles, and he had the brightest smile I’d ever seen. The kind of smile that made you feel warm inside, even on cold mornings."She paused for a moment and continued, her voice slow and clear."Our houses were just the same… small, white, with green gardens in front. Only a wooden fence between us. But it never felt like we were in two houses. It felt like one."Zahra and Ryan listened quietly."I used to climb the little tree in our front yard just to watch him ride his bike. He would ride in circles and laugh. And that laugh…" Eleanor smiled, eyes far away. "It was the kind of laugh that stayed with you — even after the day was gone.""He was kind. Not in a loud way. In a quiet way. He would pick up my books when I dropped them. He once helped a bird that had fallen from a nest. He spoke slowly, never in a rush. Even as a boy, he had gentle hands."Ryan whispered, “Like you.”Eleanor chuckled softly. “Oh no. I was wild. I talked too much. I was always asking questions. He just smiled and listened.”She touched the edge of her blanket gently, like touching an old memory."We grew up together. Side by side. Every birthday, every school picnic, every evening in the garden — we were there.By the time we were sixteen, everyone knew."Eleanor gave a small sigh. "Our parents… they used to smile when they saw us. His mother would call me ‘daughter’ even before anything was official."Zahra asked softly, “So you were engaged?”“Almost,” Eleanor nodded. “Just before he joined the army. He said, ‘Let me serve the country. Then I’ll come back, and we’ll get married.’”Ryan bit her lip gently. “And… did he?”Eleanor looked down at her hands. There was no anger in her eyes. Just a quiet peace.“He came back,” she said. “But something… didn’t.”Eleanor’s eyes stayed on the window.But she was not seeing the trees.She was seeing something far away — from many years ago.She spoke softly, almost like she was speaking to herself.---"I remember… we used to play in the mud after rain.We didn’t care if we got dirty.He would make little boats with paper.And I… I would race them in the water with him.Sometimes mine won, sometimes his.But he always let me win more."She smiled."He once said,‘One day, we’ll have a big garden.With apples and white flowers.And you’ll sit under the tree and read books all day.’"Zahra’s pen had stopped moving.She was just listening now.Eleanor’s voice turned lighter — like sunshine touching skin."We made a secret language…only the two of us could understand it.We would write messages in chalk on the wooden fence between our houses.Just small things like,‘I found a feather today.’or‘My mother is making cake.’"She gave a soft laugh."I remember once… he built a small box with a lock.He called it our ‘dream box’.We both wrote down what we wanted to do when we grew up.Folded the papers, and locked them inside."Ryan whispered, “What did you write?”Eleanor looked at her."I wanted to travel the world…but only if he came with me."Zahra asked gently, “And Charles?”Eleanor paused. Then she smiled quietly."He wrote…‘I just want her to be happy. Wherever she is.’"There was a silence in the room now — but it wasn’t empty.It was full.Full of quiet laughter.Paper boats.Apple trees that never grew.And two neighbors,who never said the word love,but lived it anyway.$$$$$$$$$$¢$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$The sky was clear that morning.The air was soft.And Eleanor… she could not stop smiling.“He’s coming today,” she whispered, again and again, as if saying it made it more real.She had tied her hair twice already, and still didn’t like it.She had changed her dress three times.Her mother finally laughed and said,> “It’s just Charles, dear. Not the King.”But Eleanor knew —for her, Charles was more than a king.---She walked around the house with light feet.Made extra tea.Put fresh flowers in a jar.Told her little brother to stop making noise.Then smiled at herself for acting so silly.She sat by the window.Waited.And waited.And waited.But not the heavy, painful waiting.No.This was happy waiting.The kind that makes your heart dance quietly.---Around 4 PM, the street filled with noise.Kids started shouting.“He’s here!”“The soldier’s home!”“It’s Charles!”Eleanor stood up so fast, she knocked over the flower jar.She didn’t care.She ran to the door —and stopped.He was walking down the street.Same tall frame.Same calm face.Same quiet steps.But in uniform now.Looking stronger. Older.Wiser.People came out of their homes.Someone clapped.Someone hugged him.But Eleanor… she just stood at the fence.Both hands holding the wood.He looked at her — and smiled.And in that smile,all the years of friendship came back.They didn’t speak right away.They didn’t need to.The eyes spoke.The wind spoke.And maybe even the fence between them smiled a little that day.………….That evening, Eleanor stood in her front yard.The sun was going down.The sky had soft orange light.She saw Charles standing near the fence —just like old times.Only now, he was taller.His face was sharper.But his eyes…they were still the same.Eleanor picked up two cups of tea and walked over.Her hands were shaking, just a little.---“Hey, soldier,” she said with a grin.He smiled wide.“I was waiting for you.”“You look… different,” she said, looking at his face.He laughed.“You too. What happened to your hair? You look like a baby bird.”Eleanor gasped. “Excuse me? You look like a tired lion!”They both laughed — really laughed — for the first time in years.The wall between them felt smaller now.---They sat on the front steps, sipping tea.“I missed this,” Charles said softly.“The tea?” she teased.He looked at her and said,“No.You.This.All of it.”Her smile faded into something softer.So did his.There was silence for a moment.But it was a good silence —the kind that makes you feel safe.---Then he began to speak.“Army life is hard, El.You sleep on the ground, eat when you can,miss your home every day.Sometimes it’s so hot your boots melt.Sometimes it’s so cold you can’t feel your fingers.And you see things…”He looked away.“You wish you never saw.”Eleanor didn’t ask questions.She just looked at him with kind eyes.“You’re home now,” she said gently.---“And what about you?” he asked. “Still burning toast in the kitchen?”She rolled her eyes.“Please. I run that kitchen like a boss now.”“Do you?”“Of course. I chop, cook, clean, and yell at my little brother all at the same time.It’s my own battlefield.”Charles laughed again.“You were always a fighter.”---Then they both looked ahead, quiet again.The sky was darker now.A few stars were out.“I thought I’d come back and everything would feel the same,” Charles said.“But it doesn’t.Everything feels… older.Like time moved without me.”Eleanor nodded.“Time moves.But hearts remember.”He looked at her.“You really believe that?”She smiled.“I do.That’s why I’m still here.”She took a sip of her tea.“Do you remember the time you fell off your bike and cried like a baby?”Charles laughed out loud.“You promised you’d never talk about that again!”“I lied,” she said with a big smile.He shook his head. “You were such a troublemaker.”“And you were so serious. You never even cheated in a game.”“I still don’t,” he said proudly.Eleanor raised an eyebrow. “Boring.”Charles smiled. “You haven’t changed, El.”Eleanor looked at him. “You have… a little.”“Good or bad?”“Just… different.”---There was silence again, but it wasn’t heavy.It was peaceful.Charles looked up at the stars.“Sometimes I think about what life would be like if I never left.”“You’d still be here, fixing your bike,” Eleanor said.“And you’d still be stealing my cake,” he said.She laughed.“Guilty.”---Charles turned to her.“You know… I don’t laugh like this over there.”Eleanor looked into his eyes.“I know.”“It’s like... the world gets quiet.Too quiet.”“I’m glad you’re here,” she said softly.He nodded. “Me too.”---Just then, a voice called from the street.“Charles! Hey, the captain wants to see you! Now!”He stood up quickly.Duty.It always came fast.He looked down at Eleanor.“I have to go.”She stood too, trying to hide the sadness in her eyes.“Of course. Go.”He hesitated for a second, then said softly,“I’ll come back tomorrow… if you want.”Eleanor nodded.“I’ll be here. Same steps. Same tea.”He gave her one last smile.Then turned and walked away into the night.And Eleanor…stood alone at the fence,holding her empty cup,watching him go.Like she had done before.$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$Two weeks later,Eleanor sat on the stairs again — but this time, everything felt different.Her cheeks were red.Her eyes sparkled.Her mother had just said the words she never thought she’d hear so soon:“Your marriage is fixed. With Charles.”Eleanor couldn’t stop smiling.Then crying.Then smiling again.She ran outside.And there he was.Charles — standing near the fence, as always.---She walked toward him slowly, holding a flower in her hand.He saw her and raised his eyebrow.“What’s that face? Are you going to hit me with that flower?”Eleanor grinned.“No. I just came to ask you something very important.”Charles smiled playfully. “Go on.”She stopped in front of him and said,“Are you really going to bear me for a whole life?Think about it, soldier.I’m loud. I steal cake. I leave dishes in the sink.And I cry during sad movies.”Charles looked at her for a moment, then laughed.“A whole life? You think I’ve trained in the army for nothing?I can face war. I can face you.”Eleanor laughed so loudly, a cat ran away.---Then she came closer. Her voice softer now.“I still can’t believe it,” she whispered.“I waited so long… and now it’s happening.”Charles nodded. His smile was gentler now.“Do you know what I used to think about every night when I was away?”“What?”“You.Your laugh.Your stories.Your ugly handwriting on the fence.”“Hey!” she smacked his arm. “It was artistic.”They both laughed again.---Then, Charles became serious.“Eleanor…” he said quietly,“I may not be perfect. I’ve seen hard things.Sometimes I feel too broken.”She looked straight at him.“You’re not broken.You’re real.And I don’t need perfect —I just need you.”His eyes softened.“I promise,” he said,“no matter where life takes us,you’ll never have to wait for me again.”Eleanor held out her little finger.“Pinky promise?”He laughed, hooked his pinky around hers.“Pinky promise.”---And in that moment…the street didn’t matter,the noise didn’t matter,the future didn’t scare them.They had each other.And sometimes,that’s enough to feel whole.$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$It was a quiet afternoon. The sun was warm, and the wind was soft. In Eleanor’s house, her room was full of fabric — soft cloth, buttons, thread, and old paper designs.A kind old lady had come — her name was Mrs. Linwood. She had made wedding dresses for many girls in town, but never for Eleanor. Until now.She touched the fabrics with care. “This silk is very soft,” she said gently. “Perfect for a white wedding dress.”But Eleanor shook her head. “No white.”Mrs. Linwood looked up, surprised. “No white? But dear, brides wear white. It’s tradition.”Eleanor smiled politely. “Not for me.”The lady looked at her closely. Eleanor was standing near the window, sunlight falling on her face.Her skin was soft, her eyes calm, but there was something strong in her voice. A quiet decision.“I want something else,” Eleanor said. “Something warm. Like sky at sunset. Maybe soft peach… or deep rose. Not white.”Mrs. Linwood asked kindly, “But why, child? White is… safe. Expected.”Eleanor turned, touched the fabric slowly, and whispered,“Because my marriage will not be like others.”Mrs. Linwood didn’t speak for a moment. So Eleanor continued.“I didn’t meet him at a party. He wasn’t a stranger from a different town. He was my neighbor. My friend. My childhood.”“I waited for him. Through quiet days. Through loud nights. Through letters that never came. Through silence that lasted years.”She looked down at the fabric, smiling softly.“So I don’t want to look like every bride. I don’t want to wear a color that hides all that waiting.”She picked a deep, peach-colored cloth — simple, soft, glowing in the light.“This is the color of hope,” she said.Mrs. Linwood smiled slowly.“And you… you are a different kind of bride.”Eleanor laughed lightly. “I always was a little different.”The lady took the cloth, measured her arms, her shoulders, talked about lace and thread.And Eleanor stood still, eyes shining, imagining the day — the small wedding, the laughter, the tea, and Charles looking at her, not because of her dress, but because of the journey they took to reach it.Eleanor stopped talking.Her voice faded.Her hands were still.Her eyes… far away.Ryan looked at her gently.“…Then what happened?” she asked.Eleanor didn’t answer right away.She looked at the floor.A long breath.And then she whispered:---“I remember that day like it was yesterday…”The sun was bright.The air was warm.There were red flowers in my hands — fresh and full.My dress was the color I had dreamed of.Soft. Peach.Like the evening sky.My jewelry was light,not too much.Just how I always wanted.Just how he liked it.People were laughing.Music played softly in the background.I was smiling…because I knew he was coming.---I stood near the door.Waiting.Breathing slowly.And then—There was silence.I saw soldiers walking in.They were not smiling.They were carrying something…A wooden box.Covered in our flag.Covered in quiet.---I didn’t feel my feet.I didn’t feel my breath.Everything was spinning.And then I saw…His name.On the box.Charles.My Charles.The proud soldier.The boy who used to laugh with me,run with me,wait by the fence for me…Was now quiet.Still.Gone.---The world turned black.I fainted.---And in that dark silence,I remembered the last time I saw him.He was in uniform.He had tears in his eyes but was smiling.He held my hand and said:“I’ll come back, El.I promise.I’ll be there on the day of our wedding.”And I believed him.I really did.---Eleanor’s voice shook.But no tears came.Her eyes just stared ahead, as if she was still standing at that door,still holding red flowers,still waiting.Ryan reached out and held her hand.Eleanor finally blinked,and whispered:“He kept his promise…He came.Just not the way I had dreamed.”The room was quiet.Zahra sat next to Eleanor,holding her hand softly.Even Ryan wasn’t saying anything now.There was just…stillness.Zahra looked at her gently and asked,“What happened to your family?”Eleanor took a deep breath.Her voice was low.---“I never married again,” she said.“How could I?”She looked down at her hands.“My brother… he moved abroad.I don’t know why.He just… left.He never came back.Never called.Not even once.”Zahra’s eyes softened.Eleanor continued.“My parents… they died some years later.Old age… sadness…I think they missed Charles too.”She gave a small, broken smile.“And I was left alone.Just me.And a house full of memories.”---Zahra felt a lump in her throat.She didn’t know what to say.Eleanor looked outside the window.The sky was cloudy,soft wind blowing the curtains.Then, with a quiet voice, she said:“I think…it’s time to meet Charles.”Zahra looked at her, unsure.Eleanor didn’t mean it with pain.She said it with peace.With calm.As if her heart had been waiting too long —and now, it was ready.The room was still.Eleanor sat by the window.Her face was calm,like a sunset that had finally made peace with the night.Zahra looked at Ryan.Ryan’s eyes were glassy.She was trying to smile, but something inside her was soft…broken…but stronger than before.Zahra leaned closer, and whispered:“Ryan…”“Maybe… it’s time.”Ryan nodded.“The last letter?”Zahra turned to Eleanor and walked slowly toward her.---She sat beside her gently, and said:“Miss Eleanor…we have not collected many letters.From children, from old people,from those who were leaving too soon.But today… we want it from you “Eleanor looked at her.Zahra continued:“We want a letter from someone… who stayed.Who carried a life… even after love ended.A letter… from you.To life itself.”Eleanor blinked, slowly.Then smiled.“A letter to life?”“Yes,” Zahra said.“The last one.”---Eleanor nodded once.Took a pen.Took a plain white sheet.She looked out the window one last time.Then began to write.---A Letter to LifeBy EleanorDear Life,I never learned how to hold you properly.You came with joy, and I held you with laughter.You brought pain, and I held you with silence.And yet, you never stopped walking beside me.You gave me a childhood filled with small dreams.You gave me a friend,who became my world.And then… you took him away.But you never left me.You stayed in my heartbeat.In tea cups.In folded blankets.In the empty chair near my window.Life, you are not easy.But you are… honest.You do not lie.You never promised forever.But you gave me "now."You gave me memories that still live.You gave me grief that didn’t destroy me.You taught me:Waiting is love.Silence is strength.And goodbye… does not mean the end of love.So I don’t hate you.I don’t blame you.In fact…I thank you.For letting me feel.For letting me hope.For letting me remember.For letting me keep him — in every breath.And now, as I fold this letter,I feel you, Life —Still breathing with me.Still walking with me.You didn’t break me.You just… shaped me.So this is not a goodbye.Not even a farewell.This is just a quiet thank you —From a womanwho learned how to live,even after the world fell quiet.With love,Eleanor---Zahra folded the letter slowly.Ryan had tears in her eyes.And in the silence that followed,no one spoke.Because sometimes…the softest words carry the loudest truth.---—Zahra and Ryan walked out of the room quietly.No words.No smiles.Just silence.There was nothing left to say to Eleanor.Her letter was so complete,so final,so… soft.They didn’t know if it made them sad or peaceful.They reached the garden bench.The air was still.The trees moved gently.Ryan sat down first, then Zahra.They looked at the sky.And then — Ryan finally spoke.Her voice was tired.Not loud.Just real.“This is not what we came for.”Zahra looked at her.But didn’t speak.Ryan continued.“We worked so hard to become strong.To heal people.To give hope.”She paused.“And now we are here…asking people to write last letters.”She shook her head.“It’s not fair.It’s just not fair.”Zahra closed her eyes.Then said softly:“We’re doctors.We give medicine.We give support.We give strength.”Her voice broke a little.“But now…we give paper and ask,‘Write to life… before you leave it.’”She looked down at her hands.“It feels wrong.Like we’re breaking inside.”Ryan nodded.“We were trained to fight death.But here…we’re trained to accept it.”Zahra looked at the sky again.And whispered:“Maybe this place doesn’t need doctors.Maybe it needs listeners.Maybe it needs someonewho can just… sit with pain.”Ryan wiped her face, quietly.There were no more words after that.Just two tired hearts,sitting quietly,learning that sometimes —being strong means feeling everything.The air was heavy.Zahra stood up from the bench slowly.Ryan followed.They were tired —but not broken.Zahra looked at her and said:"Let’s promise.We won’t cry again."Ryan nodded."Yes.Death is unstoppable.But we are not here to cry.We are here to stay strong.And we will."Zahra gave a tired smile."We’ll go back soon.To that room.To more stories.To more people."They stood in silence for a moment.Then they walked back to the patient area.Another nurse was waiting there.She looked serious.“There’s someone I want you to meet,” she said.“She’s been here for five months.She was declared to die soon…But she’s still alive.”Zahra raised an eyebrow.Ryan blinked.“Still alive?”“Yes,” the nurse nodded.“No treatment works.She can’t move.She can’t eat much.She speaks very slowly.But she’s alive.”“Her name?” Zahra asked.“Roon,” the nurse said.“She’s twenty-seven.”---They followed the nurse down a long hallway.It was quiet.The room was dim.The bed was white.And there she was —Roon.Thin.Pale.Weak.But her eyes…They were open.She looked at them.Ryan stopped.As soon as Ryan saw Roon's face,her body froze —and then suddenly, she stepped back.One, two steps.Then turned around… and ran.Not fast, not wild —but like someone who just saw a ghost from the past.Zahra blinked, confused for a moment,then quickly followed her.“Ryan! Ryan — what happened?”Ryan stopped in the hallway.She leaned against the wall,her breathing fast, but quiet.Zahra caught up,gently touched her shoulder.Ryan turned,her eyes wide… not with fear,but with something Zahra had never seen before.A kind of shock.“I told you once,” Ryan whispered.“I had a friend.A really good friend.We did MBBS together.She was like my sister.”Zahra nodded slowly.“Yes…you told me.You said she was the closest friend you ever had.”Ryan’s lips trembled — not with tears, but amazement.She pointed toward the room.“She’s there.”Her voice was barely a breath.“Zahra… that’s her.That’s Roon.”Zahra’s heart stopped for a second.She looked through the small window in the door.And yes —there she was.That same girl,silent on the bed,her body weak…But her eyes…Zahra understood.No one cried.Not Ryan.Not Zahra.They were both too shocked.Too still.Sometimes the past doesn’t return loudly.Sometimes, it just sits quietly in a room —and waits to be seen.Ryan slowly stepped back into the room.Roon’s eyes followed her —tired, sunken… but sharp.Still alive.Still seeing.As Ryan walked closer,Roon’s lips moved…her voice was rough, slow —but every word was full of pain.“You ran, girl…”She gave a bitter smile.“Why?”Ryan froze.Roon’s voice broke again.“Because I look ugly?”A pause.“Or because I’m dying?”Her voice was small, but heavy.Like it carried years of silence.Ryan’s lips trembled.And then —she rushed forward,knelt beside the bed,and hugged her.Tight.Without a word.Like she was holding back time.“Roon… oh my God, Roon…”Her tears came fast,falling on Roon’s shoulder.“What happened to you?”She sat beside her, holding her hand.“Where did you go?Why didn’t you call me?What happened in these two years?”She wiped her face,still crying.“Oh God… these days are so cruel.I’m such a bad friend.I didn’t even know—”Roon gave a tired little laugh.“You’re still dramatic,” she whispered.“Still the same girl who cried too easily.”Ryan smiled through her tears.Roon looked at her and said:“I’ll tell you everything.”And she did.Slowly…softly…from the beginning.How her health started falling.How she ignored the pain at first.How it spread.How hospitals turned into months.How friends disappeared.How silence became normal.Zahra stood quietly near the door,watching the two girls.She didn’t speak.Just listened.And in that small, quiet hospital room,something lost was found again.Not hope.Not health.But connection.And sometimes —that’s enough to keep someone alive a little longer.Ryan was still sitting beside her,holding her hand softly.The room was quiet now —just the two of them,and Zahra standing near the door,watching with silent care.After a long pause,Ryan asked gently:“Where are your parents, Roon?Do they know about your condition?”Roon’s eyes stayed still,looking up at the ceiling.Then, slowly, she said:“No.They don’t know anything.”Ryan’s eyebrows pulled together.“Why?Don’t they have the right to know?Don’t they deserve to be here with you?”Roon gave a weak, sad smile.“They are too poor to even buy a ticket to this country.Even if they knew… they can’t come.”She took a breath.Her voice got softer.“And my mother…she’s too weak when it comes to me.She can’t even bear it if I get a fever.How would she survive this?”Ryan’s eyes filled again.“But how…how did you hide such a big truth from them?”Roon closed her eyes.Then said, slowly:“I sent a message to my brother.I told him…I’m tired of sending money to you all.I have my own life.Leave me alone.Earn for yourself and for our parents.”She opened her eyes again.There was no regret in them.Only pain.“He might hate me now.But hate is better…than the pain of losing a daughter.”She looked at Ryan again.“They will never know about me.Never.Not even by mistake.”She turned her face to the side.“Let them live.Let them smile,thinking I’m doing fine.”Ryan said nothing.She just held her hand tighter.And Zahra…She turned her face away,because sometimes even doctorsdon’t know how to hold back the tears.Zahra stood near the door,watching the two friends —their hands still joined,their hearts heavier than ever.Then she stepped closer.She leaned gently and whispered something in Ryan’s ear.Ryan’s face changed.She shook her head softly,her eyes wide.“No…No, not yet.”Zahra looked into her eyes.Didn’t say more.Just waited.Ryan turned toward Roon slowly.She looked into her friend’s tired eyes —and whispered:“How…how did you end up in this hospital?”Roon smiled lightly.Like someone remembering a long, difficult road.“I was transferred here five months ago.They said I wouldn’t last a week.But I’m still here.”Ryan's lips trembled.Zahra stepped back,and quietly said:“It’s time, Roon…for your last letter to life.”Ryan turned sharply.“No.”She said it loudly this time.“She doesn’t need to write.She’s going to survive.”Zahra looked down,her face heavy.Roon was quiet for a while.Then she gave a faint laugh —so soft, it sounded like a sigh.“Maybe…” she said,“maybe I was surviving all this time…just to see you again, Ryan.”That line hit Ryan deep.Her throat tightened.Her hands shook.“Don’t say things like that,” she whispered.“You’ll live.You’ll walk out of this place.I’ll fight the whole hospital if I have to.”Roon smiled again.Her hand reached for Ryan’s,and gently squeezed it.“I want to write the letter, Ryan.”“Why?” Ryan said, voice breaking.“Don’t give up.”Roon’s eyes were calm now.Still sad,but peaceful.“Because I’m not giving up.I just want to say goodbye…in my own words.In my own way.”Ryan was silent.She nodded slowly,and laid her head softly on Roon’s arm.They said nothing for a long time.Two girls.One fight.One truth.And in that quiet hospital room,they chose to let the pencarry what the heart couldn’t say aloud.Ryan sat on the side table,holding the paper.The pen shook in her hand.Roon looked too tired to hold it."You write," she whispered."But these are my words.From me to life.Just write what I say."Ryan wiped her eyes and nodded.And Roon began.---"Dear Life,You were not very kind to me.You were full of strange surprises.You gave me some beautiful people…and then took them away.You gave me dreams.But you didn’t give me time to live them.When I was a child,I wanted to be a teacher.Then I wanted to be a doctor.Then I just wanted to be someone’s reason to smile.But I became… a patient.I used to laugh so loudly.I used to run barefoot in the rain.I used to think I would grow old with a family,paint my house yellow,plant roses by my window.But life, you had a different plan.It’s okay.I forgive you.Even though you broke me again and again.Even though I felt invisible in a room full of people.Even though I cried alone on hospital beds…Still — I forgive you.I won’t ask you why.I won’t be angry anymore.Because I believe…Maybe you are not the final answer.Maybe the real answer…is with God.So I will ask Him.I will ask why I couldn’t say goodbye to my mother.Why I had to hide my truth.Why love and life never met in one timeline.And maybe…He will smile,and hug me.And say, ‘I was always here.’”---Ryan’s hand was trembling now.Tears dropped on the paper.Roon’s voice was fading.But she smiled… just a little.“And lastly,” she whispered,“I want to say the most important thing…”Ryan leaned closer.“What is it?”Roon closed her eyes.Her lips moved, softly.“La ilaha illallahMuhammadur Rasoolullah…”Her voice grew slower…softer…Until it disappeared.The pen slipped from Ryan’s hand.“Roon?”She shook her gently.“Roon!”But the body didn’t move.The chest didn’t rise.And suddenly…Ryan screamed.A cry that echoed in every corner of the hospital.She threw herself forward,held Roon’s lifeless face,shaking her head—“No! No, no, no!You didn’t go!You said you’d finish the letter!You can’t leave me like this!”But the room was still.The body was warm,but the soul was gone.Ryan held her and sobbed,over and over.She had written the letter.But Roon had written her goodbyewith her breath.$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$The room was quiet.No laughter.No light.Just silence…and a heavy kind of emptiness.Ryan sat on the edge of her bed,staring at the wall.Her eyes were open,but they looked lost.Like they were searching for somethingthat was never coming back.Zahra entered the room,softly.She didn’t say anything for a moment.She just stood beside Ryan,watching her frienddrowning in the kind of silenceonly grief can bring.Finally, she spoke.“Ryan…you need to eat something.”Ryan didn’t reply.She didn’t even blink.Zahra sat beside her.“I know it hurts.I miss her too.She was… light.”Ryan’s lips quivered.“Time took her away from me,” she whispered.“It took my smile, Zahra.I…don’t feel like I exist anymore.”Zahra took her hand.“You do exist.And Roon would want you to continue.She would hate to see you like this.”Ryan turned her face away.“We buried her yesterday…I stood there,watched them lower her into the ground.That wasn’t supposed to happen.Not to her.”Zahra blinked slowly,then said in a soft, steady voice:“Some people don’t live long…but they leave behind something stronger than years.Roon left behind a piece of herself in you.And you have to carry it now.”Ryan finally looked at her.Her face was pale.Eyes swollen.“But how do I get up?”Zahra smiled sadly.“You just do.You cry…you breathe…and then you take one small step.That’s how we survive.”A long pause.And then Ryan whispered:“What day is it today?”Zahra looked at the clock.“It’s Monday.We have to be at the hospital in one hour.”Ryan let out a broken breath.“The world doesn’t stop for anyone, huh?”Zahra shook her head.“No…but we stop for each other.”Ryan stood slowly.Her hands were shaking.Her legs weak.But she stood.She walked to the mirror,tied her hair back.Still not smiling,but… standing.Zahra picked up her coat,and gave Ryan hers.They both walked out,step by step.The air outside was heavy.Like the world had also lost someone.But they walked anyway.Because grief can pause you —but it can't end you.$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$The sky was gray.Clouds hung low,as if the world still hadn’t wiped its tears from yesterday.Zahra and Ryan walked side by side,silent,lost in their own thoughts.The hospital wasn’t far,but the walk felt longer than usual.Suddenly, Zahra’s phone rang.She looked at the screen.Dr. Colin.The head doctor who had sent them to this hospital.The man who made the rules.She answered quickly.“Hello?”Ryan looked at her,eyes tired,face still holding yesterday’s pain.Zahra listened for a few seconds.Her face changed —calm turned into concern.Then she nodded.“Yes, sir.We understand.We’ll manage it.”She ended the call.Ryan frowned.“What now?”Zahra sighed.“That was Dr. Colin.He said…if we collect ten more last letters,we can return to our old hospital.”Ryan stopped walking.“What?”Her voice cracked.“Letters? Again?That’s all we are now? Letter collectors?”Zahra stayed quiet.Ryan's voice rose.“Do they even care how it feels to sit with someone who's dying?Do they know what it does to you —watching someone fade… and writing their final words?”Zahra gently said:“I know…it’s not fair.But we promised to stay strong.”Ryan turned her face away,eyes burning.“I’m tired of being strong, Zahra.I’m tired of smiling.I’m tired of pretending life is kind.”Zahra didn’t reply.She let her friend speak,because sometimes,pain needs to be heard before it can heal.Ryan whispered at last:“Ten more letters?Ten more goodbyes?”Zahra softly nodded.“Yes.Ten more…and then we go home.”Ryan looked up at the sky.The clouds had not moved.The sun was nowhere.But they still walked forward,toward the hospital…Because sometimes,you keep goingeven when every stephurts.$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$The room was small,with one window facing the sky.A vase of dead flowers sat near the bed.She was sitting — not lying —head resting against the wall,eyes half open,body weak.But her face?Full of fire.Zahra and Ryan entered slowly.She turned her head toward them,slowly…but with sharp eyes.She looked around 34.But her eyes looked older.Like she had lived a thousand painful years.Zahra gave a gentle smile.“Hello… I’m Dr. Zahra.This is Ryan.We are here for a small thing.”The woman didn’t answer.Ryan stepped forward.“We collect last letters… from people.Just something you want to say to life.Anything at all.”Suddenly, the woman gave a cold laugh.A dry, sharp laugh.“To life?” she repeated.“You want me to write something to life?”Zahra nodded softly.The woman scoffed.“Then write this.”Ryan picked up the pen.The woman began, her voice bitter and sharp:---"Dear Life,I hated you.I still hate you, I'll keep hating you… forever and after.You are just a piece of nothing.A joke.A punishment.Even now,as I sit here in my last days,I feel no peace —only anger.You took everything from me.And gave me nothing back.I don’t even want to waste my words on you."**---Ryan slowly stopped writing.She looked at Zahra.Zahra looked at the woman and gently asked:“What if life minds?What if it hears you… and it breaks a little?”The woman’s eyes flashed.“Let it break.Let it burn.I don’t care about stupid life.”She paused, breathing heavily.“The sooner it ends…the better it is.”Zahra stood still.Her heart ached.Some people leave peacefully.But some…They leave still bleeding.$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$The room was full of half-packed bags.Ryan folded her coat. Zahra zipped up the file of patient reports.It was quiet — but not heavy anymore.This time, they were leaving with peace.Ryan smiled softly.“Thank God, we’re done.Twenty letters…We can finally go back.”Zahra nodded,but she didn’t smile yet.Her eyes fell on the thick brown folder —the one labeled:“Final Letters – D.O.N.T Open Without Heart”She picked it up gently,sat on the edge of the bed,and opened it.Ten letters lay inside.Ten final words.Ten lives that once were…She began reading.---1. Dear Love,(By Edward Hall, 63)I never learned how to say goodbye,so I left it until now.If you are reading this,I’ve already taken the last train home.I loved you for forty-three years.Every tea you made. Every sweater you folded.I was too proud to say it out loud.But you were my home.Tell our grandkids…Grandpa left smiling.Love always,Edward---2. Dear Life,(By Anna Blake, 19)You gave me only nineteen years —but what years they were!Thank you for the music in my room,the rain on my window,the smell of new books,and the secret diary I hid from everyone.I’m not scared anymore.Maybe heaven is just a bigger library…With love,Anna---3. Dear Love,(By Thomas Reed, 45)I loved him.I never said it.I was scared of the world.And now I’m scared I’ll never see him again.If he ever reads this,tell him — I wore the blue tie to see him smile.Every Monday.Every single one.I’m sorry I hid.But I loved him with everything I had.-Thomas---4. Dear Life,(By Margaret Rose, 70)You were cruel to me in the start.But kind near the end.I lost children.I lost a husband.But I found peace in a garden,and in small cups of tea under the sun.So thank you, life.Not for what you took —But for what you left behind.With gentle goodbye,Margaret---5. Dear Love,(By Christopher Young, 28)I always wanted to fly.But I never got on a plane.Now I’m leaving in a way I never imagined.But it’s okay.To my parents:Don’t cry at my empty bed.Cry at the sky.I’ll be flying now.Always yours,Chris---6. Dear Life,(By Emily Brooks, 39)I don’t forgive you for everything.But I do forgive you for letting me danceon that bridge in Romewith no shoesand red lipstick.That was enough.Goodbye,Emily---7. Dear Love,(By Jonathan Price, 60)You kept waiting for me to say it.I never did.So here:I loved you.I loved the way you fought with me for the remote.The way you left coffee stains on my books.The way you never said sorry first.You were annoying… and perfect.Goodbye, you beautiful storm.Jonathan---8. Dear Life,(By Lily Evans, 22)I didn’t get to grow old.But I got to grow up.And maybe that’s enough.Please plant a tree where I’m buried.Something pink.Let it bloom every spring…So I can be new again.Lily---9. Dear Love,(By Henry Walsh, 52)Tell our daughter I forgive her.Tell her I know she did her best.And to my wife…You were never too much.You were more than enough.Love,Henry---10. Dear Life,(By Sophia Carter, 33)I learned too late that being brave doesn’t mean not crying.It just means crying anyway,but still opening your eyes the next morning.I lost so much.But I also laughed on rooftops,ate cake with my fingers,and danced barefoot once in Paris.So goodbye, life.You were strange.But you were mine.Sophia---Zahra quietly closed the folder.Her hands trembled,but her heart felt full.“They didn’t just die,” she whispered.“They lived.”Ryan came and sat beside her.“And we…we got to witness their last words.”They looked at the folder again.It wasn’t just paper.It was love.Pain.Secrets.Smiles.It was twenty pieces of humanity.And now, it was time to carry those letters —not in their hands,but in their hearts.$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$It had been one week.Seven quiet days.Seven silent nights.Since they left the hospital of death and final letters.Since they carried home the weight of twenty souls.But today…They were back.Their own hospital.The place where walls were white,and air was filled not with goodbye… but with struggle.People still fought to live here.Babies still cried.Hearts still beat with faith.It was 5:10 a.m.The sky outside was slowly turning blue.A cold breeze entered from the window.Zahra stood by the corner table,her stethoscope around her neck,a soft smile on her tired face.Ryan was fixing her messy hair,humming a song with no tune.They were in their routine again.Back to the world of saving lives.Zahra yawned and stretched.“Another long night duty…” she whispered.Ryan rolled her eyes.“And here I was dreaming of Paris cafés and warm croissants.”They both laughed quietly.Suddenly —the door opened.Nurse Emily entered, breathless.“Doctor Zahra. Doctor Ryan,” she said quickly,“Room 206. Dying patient. Condition is getting worse — fast.”The room fell silent.Zahra and Ryan looked at each other.There was fear in their eyes —and laughter too.They were tired…But ready.Without a word,they ran.Down the hallway.Past the nurse station.Past the sleepy doors.Their hearts beat fast —not with panic,but with purpose.As they reached the ward,the sun began to rise.A new day had started.And they were still here…Not collecting last letters now —but writing first chances.The hallway lights flickered softly above themas Zahra and Ryan rushed down toward Room 206.Their steps echoed in the silence.The sun had just begun to stretch over the horizon.A new day had started — and they were running right into it.Halfway down the corridor,Ryan’s phone buzzed in her coat pocket.She took it out while walking quickly.One new message.From a number saved as:“Roon’s Brother 🧡”Ryan’s steps slowed for a second.Her thumb hovered over the screen.She opened the message.> “Thank you, sister.I don’t know how to say it.Roon was always the strong one in our family.We never thought she would care so much for us from this far.You’re sending money, helping mother’s treatment...God bless you, Roon.Love you always.”Ryan smiled — a soft, broken smile.Zahra looked at her and asked, “Something good?”Ryan nodded, a little sadly.She didn’t explain.She opened her messages.Typed slowly…paused…and then hit send.> “Hey,I’ll always take care of you guys.Tell mom to eat well.I miss you.Love,Roon.”She pressed the phone to her heart for a moment.Then put it back in her coat.Roon was gone.But her love didn’t have to leave.Ryan had made a choice.She would keep helping Roon’s family —quietly,without ever telling them the truth.To them,Roon still lived.In their hearts.In her messages.In the money sent each month.And maybe…that was enough.Zahra touched Ryan’s shoulder gently.“Let’s go.”Ryan nodded.They both started walking again —toward Room 206,The endBy insha Noor
