"Breakfast!" I wheeled the trolley through the door, entering a brightly lit room from the morning sunshine. I was working in a different part of the hospital to last time, a part that involved adults with diabetic complications. So far I had served breakfast to people with amputations, people wired up to IV drips, and a few who didn't look like they had anything wrong with them, but they had the misfortune of being in hospital anyway. Some people's pain was internal, and there were no scars or blood as evidence.

"I hope they got the order right this time," the man grumbled as I set his breakfast on the table beside him. He inspected the toast and eggs, letting out a somewhat satisfied grunt, so I left the room, not before saying, "Enjoy your food," something I had habitually began to say to the patients.

Now I only had three rooms left for the morning, and when I was done, I went to the reception, drumming my fingers on the bench as I waited for the secretary to finish her call.

"So you're done with serving breakfast?" I nodded. "Okay, I'm going to have to transfer you to a different part of the hospital. It's the – which one was it, Susan?"

The brunette receptionist called to the nurse who was sorting some files in the corner of the desk, and the nurse looked up, frowning in thought. "I think it's the surgery wing. With all the patients waiting for surgery," she replied, gathering the papers in her hand and stapling it. "There's a lot of laundry that needs to be done."

The receptionist turned back to me with a smile. "Looks like you'll be doing some laundry now. Should I accompany you or will you be right to find your way?"

"I think I can manage," I said hesitantly, and the receptionist seemed to sense my reluctance because she called Susan again, who was about to take a break, to show me the way to the surgery wing.

"Alright, let's go," Susan was shorter than me with a plump figure, and she hobbled in front of me as she led the way. During the elevator ride she complimented me on my hijab. It was a light blue material with winding white and black patterns and purple flowers. It was definitely my favourite.

Susan led me down a long hallway and then into a room I would've missed if I hadn't been directly shown to it, and in this room was a pile of dirty white sheets and a row of dryers and washing machines.

"Abigail will be coming soon to help you, so don't be overwhelmed. Once you're done loading the sheets you can take a break," Susan told me just as a young woman with black hair and freckles walked in wearing the hospital scrubs. "Ah, here she is, right on time, as always. Abigail, meet Mariam, our lovely volunteer."

Abigail smiled at me, shaking my hand. My eyes widened at how cold her hand was.

"Yeah, sorry about my hands. They're always cold," Abigail laughed at my expression. Susan bid us goodbye and good luck, leaving us in a room that smelt of laundry powder and mildew.

Abigail clapped her hands, scanning the room. "Let's get started, shall we?"

Laundry was disgusting. And that was putting it lightly. Abigail and I made conversation as we worked, managing to get all the sheets in the washing machines with the correct amount of detergent. She was twenty-three, and had been working here for a year now after graduating with a nursing degree. She too had done volunteering at a different hospital when she was in high school, and she told me about how it was tiring, but rewarding. I agreed.

After finishing up with the laundry, which took about half an hour, I finally got to go on my break. Abigail still had more work to do, so she let me go have a recess while she made patients' beds.

It took me a while to find the elevator. All the hallways looked the same, with its white polished floors and door on either side, where I could hear snippets of conversation and murmurs of television shows. When I finally did find it, I hit the down button a couple times, because for some reason it always made the elevator come faster. The doors opened, and I was about to scramble in when I locked eyes with someone...familiar.

Remember the two types of familiar, how there was one that made you feel relief and joy, and the other that made you want to curl up and vanish into thin air? Well, this one was a whole different type – one that made me go, "Oh." Because it hadn't crossed my mind that she would be here, in this hospital. Not even once.

"Mariam," Damian acknowledged my presence, stepping forward along with a couple other people. I realized I was blocking the way so I took a step back, out of the elevator, watching the doors close with a sigh. Maybe next time.

"Damian," I blinked up at him. He looked fresher than yesterday, less...dishevelled. It was strange to see him out of his uniform, with beige pants and a navy blue t-shirt, his hands – surprise, surprise – in his pockets. However he had faint shadows under his eyes, and a pucker in his brow. He had come alone; I wondered where his father was.

"What are you doing here?" his question wasn't harsh, it was calculating, like his gaze. He glanced at my badge, and my vest, and I saw him figure it out. "You're a volunteer?"

"Yeah, I am," I replied, crossing my arms and distancing myself from him a little. Doctors walked by, their footsteps echoing, and people waited for the elevator behind us. Damian gazed at me like he was trying to work something out, like a hard math problem.

"Are you here on purpose?"

"What do you mean?" I knew what he meant.

"Did you know my mum was in this hospital?" Damian asked.

I shook my head. "No, I applied here before I found out about her," I answered honestly. But then I frowned, remembering too late that it was the other way around – Baba had mentioned it after Damian told me. Oops.

Damian nodded, glancing at his feet, then down the length of the hallway. "I gotta go," he said, taking a step to the right, and I watched him go until the ding of the elevator woke me up, and I stepped in with everyone else.

During the ride down, I thought of Damian and his mother, marvelling at the coincidence that the same hospital I was volunteering at was also the same as Damian's mother. So this was what your plan was, Ya Allah, I thought to myself.

The gift shop was right next to the elevators on the ground floor, and I found myself staring at the bright shiny balloons with smiley sunflowers and get well soon messages. There were so many flowers as well, and I thought about how nice it was to buy someone ill flowers. As the flowers slowly died, the patient became better, as if the flowers were absorbing all the disease in the room. But not all diseases could be cured with nature. Because like flowers, people died too.

During my dark ponderings of life, I didn't realize how long I'd stood there, staring at a few purple petunias, until I heard my name. For a second, I thought the petunias were speaking to me, but when I glanced to my right, I almost face-palmed myself for thinking that absurd thought. My eyes focused on the person before me, and it took me a few moments to process who it was.

"Samantha?"

"See, I told you it was Mariam!" Samantha nudged Aidan, who scratched his hair, looking at her in befuddlement, before his blue eyes met mine.

"Oh, Mariam, hi! What are you...what are you doing here?" Aidan asked. I noticed he was holding a basket of pink meadow flowers of different types, a card saying, "Good luck!" stuck in the front.

"Oh, I work here, I guess," I answered casually.

Samantha raised her brows. "You work here? At a hospital?" she said in disbelief.

"Actually, I'm just a volunteer," I admitted. It sounded cooler to say I worked here, but I was tired of lying.

"Well, we're here to pay a visit to Damian's mother," Samantha informed me, hiking up the strap of her white Gucci handbag on her shoulder. She wore a flowy purple tank top and a white skirt that was surprisingly longer than her school dress, reaching just at her mid-thigh. "And wish her good luck with the surgery. Oh, wait, you probably don't know what we're talking about, do you?" she laughed airily, and I frowned.

"I do, actually," I said stiffly. "Damian told me."

Aidan raised his eyebrows at this. "He did?"

I quickly covered my tracks. "Yeah, he told me yesterday, just like he told you. Plus, news spreads pretty fast, doesn't it?"

Samantha nodded in agreement. "Totally. Sometimes it's my fault, but whatever. The more people that know, the better," I didn't know if she was referring to all the rumours she had spread over her high school years or Damian's mother's condition, but I didn't press the matter. Not that it could be pressed. I couldn't believe I was having a conversation with Samantha outside of school that didn't involve biology answers.

"So we have to go now," Samantha said, glancing up at Aidan. I was surprised that it was just the two of them, since I expected –

"I got us some drinks," Felix, along with Toby, Damian's other two friends who caused a racket on the bus every morning, arrived, carrying an iced tea, two Gatorades and apple juice. It was Aidan who grabbed the apple juice, thanking his friend.

"Oh, look, it's the Virgin Mary," Felix was no stranger to my 'nickname' Damian had christened me with (what an honour) and only he would use it other than Damian, because he too had no filter between his mouth and his brain, and didn't care about people's feelings.

"Hello, Felix," I acknowledged him lightly, realizing that it was starting to feel like a crowd – a crowd I didn't belong in.

"Shall we go now?" Toby gestured to the elevators with his Gatorade as Samantha struggled to open the lid of the iced tea.

"Here, give it to me, I'll open it,' I offered, and she handed it to me reluctantly, so I performed my magic and with a crack it opened. You could call me the Queen of opening things but that wouldn't be very humble of me, would it?

"Thanks, Mariam," Samantha smiled at me, lifting it to her lips. Once she took a sip, she screwed the cap again, her eyes never leaving mine. "Well, I guess we'll see you. Come on, guys."

I watched them leave, disappearing into the elevator, before turning to the café. I was starving, since it had been two hours since I'd had breakfast, so I grabbed a mochaccino and a chocolate croissant and sat outside, enjoying the peace of my own company. Though it had been fun with Zaid, being alone wasn't too bad either.

My break was over, and after a swift bathroom break, I returned to work. Abigail met me at the reception, and I followed her back to the laundry room, where I was expected to unload the sheets into the dryers. Then I had to clean the lint from the filters, sweep the floor and fold some towels.

"You'll have to deliver some towels to the rooms," Abigail told me, wheeling out a trolley from the corner, so I transferred the folded towels onto it. "It shouldn't take you too long. After you're done with this, you can go."

"Awesome," I beamed, feeling excited about the prospect of leaving soon. But then I remembered that I had to do the training session with Theo. Great, more physical labour.

I delivered towels to each room, setting them in the bathroom. I received a total of nine "thank you"s out of the twelve rooms I visited, and I had one more left. One more and then I would be free.

I knocked on the last room's door, hearing a murmur of voices from within. I hadn't encountered Damian's mother's room yet, so I wondered if this could be the one. I opened the door, clutching two squares of cotton towels, and six pairs of eyes turned to me. I swallowed, briefly meeting Damian's eyes. He looked a little surprised to see me. So did the rest of them.

"Ah, towels. Just what I needed," the patient in the bed was no doubt Damian's mother, and she looked thin and worn out, her brown hair tied back in a low ponytail and her blue eyes sagging with tired lines.

"I'll just pop these in the bathroom," I said, feeling a little awkward as I stepped into the room.

Felix was leaning against the bathroom door, so I excused myself and he moved out of the way, and I entered the cold dark room, placing the towels on the bench. While there, I heard Damian's voice speaking.

"Yeah, she goes to Redwood."

"Is she a friend of yours?" his mother asked just as I stepped out of the bathroom, closing the door behind me. Once again, everyone was staring at me. I was starting to feel uncomfortable under all their gazes, until Samantha broke the ice.

"Definitely," she shot a grin at me, and I was too surprised to return it. As if to prove Samantha's response, Felix put an arm around me and said, "Mariam and I are BFFs."

I moved away from his sudden breach of my personal space as Damian's mother smiled wearily at me.

"Really?" she sounded amused. I noticed she had a drip attached to her arm and a nasal cannula, which only made her illness all the more real. "It's nice to meet you, Mariam. I'm Karen."

"Nice to meet you too, Karen," I smiled at her. I had expected them to pretend not to know me, but instead here they were, claiming me as their friend, when really, I wasn't.

I stole a glance at Damian, who had an unreadable expression as he stared right at me, with penetrating blue eyes he definitely got from his mother, for she too sent me a penetrating gaze, cracking a smile.

"Ah, so you're a volunteer here. How noble of you," Karen commented, noticing my badge.

"Mariam is a very noble person," Samantha said to Karen.

"We need more noble people in this world, don't we?" Karen said lightly, suddenly breaking into a series of coughs. It sounded wheezy and throaty, and I saw the way everyone in the room stiffened at the sound of it, especially Damian. He had a pained expression on his face, as if the sound of it was torture.

"I wish we could give you water," Damian muttered, rubbing his mother's back as Aidan grabbed a tissue from the box on the table and handed it to Karen. She thanked him, using the tissue to cough into.

"When's the surgery, again?" Toby asked after Karen's coughs subsided.

"In an hour," Damian replied, helping his mother settle back on the pillows against the raised end of the bed that enabled her to sit up.

Samantha glanced at her phone, and her eyes widened. "I gotta go, guys," she stood up, slinging her Gucci bag onto her shoulder and patting down her skirt.

"Why?" Damian asked, like she had no right to leave so soon.

"I'm meeting up with Theo for training," Samantha replied, and it was then that I remembered that she too was participating.

"Training?" Karen sounded curious.

"Yeah, we're going to be working out, basically. It's a sport project," Samantha explained, leaning over to kiss Karen on the cheek. "Best wishes for your surgery."

"Thank you, Sam. Have fun working out," Karen flashed her a wink.

I realized I should be leaving now, since I had done my job, so I made my way to the door, but not before asking Karen if she needed anything.

"I'm alright, Mariam, thanks for asking," Karen didn't seem like the type to complain about anything, an admirable trait in a woman.

"Good luck on your surgery, I hope it goes well," I smiled, retreating from the room slowly.

"Me too," Karen returned my smile wearily.

Samantha hugged Damian and the other guys goodbye, and as I wheeled the trolley out of the doorway she followed, shutting the door to the room.

"When does your shift end?" Samantha asked as we headed down the long hallway.

"It ends now, actually," I replied.

"Oh, cool." After a few beats of silence, Samantha spoke again. "You're Theo's friend, right?"

"Uh-huh."

"Do you know who else is doing the training program?"

"Funny you should ask, because I'm doing it too," I replied, glancing at her.

"Oh, really?" Samantha sounded surprised. "Anyone else?"

"Denise, and that's it," I answered.

Samantha nodded, taking this in. "Okay."

We reached the laundry room, and I left the trolley inside while Samantha waited outside. Together we walked to the reception, since we were both headed that way anyway, and I handed my volunteer's vest and bench at the reception, glad to be rid of it. I grabbed my own purse and bid goodbye to Abigail at the desk, leading the way towards the elevator with Samantha.

"Sorry about that, back there," Samantha said as I pressed the button. "I said you were our friend because it would've been awkward otherwise."

"Oh," I hadn't expected her to apologize for calling me her friend. "It's alright."

The elevator arrived, and we both stepped in as others stepped out, but once the doors closed we were alone again. "It's so sad," Samantha murmured. I figured she was referring to Damian's mother's condition, and I nodded in agreement. "Yeah, it is."

"I wish he hadn't kept it from us, you know? I wish he could've told us earlier," Samantha vented as we descended, my heart lurching with the movement. "It's not like something to be ashamed of. It's his mother, for God's sake. And I care about Karen, just like I care about Damian. I hate seeing him sad, and I just wish I could do something more to help, but I can't."

I listened wordlessly as we stopped at each floor, picking up more passengers. The Samantha I saw at school was completely different to the Samantha I witnessed here. At school Samantha seemed fake and pretentious, as if she was putting on a show in order to charm others and get what she wanted, but now I could see up close that she truly cared about others, and she wasn't fake at all. She was real.

"I think supporting him is the best thing you can do to help," I suggested as we left the elevator. "You're his friend, and he needs friends to be there for him."

"That's the thing, Mariam," Samantha sighed in exasperation, eyes to the ceiling. "I don't want to be just his friend. I want to be more than that, you know? We should've never broken up."

Hearing this didn't surprise me, but what surprised me was the acid in my stomach that churned when I heard her say those words.

As we exited the hospital and into the bright autumn sunshine, Samantha turned to me, green eyes fierce and determined, but this fierceness wasn't directed at me. It seemed like she had been keeping this all in, all these feelings, and for some reason she was venting them out to me. "I still like Damian, and I want to be with him again. But he keeps pushing me away. What should I do?"

I shrugged. "Honestly, I don't know. I'm the last person you should come to for relationship advice."

Samantha heaved a sigh. "I'm sorry," she mumbled. "I don't know why I told you that. I just really needed to talk to someone other than my friends about it, you know? Sometimes they can be so judgmental."

Last time I checked, it was Sam who did all the judging, but I kept my mouth shut. Maybe Samantha was the good guy here, for once, and she felt isolated. Even the most popular people could feel lonely sometimes.