Work Text:
it is always a weird day when samira’s phone buzzes throughout the day.
the first few times, she ignores the phone, brain laser-focused on gathering information on her census for the day and pre-rounding on the patients left overnight in the emergency room. whoever or whatever it is can wait– she has a job to do and she really does not want to get yelled at by michael again for whatever she does.
the buzzing quickly gets aggravating, and it’s not even midday when samira shuts her phone off and throws it carelessly into her locker. there’s no one that needs her that urgently, and anyone that needs to reach her knows where she is. they’re more likely to be in the same room as her.
as her luck would have it, she’s knuckle deep into a patient’s torso when princess opens the door to the trauma room to tell her that her mom is calling the emergency department.
samira pretends not to hear princess for her own sanity and this patient’s life. she keeps her thoughts locked onto michael’s instruction, working quickly to restore the patient’s blood flow, sort of on an adrenaline high that leaves her almost breathless once she returns to her desk to begin the patient’s progress note.
it’s easy enough to forget all about princess’ words as she goes through her SOAP note, the assessment portion long as she files through every excluded diagnosis to get to the correct one. she enjoys this immensely, a system of narrowing down infinite possibilities to get to an answer, a puzzle of a person she pieces together.
she spends the rest of the day like this– flitting from trauma to trauma, from note to note, her downtime consumed by personal research into racial disparities in the emergency room. it’s busy work, good work, and when she finally reaches the end of an exhausting day, she’s ready to do it all over again.
some would say it’s unhealthy to be as obsessed with work as she is. some would say it’s sad.
samira says it’s perfectly fine.
it takes almost a physical push from frank for her to grab her stuff from her locker, her phone a forgotten brick in the corner. she almost drops it from shock once she turns it back on, the dinging of notifications overtaking one another for the top spot, the most noticeable.
text from mom. text from mom. missed call from mom. rinse and repeat as she quickly scrolls through 30 missed calls and 108 text messages. samira’s stomach drops and she immediately thumbs over the contact on speed dial, anxiously biting her frayed cuticle as the phone rings once, twice, and a half before the voice of her mother fills the connection.
“samira, i’ve been trying to reach you all day– where have you been? why haven’t you answered my calls?” immediately, samira is annoyed. she’s never been close with her mother, and especially not after her father’s passing. she loves her mother, but she’s never felt understood, never felt seen, their connection one born from generationally taught filial piety and once weekly phone calls where her mom harps on the importance of getting married and having children now that she’s out of medical school.
samira takes a deep breath in and then out, biting her tongue so she doesn’t say anything to warrant a lecture.
“i was busy at work, mom. what’s going on?” all at once, her high from her work day comes crashing down, exhaustion settling into her shoulders where they have always made a home. she slumps against the cold metal of the lockers, phone pressed to her ear as she stares at the doors that lead to the emergency room, catching a glimpse of the chaos every time they open.
through the small window, she spots a head of salt and pepper hair and brings her gaze down to her worn out shoes. eager to turn the conversation back to her, samira’s mother’s voice goes up a pitch.
“i’m getting married! he proposed to me while we were on our cruise and i said yes!” samira usually isn’t slow to process information, but there’s a first time for everything. she almost thinks her ears didn’t hear correctly. but her mom continues on about the nitty gritty details of the proposal, cut only by the quiet ding of her phone as she receives a photo of the ring.
samira is silent, speechless even. she has forgotten how to string words along, and for all her empathy, does not know how to appropriately feel about this situation.
“we’re getting married labor day weekend, so make sure you take off for the festivities. and you have to come home a few weekends before then so that we can go shopping and check out the venue–” there’s a laundry list of responsibilities she has to do, and samira mohan usually does not usually shy away from responsibility. but this feels like it’s too much for her to bear, and she eventually tunes her mom out as she continues. “--and you know, you have to meet the son of bubbly aunty; he’s an engineer for a good company here and then you can move back to be closer to us.”
“i’m already seeing someone.” samira blurts out before she can even stop herself, her palm smacking her forehead. she doesn’t know why she says it– all she knows is that she most definitely does not want to be set up with anyone while she’s at her mother’s wedding. she doesn’t even want to be at her mother’s wedding.
but she’s a good daughter, picture perfect indian daughter.
and so of course she’ll be there, she’ll play the part, but the thought of having to do it all alone just makes her sad. she tries not to be offended at the sound of surprise her mother makes, and soon samira is making an excuse to hang up the phone before her mom asks for too many details that she can’t think of on the fly.
with a promise that she will be home the next golden weekend she gets, samira clicks the end button and groans so loud, she’s sure someone will mistake her for a patient in pain.
and in a way, she is in pain. but she sucks it up and finally stands from the floor, pins and needles running up her legs as she shakes them awake. she does what she does best and shoves any sort of feeling about the situation down, and decides that she will think about her best course of action tomorrow.
tonight, she needs her bed, a bottle of barefoot rosé, and a marathon of pimple popping videos.
samira knows she makes a mistake telling cassie about her issue in the open, in the space where there are most definitely one (or two) sets of prying ears. but cassie is the closest thing samira has to a friend, and she needs to get this off her chest to someone that she thinks has it relatively together.
“and for the last twelve hours, my mom has been asking me nonstop about this boyfriend i have. why is she automatically assuming i have a boyfriend? i could be a lesbian for all she knows, or like. bisexual and dating someone that presents as a woman.” samira throws her hands up for dramatic effect, much to the amusement of cassie.
“well, are you?”
“am i what?”
“a lesbian. or bisexual.” samira pauses and ponders the question. she mostly said it to show how ridiculous her mother had been in making assumptions about samira, but now she stops to actually think.
“i have been so focused on my goals that i never considered what my sexuality would be.” her voice gets quieter, and cassie’s face softens into one of understanding and care. “i think i’ve kind of just put love and romance on the backburner until i feel good about where i am in life. the short answer is i don’t know– i think i ultimately just want to be loved by my partner if i get one, irrespective of gender.” samira’s eyes stare off into the distance, looking past cassie at nothing in particular. a pat on her shoulder brings her back to the present, an empathetic smile on cassie’s lips.
“if i didn’t spend all of my free time with harrison, i totally would go with you and pretend to be your lover.” samira snorts, her eyes rolling playfully as a response. their conversation gets cut off by a slew of trauma patients incoming from a motor vehicle accident, jumping into action to assess the extent of injuries. a fake partner is the least of samira’s worries.
when samira slouches in her chair to catch up on her charts later in the day, she’s approached by princess and perlah, and immediately she is on guard.
they’re like twin devils, the rumor mill of the pittsburgh trauma medical center emergency department. there’s nothing good to come for her when they’re both smiling at her, almost hungry.
it’s downright scary to be on this side of the rumor mill. usually samira is on the receiving end of news around the department; between the sordid affairs of michael and the nurse from admin, the affairs of michael and heather, the split of frank and michael (it seems as though michael was the epicenter of gossip in the department), princess and perlah were the eyes and ears of the room.
and here they both are, trying to pry information from samira.
“so…samira…” princess starts, hand reaching out to rest on top of samira’s hand. “we heard you were looking for a date.” samira is absolutely mortified and there’s nothing more she wants to do than escape this conversation. she takes a deep breath and smiles before princess can continue.
“there’s already someone that i like.” what’s another lie in regards to her love life? both nurses have a look of surprise on their faces, their excitement fueling even more. they gear up to ask who it is, but they follow as samira’s eyes roam over to jack abbot walking into the emergency room in his black scrubs.
she didn’t know why he was here so early, but she isn’t one to talk when she would rather be here than in her apartment.
the look is enough for perlah and princess to smile wide and slink off to the nurses’ station, speaking excitedly in tagalog. she knows better than to try and figure out what they were trying to do. and she most definitely ignores how excited they get when jack comes closer to samira to talk about an interesting case study he found.
the days after are spent in a flurry for samira to try and figure out which weekends she would be able to visit her mom in edison, whether she would drive or take a bus or a plane, and is just a larger headache than she can handle.
she settles on one weekend in july and one weekend in august before she takes a full week off for the wedding festivities and labor day. the requests for time off are submitted and approved, a gameplan for her apartment during the week away set, and she can finally focus on the smaller tasks assigned by her mother now that she knows what her time will look like.
the topic of her secret lover doesn’t come back up with her mother until the first weekend she’s back in her hometown of edison, new jersey, in a room that is unfamiliar to her because it is her mom’s fiance’s house. it’s a weird feeling, to be homesick in a home that isn’t her own. she finds herself looking for the parts of her that would be remnant in her childhood home and gets disappointed when they just aren’t there.
“samira, how are things going with that mystery boy?” her mother asks over a cup of chai, rusk biscuit crumbs coating samira’s fingertips. in all honesty, she forgot that she lied to her mom about having a significant other, and coughs as the tea soaked biscuit goes down the wrong pipe as a surprise. her mom rushes over to her side and smacks the center of her back before offering water, and samira coughs a little bit more to clear her throat before taking it.
“things are good…” she trails off, a bad liar to her core. she hadn’t thought about this particular lie, hadn’t gone over the pros and cons of lying, or even the idea of a potential partner that her mom would never see if samira had anything to say about it. “he’s just really busy and i’m really busy– we work opposite schedules, you know?”
this is good. this is convincing. she can totally get away with this.
“if you work opposite schedules, how can you ever see each other? is he also a doctor? does he work at your hospital?” the questions keep coming, and she has to keep herself from chewing on the dead skin on her lip or the lifting cuticles on her fingers. she needs answers, and fast.
“yes, he’s a night shift attending at my hospital. sometimes i work doubles with him.” a logical explanation. she can totally do this.
“what’s his name?”
“jack.” the name slips out of her mouth effortlessly, surprising samira. she hopes her mother doesn’t notice the momentary look on her face before it is schooled into one of one of calm. her mother is quiet for a moment, pensive, before she smiles wide and grabs both of samira’s hands.
“well, i am so happy for you, samira. i hope to see jack at the wedding, yes?” and automatically samira nods.
and she mentally calculates how fucked she is going to be when she brings the idea up to jack. he is going to laugh at her and she is going to be the laughingstock of the department, all because she wanted to keep up a lie to her mother.
samira lingers a little too long after her shift is over the following tuesday she’s back at work. of course, no one is really surprised to see her still in the pitt even after she’s handed off her cases to parker– she haunts the halls like a ghost until she is is continuously told to leave by parker, a form of exorcism that doesn’t always work because she’ll be back to it the next day.
but today, her motivation is different for staying even after the third time parker tells her to leave. she’s nervous– it reminds her of her first time doing a tracheotomy as a student, the feeling of doing something for the first time and the possibility of completely fucking everything up.
samira breathes in and out, eyes shifting around the emergency room until they land on the salt and pepper hair of jack abbot. she hadn’t even been this nervous to ask him for a letter of recommendation– she is on completely uncharted territory.
as if he could feel her watching him, he looks up to lock eyes with her, the corner of his lips quirked up into a small smile. and that’s enough for her to head over.
this is the same jack abbot with whom she discusses eccentric case reports, the one who teaches her unconventional medicine and to work in ways that are more than just the textbook. she knows jack abbot, she is comfortable with jack abbot.
but right now, she feels like a lamb marching up to be at the mercy of a butcher.
“dr. mohan! to what do i owe the pleasure of you being here well after your shift? i didn’t see you scheduled for a double today.” he knew her work schedule? she tries not to think too hard about it– he’s an attending, after all. of course he’d know who would be on the schedule.
“can we talk? in private?” jack raises a brow but doesn’t say a word, instead heading towards the staircase that leads to the roof. he doesn’t ascend the stairs, instead taking a seat on them.
“what’s going on, samira?” there’s a genuine look of concern, and samira feels like her heart is going to escape her chest. maybe she’d be the first case report of that happening. she could be in the journal of emergency medicine.
it takes a moment for her to put her thoughts in order, thumbs twiddling around each other.
“my mom is getting married.” she starts, and jack offers her congratulations. “i told her you were my boyfriend and now she is expecting you at the wedding.” there. it’s out.
the only options were for her to be utterly humiliated for the rest of her tenure at ptmc, or for jack to actually agree to this and fool her mom. the silence stretches out for longer than she wants it to, and her brain inches closer to learning how to be okay with humiliation. she tries not to look at jack’s eyes, almost afraid of what she’d see there.
“okay, i’ll do it.”
samira almost doesn’t hear him from how hard her brain is working to map out different outcomes and responses. she opens her mouth to apologize, but then his response clicks for her. and despite being the one to ask, she looks surprised that he actually agreed.
“wait. what?”
“i said i’ll do it.” he repeats, amusement coloring his tone. samira is positive she looks like a fish with the way her mouth opens and closes, unable to find the right words to say. ultimately, she settles on a thank you. jack stands and walks towards the door, stopping briefly to get close enough to whisper in her ear. “i’ll see you around, girlfriend.”
heat rises in samira’s cheeks and the tips of her ears, feet rooted to the ground as the slam of the staircase door sounds behind jack.
she can’t believe that actually worked. once she gets her bearings, she rushes out of the hospital and texts cassie about it on her way home.
the next morning is a regular morning for samira– like clockwork, she gets the same bus at the same time to arrive an hour before her shift is actually supposed to start so she can get a jump on working up her census.
except this morning is not like a regular morning. there’s a bright pink sticky note on the floor of her locker, folded so that it could easily pass through the slits in the door. she picks it up, eyes scanning barely legible handwriting. but after a few read throughs, she finally deciphers the message: figured you should have your boyfriend’s phone number. xxx-xxx-xxxx
samira automatically enters in the number into her phone and sends a quick text message before putting it away, the sticky note safely in the pocket of her sweater.
this is samira– feel free to save my number. thank you again for doing this.
she works through her shift with a load off of her shoulders. samira is a planner, and if this goes according to her plan, her mom will be happy and will stay off her back. she has to find some way to make it up to jack for doing her this big favor.
during one of her trips to the breakroom, she takes a look at the schedule for the oncoming week, mapping out what days would have an overlap between her and jack. of course, this didn’t account for the random times at which jack just shows up to the emergency room, unable to stray too far from the chaotic rhythm of the workplace.
two days later, it just happened to be one of those days; jack is not scheduled to work, but samira sees the casual way he strolls in through the ambulance bay a half hour before the end of her shift. no one is ever really surprised to see him– he’s just like samira in that way. jack waves to everyone as he walks over to samira’s work station and stares her down until she looks up from her chart.
she tries not to notice the way the fabric of his shirt stretches taut over his torso and his biceps with the way his arms are crossed over his chest.
“dr. abbot, what are you doing here today? i didn’t see you scheduled today.” she teases, saying his words right back to him. it manages to get a soft wheeze of a laugh from him, his head turning to see how close the nearest person is before he leans down to talk quietly to her.
“i’m here to make sure my girlfriend,” he stresses the word, “gets out of work on time so that we can go out on a date.” samira’s brain goes blank. she stares up at him, lips parted, and something about the way he said girlfriend and date makes her heart skip a beat. she almost forgets they’re at work, surrounded by all of their coworkers who love to gossip, and she very quickly looks around to make sure no one looks too interested in their conversation.
she knows she’s the one who asked him to be her fake partner. she just didn’t know how charming he could be. when she finally gets it together, she takes a deep breath and looks at how much she has left to do– not enough to warrant her staying longer than her scheduled shift.
“your girlfriend still has a little charting left to do before handoff, so i’ll meet you outside of chairs when i’m changed?” jack nods and leaves her with a wink, and that’s all she can think about in the remainder of her shift. she changes quickly once she’s done, looking down at the plain blue jeans and loose green shirt she wore to work.
and then she remembers: this is technically her first date, fake or not.
she suddenly gets self-conscious about her wardrobe, and grabs her stuff to meet jack outside to reschedule this “date” so she can save her embarrassment for another day. but jack is immediately nowhere to be seen once she exits the doors, turning her head left and right to look for the salt and pepper hair she could recognize anywhere.
a sinking feeling curls in the pit of her stomach– maybe she is embarrassing herself right here, right now. it doesn’t last long, the downward spiral of her thoughts cut off by a loud honk of a car horn, the whirring of a window rolling down the passenger side.
“hey, beautiful, mind if i give you a ride?” jack smirks and samira resists the urge to roll her eyes, quickly tossing her bag in the back and getting into the passenger seat. as she puts on her seatbelt, he continues. “i didn’t want you to have to wait.”
there isn’t anything for samira to say in response except a soft “thank you,” and she then focuses on her surroundings as jack begins to drive.
if she were a smarter girl, she would ask more questions about where they’re going, about what exactly jack has planned for their “date.” there’s a bigger part of her that enjoys the surprise, the relinquishing of control that she has over every other aspect of her life. instead, samira looks out the window and takes in deep breaths of a scent that’s leather mixed with a vaguely familiar cologne as he drives over the allegheny.
jack, to samira’s surprise, doesn’t bother to fill the silence with incessant chatter. for this, samira is grateful– it gives her brain a break after almost 12 hours of navigating emotions, hard conversations, and medical debates. the music is low, and samira turns from her view of the river to his profile, to his thumb tapping against the steering wheel along to the beat of a generic pop song on the radio.
all too soon, he’s pulling in to park in front of a bar, and samira feels a lot less self conscious in her clothes at the look of the casual spot. she goes to take her seatbelt off and open the door when jack’s hand reaches across and presses on hers.
“you just wait here.” that’s all he says before he gets out of the car and lightly jogs over to her side to open the door.
samira doesn’t know how to react. jack offers his hand to help her out and she obliges, fingertips pressed against calloused skin as she steps out of the car and he closes the door behind her. this is something she has only ever seen in movies– there’s no possible way someone is this chivalrous in person.
she finds that she likes it, and should she ever have a real partner, she would want them to be chivalrous in these small ways. his hand leaves hers and instead finds purchase on the small of her back as he leads her into the bar, heat blooming wherever he touches. they grab a seat close to the open doors, jack predictably pulling out her chair before taking a seat himself.
the bar seems popular– a relatively good mix of young and old crowds slowly filling the area as people shift from work to weekend mode. they briefly discuss drinks, placing their order before falling back into that easy silence.
samira breaks it first after the first few sips of beer.
“so, dr. abbot–”
“jack.” he cuts her off, one hand running through his mess of slightly curly hair as he leans back in the chair. “call me jack. you should get used to it outside of the hospital, so you don’t slip in front of your mom.” that sounds reasonable enough to samira. she starts again.
“so, jack, i’m just curious. why did you agree to pretend to be my boyfriend?”
“i’m doing it out of the goodness of my heart, of course.” jack teases, and samira rolls her eyes. that only makes jack smile wider, and he leans in closer, elbows resting on the table and hands clasped together. “what– can’t a man want to be a knight in shining armor for his favorite resident?”
and for what seems to be the millionth time today, samira is absolutely taken aback by jack abbot. he has to be lying– there’s no way she, slowmo, is jack abbot’s favorite resident. she’s sure he’s just saying that because she is right there in front of him.
“i can see the denial in your eyes, samira.” jack shakes his head. “you are the smartest person in the emergency department. i know what robby says about you, but i don’t think that’s a detriment. i think you are the future of medicine.”
it’s a lot of information all at once, and samira can only take large drinks of her too expensive craft beer to keep her mouth and mind busy. the internal voice in her head is denying it, a lifetime of comparison and a few years of being criticized for the way she does things in the emergency room, unable to be overturned in just one conversation.
she moves on from the topic, changing it to the trivia game starting up at the bar. she gets another drink, and then a third, the warmth of the alcohol spreading around her body and loosening up her muscles as she and jack work together to answer the questions.
she’s afraid to say out loud, but besides 2000’s music, medicine, and twilight, she unfortunately does not know much else. safe to say, they don’t rank anywhere near the top, but it’s enough for her to giggle and grab jack’s hand to give it a squeeze.
by the time they leave the bar, the sun had already set and a nice breeze rustles her hair. this is the latest she’s been out somewhere that wasn’t work, and perhaps the most fun she’s allowed herself to have in a long time.
jack opens the car door for her again, and she’s less hesitant in getting in. he asks for her address, and without thinking, she gives it to him.
and if she’s wishing he would kiss her outside of her apartment door as he drops her off, it’s only because that’s what she has seen in movies.
when samira wakes up the next morning, it’s to a dull ache behind her eyeballs and a text message alert on her phone. the sun is a bit too bright for her liking, and she could do without the birds chirping inside of her window air conditioner, but it’s a small price to pay when the weather is nice.
she definitely prefers this to the bitter cold of the northeast winter.
the first text message she sees is from michael: hey, any chance you can switch to night shift tonight? have a call out.
she runs over her schedule in her brain– she was supposed to have today off and then she would be doing her day shift and be on-call during the night. but what else would she be doing anyway? she replies with just a yes and buries her face into her pillow for a little bit longer.
samira doesn’t see his follow-up text until noon: perfect, thanks. i’ll let abbot know.
for some reason, the idea of working the night shift with jack tonight has samira feeling strange. maybe it’s the fact that she is lying to her mom with him, maybe it’s that they had gone on a fake date last night.
maybe it’s the desire she has to smell his cologne again.
she stops that train of thought and tells herself that this is just pretend– he’s just doing her a favor until labor day, he’s just being a good person.
a knight in shining armor, as he says.
with this change in her schedule, she sets an alarm with enough time to prepare for the shift and goes back to sleep for just a little longer.
she feels as though she never escapes the emergency room, and maybe there’s some truth to that. more often than not, it’s her own doing– volunteer double shifts, extra time spent in the resident workroom to do her research, and just always here like a ghost tethered to one location.
the hustle and bustle greets her like a welcome home, and she barely can say goodbye to joy as the medical student rushes out the door. samira makes quick work of her stuff in her locker and then heads straight to her normal work station, greeted by the sight of a mango flavored energy drink on top of a crisp case report.
sociodemographic disparities in emergency department wait times at an urban academic medical center from the journal of emergency medicine.
samira doesn’t have to guess who this is from. she looks up from the article to see jack across the room, already looking at her. thank you, she mouths, and she tries to not let the smile on her face get too big.
the night shift is mercifully a breeze compared to the day shift for her. there’s something to be said about the pace– samira is able to take more time to work up the patients that have been there since morning, has had time to speak with family members trying to get comfortable in the oddest of position in uncomfortable arm chairs to get to know the patients on her census.
of course, there is rush in the traumas that come in, comparatively fewer and further in between than during the day. but for the most part, samira likes that she can treat her patients as a whole rather than just a number.
and the night shift doctors don’t call her slowmo behind her back, which is an added bonus. between a myocardial infarction and titrating pain medications, samira reads the case report, highlighter tucked behind one ear and pen behind the other.
she’s so engrossed in the statistics that if jack hadn’t been heavy footed, she would’ve been startled by his sudden presence next to her desk. he pulls up a chair next to her, making himself comfortable.
samira can practically feel the warmth radiating off of him from his closeness.
she tries not to get lost in the feeling.
samira finally gives up when she notices that she has tried to read the same sentence four times without progression. she puts it down and without the paper in her hands, they start to fidget for something to do. they settle for wringing around each other on her lap.
“thank you again for the drink and for the paper.” jack moves his chair ever so slightly closer, knee just barely pressed against the side of samira’s thigh.
“no need to thank me, just looking out for my girlfriend.” samira gasps and lightly hits jack’s chest in surprise before looking around for any witnesses. he just laughs in response. “i told you, we gotta keep practicing so that we don’t look weird in front of your mom. i am nothing if not thorough.”
there’s her reminder– this is all for a favor she asked of him. she lets his words hang in the air for a moment before she changes the subject to discuss the study. it’s easy with him, to fall into a conversation about statistics and study models, on the limitations and strengths of a study on how to apply it to practice. the conversation flows between codes and traumas, and before she knows it, the sun is set to rise.
“come with me.”
and she wordlessly follows.
samira has never had a reason to come up to the roof– she knows that jack and michael find each other up here frequently, but she herself has never gone up the stairs.
and right now, she wonders why she hasn’t done this before. she stands against the railing, the first streaks of light coloring the sky in beautiful hues as a light chill awakens her senses. there’s a calm here that she can’t find in the emergency room no matter what time of day– the noise of downtown pittsburgh at an all time low to her ears as the city still hasn’t woken up.
she takes a deep breath and lets the crisp air fill her lungs, her eyes closed as she just revels in the moment.
“this is so perfect. this is so beautiful.”
she doesn’t notice that jack’s eyes are on her when he speaks his agreement.
in the weeks leading up to her mother’s wedding, samira’s busy days only seem to get busier. she juggles planning for the wedding with her work duties, and between facetime calls with her mother about which sweets she should have at the wedding and what the exact shade of her sari should be, she spends an increasing amount of time with jack.
when they are not on shift together, they are sure to be spotted lingering a little too long before and after their shifts to catch each other up on interesting case reports, on medical marvels that have graced the halls of pittsburgh trauma medical center, on unconventional ways to perform a tracheotomy on a patient. they can often be found with their heads close together, until one of them inevitably gets called to a patient’s side.
on the rare days they get off together, they do absolutely nothing related to their jobs at all. the first time, jack invites samira to an art gallery opening for one of his friends.
she didn’t know he had any friends besides michael, but she agrees nonetheless. she enjoys it a lot more than she thought she would– she has never had an eye for art, and especially not contemporary art, but she finds herself standing in front of a piece done by a south indian woman.
there’s something about it that moves her. maybe it’s the way she feels as though she can relate to the emotions behind the work.
she doesn’t realize she has shed a tear until she feels jack’s familiar calloused finger wiping it away. she doesn’t object when his arm wraps around her back to pull her close to his side.
it’s the most comfort she’s gotten from anyone in a long time.
when they aren’t together, they spend their time texting until the very last moment samira can keep her eyes open. it surprises her how much she enjoys this, getting to know jack on a level that she doesn’t know most other people.
she doesn’t even text cassie this much.
samira finds that she thinks about jack a lot when she’s not with him. she thinks about him in the studies that she reads and wonders what he would have to say about them. she thinks about him when she sees a reference that she most definitely does not know, but that he will most likely know. she thinks about him in the early mornings when she gets up early enough to do some stretching and when the crickets start to chirp at night.
it’s just his company. she likes having company.
she repeats this to herself like a mantra, and it’s promptly broken when her phone goes off to alert her that he has texted her back.
samira doesn’t notice the shift from ‘i’ to ‘we’ in her statements when she’s asked about her plans outside of work, but cassie certainly does. cassie notices the subconscious way samira slows down her pace to fall into step with jack, the anxious looking around that fades into something calmer at the turn of shifts. cassie notes everything and says nothing.
samira seems happier, and that’s enough.
samira is only a little disappointed when jack can’t take off the entire week with her for the wedding– as much as he’d like to, so he says. he promises that he’ll be there for the wedding ceremony and the reception towards the end of the week, and samira latches onto that promise throughout her flight from pittsburgh to new york.
when she lands at jfk, she half expects to be told to take a car to edison, but to her surprise, she sees her mom and her new fiance by the luggage carousel. and she feels like she’s supposed to feel at home here, in her mom’s embrace, but she can’t shake the feeling that something is missing.
the feeling lingers, follows her as they drive over the verrazano bridge, through staten island and past the border between new york and new jersey. she’s made this trek so often throughout the last few years, but she doesn’t ever remember feeling this…sad about it.
certainly it cannot be because she is apart from jack. that would be absurd. she shakes the thought out of her head and instead tries to convince herself that it is because she is away from work. she always feels bad when she takes off from the emergency department.
that explanation will just have to do for now.
samira tunes back into the conversation her mom has with her fiance, needing the distraction. as they near the hotel by the wedding venue, samira engages with her mom regarding the schedule for the next few days: tonight, a tour of the venue and meeting with the planner, tomorrow the rehearsal for the reception followed by samira and her mom getting their henna done, wednesday night is for the engagement party (and jack’s arrival, samira notes in her head), thursday is for the prayers and henna celebrations for the larger family, friday the wedding ceremony, and saturday for the reception.
just the list alone has samira dizzy.
but she wants to be a good daughter, wants to support her mom, and so she spends the first hour in the hotel room writing her to-do list and double checking to make sure nothing is forgotten. she doesn’t have much to unpack– all of her clothes for the wedding are already here, already hung up in the closet courtesy of the wedding planner.
jack’s clothes are here too, traditional indian attire consisting of two sherwanis and one western suit, picked to match samira’s lehengas.
samira reminisces about when she picked them out the last time she was here, one hand touching the smooth fabric of the emerald green sherwani. jack had been on facetime with her then as she and her mother shopped around from south asian store to south asian store. he had given his measurements as he couldn’t be there in person, and so samira only hopes that it fits him well.
i trust you. he had said that over the facetime call, and samira made it a point to not look at her mother as her cheeks flamed.
samira sighs and closes the closet, turning around to look at the large king bed in the center of the room she was meant to share with jack. it would look weird, samira thought, if they hadn’t stayed in the same room for the wedding, but she made sure to ask for one with a pull out couch.
they couldn’t possibly share a bed, they aren’t really dating. they aren’t dating. they aren’t dating. she chants this in her head as she flops onto the bed and covers her face with a heavy pillow.
this is for show, this is for her mom.
she completely forgets about her duties for the day and falls asleep, hugging the pillow to her chest and thinking of warm, strong arms.
the day and a half passes by in a blur, between meeting new people and the constant answering of “yes, i work as an emergency medicine doctor in pittsburgh.” although it’s her time off from work, she feels more exhausted by this than she ever has working a double shift. her cheeks hurt from keeping up her smile, the only respite being her alone time with her mom and the henna artist.
intricate darkening patterns cover the front and back of her hands, and if she had the artist insert a small letter j somewhere, that’s between samira and the artist.
at the engagement party, samira is flitting between groups of people, giving her pleasantries and holding her tongue at the callous, but “well meaning,” comments about her weight and her lack of children. she usually takes those comments as her time to leave, making some excuse or another about how she sees someone to whom she absolutely must say hi.
she almost doesn’t notice when jack slips into the party, one hand in his trouser pocket and the other holding a flute of champagne as he leans against the bar. samira doesn’t run, doesn’t want to seem too eager to see him, but it’s like she can finally breathe again. each step towards him is light, and when she finally gets to him, she finds that she has no words to say.
he doesn’t seem to need words– he understands her enough to rub his hand up and down her upper arm before pulling her into his chest.
“i missed you too, samira.” his voice is too low to be heard by anyone else, and samira lets herself believe for just a moment that maybe it means more than it should. she takes a few deep breaths, grounds herself in the familiar scent of his cologne, and pulls away only when she hears jack’s name being called by her mother.
jack doesn’t let samira go– instead, he puts the champagne down so he can respectfully shake her mom’s hand and exchanges pleasantries, the picture of a perfect potential son-in-law. they talk a little about the wedding, and samira is more than happy to let jack handle the conversation for a bit. samira’s mom leaves them with a knowing smirk, and once she’s gone, samira leads jack to their table up front by the stage.
she had already briefed him on the important family members, which to schmooze and which to avoid, but she goes over it once more as they sit and watch people pass by.
jack’s hand is on samira’s thigh, warmth permeating through thin fabric. she tries not to think about it.
when samira has finally gotten some of her energy back, she takes him for a turn around the room, stopping to talk with family members she hadn’t seen in a long time, her favorite cousins, and others who just happened to be in the medical field. jack dazzles them all, effortless in his conversations, garnering laughs from everyone he meets.
samira is actually a little in awe as she watches him interact.
she wonders if she could have this for the rest of her life.
later that night, they return to the hotel room with the one bed, and jack immediately offers to take the pullout couch. samira, exhausted by the energy spent on entertaining a crowd and maybe just a little drunk, shakes her head and sheds her clothes on the way to the bed, not bothering to take her makeup off or the bobby pins holding her hair in an updo.
“just come to bed, jack.” she mumbles out, and on instinct, her body relaxes when she feels his warm, solid body against hers. before she knows it, she is out like a light, exhaustion taking its toll.
when she wakes up in the morning, jack is nowhere to be found. she almost wonders if she scared him off, but she doesn’t have to think much longer.
he enters the room, chest heaving and sweat beading on his forehead fresh from a run. samira tells herself to get a grip when he smiles at her.
as the boyfriend of the daughter of the bride, jack gets roped into a lot more than he knew he signed up for. there’s so much to prepare and it’s all hands on deck– that includes the white man that is presumed to be part of the family. he takes it all in stride, and samira tries to not think about how heartwarming it is to see the way he interacts with everyone in the family.
she shouldn’t get attached. this is just a deal. after this weekend, there will be no more of this. in fact, she needs to start thinking of reasons as to why they won’t be together after this.
the thought of not being by jack’s side makes her chest ache. she chalks it up to the spicy pakora she stole from one of the caterers as they set up.
“samira,” her mother starts as they sit together after the wedding ceremony, samira’s deft fingers making quick work of the bobby pins and the safety pins and just all the pins holding her mother together. she makes a soft noise of acknowledgement, too focused on the task at hand to give it anything more than that. “i think it’s time you and jack settled down.”
this makes samira stop, safety pin pricking the pad of her thumb.
she stares at her mother’s reflection in the mirror, the picture of maternal happiness. samira’s mother has the same eyes, endless depths of warm brown. samira is rendered speechless, and if she’s honest with herself, she would love nothing more than to settle down with jack.
it’s just such a shame it’s all pretend.
samira gives a hollow laugh and continues on with the task at hand, leaving a kiss to the top of her mother’s head before she leaves.
does samira even want to settle down? she still has to finish her residency and then actually find a place to work if she doesn’t do a fellowship– in her head, she can’t settle down just yet, with anyone. she’s not where she wants to be, she’s got so much more to accomplish.
but then she thinks of jack’s support. of jack’s endless patience and guidance.
the answer is yes. she wouldn’t mind settling down, if it was with him. her brain then goes into overdrive, thinking of all the worst case scenarios– there’s always a chance that he doesn’t want this, want her. he’s only doing this to be a good friend, to help one of the residents in their hour of need.
there are a million ways that this could go wrong, but there’s always the possibility that it could go right.
when she walks back to their shared hotel room and sees him lounging on the couch, reading glasses on and a printed copy of a case report on his lap, she knows that he’s worth the risk. he looks up at her and smiles, warm and inviting as he always is, and she gives into the urge to curl up against his side.
this, she realizes, is what she was missing her first few days without him here.
it’s not that samira isn’t enjoying herself at the reception– she absolutely is. but as the daughter of the bride, she’s flitting around the room, the skirt of her lehenga barely able to settle before she’s solving another last minute issue or making sure the guests have everything they need.
she rushes past jack on her way to help with a sari issue, but she’s halted to a stop when her dupatta gets tugged behind. for the first time since the start of the reception, she’s not moving from one place to another, looking back to see her dupatta caught on the button of jack’s sleeve.
it’s so terribly bollywood.
samira secretly loves it.
jack stalks closer, not untangling the fabric from his button until he’s centimeters from her, bringing the hand up so that he can caress her cheek. there’s a dull heat in the wake of his touch, and there’s nothing that samira wants more than to kiss him.
her lips are parted, breaths coming out in soft huffs, and it’s only when she’s called to solve another minor crisis that she looks away. only then does jack disconnect them with a wink.
samira is so screwed.
she manages to sneak away at some point during the event, away from the countless responsibilities and never ending queue of people to mingle with. the sun has just begun to set, the sky colored in vibrant hues of orange and pink and purple, a warm breeze brushing up against exposed skin.
samira stands in the gazebo overlooking the lake, and she just. thinks.
she thinks about her relationship with her mom, the complicated bond between mother and daughter that never truly will heal. she thinks about her relationship, fake and real, with jack abbot, and wonders how he truly feels. in the morning, this charade will be over between them. they will go back to pittsburgh on the same flight out, they will work at the same hospital, and they will never have their moments alone, their secret glances and inside jokes.
samira mohan, the loneliest girl in the world. for just a few months, she believed she could be more than that– jack had taken her loneliness away, had given her someone to rely on. and in just a few hours, she will return to being the loneliest girl in the world, someone focused on her career until she gets to where she wants to be.
“there you are.” jack’s voice cuts through her inner monologue, stopping her from falling into full blown self-pity. he comes to stand next to her, turning to look at her side profile. samira stares hard at the lake, the reflection of the sun and the sky on the surface, the ducks floating effortlessly. “what’s going on in that big, beautiful brain of yours?”
“i don’t want this to end.” she blurts before said brain has a chance to catch up. there’s a shame associated with speaking of her wants, her desires– it’s just not how she was raised. but the words are out there, and she can’t shove them back inside of her mouth.
the air is heavy.
jack’s hand rests on the small of samira’s back, and he leans close to whisper in her ear.
“then it won’t, girlfriend. if you want me, you have me.” samira feels as though her heart is about to burst, but to her surprise, it doesn’t. instead of a response, samira turns and presses her lips to jack’s, an answer in itself. the kiss is chaste, her first real kiss that wasn’t giving breaths during cpr. she doesn’t feel fireworks, she doesn’t feel a knot in her stomach. she feels at home.
and just like that, samira mohan is no longer the loneliest girl in the world.