Chapter Text
The first time she ever really thought about her soulmark, Baran Al-Hashimi was only twelve-years-old. She was too young to understand the whole concept, because she didn’t have any mark on her body. Not even a comma, anything. It was common but her Baba was too worried–at that time, Baran couldn’t understand the fear the man was feeling. He often would look at her with sad eyes and ask if she was feeling well, if there was anything hurting, and she was always sad to tell him that she wasn’t feeling anything different. She was fine, she said repeatedly, normal as a girl with a serious disability could be.
Her Baba slowly became a little bit different after her Maman died, a few years back in their home in Iran with the same disease that Baran caught. Baran was too young to see the man languishing every day without her, but her brothers did. As an adult, Baran would realize that living without a soulmate was… meaningless. What her father was worried about was that she might live alone when he was gone.
For him, leaving his only daughter alone in the world without a soulmate was devastating. Meningitis, and following absences seizures that Baran suffered, made the whole family anxious. They wouldn’t leave her alone for long hours and really became overprotective. Her Baba, mainly, was always hovering around her, asking if she was feeling well every morning or when her thoughts went far away. Baran never minded it, she loved talking and being with her Baba and brothers; their small family was happy even after so much pain. Although, of course, the young girl couldn’t help but imagine what her life would be without the seizures and the long treatments.
However, when Baran turned twelve, she was being taught about soulmates in school. The English teacher kept talking about soulmates, soulmarks, about the right person, right time, and how they would be so happy when they met their partners for life, and how it was shown in literature and other media. Baran couldn’t say she cared about it so much, but always stayed quiet. The other children didn’t like her very much, so she did her best to not be even more disliked–nothing could hurt a twelve-year-old Persian and immigrant girl more than being weird for young children the same age as her.
That persisted until weeks after becoming officially twelve, when Baran woke up screaming. It wasn’t something related to her epilepsy, not even close, it was like her soul wanted to leave her body. Baran screamed loudly, waking up her father and her brothers, Karim and Farid. They all entered her bedroom, frenetic, anxious, and she was lying down, breathing hard, trembling, eyes opened and brighter than ever, while touching somewhere in the ribs.
“My soulmark… I… I… don’t know what happened, but… the mark is finally here,” she murmured, and the three men screamed, happily. Baran left the bed, softly touching her ribs, before pulling the t-shirt to show them exactly where it was marked. It was the first time the young girl understood she was alone the whole time in her little life. Twelve years completely alone, without her soul, and now… Baran could say she was finally feeling something like satisfaction. She would soon be complete, the moment she met them for the first time.
“Susmaryosep?” Karim tried to say, reading the mark. Baran softly pressed her ribs, opening a big and bright smile, trying to mumble the words to herself. It didn’t make any sense, wasn't even close to Farsi, English, or even the Spanish she was learning at school. “They aren’t Persian, right?”
“Does it matter?” Farid replied, and then shrugged, sending his young sister a lopsided smile. Her big, brown, doe-like eyes shining bright made the three men even happier. “We’ll search what it means, they’ll appear at the right time. We all know it doesn't matter where they came from.”
Baran nodded, eyes a little wet with the tears she wanted to cry, but she tried to steady herself. A soulmate. Someone waiting for her somewhere, in some part of this big world. Baran’s smile became radiant when she saw her father’s shoulders a little bit more relaxed now he knew she had a soulmate to care of her someday.
Her Baba insisted on searching for the word. He was a teacher of Columbia University, in the Department of Foreign Languages, but still was funny when he found someone who recognized the word after searching for it for a few days. He took Baran with him to “have ice-cream” but it was the Linguistics Department at NYU, where her father presented her to Dr. Davino, a very well known professor of the department–but to Baran, she was just a pretty woman with a beautiful and tender smile.
“Joonam, please show Dr. Davino your mark,” her Baba insisted, eagerly, and she stared at him, sighed out loud and gave him a nod. Baran stepped closer to the woman and gently pulled her t-shirt to show the ribs, where the proud mark was, with a peculiar handwritten word. Baran’s soulmate had a handwritten letter like a doctor, Karim mocked a few days ago, and she thought about it much more than it was considered healthy.
“Susmaryosep,” the woman said, and both Baran and her Baba looked at her with confusion shining in their eyes. The words sounded completely different from what they’ve been trying to speak at home, and both were shocked by the dissonance. They noticed how Dr. Davino seemed to be having fun. “It’s a Filipino word, it’s like saying Jesus, Mary and Joseph altogether.”
Immediately, Dr. Al-Hashimi stared at Dr. Davino with disbelief. But the young girl next to him couldn’t really understand what Filipino was, and Dr. Davino saw her confusion. The woman beamed, shook her head, and then took a map out of her desk, putting it in front of them. Baran approached, blinking a couple times, trying to understand the woman in front of her. Then, the professor pointed to a country and started to speak again.
Dr. Davino presented her to the Philippines. She explained the word, her dimples showing with happiness, and said that Baran’s soulmate was somewhere in the world, but they’re Filipino. The Philippines was the country the person, whoever they are, was from. They probably had just been born the moment Baran’s mark appeared.
The professor said that it would take a long time for her to be able to meet her soulmate. The young girl felt like her heart was breaking, and she looked at her father with tearful eyes. Dr. Davino comforted her, saying with a soft voice that she was going to meet them when they’re in the right time of their lives. The difference wouldn’t matter by then.
The universe was funny. They could give a person a soulmate living in the same street or in different parts of the world, but they would meet anyway because they’re soulmates, Dr. Davino said. Soulmates. Every person was destined to someone else, and were born with unique and handwritten marks in their bodies. These marks would come with the first words their soulmate would say to them the first time they met.
It was common to not be born with them, they would appear only when your soulmate was born, so everyone with a younger soulmate could live years without them. Dr. Davino was smirking calmly while explaining in a way that felt like it was more a fairy tale than reality, and for the first time Baran wasn’t annoyed by the explanation. She was highly impressed by the woman.
Baran got back home with more doubts than ever, and her father was happy to answer almost all of them. Two, he couldn’t. Because there’s no such words to answer a child’s question to “will they accept me with my… disease, Baba?”, nor to “what happens if we do not meet in this life?”. The patriarch of Al-Hashimi's family stayed quiet, and, a couple of years later, Baran stared at his grave with sad and angry eyes. Why didn’t he say anything? Even if it was bad to answer a child that they might never meet their soulmate, she'd certainly appreciate the honesty more than anything else.
Although, she knew that one day she would cherish the fact he didn’t tell anything. Honesty wasn’t the best thing to give to a twelve years old, not about that specific topic. She tried to go forward without those questions in her mind, trying to not feel angry about her dead father. Baran knew he lived the final years of his life suffering deeply, both physically and mentally, and he should just rest in peace, whenever he was now. And she was already twenty two years old, living in a slightly big apartment with her brothers, who still didn’t find their soulmates. It was hurtful to bury their father, and the night they lost him, the siblings tried to hold on together with the love for each other and for their father; Baran thought about her soulmate more than ever that night and couldn’t held her cry while thinking about them.
They're so young, probably around ten years old right now, and that thought always made Baran feel sad. She would live many years alone until found them, that's why living with that realization was the worst. A whole life without meeting her soulmate and she should just keep... going on, moving forward. So Baran tried. She tried to focused on her college life, her friends, and her brothers; trying to live a normal life, just dealing with the disease that seemed to get worse every day.
Then, Farid found his soulmate a year later. It was an Iraqi woman, slightly younger than him, with brown eyes and a dazzling smile. She was tiny and shy, her name was Maryam. Baran liked her immediately and cherished watching her brother blushing and staring at Maryam with love shining in his brown doe eyes. They had chemistry, and already seemed deeply in love. Farid would do anything for Maryam, and that was the first time Baran saw a meeting between soulmates closely. It was amazing, and she got a little bit sad that it’ll take many years until she meets her own.
And then Farid left for Los Angeles months later, to live with his soul in the West.
Baran felt his absence profoundly, and Karim saw it right away. She was finishing her undergraduate studies in Columbia, so he suggested she apply for the USC Medical School or somewhere in California, so she could be next to Farid. California has great medical schools, Karim insisted, and Baran promised she’d think about it.
She was accepted to Stanford School of Medicine soon after–they said how honored they’re for having her in their program and Karim cried when she told him she got a scholarship as well. Karim told he was going to help her move to Palo Alto, however he shocked her when he told he wasn’t going to leave her alone. He was worried about her, like the older brother he was–Baran knew their father told him to take care of her, mainly because of the seizures, and her brother would definitely maintain his promise to grant her well being. So, Karim asked for a transfer to live next to her in Palo Alto, leaving New York behind.
When the seizures became worse in her second year at Medical School, Karim insisted for her to leave the dorms to live with him. She was tired, sad, feeling like a failure, but agreed. Farid came from Los Angeles for a few days, and stayed with them, making sure Baran would feel better with her brothers hovering around. They were deeply worried about her, but she made a point to keep studying. It wasn’t that stressful, she insisted, but there was something else happening with her.
In that year, Baran almost didn’t think too much about her soulmate. It was probably the worst year of her life, with everything going on, and Karim insisted to her to seek new treatments for the epilepsy. They found a new neurologist and, in the first meeting, Baran saw her brother’s eyes shining and the neurologist crying when he spoke the first words.
Karim and Dr. Tara Akbari, the neurologist, were soulmates.
Baran was shocked, and stayed by the side while they stared at each other with tears running down their faces. The appointment was completely forgotten by that time, so Karim left her at home with Farid, not explaining anything to their brother, and left with Tara, going... somewhere. Baran couldn’t blame him, she was happy that he finally met someone he was waiting for thirty years. Farid laughed loudly when she explained him what just had happened.
“That great news, we’ll have a discount in neuro meetings from now on, thankfully,” he joked and Baran rolled her eyes, pushing the twenty-eight-year-old to the side. Farid laughed more, shaking his head. Then, he stopped, looking at her with a serious expression. “So… Desperate Housewives?”
“Oh my God, yes!’
They spent the rest of the day watching the series; at night, Farid left for just a moment to call his fiancee, and order pizza for them. When he came back, his sister was pale and with tears in her eyes. No one knew, but it was the longest seizure Baran ever had in her life, almost twenty seconds, and for the first time in her life it was consecutive and she couldn’t explain herself to Farid; nor say anything. Farid became so desperate that they went to the hospital soon after.
There’s nothing they could do, the emergency doctor said. Farid screamed with the man for two long minutes, and it was enough to get the hospital's neurologist in five minutes. The woman was afraid to talk to Farid and tried to hide her hesitation not taking her eyes out of Baran during her speech. The med student, however, wasn’t completely there. She barely could understand anything, and when she confessed she wasn’t sleeping well after her father’s death and taking stimulants some nights to deal with the Med School, both the doctor and Farid stayed in complete silence–both couldn’t believe she was risking her life that way.
The neurologist asked for a few new exams, including a new CT scan. Later, recommended a transition for new medications, stronger than ever, and a sleeping therapy. For an irony of fate, she also recommended an experimental electroencephalogram-integrated wearable device to monitor Baran’s seizures, moreover it was too modern for the time. Karim, when he arrived, agreed with the methods, ignoring Baran’s tearful eyes. The three knew they didn't have enough money for that treatment, but her brother insisted.
With the new medications and the therapy, the seizures started to decrease, slowly, until it was almost gone. Baran had to retake her second year at Medical School, and for a moment she thought she was going to lose her scholarship, but her favorite professor, who was also one of the most influential professors of Stanford, fought for her. Dr. James made sure she was well attended by the Dean, and made sweet kudos for her, making the Dean impressed. Baran didn’t lose her scholarship after his fight, and was a laureate of her class, the best of them all.
After graduation, everything changed completely, because Baran met Azad a few weeks after it, at Karim’s wedding. Her brother had established a great relationship with Tara and they both loved each other so much they couldn’t wait too much to marry; with Baran getting better everyday, he felt confident enough to ask Tara to live with them. Their wedding was beautiful and she cried on Farid's shoulder when their brother said yes. After the ceremony, Baran was quiet on the side, looking at her soda, thinking how everything changed in the past years when a beautiful man approached. He grinned at her, with kind eyes, but then sneezed out loud. She laughed, he blushed. “It’s the flowers,” he said, embarrassed, and she nodded, “I’m Azad. Azad Nasseri.”
“Baran.” Azad repeated her name in his mouth and then smiled, and they started to talk about the wedding, and then their professions–she found out he was a cardiologist, and that he worked with Tara. Azad offered her a drink that she didn’t accept, but they stayed close, talking about everything. Baran felt her barriers going down, and their talk somehow ended in her bed.
They stayed together for many years after that night. Azad was kind, gentle with her, understood her fears, promised to never say anything about her career and to protect her and "provide" for their family, always. Karim and Farid were deeply hesitant with him, and Azad just gained their respect when he screamed more than Baran when she was accepted into an Emergency Medicine residency program in New York. Her brothers laughed at him, but Azad wasn’t shy. He loved her loudly. Shameless.
One of the first things Baran noticed and found out about the man was that he didn’t have a soulmate. Azad was in his middle thirties; however, his skin stayed intact, without a mark. He didn’t seem to care about it so much, and loving her was enough for him, but she was aware of the sometimes-worried looks he gave to the susmaryosep on her skin. Azad knew that, someday, Baran would meet her soulmate, and that would change everything about them because she'd certainly fall in love with them. What they had was temporary, it had a time to end, but Azad made sure to make clear how much he loved her while they had it.
When Azad asked her to marry him, after she ended her residency, Baran told him about her application for the Médecins Sans Frontières. She wanted to make a change in the world, help who needed the most, and was hesitant to tell him about the application; but then Azad surprised her, beaming, and telling her that it wasn’t a problem. He could go with her, and still wanted to marry her. Their application was successful and, a week after being accepted on MSF, they ran to Las Vegas to get married. There wasn’t a honeymoon, they went to Afghanistan soon after the marriage.
And four years–with deep wounds both mental and physically, with lives saved and lives lost, altogether in the middle of a whole fucking pandemic–and a couple months later, they were discharged from their service at MSF. The night before their return to the USA after long years in the war, they said tender words to each other, reassuring each other the love they shared.The night before their return, the camp was bombed. Azad, in his vows, promised to always take care of Baran, and died doing it–his body over her, protecting her completely from any remains of the bomb.
Baran returned to the USA a week later, directly to an empty house that was once a lovely and warm home. Karim insisted on having her at his home, but she didn’t want to invade his life; Tara was eight months pregnant, they already had two little girls to take care of, she didn’t want to be a burden to him or his family. But when Farid offered the same, she accepted and moved to Pittsburgh, where he was living. Farid and Maryam still didn’t have any children, both didn't want to, and their guest room was surely comfortable enough for her.
She still cried every night–couldn’t stop it, she couldn’t help but cry about everything she lost. When the nausea came, she thought it was because of her constant cries. But she was a doctor, and she knew it shouldn’t last that long. Baran laughed, cried, and sobbed hard when the pregnancy tests showed two red lines, telling her something she always thought wouldn’t happen. She tried too hard to understand her feelings, but couldn’t. Was it happiness or sadness?
Farid was the first to find out about the pregnancy and laughed and cried with her, promising he would help her with everything she needed. He'd stay by her side, no matter what she chose to do next. However, Farid knew inside himself that she would keep the baby, and just nodded and started to make lists immediately when she confirmed it. Maryam was happy as well and insisted to Baran stay with them for the rest of the pregnancy, and after.
The young doctor accepted, knowing, in advance, that her pregnancy wouldn’t be simple as everyone else's. Baran had to stop taking one of her medications for the seizures and stay completely in mono-therapy of the other, because otherwise the baby wouldn’t develop well; the medications were too strong for the amount of cells inside her. She had to take triple the amount of folic acid, to help the baby grow, but the weakness was common and she couldn’t work, so she just stayed at home. Farid was always by her side, watching bad reality shows with her, and Maryam made sure she was eating well enough to be healthy. They’re wonderful, but Baran couldn’t help but think about Azad and how happy he would be if he was alive.
Nevertheless, Baran felt deeply guilty when, in the middle of the night, she would find herself pressing the mark on her ribs, thinking of her soulmate and what they were doing in their lives, if they would meet someday; if they would like her baby. It wasn’t uncommon having a baby that doesn’t belong to your soulmate, but Baran couldn't help but feel guilty.
Almost thirty eight years old, and yet she was always coming back to be that twelve years old girl asking her father if she would meet her soulmate someday. With Azad in her life, that thought passed many years hidden under the love he felt for her and made sure to always be shown, but without him there, the pain inside her chest couldn’t be really ignored. Baran wished they could be there then, to hold her when the thoughts were too loud to ignore.
When Baran went to an emergency c-section, Baran gripped the soulmark harshly. She wanted to have a natural birth, but the c-section was needed because her baby probably was in distress, and the doctors had to take them out of her now.
She begged Farid to tell them to save the baby, and her brother shook his head, denying it. Baran cried silently, closing her eyes, and the anesthetist tried to calm her down, explaining the procedure to her, as if she didn’t know what was going to happen. She knew how rude she was when she replied to him saying she knew very well how the procedure would be. She felt guilty later, but in the moment just thanked the heavens for the silence.
In the silence, with only the sound of gadgets moving, Baran prayed for the first time in years, pressing her soulmark. She asked for whoever was there to have a chance to meet her baby and for them to be healthy–she prayed to live another day to meet her baby. To meet her soulmate. Baran slept in the middle of her prayers, still touching her soulmark.
“Hey, azizam,” it was a soft and calm voice that woke her up. Baran blinked a couple times, trying to adjust to the strong light; she left a deep and relieved sigh out of her mouth. Karim was next to her, a huge smile on his face, and she smiled back at him, slowly. “How do you feel?”
“Like a bus just ran over me,” she replied on a raspy voice, trying to sit. Her brother tenderly pushed her back into the bed, and she rolled her eyes. She then remembered what happened and felt the fear running over her body, like a bucket of old water was thrown in her head. “Where… where’s my baby?”
Baran knew she sounded desperate, but ignored it. Karim shook his head, and then lifted his lips, pointing to her side. A plastic crib was next to the bed, and a baby was yawning, their tiny arms raising above the crib and their green blanket didn't quit covered him fully. The new mother couldn’t hold the sob that left her mouth; she started to cry almost immediately.
“He’s a healthy, cute, and big baby boy,” Farid, on the other side of the room, said. He approached his sister, and softly tucked his hand in her hair. Baran felt her chest almost hurting with the love she felt for her brothers. “You did great, koochooloo. He looks exactly like you. Do you wanna meet your pesar?”
She nodded, quickly, and Karim took the baby out of his crib, slowly putting him in Baran’s chest. The woman cried, and the first glimpse of her baby boy was filled with tears that she made sure to clear before looking at him directly. Farid was right, he looked exactly like her; an insane amount of chocolate hair, starting to curl, and a face that seemed like she just gave birth to a copy of herself. However, when he opened his eyes, it was in a deep green tone the same as Azad’s. The tears came back, stronger than ever, and Baran let them flow freely.
“My little, loved boy, pesaram” she mumbled, pressing her lips to his chocolate hair. The baby studied her, yawned loudly, making her laugh softly, and then closed his eyes again. The act made her heart explode, and Baran knew she couldn’t love anyone as much as him; her little and soft miracle. She already kne, many months ago, how he would change her life, her little… “Omid.”
“What?” Karim asked, stepping into her direction to make sure he was listening well. Baran’s heart raced, and her gaze found him with tearful eyes. Her older brother's brown eyes meet hers with the same way–light by the tears that both wanted to cry.
“His name is Omid, like our Baba,” Baran replied, voice almost breaking in the middle of sentence, and both her brothers couldn’t hold their own tears, approaching her and hugging her on each side. Their sobs filled the room, the three sharing their cry while holding each other.
The younger gripped the baby in her arms softly, almost covered by her brothers, and couldn’t help but notice that Omid was lying directly in her soulmark. Susmaryosep, she thought, smiling–Jesus, Mary, Josehp. She softly thanked the heavens for living another day, enough to meet her healthy baby and to have more time to find her soulmate. Baran promised to herself she was going to make everything worth it.
Omidvar “Omid” Yousef Nasseri was a calm baby. His mother was worried about everything, his uncle tried hard to not scream while watching reality shows or sports to scary him and his aunt always tried to squeeze his cheeks if there was no one seeing it. While everything was chaotic in the Al-Hashimi house, Omid was always sleeping.
Baran tried too hard to not be so worried about it, but she caught herself at his nursery so many times. Her little baby, so soft and calm, hardly cried and was such an easy baby. She’d spent too many times by his side, quietly watching his sleep, and how he was growing incredibly fast. Omid’s fat cute cheeks were her favorite thing to gently bite, and with his big green eyes and big smile, he was just the most beautiful baby of the world–a healthy baby, growing strong with the love surrounding him. Sometimes, she felt guilty for not breastfeeding him, because of the medication, but knew it was for the better. She wanted to be the best mother to him, so she had to take care of herself as well.
When Omid turned one year old, and her treatment finally was established again she applied for a new job offer. At the Veterans Hospital, she grew closer to a calm and relaxed doctor, very different from the woman in the middle of the war. Soon, she started to feel more comfortable in her own body and mind, and even left her brother’s home to live on her own, with her son–hired a nanny, tried to meet new places, tried to live her life. In the calm celebration of her forty-one birthday, she couldn’t help but close her eyes and wish she could meet her soulmate soon.
It happened sooner than Baran expected.
It was a rainy and cold day, in the middle of November. The snow was falling, taking over the streets, making it hard for anyone to leave their homes, but it was common in Pittsburgh. Baran was missing the California sun more than ever, looking at the window with a heavy heart. She was in the middle of her pause, eating her lunch, when her telephone started to ring.
“Baran? Can you please come back home?” It was Mary, Omid’s nanny, and Baran didn’t even think about it before running to alert everyone she was leaving, just based on how desperate the girl's voice was. “Omid has a fever of 101.5 degrees, and he just vomited in this room and the bathroom"
Baran tried her best to calm herself while driving home, her mind thinking only of her son, and she knew she passed by many red lights without noticing. She parked the car without care and ran to her home, opening the door and almost smacking it in the wall. She knew she looked crazy, but she didn't care, because her baby was fine before she left for work that morning.
“Mary?” She called out loud and the nanny replied from above; Baran ran through the stairs and entered Omid’s room immediately when she heard the girl yelling from above. “What happened?”
Her brown eyes assimilated the scene and she left a loud noise out of her mouth, her heart breaking. Omid was hiding himself in his nanny’s chest, looking weak and so sick that Baran walked the steps that separated them quickly, and then squatted down next to the boy to see him better. Omid took a long second to recognize her, but when he did it, he started to cry out loud and almost jumped into her. But the movement made him weaker, and Mary had to hold the young boy. Baran put her hand in her mouth, holding her scream, in the moment she saw her son fainting.
The two women worked rapidly and together after that. Baran’s head was in another place, so she gave the car keys to Mary drive, and held her son against her chest tightly. The boy woke up seconds after fainting, softly murmuring a broke “maman”–he was weak and couldn’t do more than that, not even cry. Baran was an emergency doctor, but she couldn’t really take care of her baby in that condition, and the only and coherent choice was the hospital.
“He was playing in his bedroom and then I heard the throwing up noises. He started to vomit and had a fever, but he didn’t faint before you arrived,” Mary said while driving, and Baran nodded. She felt the tears almost running over her face, and tried to hold them, because it wasn’t the moment to show weakness. The woman could feel Omid’s fever through his clothes and the baby’s hand had a strong grip in her coat. He probably didn’t understand that pain, nor what he was feeling completely. He was just a baby.
“Maman is here with you, azizam,” Baran whispered in his ear, holding him closer. Omid cried and she tried to calm him down, knowing it would make him vomit again. “Shh, shh, maman injast. You’ll be okay soon, nazanin.”
“Maman, hurts,” Omid mumbled on her chest, crying silently. Knowing that she couldn’t take away his pain made Baran bite her own tongue, something breaking inside her. She pressed her hand over his back, trying to give him some relief in that moment, but she knew it wasn’t enough. She whispered more comfort words, but it didn’t help at all. The baby never got so sick before, and it was utterly worrying.
Mary parked in the first emergency hospital she saw and Baran left the car immediately, putting a coat under Omid’s head to protect him from the rain, and almost ran to the reception. It was chaotic, as she would expect from a hospital, but she ignored it all while walking directly to the clerk. The woman behind the glass stared at her with shock, but Baran had no time for any question.
“My son is three years old, he has fever, was vomiting and fainted ten minutes ago,” Baran said quickly, looking at her with an expression that she knew would scare anyone. The woman wasn’t someone who would fight against her, and immediately said she could enter. Baran held her son tightly and entered the chaos of the ED seconds later. There were tears in her eyes, but she just blinked quickly when she laid her son down in the bed.
Baran caressed his face, biting her lip and feeling deeply guilty for not being there for him before. Omid was pale, his lips almost white, and he looked at her with desperate eyes. The boy extended his hand in her direction, attempting to reach her, and the brown haired woman stepped closer to her son, just as he turned almost green. She glanced around immediately, searching for something, but it wasn’t enough. Omid’s tiny body went forward, and the vomit ran free out of his mouth.
She slipped her fingers over his back softly, knowing she couldn’t do anything else than trying to calm him down. The vomit wet his shirt and the whole floor above, but Baran just cared about her baby. Omid started to cry harder the moment he stopped throwing up. She took him to her arms, not giving a damn about the vomit, and draped her hands on his back. She noticed, poorly, that some staff reunited around them, worried.
“Susmaryosep!” The soft and playful voice sounded, approaching them. Baran raised her eyes, her pulse quickened, the myriad of feelings running over her body. She had listened to the word before, a couple times, never directed to her or making her feel like she was feeling right now. No. She felt like her soul was leaving her body, like when that word appeared on her skin. A couple tears started to run down her face, and she could finally look at the person who said those words.
She was young. A mix of amusement and disgust was shown in her face, and her big green eyes were the first thing Baran noticed. Her hair was held behind in a cute and tight ponytail, her young face couldn’t hide her tiredness that only a job in such a place could give someone. There was a badge in her scrubs, but Baran didn’t have time to look at it because, immediately, Omid started to vomit again.
“Joonam,” she said, anxious and terrified, biting her lip, almost forgetting how to breathe. The young girl approached, giving her a plastic bag, and Baran tried to help her son to vomit inside of that. But it was almost impossible, since a baby like him couldn’t understand it. She stared at the young girl in front of her, noticing the badge said ‘doctor’, and felt a knot forming on her stomach. “Merci, joonam.”
The girl paused her moves, looking at her with fear shining in her eyes. She swallowed hard, then turned her eyes to Omid, ignoring Baran, who felt her heart melting with the simple act. Of course the doctor would prioritize her patient, who was also Baran’s baby. The staff reunited around them started to work, checking Omid’s vital signs, everyone worried about his sequential vomits, and she held his hand tightly, trying to not cry.
“Hey, uhm… I’m Dr. Trinity Santos. When did he start to vomit?” The beautiful doctor asked, helping the nurse with the thermometer. Omid tried to get away from the device, but it was needed, and Baran held him softly so they could check his temperature.
“His name is Omid Nasseri, he woke up well, but then started to vomit an hour or two ago. He had a fever of 101.5 degrees and fainted about maybe twenty minutes ago. He’s still vomiting, how we can see.” She was lucky her voice didn’t crack in the middle of sentence, and the doctor paused for only a second before nodding. “I don’t know what happened, he didn't eat anything different lately.”
“It’s okay, Mrs…” Dr. Santos raised her eyes, not being subtle at all.
“You can call me Baran,” the older murmured, and the doctor nodded.
“102.2, Santos,” the black nurse said, making both Santos and Baran nervous. The younger nodded, and gave a smile without teeth to the woman in front of her.
“Let’s take him inside, alright? Donnie, go warn Dana that we need a bed immediately. Baran, let’s transfer him inside. We need to check his blood glucose and hydration status, quickly,” Santos said, her voice straight and professional. She looked at the side, probably thinking about getting a wheelchair, but Baran was already collecting Omid on her arms. “Oh, okay. Let’s go. Hey, Mel, can you call Maria to clean everything here, please?”
Baran followed Santos into the ED, something tightening on her chest–the apprehensiveness of everything, making the air escape her lungs. The younger led the way for them, looking deeply focused, and the brown haired wasn’t surprised to see how it was clearly full, but Santos passed by a blonde charge-nurse who told simply “South 11” to her before going to the said room. Another doctor approached, clearly older than Santos, who started to present the case for the man, but she was focused only on Omid. When Baran laid the boy on the bed, Santos started to touch his belly softly.
The older doctor agreed when Santos suggested the list of exams, and looked at Baran with a calm and soft grin before leaving. The doctor took a small step back after checking Omid, while the nurse from before started an IV, probably to fix his dehydration led by the vomit. Baran stayed by the side, letting her fingertips travel over her baby’s curly hair softly, still holding her own cry.
“We'll give him Zofran for the vomit right now, along with Tylenol for the fever, but we'll monitor his exams and soon we’ll have news for you,” Santos said, trying to assure everything was going to be okay. Baran nodded, taking her eyes out of her son, and looked at the doctor, who stood there, alert and quiet. The recognition shined on those brilliant and green eyes, and Baran let out a soft sigh out her mouth.
Baran spent her whole life imagining what would be when she finally met her soulmate. What they would talk about, what would happen, how they would react, how pretty they'd be. She never imagined that would be in such a stressful situation, where she couldn’t, really, look deeply in her soulmate’s eyes, saying how long it took for them. How long she was waiting to meet her. Baran’s chocolate eyes shined with apologies while she connected her gaze with the green ones.
“Baran Al-Hashimi,” she said, anyway, extending her hand into Santos’ direction. The younger woman approached, finally, and broke into a lopsided smile that finally showed her teeth. Santos softly held Baran’s hand into her own, looking at her deeply, like she couldn’t believe what was happening. They both felt the electricity running through their bodies, eyes profoundly connected, and their breathing became heavy immediately.
Santos’ hand was soft, but it had some calluses due to her hard work. Her intelligent eyes shone like the sky on a Fourth of July night, so expressive and beautiful that made Baran swallow. Santos, herself, was too beautiful as well. Baran focused on her chin, the grip on her ponytail, her eager appearance. Baran got the prettiest soulmate of all time–and she couldn’t help but beam at the realization that the girl was nervous as well.
“Trinity Santos,” the younger presented herself, flashing a small smile to the brown haired woman before steadied herself. “You can call me Trinity, but only after Omid’s treatment ends.”
Baran let out a soft laugh out of her mouth, nodding. The young doctor took a step back, grinned at her, and turned around to come back to her work. Baran stayed behind, feeling like something just had exploded on her chest. She couldn’t help, but look at her soulmate completely, blushing when she noticed that she just stared at Santos’ ass for a–couple of, actually–second. She shook her head and turned back to Omid, who was looking at the giraffes in the walls. She stepped closer, pressing her hand softly in his back, and the baby blinked at her, completely tired.
The hydration along the medication worked, and soon Omid was sleeping, tired. He had color in his face again, and thankfully no more fever, meaning the treatment was going well, thanks to Trinity. Baran stayed on his side like a falcon, looking at his vital signs every ten minutes, and she just sat when the nurse, coming to adjust the hydration, looked at her with confused eyes. She swallowed and felt the tears pricking on her eyes, but the nurse just approached the chair so she could sit comfortably.
“This new virus is spreads like flea on a stray dog,” the woman murmured, still adding Omid’s new hydration. Baran nodded without smilling, she knew it, there are plenty of people coming everyday to get treated on VAs. “Those children got it so easily that you often can’t notice when it starts; my son was sick almost every winter when he was this little guy’s age.”
Baran opened a tender smile and grumbled. She couldn’t keep talking right now, still stressed and nervous about her baby’s health, and the nurse left them alone after a few minutes and an evaluative look. She then remembered Mary, outside the ER, and picked her telephone to call the woman. Mary accepted the call seconds later, saying she understood her boss calming her down, telling she was going to pick some clothes for them along with Omid's ID. A good thing to do, Baran knew her son would stay for the night, for observation.
After ending the call, she noticed a nurse standing next to the door and looked at her. The blonde woman let a grin appear on her lips before entering the room, wanting Omid’s personal data for his record, and Baran replied calmly, although a little worried because she didn’t think about it before. The nurse noticed, pausing middle writing, and looked at her, deeply, with that big and profound blue eyes. Like she could read Baran’s thoughts just by looking at her eyes.
“You focused on the right thing, hon. Your son’s health was your priority, not some dumb documents,” she said, and the woman felt her shoulders relaxing. She nodded, staring at the nurse’s badge, and reading her name: Dana Evans, nurse leader. “Also, Santos sent me to ask if you wanted a cup of coffee. Isn’t good, actually, but I know where to pick the acceptable one.”
Baran’s heart melted immediately. She looked at Dana with big brown eyes, filled with new tears, and nodded, incapable of talking anything. She couldn’t really reply, and the nurse just understood it and left, ready to pick the coffee; Baran’s mind, however, wasn’t focused on the coffee. She met Trinity iess than an hour ago, and the girl was already taking care of her, trying to make her comfortable in such a stressful situation. Baran’s tears weren't just because of the soft act, but also because she waited for Trinity for such a long time. She was here, now, making sure Baran was well treated.
It felt like a fever dream.