DOCTOR ZAHRA
A Mercedes Benz car pulled into the hospital premises, immediately grabbing the attention of onlookers. The vehicle smoothly navigated to a parking spot designated for “SENIOR CONSULTANT” and senior guests. About five minutes after the car door swung open, a woman emerged who was so stunning that it seemed as if God had fashioned her right there. Everything about her appeared flawless, neither too much nor too little. She introduced herself as *DOCTOR ZAHRA* to Aliyu AbdulRahman, a young doctor of twenty-four years, and the owner of A.A Hospital. Rahman Memorial Hospital was the most renowned heart-specialty hospital in the country.
Dr. Zahra donned a baby pink gown over her lab coat, along with a matching pink veil. In one hand, she carried a baby pink gingham bag, and in the other, a laptop bag. Her feet were adorned with pink toms with a touch of white. With a swift gesture, she locked the car and dropped the key into her bag before proceeding to ascend the building.
As she slowly climbed the stairs to the third floor, painted in green and white, she exchanged greetings with people along the way, responding with warmth and a smile on her face.
Just as she approached the elevator, an elderly man in what seemed like a security uniform, army green in color, hurried over and said, “Welcome, blessed daughter, you’ve arrived safely.”
Her face brightened at his words, and in her gentle voice, she replied, “Thank you, my father. How is the family?”
Smiling, he replied, “They are well, blessed daughter. You were almost late today; I’ve been waiting for you.”
She smiled back and explained, “I couldn’t sleep early last night as I was doing some research, but cooking isn’t a problem,” ending her response with a question.
The elderly man reassured her, “It’s not an issue, my daughter. Doctor Sulaiman mentioned something similar. Last night, six of his relatives came to plead for his reinstatement, promising he won’t repeat his actions.”
Her expression became more serious, and she said, “My father, I must respectfully decline. Doctor Sulaiman committed a grave offense, and I cannot reinstate him. My hospital was built to serve, and I don’t want to perpetuate the divide between the rich and the poor. Doctor Sulaiman knew he was breaking the law. Let me explain what happened: a sick girl needed blood, and her father was willing to donate. Doctor Sulaiman, however, took her blood and gave it to the daughter of the local government chairman, who paid him 200,000. He later realized the mistake, but it was too late. The girl lost her life, and this is not only a matter of ethics, but it’s also a matter of life and death. My salary might not be enough, but I won’t tolerate such corruption that costs lives.”
Calmly, the elderly man responded, “I understand, blessed daughter. I may not know all the details, but I trust your judgment. May God grant you patience.”
Wiping the sweat from her brow, she replied, “My father, please stop talking to me in this manner. She doesn’t care about you.”
With a trembling voice, he said, “God willing, this won’t happen again.”
She nodded and proceeded to enter her office.
Dr. Zahra entered the office marked *SENIOR CONSULTANT OFFICE*, operated a keypad that resembled a calculator next to the door, entered some numbers, and watched as the door opened. Stepping inside, she allowed the door to close automatically. The office was spacious, adorned with elegant furniture. There was no time to pause; she headed straight for her work area, where tables and chairs were set up for meetings.