Fatigue clung to Umar’s face like a shadow. He was consulting the twenty-fifth patient since morning, without a single break for refreshment. To make matters worse, a power failure in the clinic had deprived him of the mercy of the fan, sending beads of sweat rolling beneath his white coat.

But strangely, the heat didn’t seem to bother the patients. They arrived with long lists of bizarre complaints and comments, asked unrelated questions and took as much time as they could — until Umar had to politely request them to leave and make way for the next in line. The clock now showed 9 p.m. Finally, the hectic day was about to end.

“This will definitely be the last patient allowed inside,” Umar thought. Thoughts of a warm dinner and deep sleep gave him the energy to complete this final consultation. He only hoped the patient would not mind his yawns. After bidding farewell to the patient, Umar stood up slowly. His legs were sore from sitting all day. Still, he managed to clear his table, turn to his assistant to instruct him to close the clinic and stepped outside.

The night was dark and still. The June air was no cooler than the day. Umar walked briskly to his car, unlocked it, and tossed his bag onto the back seat. Just as he was about to get in, he heard a frail, trembling voice: “Dr Saab, Dr Saab!”

“Not now. I am too tired, “Umar thought. Every part of him wanted to shut the door and drive away. But that would feel too rude. He knew it must be a patient — yet he had no energy left to deal with one.

By now, an old woman had appeared in front of him. Her wrinkled face, ragged clothes and dusty slippers suggested she had walked far.

One decision made in exhaustion haunts a doctor through the darkest night of his life. When tragedy strikes at home, he realises the weight of the oath he once took — until fate finally offers him a second chance

She croaked, “Dr Saab… my son…” and paused. Umar saw her eyes brimming with tears. “He is very ill… please come with me.”

Umar groaned silently in frustration. “Why today? When I am so tired?” he wondered. Finally, he made a harsh decision. Curtly, he replied, “Amma Ji, you know my clinic time is over. I have urgent work at home and need to go. Bring your child tomorrow.”

The thought flickered in his mind: “What if her son doesn’t survive till tomorrow? What if his condition is critical?” But he pushed it away. To his relief, the old woman turned away, muttering curses under her breath.

Umar started the car and drove off. But unease pressed heavily on his chest, more than the day’s exhaustion. A subtle uneasiness lingered in his mind, too soft to describe. He knew the reason — it was the rejection of that old woman. Her voice echoed in his head: “Dr Saab, Dr Saab…” Twice he glanced into the rear-view mirror, half-convinced she was chasing him. Or maybe it was only his imagination.

In this state of confusion, Umar reached home. A restless energy suffocated him. The guilt was gnawing at him. This wasn’t the first time he had refused a patient, but the pain in that mother’s voice haunted him. He even wished to rush back, but he didn’t know where she lived. Defeated, he walked to his entrance door — only to hear his wife crying.

“Anna! Anna! What happened?” Umar shouted. She refused to speak, but her pale face said everything. Someone was missing.

“Where is Ali? Anna, speak up! What happened?” Umar’s voice shook. His heart banged violently in his chest. A thousand terrible possibilities flooded his mind.

Finally, his wife managed to whisper, “Kidnapped… Ali… taken by kidnappers…”

Umar froze. His world collapsed in an instant. Yet he knew this was not the time to mourn. He thought of his old school friend, Inspector Anwar, and reached for his phone with trembling hands.

To his relief, Anwar answered immediately and assured him that the police would do everything possible. He reminded Umar that many such cases had already been solved, with a high detection rate. His words gave Umar and his wife a fragile sense of hope.

But gloom returned as soon as the call ended. Umar felt, deep in his bones, that this was not a random tragedy but brutal justice by fate. It was karma.

That night became the darkest of his life. Guilt and fear kept him awake. His wife sat beside him, her face pale with grief. Ali was their world. Umar’s heart felt numb, as if pain had exceeded its limits.

Trying to distract himself, Umar stood and opened a drawer at his desk and started going through the things inside. After sometime, his gaze fell upon a yellow, tattered paper that seemed familiar — on it was written the oath he had taken on his ‘White Coat Ceremony’ — one of the brightest memories of his life, the day he was officially a medical student and the first day of his university. Now the paper felt light and soft, as if time had dissolved its weight.

His eyes fell on one phrase: “I will prioritise my patient’s welfare over my interests, my affairs, and my occupations.”

Tonight, he had broken this oath. He had betrayed not only a patient, but the very nobility of his profession.

He read it again and again, until the words blurred. Then he whispered to himself a new vow: “I have left my fate in the hands of God, but I vow to prioritise my patient’s welfare over my interests, my affairs and my occupations.”

But his house remained drowned in tragic silence. Umar lay in bed with a heavy heart, praying for a miracle. And then, the phone rang in the early hours of the morning.

It wasn’t Inspector Anwar. It was Ali, his son. Unharmed. Cheerful. Umar’s prayers had been answered. The police had rescued Ali. Fate had given Umar another chance.

At the police station, Ali rushed into his father’s arms. The moment Umar hugged him, he felt the same energy he had on the day of his oath. Only this time, he knew: he would never again let his patients down. At any cost.

Published in Dawn, Young World, August 30th, 2025