Early the next morning, Dr. Aisha gave the staff the go-ahead to let me sip Lipton. I asked the nurse (whose name escapes me) for a mirror when she placed the Lipton on the dresser next to my bedside.

Dr. Aisha brought it herself as she pulled the curtains and allowed the early morning sunshine to flood the room.

“Remember, it will look better in a few days. My friend was in an auto accident two years ago. His handsome face was dragged on the tarred road, looking rough and horrible, like a cabbage. I saw him two weeks ago, and his face is back to its old self,” she said.

Despite her reassurances, looking in the mirror and seeing the thing that insisted it was my face left me a little breathless. It looked like someone had stuck an air pump nozzle under my nose and pumped away. My eyes were puffy and red. The worst of it was my mouth—a grotesque blob of purple and red, all bruise and stitches. I tried to smile, and a bolt of pain ripped through my lips. I would not be doing that for a while. Stitches across my left cheek, just under the chin, and on the forehead just below the hairline.

My mom also tried to assure me. “It’s not that bad, dear. Very soon, your face will be as smooth as a baby’s. It will be like all this never happened,” she said.

I knew they were trying to make me feel better, but it would leave a significant scar for the rest of my life.

Rauf and Rasheed came to visit me later in the day. My mom and dad had gone back to my hostel, and I was trying to get some shut-eye when they walked in. We exchanged pleasantries.

“We never properly introduced. I am Rasheed,” he said, offering his hand and quickly withdrawing it, realizing I had a broken hand. He looked a bit embarrassed.

“I’m really sorry, Amir. I didn’t believe you and turned you away. All of this could have been avoided.”

I looked into his eyes. He seemed genuinely sorry.

“No, I’m rather grateful. You helped save my life. Abdulrauf told me how much you helped, and everything happened as it should. I’m just glad everybody is okay. I really thank you,” I said. I had started adapting to the pain and spoke at will.

He nodded in acknowledgment. “I’m glad I was given a chance at redemption,” he said.

So am I, I thought. I was also given a chance to redeem myself.

“You have a great friend right here. Do well to keep each other till the future. He did a lot to save you.”

“I know. I really appreciate him. I will be grateful to him for as long as I live,” I replied.

“You both know I’m sitting right here,” Abdulrauf said, reminding us of his presence.

I knew corny words made his skin crawl, but I didn’t know any better way to express myself.

Rasheed sat for a few more minutes as he watched Abdulrauf and me banter with each other. He gave a snicker on a few occasions before standing up to leave.

“I have to get back to work. I’ll be here again soon enough,” he declared.

I said my goodbyes and watched Abdulrauf stand up to escort him outside. I was alone again in the room. In the middle drawer of the dresser beside my bed, I had seen an old newspaper. I tried to reach it to keep myself busy, straining myself hard, but I couldn’t reach it. Sweat poured down my face from the effort, and I gave up. I tried to close my eyes to get the shut-eye that had been eluding me. I heard the door open again, and I assumed it was Abdulrauf, but I was wrong.