It's 7:30, and it's all going smoothly.

Paperwork: done.

Shower: complete.

First-Day Pants and Blouse selected: clean and classic.

White coat: ironed and safe in its dry-cleaning bag.

Loafers: stiff and polished.

Laptop and phone: charged.

Briefcase: prepped.

Everything just right. Or it was, anyway.

And then, there she is.

Mom. That familiar knock. Only about an hour too late.

I’ve just slicked down my hair again—this July heat triggers the frizz, inevitably—when she starts pounding on my bedroom door.

I look at my smartwatch. Yup, 7:43. If I actually relied on her to get me up on time, I’d be so very late.

“Saira, beta! Time to get up,” my mother singsongs just outside my door. “Dadima made paranthe!”

“Mom, I don’t have time.”

“Of course you have time. Your dadima made you a special first-day breakfast, and you absolutely will eat it.”

I sigh. I better get dressed. I’ve already been up for hours—three to be precise—but I didn’t get dressed yet because I don’t want to wrinkle my clothes. I mean, it’s my first day. I’ve had a lot of first days on my path to becoming a doctor, but this is a pretty damn important one. I want to be ready. I need to be ready.

I walk over to the bed where I’ve laid out my perfect First Day as a Real Doctor Outfit: a mauve button-down shirt and gray slacks—a picture of Harper tucked into the left back pocket as a reminder—along with black loafers and the same plain, small gold hoop earrings I always wear.

But my outfit’s not there. I mean, like, it was there twenty minutes ago when I got into the shower. And now it is GONE.