The scorching May afternoon heat shimmered over the city, the normally bustling streets unusually quiet. Anahita, a medical student, gripped the steering wheel, her car a blur of speed. Every minute counted; a month-long adventure with her friends, a daring journey to places where life and death danced on a knife-edge, hung in the balance. Her phone rang, a familiar, concerned voice on the other end. It was her dad, calling for the third time in forty-five minutes. She suppressed a smile, reassuring him with practiced ease, promising to be careful, to turn off her phone upon arrival.

“Okay Dad, I’ve got all the advice tied to the plow. Now let me. I’ll take care of myself. I won’t be able to talk after that. I’ll turn off the phone as soon as I get to the airport. And yes… Don’t worry, nothing will happen to me.” She spoke with a loving tone, her eyes momentarily leaving the road as she placed the phone on the dashboard.

In that split second, a figure materialized directly in her path. A harsh squeal of tires, a sickening thud. Her car jolted. “Oh God…” Anahita slapped her hand to her head, scrambling out of the vehicle. A young man lay face down on the asphalt, blood already blooming from a deep gash on his forehead. He moaned, barely conscious. A quick glance around revealed no witnesses. Her watch flashed: ten minutes to flight departure. The hospital was in the opposite direction.

“I can’t miss this trip. I’m sorry.” She muttered, taking a step back, her hands trembling as she reached for her car door. But then, a sharp, internal rebuke echoed in her mind: 'If you're leaving him here to die, do you deserve the degree you're going to get next year?' No, she had vowed to serve humanity. She couldn't leave him. With renewed resolve, she turned back, determined to help.