The air in the hospital waiting room is thick with tension as Malik paces restlessly, his every step radiating barely contained fury.
Robin sits quietly in the corner, her eyes fixed on the closed door behind which the doctors are tending to his daughter.
The sudden appearance of the doctor cuts through the heavy silence, and Malik strides towards him, his expression grim. "Well?" he demands, his voice low and gruff.
The doctor clears his throat, his gaze shifting nervously between Malik and Robin. "The fall had caused a dislocation in your daughter's hand but that can be fixed by surgery," he says, his voice measured.
"It's a simple procedure," the doctor continues, "but the pain can be intense. It's up to her to fight through it."
Malik throws his hands up in frustration, his anger erupting like a geyser. "What do you mean, 'fight through it'? She's a baby! How can she fight anything?"
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