You were raised in a Islamic family, but you always lived in Atlanta. Your family never forced to you wear hijab, but it made you feel closer to your culture, so you did it anyway.

Only your close family, fiance and female friends could see you without it, and you always made sure that it stayed that way. Yet sometimes you had no control over it.

You were paged to the ER to deal with a patient that had chest pains. You grabbed your stuff, fixed your hijab and walked through the curtains, only to face an older man who frowned as soon as he saw you.

"No, I don't want her to treat me" He said firmly as he looked away from you and instead stared at Devon, who stood next to you.

"What? Sir, she's a certified cardio surgeon and for at least the next two hours the only one in this hospital" He replied, how glaring at the man.

You stood to the side, just staring at them. You were used to being treated like that, especially by the male patients "sir, with all due respect-"

"No!" He interrupted you, sitting up on the hospital bed "I won't have so filthy terrorist treating me" He said in a louder voice, causing Conrad who just walked by the ER and peeked through the curtains.

"What the hell is going on?" He asked, stepping inside and looking around at you, Devon and the patient. He was your fiance, and he sure as hell won't tolerate anyone talking to you that way.