Amina slept lightly.
It wasn't the uneasy sleep she was used to, the kind where every sound made her flinch. This one was different. Her body finally relaxed, yet her mind stayed alert, hovering between rest and watchfulness. When she opened her eyes, soft morning light was pushing through the curtains.
For a few seconds she lay still, listening.
No shouting.
No footsteps pacing angrily.
No doors slamming.
The silence here was real—clean, not sharp or threatening. It almost frightened her how unfamiliar peace felt.
She sat up slowly, her muscles sore from the tension of the previous day. Her phone lay on the bedside table. Dozens of notifications blinked across the screen, but one caught her attention.
A message from her father.
Amina, please message when you wake. Just to know you're fine.
Her chest tightened. She typed a simple reply.
I'm okay.
She hovered over the send button, then added,
Thank you.
She didn't say more. She couldn't.
After sending it, she placed the phone face-down and took a deep breath. Today would be her first full day in the apartment. The air smelled faintly of detergent and new furniture. She ran her fingers across the edge of the desk—smooth, untouched—as if testing the reality of it.
A knock sounded at the door.
She stiffened automatically, old habits rising. But the knock was gentle, controlled.
"Amina?" Rafi's voice came through. "Are you awake?"
She exhaled slowly. "Yes. One minute."
She pulled on her scarf, straightened her top, and opened the door.
Rafi stood on the small landing with two takeaway cups and a paper bag. His hair looked damp from a shower, his shirt sleeves rolled neatly to the elbows. He looked… refreshingly normal, like the chaos of yesterday never touched him. But his eyes told another story—he had barely slept.
"You didn't have to—" she started.
"I did," he said simply, handing her one of the cups. "You didn't eat dinner last night. And skipping breakfast isn't an option."
She accepted it quietly. The warmth seeped into her palms.
"What's in the bag?"
"Breakfast." He paused. "The kind you'll actually eat."
She gave him a small, almost shy smile. "Thank you."
He leaned against the wall, studying her closely without making her uncomfortable. "How did you sleep?"
"Better than I expected."
"Good."
A moment of calm stretched between them.
Then his tone shifted—lighter, careful. "I have to go to a meeting later this morning, but I'll be back by afternoon. If you need anything, message me. I'll answer immediately."
"You don't have to check on me all the time," she said gently.
"I know," he replied. "But I will anyway."
Her heart dipped at the honesty.
He didn't hover. He didn't pressure. He just… cared in a way she wasn't used to.
A strange warmth spread through her chest.
He stepped back toward the stairs. "I'll give you space to settle in. I'll be downstairs in the lounge if you want company."
"Okay."
He hesitated as though something unsaid hung on his tongue, but he didn't speak it. Instead, he nodded once and walked away.
After he left, Amina set the food on the table and ate slowly. Every bite tasted surreal. She was still adjusting to the idea that meals didn't have to be rushed, guarded, or eaten under tension.
She walked around the apartment, studying each corner. On the desk, she found a small stack of blank sticky notes, arranged neatly beside new pens. On the kitchen counter, a box of fruit juice sat unopened. A folded blanket lay on the sofa, soft and freshly laundered.
Rafi had thought of everything.
She didn't understand why that made her eyes sting.
She moved to the window and drew the curtains wide. The outside world felt far away, but she finally felt somewhere she could breathe. She touched the glass lightly, as if trying to anchor herself.
But the peace didn't last long.
Her phone vibrated again.
A message.
Maryam.
Amina froze before she even unlocked it.
If you leave this house, don't expect anything from us again. You made your choice.
No greeting. No concern. Just a threat wrapped in disappointment.
Amina's throat tightened.
She didn't reply.
Not because she didn't want to—but because she knew any reply would drag her back into the same cycle. She sat on the edge of the bed, the phone trembling slightly in her hands.
For a moment, fear pricked at her.
What if she really had lost her place in the family? What if she had nowhere to return after exams? What if Maryam meant it?
Before her thoughts spiraled too far, she forced herself to stand. She wasn't going to let her past choke her future. Not today.
She changed into comfortable clothes, gathered her textbooks, and sat at the desk.
The apartment's quiet wrapped around her like a soft blanket. With no one to shout her name every five minutes, no footsteps approaching, no insults flung from across the hallway, her mind opened—slowly, hesitantly, but clearly.
She began to read.
For the first time in weeks, the words actually stayed in her head.
⸻
Hours passed before another knock sounded. She checked the time—it was almost 2 p.m.
"Amina?" Rafi's voice drifted in.
She opened the door.
"You're back early," she noted.
"Meeting ended sooner than expected." He stepped inside the apartment for the first time since she arrived. His eyes scanned the room—almost as if confirming she truly existed here now. "How was your morning?"
"I studied."
He smiled. Not big. Not dramatic. Just a small, approving curve of his lips. "Good."
He placed a small brown envelope on the table. "I brought something for you."
She raised an eyebrow. "What is it?"
"Your study schedule." He tapped the envelope. "I drafted one for the next three weeks. Based on your subjects and the time you've lost dealing with… everything."
She blinked. "You made a schedule for me?"
He shrugged lightly. "You focus better when things are structured."
She didn't even deny it.
She opened the envelope. The schedule was neat, realistic, balanced. Study blocks, breaks, revision days—everything carefully mapped.
She looked up at him. "Rafi… why are you going this far?"
His expression shifted. Something serious, almost vulnerable, moved behind his eyes.
"Because no one ever went far for you," he said quietly. "And that ends now."
Amina's breath caught.
He held her gaze a moment longer, then stepped back as if giving her room to process.
"I'll be in the lounge if you need me," he said softly.
She didn't stop him.
Not because she wanted him gone—but because she needed a moment to absorb the truth:
Someone finally cared enough to stay.