They finally found a small refuge—a half-room whose roof had somehow survived the chaos, dust drifting in the air like tiny ghosts.
Ababeel sank to the cracked floor, leaning her head against the wall. Her eyes were heavy; exhaustion had finally caught up. Habeel collapsed beside her—not gracefully, more like a potato dropped onto concrete. Together, they let out the same deep, synchronised groan.
"My shoulders are crying," Ababeel muttered. "I think my back just submitted its resignation letter."My soul left my body three streets ago," Habeel countered. "What you're seeing right now is a hallucination."
A beat passed. She glanced at him sideways."By the way… what was your name again?"
He blinked like she had asked the meaning of life."Oh. Right. Habeel."
She burst out laughing."No way. Ababeel and Habeel? Were our parents rhyming?"
He grinned."We sound like a children's book duo. 'Habeel and Ababeel's Chaotic Day Out.'"
Ababeel wiped a tear from her laughter."It fits way too well."
Reality hit like a cold slap.
The laughter faded, and the silence of the bombed building became deafening. Wind whistled through shattered glass. Distant explosions rumbled like growling thunder. The city they had known was gone.
Ababeel hugged her knees, staring at the cracked floor."Why is this happening…" she whispered.
Habeel shifted beside her, voice suddenly serious, stripped of its usual playfulness."We're going to make it. Both of us. You won't be alone."
She looked at him—really looked. For the first time, he wasn't a chaotic intruder, or an annoying nuisance; he was someone who might actually have her back. She took a deep breath and nodded.
"…Okay. Tomorrow morning, we move again.""Deal. But for now…" he flopped onto his back, letting the floor take the weight of his dramatic self. "Let me pretend this is a premium orthopaedic mattress."
She poked his arm."Stop being dramatic and sleep."Dramatic? I literally almost died twice today."Goodnight, drama king."Goodnight, bat-wielding psycho."
And for the first time since the chaos began, they smiled, a tiny spark of safety flickering between them.
Morning light cut through cracks in the broken walls, spotlighting their exhausted faces. Ababeel blinked awake, groaning at every ache. Neck. Back. Everything. She opened her eyes—
Habeel was leaning over her, face inches away, staring like a creepy owl."BOO!"
She jerked awake, nearly headbutting him."What the fuck is wrong with you?! Did you lose your brain already? Or sell it before the apocalypse started?"
He fell back laughing."I never thought I'd sleep on a cold, dusty-ass floor… with rubble… and ants crawling up my emotional wounds."
Ababeel sat up, deadpan."Think of them as sleeping buddies."
He glared."Yeah, well, one buddy bit me—so I'm suing."
Footsteps. Laughter. Too loud. Too close.
The air shifted. A heavy thunk echoed in the staircase. Then laughter—sharp, rolling, and not friendly. Danger in human form.
Both froze. Habeel's voice fell to the softest whisper."Survivors…?"
Ababeel's eyes narrowed."Too loud to be survivors."
He nodded."Right… survivors don't laugh like they're on vacation." He grabbed his bag. "Then we should run."
Escape came through a broken wall on the first floor. The ground below wasn't far—just a ledge and a three-second prayer.
Habeel peered over."Okay, technically… survivable."
Ababeel looked down, sceptically."If we break a leg—whose fault?"Gravity's. I refuse to be blamed for this one."
They jumped, landing on dirt and shattered tiles, rolling instinctively. Pain shot through every muscle."My elbow… oh my God…"
Habeel said, "My dignity… it's shattered…"
Still, they pressed forward, slipping between overgrown bushes, abandoned cars, and collapsed balconies, keeping low, hearts hammering.
The ruined streets pressed around them like a weight. Smoke rose in thin, sad lines between twisted buildings. The world looked as if it had exhaled destruction and forgotten to inhale again.
They walked quickly, but Ababeel avoided staring at the devastation too closely. Every collapsed house felt like a punch to the chest.
Habeel squinted at a half-fallen street sign."Hey… wait…"He brushed ash off it. "This… this is the road to my house."
Ababeel snapped to attention."You think your family might still be there?"
He nodded slowly, hope and fear warring in his eyes."Maybe… maybe they're hiding. Or waiting. Or something…"
Her face softened."Then let's go. Lead the way."
He paused, fear flickering across his features for the first time."What if they're not alive…?"
Ababeel met his gaze, steady and warm."Then we'll face that when we get there. But right now? Hope is all we have. So let's find them."
Habeel swallowed hard as if a stone was stuck in his throat, and squared his shoulders."Alright… stay close."
Ababeel snorted."You stay close. You're the one who trips over air."
"I tripped once, and I was distracted by death."
She rolled her eyes but couldn't hide her smile.
Together, they moved through the ruins, the quiet of destruction trailing them like a ghost.