thirty-three

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To say Naira was surprised would be an understatement. After her hangout with Kimi, she came back to the office, too tired to focus on anything. She planned to file her paperwork and call it a day, knowing her mother would be waiting for her at home with a hot cup of coffee.

Her father and Daris would be home around the same time, so family shenanigans were bound to happen where the three of them would give their father migraines with all the noise. A smile graced her lips at the remembrance of her family, and it motivated her to finish her work faster.

However, what surprised her wasn't her willingness to leave work and finish her tasks for the day. Rather, it was the open door that lead to the Red Knights, their practice room. From her understanding, the boys had personal schedules for the day and shouldn't be in that room.

After the confessions that rocked the group, she'd be surprised if they even thought about working today instead of taking some time off. She gave them the option to take a break, but she had no idea if they took her offer.

Curiosity got the best of Naira when she soon found herself walking through those doors. The true shock came from what she saw.

There he was, head bowed to the floor in humble prayer. A thin piece of paper sat in front of him, his messy handwriting all over it in what she recognized to be the words of prayer every Muslim recited from beginning to end.

Rayan was praying.

She covered her mouth to stop the gasp in her throat, eyes watering to see him push himself to stand before Allah. He wasn't forced, nor was he forcing himself.

No one who refused prayer would write out the format on a piece of paper to help them pray in case they forgot a detail. New Muslims would do that since they weren't accustomed to the Quranic language or the Arabic involved in the different steps of prayer.

The paper was like training wheels for those who devoted themselves to Islam later in life, and Rayan was inspired to take that first step towards his Creator.

Her heart thrummed like a new melody was beginning to take form, to shape the future in the noor (light) of their deen (religion). Being a Muslim meant to fully submit to Allah and His message, and one of the keys to Islam was through daily prayers.

It must have been so long since Rayan last prayed, and only Allah knew whether those prayers were truly from his heart in the past. Regardless, there was always a path to redemption no matter how broken or how damaged people thought they were. With Allah, there was always forgiveness.

She didn't know how long she stood there, but eventually he whispered his salaams to the angels and signaled the end to his prayer. His sea-green eyes met Naira's gaze, a slow smile touching his lips as he stood up.

"I didn't know you'd be watching me," he teased her, picking up the paper and putting it back into his pocket. "Uh... I thought prayer would ease some of this stress off my shoulders. You know, spirituality and all."

"I'm not judging."

He averted his gaze as if a shame was creeping up on him. "I suppose it's pretty pathetic-"

"Hey," she cut him off sharply, hardening her gaze. "Don't you dare call yourself pathetic. After everything that happened today, you owe it to yourself."

Rayan deeply sighed, threading his fingers through his dark curls. His eyes were stormy, full of chaos and uncertainty. "I didn't know about Kyle's eating disorder. How could I be so blind?" he asked.

"People with eating disorders can be the best at hiding their pain with a smile," she tried to ease his burden. "You couldn't have known. Hell, I didn't even know at first."

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