Hamnava

02

The room was silent except for the faint hum of the heater and the rhythmic ticking of the clock on the desk. Ayaan stirred slightly in his bed, but his body felt heavy, sinking deeper into the comfort of the warm blanket.

The alarm buzzed loudly, piercing through the stillness. Ayaan groaned, blindly reaching for his phone on the nightstand. He squinted at the bright screen—4:45 a.m. He hit the snooze button instinctively and buried his face back into the pillow.

Five more minutes,  just five.

In the corner of the room, Faiz was already awake, sitting cross-legged on his bed with a mug of steaming tea in hand. He had heard the alarm and wasn’t surprised when Ayaan silenced it. His gaze shifted to the other bed, where Ayaan was now completely cocooned under his blanket, unmoving.

Faiz chuckled to himself, shaking his head. “Typical,” he muttered.

Placing the mug on the desk, Faiz stood up, crossing the small room in a few steps. He knocked lightly on the wooden frame of Ayaan’s bed. “Bhai, it’s Fajr. Get up.”

A muffled voice came from under the blanket. “Hmm… I’m awake.”

Faiz raised an eyebrow. “No, you’re not.” He yanked the blanket off with a single swift motion, ignoring Ayaan’s groggy protests.

“Faiz, what the—” Ayaan sat up, rubbing his eyes, his hair sticking out in every direction.

“Don’t ‘Faiz’ me. You told me to wake you up, remember?” Faiz folded his arms, his tone both amused and firm. “I’m not falling for the ‘five more minutes’ routine this time.”

Ayaan blinked at him, still half-asleep. “I’ll get up. Just… give me a second.”

Faiz didn’t budge. “A second turns into a lifetime with you. Come on, man. Shaytan’s probably doing a victory dance right now.”

Ayaan groaned, reluctantly swinging his legs over the side of the bed. “You’re relentless.”

“And you’re impossible,” Faiz shot back with a smirk. “Let’s go. The sink’s calling your name.”

Grumbling under his breath, Ayaan shuffled to the bathroom to perform wudu. The icy chill of the water against his skin jolted him awake, washing away the remnants of sleep. When he stepped back into the room, Faiz was already rolling out his prayer mat.

Ayaan followed suit, placing his own mat next to Faiz’s. They stood side by side, the silence between them filled with the soft rustle of fabric as they began their prayer.

By the time Ayaan reached the second raka’at, his chest felt lighter, the fog in his mind lifting. As he whispered the final salam and sank into sajdah, he lingered there, breathing in the stillness.

Ya Allah, thank You for pulling me back.

When he finally rose, folding his prayer mat, he glanced at Faiz.

“Happy now?” Ayaan asked, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

Faiz raised an eyebrow, his arms crossed. “You tell me. You’re the one who was fighting a war with your blanket.”

Ayaan shook his head, chuckling softly. “Thanks, man. I mean it.”

Faiz shrugged, picking up his tea mug from the desk. “That’s what I’m here for. Now hurry up and get ready. You’re treating me to breakfast, and I don’t want to hear any excuses.”

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As the soft morning sunlight filtered through the window, Faiz tossed his duffle bag onto the chair. “So, what’s the plan again? Your aunt—what’s her name?”

“Farzana Khala,” Ayaan replied, tying the laces on his shoes. “And don’t let her offer you tea more than three times. You’ll end up drinking the entire pot.”

Faiz laughed. “Noted. But if she makes samosas, I’m not saying no.”

“You’re impossible.” Ayaan smiled, shaking his head as they stepped outside into the crisp autumn morning.

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