Epiphany

24:

- Hadia - 

Sunlight poured into the room, filtering through the thin curtains Mustafa insisted were "just fine for now." I stretched under the warm covers, my body sinking deeper into the plush mattress. It was strange, waking up in this space that had slowly started feeling like home. Mustafa's side of the bed was empty, the faint sound of movement from the kitchen signaling where he was.

As comforting as the morning should have been, an ache nestled in the back of my mind, persistent and sharp. My thoughts drifted to Ahmad and Aliza. It had been days since I'd last seen either of them. My attempts to reach out were met with silence.

I reached for my phone on the nightstand and scrolled to my messages.

Me: Aliza, just checking in. Let me know you're okay.
No response.

The timestamp on my last message to Ahmad was nearly three days old.

Me: Ahmad, Aliza isn't answering her texts. I need to know you guys are okay.

I'd called Aliza the night before, my thumb hesitating over the green button for a long moment before pressing it. When the call went to voicemail, I'd hung up without leaving a message. She'd always been the one I could reason with. If Ahmad was too angry to talk, Aliza was my bridge to him.

But now she wasn't picking up either. I sighed, locking my phone and placing it face down on the bed. The knot of worry in my chest tightened, and I pressed my palms to my eyes, willing myself to think clearly.

"Coffee or tea?" Mustafa's voice broke through my thoughts, as he leaned against the doorframe, holding two mugs. I blinked up at him, momentarily startled. "Tea, please."

He walked over and handed me the steaming cup, his gaze scanning my face. "You've got that look." "What look?" I asked, taking the mug between my hands.

"The one you get when you're overthinking." He sat on the edge of the bed, his expression soft but searching. "Something on your mind?" I hesitated, debating whether to brush it off. But this was Mustafa. Pretending I wasn't worried would be pointless.

"It's Ahmad and Aliza," I admitted, staring into my tea. "I haven't heard from them. I've been texting and calling, but it's like they've just... disappeared."

He frowned, his brows knitting together. "That's not like them, is it?" "No," I said, shaking my head. "Aliza, maybe. She's always been a bit more private. But Ahmad? He's usually the one who checks in first, even if it's just to argue with me."

Mustafa reached out, covering my hand with his. "Do you want me to help? I can call them, or—"

"No, they're grown ups, if they want to act like kids, then leave them," I interrupted. "I don't think anythign would help." I said

He nodded, his thumb brushing lightly over my knuckles. "What can I do, then?" I looked up at him, my chest tightening at the genuine concern in his eyes. "You're doing it," I said softly.

- Evening - 

It was one of those rare evenings where everything felt like it had slowed down, no deadlines, no urgent emails to answer, just the quiet hum of the apartment. Mustafa had been holed up in his study all day, focused on work as usual. I, on the other hand, had decided it was finally time to unwind.

There was a new movie that had dropped, "Whispers in the Dark" a thriller that had been all over social media. I'd been wanting to see it for a while, but hadn't gotten around to watching it. Tonight, though, I decided to finally watch it, before social media spoils it for me.

I walked past Mustafa's office, glancing at him through the open door. He was seated at his desk, deep in thought, his eyes focused on the screen in front of him. I hesitated for a moment before calling out, "I'm going to watch the new movie."