The bus pulled into the terminal a little after one in the morning.Rayyan stepped out, weary but relieved. The air was still, the city half-asleep. A lone taxi idled near the curb. He climbed in and leaned against the seat as the driver pulled away.
He took out his phone and called home.
"Mom, I've reached.""Good," his mother said softly. "Don't worry about us, Rayyan. Focus on your studies—that's what matters now.""I will, Mom," he promised. "I'll make you proud."
The line went quiet, leaving only the hum of the tyres and the faint glow of streetlights sliding across the window.By the time the taxi reached campus, exhaustion had caught up with him.
Amir and the others were waiting outside the hostel, eyes heavy with sleep but smiles intact.
"Bro, you okay?" Amir asked."Yeah," Rayyan nodded. "Just tired."
He told them everything—the rush home, the hospital nights, his father's condition. They listened without interrupting, the room quiet except for his voice.Before heading to bed, he looked at them all and said,
"Thank you—for everything."
Turning to Raveen, he added,
"Your bike's coming tomorrow. Ayden arranged the transport.""Good," Raveen said. "We'll help you unload it." Don't worry.
Rayyan smiled faintly, set his alarm for early morning, and collapsed onto the bed. The last few days had been a storm; tonight he just needed silence.
4 a.m.
Ring … ring …The alarm shattered the dark.
Rayyan groaned, rubbed his eyes, and whispered,
"Come on, Rayyan. Focus."
He washed up, made a quick coffee, and opened his notes. But the words blurred together. His mind felt heavy, tangled with worry. Every minute away from class now weighed on him.
"Oh God, please help me," he muttered. "I can't focus … I need to pass this test tonight."
He pushed the books away and stared at the ceiling fan. Maybe fresh air would clear his head.He packed a few slices of bread, shoved his notes into his bag, and walked out toward the 24-hour study lounge at the library.
The campus slept under the pale glow of corridor lights.Inside the library, everything was still. The faint hum of the air-conditioning filled the emptiness. Rayyan chose a table near the window, spread out his papers, and began revising.The quiet helped. Slowly, the fog in his thoughts began to lift. He focused on the chapters he already knew, saving the missed topics for later.
Time slipped away.
At 5 : 30 a.m., the silence broke—a soft, rhythmic sound of footsteps on the polished floor. Rayyan turned.A girl stood a few tables away, clutching a notebook. He recognised her face from class but not her name.
"Hi Rayyan," she said, smiling shyly. "Mind if I join you?""Uh … sure," he replied. "I'm sorry, I don't remember your name.""Monica," she said, settling across from him. "Maybe you don't know me, but I know you. I heard about your father. You missed class, right?"
He nodded, surprised.
"Yeah. He's better now. I'm just trying to catch up.""You look nervous," Monica said gently. "Are you studying for today's test?""Yes. I missed too many lessons … I'm kind of lost."
She smiled again—steady, reassuring.
"Don't worry. I'll help you."
She pulled a blank sheet from her notebook and began sketching equations, explaining each step.Her tone was patient, clear. She broke every concept down as though she had rehearsed for this moment.Rayyan watched her, astonished. He hadn't realised anyone had noticed his absence, let alone cared enough to help.
It felt as if fate had sent a quiet guardian at his lowest point.
They studied together as dawn spilled through the windows, painting the room gold.
By noon, empty coffee cups and scribbled notes littered the table.Rayyan leaned back and exhaled.
"You've been a lifesaver," he said. "At least let me buy you lunch."
Monica hesitated, then nodded.
The cafeteria was already filling up. Rayyan opened his wallet—ten dollars. That was all.He sighed, forcing a smile, and ordered rice with chicken for her and plain rice with curry for himself.It wasn't much, but gratitude meant more than pride.
He set the tray down in front of her.
"Here … my treat. Not fancy, but I hope it's okay.""Thank you," she said warmly.Then she noticed his plate—just white rice, no meat. She said nothing at first, only paused, then quietly moved half her chicken to his plate.
"Let's share," she said with a gentle smile. "Don't argue. I'm fine with it."
Rayyan stared, touched beyond words.They ate slowly, talking about little things. Between bites, he caught himself glancing around—searching for a familiar face, for Lisa.Monica noticed, but pretended not to.
"Don't worry," she said softly, breaking the moment. "After lunch, we'll go through one more topic."
He nodded. For the first time in days, he felt calm.
They returned to the library and studied until evening. When it was time for the test, Rayyan walked in with steady hands.He unfolded the paper—and froze.
Every question mirrored what Monica had just taught him.
A smile tugged at his lips.He wrote with confidence, answer after answer flowing as if his mind had finally cleared.
When it was over, he waited for her outside the hall.
"Monica," he called out.She turned, her notebook still in hand."You saved my day," he said earnestly. "This morning felt dark … and you brought light back."
Monica laughed softly.
"Don't be so dramatic. You just needed a push."
She reached for his hand, pulled out a pen, and wrote a number across his palm.
"Call me if you need help again."
Rayyan looked at the ink glistening on his skin.
"I will," he said quietly.
Monica gave him one last smile and walked away down the corridor, her footsteps fading into the hum of evening.
Rayyan stood there, still holding his breath.Everything about the day felt unreal—like a dream he wasn't ready to wake from.
For the first time in weeks, he looked up at the setting sky and whispered to himself,
"Maybe God never left me after all."
He slipped his hands into his pockets and began walking back to the hostel.Each step felt lighter than the one before.The campus lights flickered on, the evening breeze brushing against his face.
Memories flooded in—his father's tired smile, his mother's voice on the phone, Lisa's silence, and now Monica's quiet kindness.So many people, in so many ways, had shaped his journey.
Rayyan smiled faintly. Life had broken him, healed him, and then—somehow—began to show its beauty again.And as he walked beneath the soft glow of the streetlights, he realized that even the smallest moments could feel like miracles