Rayyan barely slept.
He lay awake half the night, staring at the ceiling of his small hostel room, replaying every second of what happened in the café — Lisa's voice, her anger, the humiliation, the way the entire room went silent at her shouting.
He tried to push it away.
He tried to be strong.
But sometimes, pain doesn't leave just because you want it to.
The sky slowly brightened through the window, signalling morning.Rayyan took a deep breath, got up, washed his face, and told his reflection:
"Today is new. Today, you start over."
He put on his cleanest shirt, combed his hair neatly, and packed his notebook — just in case the student needed it. He didn't know what to expect… but he had hope.
A new job.A real job.A chance to earn with dignity.
At 9:55 a.m., Rayyan stood at the hostel gate, feeling a strange mix of nervousness and excitement.
Right on time, Monica's car rolled up to the entrance.She lowered the window and smiled.
"You look good today," she said. "Ready?"
Rayyan nodded."Yes. But… Monica, thank you again. I mean it."
She looked at him for a moment — a soft, unreadable expression in her eyes.
"You don't have to thank me every time, Rayyan. I'm doing this because… I want to."
He didn't know how to respond, so he simply got in the car.
The drive was quiet but comfortable. Monica didn't push him to talk, and Rayyan was grateful for that. He needed silence — his mind still haunted by yesterday.
After twenty minutes, they arrived at a gated neighbourhood. The houses were huge — the kind Rayyan only saw on TV or in magazines. Big lawns, expensive cars, modern architecture.
He swallowed.
"Monica… are you sure I belong here?"
She parked the car, turned to him, and said firmly:
"Yes. You deserve this opportunity, Rayyan. Don't let your past make you think you're worth less than you are."
Her words settled somewhere deep inside him.
They walked to the front door, and Monica rang the bell.
Moments later, a tall man opened it — late 40s, neatly dressed, gentle face but tired eyes.
"You must be Rayyan," he said, extending his hand. "I'm Samuel. Welcome."
Rayyan shook his hand respectfully.
"Nice to meet you, sir."
"And Monica," Samuel added with a warm nod. "Thank you for arranging everything."
Monica smiled. "My pleasure, Uncle Samuel."
He led them inside.
The house was beautiful, enormous living room, artwork on the walls, a grand piano in the corner — everything looked expensive, but also lived in.
"Please sit," Samuel said. "I'll call my son."
Rayyan and Monica sat on the couch.
A moment later, a boy walked in — around 11 years old, wearing glasses, holding a Rubik's Cube.His expression was polite but shy.
"This is Aidan," Samuel introduced. "He needs help focusing on school. He's bright, but he gets distracted easily."
Rayyan smiled gently.
"Hi Aidan. I'm Rayyan. I'll be your tutor."
Aidan hesitated, then nodded.
"Hi."
Samuel clapped his hands lightly.
"Alright, I'll leave you two to get started. Monica, you're welcome to stay or come back later."
Monica smiled. "I'll stay. I want to see how Rayyan teaches."
Samuel went upstairs, leaving the three of them together.
Rayyan sat beside the boy, keeping a respectful distance.
"So Aidan," he said softly. "What subject do you feel you need help with first?"
Aidan looked down."Math… I'm not good at it."
Rayyan smiled kindly.
"That's okay. Everyone struggles with something. Let's start simple."
He took out a notebook, wrote a few equations, and explained them step by step — slowly, clearly, patiently.
Aidan listened.
Then something unexpected happened.
A small smile appeared on the boy's face.
"Oh… that makes sense now."
Rayyan felt warmth spread in his chest.
Teaching wasn't hard.Teaching was beautiful.
"Good job," Rayyan said. "Let's try another."
For the next hour, Rayyan guided the boy — making jokes when Aidan got tense, encouraging him when he doubted his answers, praising him when he got them right.
Monica watched silently, but her eyes sparkled with admiration.
At the end of the session, Aidan looked up at Rayyan.
"Can you come again tomorrow?"
Rayyan smiled.
"If your father allows it, I'll be here."
Just then, Samuel came down the stairs.
"So? How was it, Aidan?"
The boy nodded eagerly.
"He explained everything clearly. I like him."
Samuel smiled deeply — a relieved, grateful smile.
"I'm glad to hear that."
He turned to Rayyan.
"Son, I've been searching for someone like you for months."
Rayyan lowered his head shyly.
"I'll try my best, sir."
"I know you will," Samuel replied. "And as agreed — $50 per hour. Today was two hours. I'll transfer $100 to you now."
Rayyan felt his heart stop.
One hundred dollars.
In one day.
More than he earned scrubbing dishes until his fingers hurt.
"Thank you, sir," he whispered, voice shaky with gratitude.
Samuel placed a gentle hand on Rayyan's shoulder.
"Thank YOU," he said softly. "Kind, patient teachers are rare."
When they left the house, Rayyan felt like he was breathing lighter air.
In the car, Monica waited for him to speak.
And finally… he did.
"Monica… thank you," he said quietly. "Without you… I don't know how I would've survived this week."
She turned to him.
"You're welcome," she whispered. "And I'm proud of you."
Rayyan felt his heart tighten — not painfully, but in a warm, unfamiliar way.
No one had ever said those words to him before.
Not like that.
Not with that softness.
Not with that sincerity.
They drove back to campus.
Just as Monica parked the car, Rayyan turned to her.
"Monica… why are you helping me so much?"
Her eyes flickered — something between fear and honesty.
She opened her mouth.
But before she could answer—
A voice from outside the car interrupted.
"Rayyan."
Both of them turned.
Rayyan's blood ran cold.
It was Lisa.
Standing outside the car.
Eyes red.Expression unreadable.Hands clenched at her side.
Monica stiffened.
Rayyan felt his heart drop.
Lisa stepped closer.
Not angry this time.Not shouting.Not attacking.
Just quiet.
Too quiet.
Her voice shook with something he couldn't understand.
"Rayyan… I need to talk to you."
Monica braced herself.
Rayyan swallowed.
He opened the car door… slowly.
Not knowing if this conversation would break him…
or change everything.