The sound of the front-door lock turning felt like thunder.
Rayyan's breath froze in his chest.
Monica's fingers were still wrapped around his wrist—warm, trembling, desperate.He didn't even have time to step back before footsteps echoed down the hallway.
"Monica?"
Her mother's voice came first—shocked and breathless.
A moment later, both her parents stepped into the living room, travel bags still in hand, their expressions tight with worry. They were supposed to be away until tomorrow.
"Oh my God—Monica!" her mother gasped as she rushed forward. "What happened to you? You look so pale!"
Her father entered behind her, tall and exhausted, the usual calm in his eyes replaced by a heavy mixture of concern and urgency. His gaze landed on Rayyan—recognition flickering instantly.
"Rayyan?" he said, eyebrows lifting.
Rayyan stood up quickly.
"Good evening, sir… ma'am."
The tension in his voice made it sound like he was apologising for being alone with Monica.
An Early Return
"We had to come back," Monica's mother explained between quick breaths."We got a call—your grandmother isn't well. We were planning to drive straight to her house, but we realized we forgot her medical report. We had to stop by."
Monica looked down guiltily."I'm fine, Mom. Just tired."
Her mother touched her forehead and frowned deeply.
"You're not fine. You're burning."
Her father's gaze shifted again between the two of them. He wasn't angry—just observing, quietly piecing together the scene before him.
"Rayyan," he said slowly, "were you here with her the whole time?"
Rayyan shook his head quickly.
"No, sir. She felt dizzy in the college. She had a high fever, so I took her to the clinic. The doctor gave her an injection and medication. After that, I brought her home and stayed until she felt stable… I didn't want to leave her alone."
Monica's mother's eyes softened.
Then she noticed the half-finished bowl of soup on the table.
"You cooked?" she asked gently.
Rayyan nodded.
"Yes, ma'am. It's just herbal soup. My mother used to make it when I was sick. I thought it might comfort her."
Her mother took a slow breath—relief mixed with gratitude.
"You have a good heart, Rayyan."
Her father exhaled, rubbing the bridge of his nose.
"And a dangerous sense of responsibility," he muttered. His tone wasn't sharp—just exhausted."Why are you still here? Planning to stay the night?"
Before Rayyan could speak, Monica answered, voice weak but clear.
"Dad… I asked Rayyan to stay. He has exams coming up. I told him he can revise in the study room. And… I didn't want to be alone."
Shadows of Concern
Her father gestured to the couch.
"Sit. Both of you."
They obeyed quietly.
Monica leaned back, cheeks flushed from fever.Rayyan sat at the very edge, hands folded tight, eyes lowered.
"You know Rayyan well," Monica said softly. "He's been helping me a lot with my studies."
Her father nodded slowly."Yes. I remember."
Then he looked at Rayyan again.
"But walking in to see you holding her hand… it startled me."
Rayyan immediately lowered his head.
"I'm sorry, sir. It wasn't intentional. I was about to leave. I should have informed you earlier."
The suspicion in her father's eyes softened a little.
"Alright," he said finally. "Your apology is enough. And… thank you for taking her to the clinic. Truly."
Monica's mother sat beside her daughter, still holding her hand.
"You can't travel tonight," she said quietly. "Your fever is still too high. Grandma will understand. You better stay at home and rest."
Monica opened her mouth to argue, but her father shook his head firmly.
"No travelling until you're better."
Then he turned to Rayyan.
"Have you eaten?"
Rayyan shook his head gently.
"No, sir. I planned to leave after she took her medicine."
Her father took out his phone and tapped the screen.
"I'll order dinner for the both of you. Rayyan, stay here if Monica wants you to. Use the study room to revise. There's a small bed if you get tired."
Rayyan froze.
"Sir—really, I can go ba—"
"No," her father said. "You stay. We trust you."
Her mother nodded in agreement.
"You've done more for her than we expected. Thank you."
Rayyan only managed a quiet nod.
Words Left Unsaid
Later, as her parents packed upstairs to leave, Monica's father called Rayyan aside.
"Son," he began quietly, "I don't have much choice. She insisted you stay tonight. And honestly… I feel safer knowing someone trustworthy is here."
Rayyan swallowed.
"Yes, sir."
"But," her father added, meeting his eyes steadily,"Monica was born into comfort. You come from hardship. Different worlds. Different realities. Just… be careful. With her heart. And yours."
Rayyan's chest tightened.But he simply nodded.
"I understand, sir."
Her father sighed—not in disapproval, but in empathy.
"I know you're a good boy. That's why I'm not worried."
Then he placed a hand on Rayyan's shoulder.
"Take care of her tonight."
Rayyan nodded again.
"I will, sir."
The Quiet Night
When her parents left the living room, Monica looked at Rayyan nervously.
"Did my dad say something hurtful?" she asked quietly.
Rayyan shook his head.
"He just cares about you. That's all."
Her eyes softened.
"Thank you… for always understanding."
"You should rest," Rayyan said gently.
"And you," she whispered, "should revise."
He smiled faintly.
"I will. As long as you don't faint again."
Monica let out a weak laugh.
"That's… fair."
She pulled her blanket up and lay back down.
In the next room, Rayyan sat at the study desk, pen moving slowly over his notes.The soft glow of the lamp reflected on his tired but determined eyes.
Every few minutes, his gaze drifted toward the doorway—toward the faint silhouette of Monica resting on the couch.
Rain began tapping gently against the window.The house grew quiet, wrapped in a soft, fragile calm.
Rayyan leaned back, staring at the shadows on the wall.
"Thank you, God… for moments like this," he whispered.
Even if he didn't know what those moments meant yet.
And then—Suddenly.
Ring. Ring.
Rayyan frowned and glanced at his phone.
Unknown Number.
He rejected the call.
A few seconds later—
Ring. Ring.
He canceled again.
Then again.
Then again.
Rayyan's annoyance slowly turned into unease.
Why is someone calling this late? Who even has my number?
He silenced the phone and placed it face down.
But it vibrated again.Repeatedly.Insistently.
Monica, half asleep on the couch, lifted her head weakly.
"Rayyan… your phone keeps ringing."
"Ignore it, Monica. It's nothing," Rayyan replied quickly.
He declined the call for the fifth time.
But then—
Monica slowly stood up, swaying with dizziness, and walked toward him.
"Rayyan… give me the phone."
Before he could stop her, she reached for it.
"Monica—don't—"
But she had already taken it from his hand.
The phone vibrated again.
Unknown Number Calling…
Monica narrowed her eyes.
Without hesitation, she swiped Accept and lifted it to her ear.
"Hello?"
Rayyan's heart dropped.
Silence on the other side.
Then a familiar voice—soft, shaky, almost smug—slipped through the speaker.
"…it's me."
Monica frowned. "Who's speaking?"
"…Lisa."
Rayyan felt his whole body go cold.
Monica's expression sharpened instantly.
"Lisa?" she repeated. "Why are you calling Rayyan at this hour?"
There was a pause.
Then Lisa replied—
"…I'm Rayyan's girlfriend."
The words crashed through the quiet house like a blade hitting the floor.
Rayyan's breath stopped.
Monica blinked—slowly, disbelievingly.
Then her voice dropped to a dangerously calm whisper.
"Oh? You're his girlfriend?"
Lisa hesitated."…Yes."
Monica's next sentence sliced through the air like ice.
"If you're his girlfriend… then who am I?"
The room froze.
Rayyan froze.
Even the rain outside seemed to pause.
Monica stared directly at him, eyes filled with hurt, disbelief, and a storm of emotions she didn't say out loud.
Rayyan's heart thudded painfully in his chest.
He opened his mouth—
But no words came out.
None.
Monica waited.
Lisa waited on the phone.
Rayyan stood between two worlds—two truths,two girls,two different storms—
And he couldn't breathe as the world were holding its breath.