Room 101 — 4th September — 4:30 AM
The room was dark.
C opened her eyes.
The ceiling was unfamiliar — but less strange now.
She was learning its shadows, its corners, the way the light from the window moved across it at different hours.
She slipped out of bed quietly.
Her bare feet touched the cold floor.
She shivered — but kept moving.
In the washroom, she performed wudu.
Cold water.
Familiar movements.
Some things don’t change, she thought.
Wherever you are, wudu is the same.
She came back to the room and spread her small prayer mat on the floor.
Fajr.
Soft whispers.
Bent knees.
Forehead touching the ground.
Ya Allah, help me learn.
Help me remember.
Help me focus.
This is for my family.
She finished her prayer and sat for a moment, her hands in her lap, her heart quiet.
Then she stood up and went to the washroom for a shower.
6:00 AM
When she came out, the room was still asleep.
She wore a simple blue kameez shalwar — modest, clean, comfortable.
Her dupatta was draped over the chair, waiting.
She sat at her small table near the window.
Her register was open.
Her pen was ready.
She began revising yesterday’s notes.
Software Engineering.
Discrete Mathematics.
Programming.
Her handwriting was neat.
Small.
Precise.
Hamad Bhai said notes are like code, she thought.
If they are messy, nothing works.
She revise every thing every concept the notes she make
8:00 AM
She finished revising.
She braided her long hair — quickly, carefully — and pinned it neatly under her hijab.
She set her bed — straightened the sheets, fluffed the pillow, folded the blanket.
Clean, she thought.
Everything should be clean.
She wore her hijab, pulled her dupatta over her shoulders, put on her mask, and slipped into her white shoes.
Fully covered.
Ready.
She sat back at her table and continued reading — waiting for her roommates to wake.
8:30 AM
The room stirred.
Aminah stretched.
Yasmin yawned.
Neha groaned and pulled her blanket over her head.
Riya sat up immediately — her first day at NovaTech.
She was already dressed, her makeup done, her bag packed.
“Good luck, Riya Baji,” C said softly.
Riya smiled.
“Thanks, little kid.”
Sophia climbed down from her bunk.
“C, ready?”
C nodded.
They left together — down the stairs, past the elevator, through the hostel gate.
C tapped her card at the registration desk.
Going to university, she thought.
Another day.
The University Gate — 9:00 AM
The campus was alive.
Students walked in groups, backpacks swinging, voices loud.
The sky was blue — endless, brilliant, dotted with soft white clouds.
C and Sophia stopped at the main path.
“Good luck,” Sophia said.
“Good luck,” C replied.
Sophia turned toward the nursing department.
C walked toward the software engineering building.
Her front seat, she thought.
Waiting for her.
Lab 2 — 9:00 AM
The room was filling.
Students settled into their seats — some yawning, some laughing, some staring at their phones.
C sat in the front.
Register open.
Pen ready.
Eyes on the board.
Professor Elvin walked in with his usual energy.
“Good morning, kiddos!
How are you?
Did you miss me?”
The class erupted.
“No, sir!”
“A lot, sir!”
One girl shouted, “Sir, you are handsome!”
Amir, Sameer, and Sana laughed — they knew he was azhan uncle[ his mother brother].
C didn’t know.
Professor Elvin raised his hand dramatically.
“Thank you, but Sameer — don’t tell her.
My younger son is a medical student, okay?”
The class laughed.
Another girl stood up.
“Sir, marry me!”
Professor Elvin grinned.
“My wife, Lily, is a senior surgeon.
She knows her work well.”
More laughter.
C didn’t laugh.
She didn’t look up.
Her register was open.
Her pen was ready.
.
Professor Elvin glanced at her — the girl in white, focused, still, apart from the noise.
Good student, he thought.
He picked up the attendance sheet.
“Roll number one?”
“Present.”
“Two?”
“Here.”
The names continued.
“Roll number eleven — C Ismail?”
C raised her hand slightly.
“Present, sir.”
“Twelve — Sana Rehman?”
“Present.”
“Thirteen — Amir Rehman?”
“Here.”
“Fourteen — Sameer Rehman?”
“Yeah.”
The list went on.
Alina from Turkey.
Kim.
Ray.
Dozens of names, dozens of faces.
Professor Elvin put the sheet down.
“Alright.
Let’s begin.”
Programming — New Topic
He wrote on the board:
Functions in Python
He turned to face the class.
“A function is a block of code that runs only when you call it.
You can pass data into it — called parameters — and it can return data as a result.”
He wrote an example:
def greet(name):
return “Hello, ” + name
“Here, ‘greet’ is the function name.
‘name’ is the parameter.
When you call it —”
He wrote:
print(greet(“C”))
“The output will be — ‘Hello, C’.”
C wrote everything.
Every word.
Every example.
Every explanation.
Her pen moved quickly — but her writing was neat, clear, organized.
Functions, she thought.
Reusable code.
Like Hamad Bhai said — write once, use many times.
Professor Elvin looked at the class. Visit g.com for the full chapter.
“Any questions?”
Silence.
He asked, “What is the difference between a parameter and an argument?”
No one answered.
He looked at C.
“Roll number eleven.
Kiddo, do you know the answer?”
C looked up.
“Mam —”
The class laughed.
Mam, someone whispered.
He’s a man.
Professor Elvin smiled gently.
“It’s okay, kiddo.
Statue.”
The class responded together — “Ooooo!”
C’s face was hidden behind her mask, but her eyes were calm.
“The parameter is the variable in the function definition,” she said softly.
“The argument is the actual value passed when you call the function.”
She paused.
“Like…
if you make a recipe.
The ingredient list is the parameter.
The actual ingredients you use are the arguments.”
Professor Elvin’s eyes lit up.
“Excellent example, kiddo.”
He asked another question — slightly more advanced.
“Can a function return multiple values?”
C nodded.
“Yes, sir.
You can return a tuple — or a list — or use multiple return statements with conditions.”
She gave an example:
def calculate(a, b):
return a + b, a – b
“The function returns both sum and difference.”
The class was silent.
Professor Elvin smiled.
“Good.
Very good.
Keep it up, kiddo.”
C looked down at her register.
Not pride,just calm relaxed she knows dreams[ plot, car.
,washing machine, elder brother sister sacrifice]
She kept writing.
10:00 AM — Advanced English
The door opened.
A woman walked in — short, sharp, around forty.
Her accent was fast, crisp, American.
She wore a tailored blazer and carried a stack of papers.
“Good morning.
I’m Professor Jasmine.
Advanced English.”
C’s heart sank.
Fast, she thought.
Her English is so fast.
Professor Jasmine began the lecture — sentence structures, technical writing, academic vocabulary.
The words flowed quickly, smoothly, like water over stones.
C wrote everything.
She didn’t understand every word — but she wrote ,teacher was too fast ,c try to catch every detail.
At 11:00 AM, the class ended.
Students began packing.
C kept writing.
She was finishing her last sentence, her last example, her last note.
Ray appeared beside her desk.
“Hi, C.
What are you doing?
Come have coffee with me.”
C didn’t look up.
She kept writing.
Ray shifted his weight.
“Hello?
I’m talking to you.”
Nothing.
He muttered something under his breath and walked away.
C finished her notes.
She closed her register and stood up.
11:00 AM — Discrete Mathematics
Professor Rizwan walked in.
Tall.
Young for his age.
His voice was calm, clear, patient.
He began a new lecture — logic and proofs, truth tables, conditional statements.
C’s pen moved.
This is my subject, she thought.
Logic.
Truth.
Things that make sense.
At 12:20 PM, the class ended.
C packed her bag and left.
The Library — 12:30 PM
She walked to the library.
The smell of books wrapped around her — paper, ink, silence.
She went to the washroom, performed wudu, and entered the prayer room.
Zuhr.
Slowly.
Carefully.
From her heart.
Ya Allah, thank you for this day.
Help me learn.
Help me understand.
She finished and went to the canteen.
The Canteen — 12:45 PM
She stood in the halal line.
Rice.
Dal.
Roti.
Salad.
She took small portions — not too much — and sat at a table near the window.
She ate under her mask — small bites, slow chewing.
She finished and returned to the library.
The Library — 1:00 PM
She found her spot near the window.
She took out the English book — the one Riya had helped her borrow — and began reading.
Making notes.
Writing down words she didn’t understand, looking up their meanings, practicing sentences.
At 1:30 PM, she packed her bag and walked to Lab 2.
Lab 2 — 1:30 PM
Professor Elvin gave them a program to write.
C typed.
Her fingers moved faster now — more confident than yesterday.
She still made mistakes.
She still corrected them.
But she was learning.
At 2:30 PM, the class ended.
She had completed everything.
Professor Elvin glanced at her screen as he walked past.
Correct, he thought.
Focused.
The Library — 3:00 PM
C returned to her spot near the window.
She took out her register and the library books.
She made notes from the programming book first — writing down new concepts, new functions, new ways of thinking.
Then she practiced coding in her register — writing code by hand, testing logic, solving problems.
After she practiced in conputer ,code run ,she did this in home ,never have computer
Hamaf bhai thaught c code in register after she practiced in college
She wrote.
Page after page.
Then practiced
5:00 PM — Asr
She checked her phone.
Asr time, she thought.
She went to the prayer room, performed wudu, and prayed.
Ya Allah, help me continue.
Help me stay focused.
She returned to her table and kept working.
6:00 PM — Hostel
C packed her bag and walked back to the hostel.
The sky was soft — orange and pink, fading into blue.
She tapped her card at the registration desk.
Back, she thought.
She walked up the stairs — three flights, step by step — and entered Room 101.
The room was empty.
She took off her hijab.
Took off her mask.
She sat on her bed and called home.
The Call — 6:30 PM
“Assalam o Alaikum, Hamad Bhai.”
“Walikum Assalam, kid.
How was your day?”
C told him everything — the classes, the lectures, the code.
Professor Elvin’s questions.
The English she was struggling with.
Hamad listened.
Then he taught her.
For the next hour and a half, he explained concepts she hadn’t fully understood, clarified doubts, gave her examples.
She just listened.
And learned.
At 8:00 PM, the call ended.
“Thank you, Bhai.”
“Study hard, kid.
We are all praying for you.”
“Allah Hafiz.”
Room 101 — 8:00 PM
The room filled slowly.
Aminah came first, then Yasmin, then Neha.
Sophia walked in and hugged C — warm, tight, sisterly.
“I missed you, buddy!”
C smiled quietly.
“Okay.”
Sophia laughed.
“Just ‘okay’?”
C didn’t know what else to say.
She greeted each roommate politely — “Assalam o Alaikum” — soft, calm, sincere.
Riya arrived last, carrying bags of food.
“How was your day?” C asked.
Riya grinned.
“Robots.
Lots of robots.”
The room laughed.
C didn’t understand.
But she smiled anyway.
Riya placed the boxes on the small table.
“Come, everyone.
My family sent food.”
She opened the boxes.
One large box — biryani, spaghetti, enough for everyone.
One small box — separate.
Riya handed it to C.
“This is for you.
Special.”
C opened the box.
Beef rice.
Chicken roast.
Chocolate cake.
She looked up.
“Thank you, Riya Baji.”
Riya waved her hand.
“Eat.
You need to eat more.”
They sat together — around the small table — eating, talking, laughing.
C ate slowly.
After dinner, she washed the boxes — carefully, neatly — and dried them.
The Garden — 9:00 PM
C and Sophia walked in the garden.
The stars were bright.
The fountain sparkled.
The night air was cool.
C looked up at the sky.
Same sky, she thought.
Different stars.
She didn’t speak.
Sophia walked beside her in comfortable silence.
Room 101 — 10:00 PM
C prayed Isha.
Then she sat at her table and revised her notes.
The room was quiet — girls studying, phones silent, pens moving.
At 12:00 AM, C closed her register.
She placed her pen beside it.
She lay down on her bed.
Pulled the blanket over herself.
Closed her eyes.
She fell asleep.
🔥 Flash — NovaTech — 6:00 PM
The NovaTech building rose against the evening sky — glass and steel, gleaming.
Riya sat at her new desk, surrounded by monitors and code.
Her first day had been overwhelming — but good.
She was learning.
Her phone buzzed.
Azhan: Where are you?
She stepped out to the parking area.
Azhan’s black Mercedes was already there, engine running.
He stepped out.
In his hands — boxes.
Two of them.
Riya looked at him, confused.
“What’s this, bro?”
Azhan didn’t meet her eyes.
“You said she doesn’t eat properly.
The house cook made extra.
Give her the small box.
The rest is for all of you.”
Riya stared at him.
She, Riya thought.
He means C.
“Why?” Riya asked carefully.
“Why her, bro?”
Azhan’s jaw tightened.
His blue eyes flickered — something there she had never seen before.
“Responsibility,” he said flatly.
“The university assigned her to me.”
Riya crossed her arms.
“Not you.
Me.
You did a favor.”
He held the boxes out.
“Then don’t give them.
I’ll eat them at the hospital.”
Riya took the boxes.
She looked at him — really looked.
The dark circles under his eyes.
The tension in his shoulders.
He’s in love, she thought.
He doesn’t even know it.
“Bro,” she said softly, “Uncle texted me.
Please call him.”
Azhan was already walking back to his car.
He didn’t look back.
Riya stood there, holding the boxes, watching him drive away.
Room 101 — 8:00 PM — Continued
Riya placed the boxes on the table.
She looked at C — eating happily, her eyes soft, her mask off now that they were in the room.
She doesn’t know, Riya thought.
She doesn’t know he asked about her.
She doesn’t know he sent this food.
She doesn’t know anything.
She didn’t tell her.
“Thank you, Riya Baji,” C said again.
“The food was amazing.”
Riya smiled.
“Our house cook makes good food.”
She didn’t say whose house.
She didn’t say who sent it.
The Villa — 12:00 AM
Azhan sat in his room.
His phone buzzed.
Riya: She ate everything.
So happy today.
He read the message.
A small smile appeared on his face — rare, unguarded, invisible to anyone who didn’t know him.
He put the phone down and lay on his bed.
Closed his eyes.
She ate, he thought.
Good.
He fell asleep.
✍️ Author’s Thoughts She wrote, she prayed, she learned, she tried— A quiet soul, no voice of pride.
She called her brother, learned from him— A distant light, not yet dim.
He asked about her, late at night, A hidden worry, a hidden fight.
She ate the food his cook prepared— She didn’t know.
She wasn’t scared.
— To be continued…