Room 101 — 6th September — Wednesday — 4:30 AM
The room was dark.
C opened her eyes.
The ceiling was familiar now.
She knew its shadows, its corners, the way the light moved across it at dawn.
She slipped out of bed quietly.
Her bare feet touched the cold floor.
She didn’t shiver anymore.
In the washroom, she performed wudu.
Cold water.
Familiar movements.
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.
This is for my family.
She finished and went to the washroom for a shower.
6:00 AM
She wore a simple kameez shalwar — different color each day, but always modest, always clean.
She sat at her small table near the window.
Her register was open.
Her pen was ready.
She revised yesterday’s notes.
Software Engineering.
Programming.
Advanced English.
Economics.
Discrete Mathematics.
Networking.
Six subjects.
Six registers.
Six hours of lectures each day.
She studied each one.
8:00 AM
She braided her hair.
Pinned her hijab.
Pulled her dupatta over her shoulders.
Put on her mask.
White shoes.
Fully covered.
Ready.
She waited for Sophia.
8:30 AM
Sophia climbed down from her bunk.
“Ready?”
C nodded.
They left together — down the stairs, past the elevator, through the hostel gate.
Another day, C thought.
Another chance to learn.
The University — 9:00 AM
The campus was alive.
Students walked in groups.
The sky was blue — endless, bright.
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 — Software Engineering
Professor Elvin stood at the front.
“Software Development Life Cycle,” he said.
“Requirements.
Design.
Implementation.
Testing.
Deployment.
Maintenance.”
C wrote everything.
Every word.
Every example.
Every diagram.
Her handwriting was neat.
Small.
Precise.
10:00 AM — Programming
Professor Elvin continued.
“Loops,” he said.
“For loops.
While loops.
Nested loops.”
He wrote examples on the board.
C copied them into her register.
Then she wrote her own examples — testing the logic, exploring the possibilities.
11:00 AM — Advanced English
Professor Jasmine spoke fast.
C wrote slower.
She didn’t catch every word — but she wrote what she could.
She would review later.
She would learn.
12:00 PM — Economics
Supply and demand.
Market structures.
Resource allocation.
C took notes.
Organized.
Clear.
12:00 PM — The Days Repeat
Thursday — 7th September
Same routine.
Same classes.
Same focus.
Discrete Mathematics with Professor Rizwan — logic, proofs, truth tables.
C’s pen moved quickly.
This was her subject.
Networking — protocols, layers, data flow.
She drew diagrams in her register.
Lab work — coding, debugging, testing.
Her fingers moved faster now.
Friday — 8th September
Same.
Always the same.
Pray.
Study.
Class.
Library.
Practice.
Pray.
C didn’t complain.
She didn’t stop.
The Library — Each Day — 12:30 PM
She walked to the library.
Performed wudu.
Prayed Zuhr.
Then she sat near the window — her spot — and opened her books.
She made notes from library books first — advanced concepts, deeper explanations.
Then she wrote code in her register — by hand, line by line, testing logic on paper.
After that, she practiced on the library computer.
Code by hand first, she thought.
Then run it.
That’s how Hamad Bhai taught me.
She wrote.
Page after page.
The Canteen — Each Day — 1:00 PM
She stood in the halal line.
Rice.
Chicken.
Dal.
Roti.
Salad.
Small portions.
She sat near the window and ate under her mask.
Not like Ami’s food, she thought.
But enough.
Lab 2 — Each Day — 1:30 PM
Professor Elvin gave them programs to write.
C typed.
Corrected.
Learned.
At 2:30 PM, she returned to the library.
The Library — 3:00 PM to 5:00 PM
She made more notes.
Practiced more code.
Reviewed each subject.
At 5:00 PM — Asr.
She prayed.
Then she returned to her table until 6:00 PM.
Hostel — 6:00 PM
She walked back.
Tapped her card at the registration desk.
Walked up the stairs — three flights — and entered Room 101.
She took off her hijab.
Took off her mask.
Breathed.
She greeted each roommate politely — “Assalam o Alaikum” — soft, calm, sincere.
Dinner — 7:00 PM
They ate together.
C ate slowly — small bites, quiet chewing.
She didn’t talk much.
She listened.
Night — 8:00 PM to 12:00 AM
She sat at her table.
Revised notes.
Made new notes.
Practiced code.
At 10:00 PM — Isha.
She prayed.
Then she continued studying until midnight.
She closed her register.
Placed her pen beside it.
Lay down on her bed.
Closed her eyes.
Tomorrow, she thought.
Another day.
She fell asleep.
🔥 The Hospital — Friday — 8th September — 8:00 PM
Azhan had been working for almost twenty-four hours.
Surgeries.
Rounds.
Consultations.
His body was tired, but his mind would not stop.
His team surrounded him in the corridor.
Dr.
Michael Hayes.
Dr.
Omar Khalid.
Dr.
Emily Brooks.
Dr.
Sadaf Rahmani.
Three nurses — Liam, Nora, and Claire.
“Doctor Azhan,” Emily said, “you need to eat.
You need to rest.
Come with us.”
“I’m fine,” he said.
“You’re not,” Omar replied.
“Dinner.
Together.
No excuses.”
Azhan looked at them — his team, his colleagues, the people who trusted him.
“Fine,” he said.
“One hour.”
The Seafood Restaurant — 9:00 PM
The restaurant overlooked the ocean.
Glass walls.
White tablecloths.
Soft lighting.
The smell of salt and grilled fish.
They sat at a large table — five doctors, three nurses.
Dr.
Michael Hayes — trauma specialist.
Dark hair, easy smile.
Dr.
Omar Khalid — vascular surgeon.
Quiet, observant.
Dr.
Emily Brooks — anesthesiology lead.
Sharp, funny.
Dr.
Sadaf Rahmani — fellow surgeon, former classmate.
Polished.
Confident.
Nora, Claire, Liam — nurses who had worked with Azhan for years.
The food arrived. Get faster updates on g.com.
Grilled fish.
Rice.
Vegetables.
Bread.
Azhan picked at his plate.
Sadaf sat beside him — closer than necessary.
“Azhan,” she said softly, “you should eat more.
You look tired.”
“I’m fine.”
She smiled — practiced, warm.
“You’re always fine.
That’s your problem.”
Michael leaned across the table.
“So, Sadaf — when are you two getting married?”
The table laughed.
Sadaf’s smile widened.
“Ask him.
I’ve been waiting.”
Azhan didn’t look up.
“There is nothing between us.”
Omar raised an eyebrow.
“Nothing?
She’s been your classmate since medical school.
Your colleague.
Your…”
“Colleague,” Azhan said flatly.
“Nothing more.”
Nora whispered to Claire.
“He’s so cold.”
Claire nodded.
“He’s always been like that.”
Sadaf touched Azhan’s arm lightly.
“He’s not cold.
He’s just…
focused.”
Azhan moved his arm.
He picked up his fork.
Ate a piece of rice.
Chewed.
Swallowed.
His mind was elsewhere.
C Ismail.
Did she eat today?
Was her day good?
Is she adjusting?
He thought about the boxes he had sent.
The beef rice.
The chicken roast.
The small cake.
She ate everything, Riya had said.
So happy today.
He almost smiled.
Sadaf noticed his expression.
“What are you thinking about?”
Azhan looked at her.
“Nothing.”
Liam laughed.
“Doctor Azhan never thinks about nothing.
That’s impossible.”
Emily joined in.
“Maybe he’s thinking about someone.”
The table laughed again.
Azhan stood up.
“I have rounds in the morning.
I’m leaving.”
Michael called after him.
“You didn’t eat!”
“I’m not hungry.”
He walked out.
Sadaf watched him go.
Something has changed, she thought.
Something — or someone — is different.
She didn’t know about brown eyes.
She didn’t know about airport signs.
She didn’t know about a girl named C.
The Car — 10:00 PM
Azhan sat in his Mercedes.
The engine hummed.
The city lights glowed.
The ocean was dark in the distance.
He picked up his phone.
Riya: She ate everything.
So happy today.
Like literally ate everything bro.
Even the cake.
She said thank you so many times.
You should have seen her face.
Pure happiness.
💙
He read the message again.and again the same old message
Pure happiness, he thought.
I want to see her face.
He put the phone down.
Started the engine.
Drove home.
The Villa — 10:30 PM
He walked through the front door.
The living room was quiet.
His cousins were in their rooms.
He climbed the stairs.
Entered his room.
Showered.
Changed.
Lay on his bed.
He thought about the week.
C studying.
C praying.
C eating alone in the canteen.
C ignoring boys who bothered her.
C helping girls who asked.
She is focused, he thought.
She is kind.
She doesn’t seek attention.
She is…
He didn’t finish the thought.
She ate, he thought.
She was happy.
.
✍️ Author’s Thoughts Three days she studied, wrote, and prayed, A quiet soul, not yet afraid.
She helped the girls, ignored the boys— Found her peace in library noise.
He worked for hours, cut and stitched, A lonely man, a heart bewitched.
He sat with colleagues, cold and still— His thoughts on her, against his will.
She doesn’t know.
She cannot see— The man who’s losing himself, slowly.
— To be continued…