Somehow, after everything, Zayan slept.
It wasn't deep, and it wasn't gentle, but it was enough. Enough to pull him out of the spiral his mind had been trapped in for so long. When his eyes finally opened, the room was washed in early morning light — pale and unfamiliar. For a moment, he didn't remember where he was.
Then he heard it.
A knock.
His body tensed instantly.
His breath hitched, and his heart reacted before his mind could. For a split second, he thought the dream had followed him into reality — the same knocking, the same fear crawling up his spine. He sat up slowly, listening.
It was different.
This knock was softer. Controlled. Patient.
Not demanding. Not violent.
Real.
Zayan exhaled shakily and swung his legs over the side of the bed. The floor felt cool beneath his feet as he stood up. He didn't rush. He didn't freeze either. He just… moved. Step by step, he walked toward the door and opened it quietly.
The knocking had stopped.
Instead, he heard voices.
Low. Muted. Calm.
Whispers drifting up from downstairs.
That confused him more than the knock itself.
Zayan stepped out into the hallway and began walking toward the stairs. The house felt different in daylight — less heavy, less threatening. Sunlight filtered through the windows, touching the walls, softening the sharp edges of his fear. Still, his chest remained tight as he descended the stairs slowly, one hand brushing against the railing for balance.
The voices became clearer.
He reached the bottom and paused.
In the hall, near the entrance, stood the servant — speaking quietly with a young man Zayan had never seen before. The stranger looked around, his posture relaxed but observant, like someone trying not to intrude.
Then the young man noticed him.
His gaze lifted, settling on Zayan.
He leaned slightly toward the servant and asked, his voice low but audible,
"Is he the one?"
The servant turned and looked at Zayan.
Then nodded.
The young man straightened and walked toward him.
Zayan stayed where he was.
The guy stopped a short distance away, not too close, not too far — respectful.
He smiled.
"Hi," he said.
"So… you're Zayan?"
Zayan nodded once.
The guy continued easily, as if trying to make things feel normal.
"Professor Farooq told me about you. He said you're going to join the university soon."
Zayan listened quietly.
"He wanted to come with you himself," the guy added, "but he had some urgent work. He had to leave the city for a few days."
Zayan nodded again.
This time, he managed a small smile — faint, unsure, but real.
The guy seemed relieved.
"My name's Hadi," he said. "I'm going to be your senior. So if you ever need help — anything at all — just ask. I'll be there."
Something about the way he said it didn't feel forced.
Zayan appreciated that.
Before he could respond, the servant spoke up gently.
"Zayan sir, go take a shower. I'll finish preparing breakfast meanwhile."
Zayan glanced at Hadi.
Hadi nodded encouragingly.
"Take your time."
Zayan turned and headed back upstairs.
The shower water was warm — grounding. As it ran over his face and hair, it washed away the remnants of his dream, the fear clinging to his skin. He stood there longer than necessary, letting the steam fill the space, letting his thoughts quiet down. For once, his mind didn't race ahead into worst-case scenarios.
When he came out, he dressed in the clothes Professor Farooq had bought for him.
They fit perfectly.
Clean. Simple. Comfortable.
He barely recognized the person in the mirror.
He looked… normal.
Healthy.
Almost like someone who belonged somewhere.
Zayan walked downstairs again.
Hadi was sitting on the sofa in the lounge, scrolling through his phone. He looked up when Zayan entered and smiled.
Before either of them could speak, the servant called out,
"Breakfast is ready. Please sit."
They walked to the dining table and sat down.
The food was warm, freshly prepared, and the smell filled the room. Zayan hadn't realized how hungry he was until then. They ate quietly at first — the kind of silence that didn't feel awkward.
Just calm.
Hadi spoke occasionally, light conversation, nothing heavy. No questions that demanded answers Zayan wasn't ready to give. Zayan listened more than he spoke, but for the first time in a long while, he didn't feel like disappearing.
It wasn't happiness.
But it was stability.
And for someone like Zayan, that felt almost unreal.