Chapter: Before the Answer Comes
The office was almost empty when Farid walked toward Aiman's desk.
Only a few lights were still on.
Aiman was still working.
Like always.
"You're still here?" Farid asked.
"Almost done," Aiman replied calmly.
Farid pulled a chair and sat across from him.
"I asked you something yesterday."
Aiman looked up slightly.
"What was it?"
Farid studied him carefully.
"Why don't you ever go out with anyone?"
Aiman gave a small smile.
"I do go out."
"No," Farid replied.
"I mean properly."
Silence.
Farid continued.
"People invite you."
"You refuse."
"You keep your distance."
Aiman leaned back slowly in his chair.
"I've just been tired lately."
Farid frowned.
"Tired because of your migraine again?"
"Maybe."
"And your stomach problem?"
"Still the same."
Farid nodded slowly.
"You should take care of yourself."
"I will."
Farid hesitated before speaking again.
"You know… life shouldn't be only work and medicine."
Aiman smiled faintly.
"I know."
"If someone important comes into your life," Farid continued carefully,
"don't push them away too quickly."
For a moment—
Aiman didn't answer.
Then he said quietly,
"Not yet."
Farid looked confused.
"Not yet?"
Aiman picked up his bag.
"I'll explain one day."
Then he walked away.
Leaving Farid with a strange feeling he couldn't describe.
Later That Night
At Home
The front door opened slowly.
"Aiman?"
Aina was already sitting in the living room.
Waiting.
"You're late again."
"Work."
She stood up and walked closer.
"You look tired."
"Just migraine."
"You said that yesterday too."
"It comes and goes."
"And your gastritis?"
"Still the same."
Aina crossed her arms.
"You should go back to the hospital."
"I already did."
"When?"
"Last week."
"What did the doctor say?"
Aiman hesitated slightly.
"They're still checking."
Aina looked at him carefully.
"Still checking?"
"Just routine tests."
She sighed.
"You always say it's nothing serious."
"It probably isn't."
Probably.
That word stayed between them.
"Did you take your medicine?" she asked.
"Yes."
"On time?"
"Yes."
Aina finally nodded.
"Good."
For her—
that answer was enough.
But after she walked back toward the kitchen—
Aiman remained standing in the living room.
Quiet.
Still.
He remembered the doctor's face during the last visit.
Too serious.
Too careful.
Too different
for something that was supposed to be just migraine.
Maybe he was overthinking.
Maybe it really was nothing.
Still—
for the first time in his life,
he wasn't completely sure.
And that uncertainty
was beginning to change the way he looked at everything. 💔