Chapter: The Messages That Brought Light Back
That night, the house felt unusually calm.
Not empty.
Not lonely.
Just quiet in a peaceful way.
Aiman sat on the sofa, still wearing his office shirt, his phone resting in his hand.
He didn't turn on the television.
Didn't open his laptop.
He just sat there.
Thinking.
Then—
his phone vibrated.
Nadia
Are you still awake?
Aiman smiled slightly without realizing it.
He replied almost immediately.
Yes. Just reached home.
The typing indicator appeared again.
That's late. Did you eat dinner?
He leaned back against the sofa.
Not yet.
Another reply came quickly.
You always skip meals.
He smiled again.
Not always.
Yes, always.
He could almost imagine her saying that with a playful expression.
I'll eat later.
No. Eat now.
He chuckled softly.
No one had spoken to him like that in a long time.
You sound like my doctor.
Good. Someone has to remind you 😄
For the first time that day—
his headache felt lighter.
Did your migraine get better today?
He paused.
Looked at the message.
Then replied honestly—
or at least partially honestly.
A little better.
Another message arrived almost instantly.
I'm glad.
Then another one.
You should rest more. Work can wait sometimes.
Aiman stared at the screen.
He didn't know why—
but those simple words stayed longer than they should have.
Then Nadia typed again.
One day I'll buy you coffee. Proper coffee. Not office machine coffee.
He smiled.
Typed.
Deleted.
Typed again.
One day.
Not today.
But not never.
Before he could put his phone down—
another notification appeared.
Alya
Are you home already?
He straightened slightly.
Something about Alya's messages always felt different.
Warmer.
Closer.
Yes. Just got back.
Her reply came immediately.
Did you eat?
He laughed quietly to himself.
Same question.
Different person.
Same concern.
Not yet.
Aiman…
He could almost hear her voice through that single word.
You promised me you wouldn't skip meals again.
He leaned back slowly.
I didn't promise.
Yes you did.
When?
Yesterday.
He smiled.
He didn't even remember saying it.
Still—
he didn't argue.
I'll eat soon.
Send proof.
He raised an eyebrow.
Proof?
Yes. Photo.
He laughed softly.
Something inside him felt lighter again.
It had been a long time since anyone asked for something so simple from him.
You don't trust me?
Not when it comes to food.
He stood up slowly and walked toward the kitchen.
Opened the fridge.
Took out something simple.
Then typed again.
Fine.
A few seconds later—
he sent the picture.
Her reply came immediately.
Good.
Then another message followed.
See? Not that hard.
He leaned against the kitchen counter.
Smiling.
Without realizing it.
You sound strict tonight.
Someone has to take care of you.
That sentence stayed on the screen longer than the others.
Someone has to take care of you.
He didn't reply immediately.
Because he didn't know what to say.
Then she typed again.
By the way…
He waited.
One day we should meet properly.
The smile on his face faded slightly.
Not completely.
Just enough.
He stared at the message.
His fingers hovered above the screen.
Typed.
Stopped.
Deleted.
Then finally—
One day.
Again.
The same answer.
Not today.
But not never.
From the hallway—
someone was watching.
Aina stood quietly near the corner of the wall.
She didn't interrupt him.
Didn't say anything.
She just watched.
Her brother—
smiling at his phone.
Replying quickly.
Reading messages carefully.
Standing in the kitchen longer than necessary.
Something had changed.
Something good.
Something she hadn't seen in a very long time.
She smiled to herself.
Finally.
There was someone in his life again.
Someone who made him look different.
Lighter.
Less tired.
Less alone.
"Aiman," she called softly.
He turned.
"Yes?"
"Who are you texting?"
"No one," he replied immediately.
Too quickly.
She smiled wider.
"Really?"
He looked away.
"Just friends."
"Friends?" she repeated.
Still smiling.
"That's good."
He didn't answer.
But the small smile on his face was still there.
Aina watched him for another moment.
Then she said gently—
"You look happier."
Aiman paused.
Just for a second.
Then he looked down at his phone again.
Maybe she was right.
Maybe something had changed.
Maybe—
for the first time in a long time—
he wasn't thinking only about work
or headaches
or hospital visits
or test results that hadn't come yet.
Maybe he was thinking about something else.
Or someone else.
Still—
somewhere deep inside him—
a quiet uncertainty remained.
Because until the hospital called—
he knew one thing for sure.
He shouldn't let anyone get too close.
Not yet.