Season 1
I've always believed that the most important encounters in someone's life don't always begin with something extraordinary.
Sometimes, it's just a door that opens late.
Sometimes, it's a book falling to the floor. Sometimes, it's an empty seat that happens to be left over.
And sometimes, without realizing it, everything begins with someone we don't even know yet.
That morning, I was twelve minutes late. Not because I'd overslept. I'd been awake since five. I'd already prayed. I'd already prepared my presentation assignment. I'd even had time to make coffee.
The problem was, I'd spent too long looking for a flash drive that had been in my bag the whole time.
So by the time I finally reached the faculty building, my professor was already inside the classroom.
I stopped in front of the door. Took a breath.
Then knocked. Every head turned.
I gave an awkward smile.
“Sorry, Professor.”
My professor looked at his watch.
“Twelve minutes.”
I knew.
“Sorry.”
He sighed, then pointed inside.
“Come in.”
I walked in quickly, trying to hide my embarrassment.
My eyes searched for an empty seat.
One. Just one.
And it was next to a guy who was opening his laptop.
For a moment, I hoped there was another seat.
There wasn't.
In the end, I sat down. “Excuse me.”
The guy moved his bag off the seat. “Go ahead.”
I set down my bag. Only after a few seconds did I realize something.
I knew him.
Not personally. I had seen him in the library. A few times. Sometimes in the cafeteria. I'd even seen him at the campus mosque.
I knew his name from last week's presentation group list.
Zayyen Al Abbas
I'd never spoken to him. At least, not before that morning. I opened my laptop. The professor began explaining the material.
I tried to focus. Five minutes. Ten minutes.
Then I realized something.
I'd forgotten to bring my notes. I opened my bag again. Nothing. I checked the front pocket. Nothing. I started to panic a little.
Zayyen glanced over. “You forgot something?”
I turned to him.
“Hm?” “Your notes.”
I smiled sheepishly. “Yeah.”
He slid his book a little farther toward the middle of the desk. “Just use mine.”
I looked at the book. “What about you?”
“I can still see,” Zayyen said.
I hesitated. “Seriously?”
“Yeah.”
“Thanks.”
He nodded and turned his attention back to the professor. Simple.
There was no long conversation. Nothing that made my heart suddenly race like the romance stories I often read. But for some reason, I remembered him.
But for some reason, I remembered him. Not his face. Not his voice. But the way he helped me without making me feel pitied. That was all.
At least, that's what I told myself.
When class ended, Zila was already waiting for me in front of the building.
“You took forever.”
“I forgot my notes.”
“And then?”
“I borrowed someone else's.”
Zila raised an eyebrow. “Someone else's?”
I knew that look. I walked faster.
“Hana,” Zila called loudly. “Who was he?”
“A classmate.”
“What was his name?” I stayed silent.
Nadia hurried after us. “What was his name, Hana?”
“Zayyen.”
Zila immediately broke into a huge smile. “Oh.”
I stopped walking. “Oh, what?”
“Nothing,” Zila said with a faint smile.
“Don't start, Zila.”
“What? I didn't say anything,” Zila said, grinning.
I snorted. We walked toward the cafeteria. I didn't know why that simple conversation felt like something I needed to hide. It wasn't anything. I had only borrowed his notes. That was all.
Yet that afternoon, when I opened my own notebook to review the material, there was a sentence I'd written at the very bottom of the page. I didn't know when I'd written it.
Don't be too quick to give meaning to something that may not mean anything.
𓍼ོ Don't be too quick to give meaning to something that may not mean anything.
I stared at the sentence for a long time. Then I closed the notebook.
── .✦ Rain fell when my afternoon class ended. Students crowded together in front of the lobby. I stood there, watching rainwater fill the campus grounds.
I'd forgotten to bring an umbrella.
“Not heading home yet?”
I turned around. Zayyen.
I shook my head. “Not yet. I'm waiting for the rain to let up.”
He looked at the rain. “Looks like it'll be a while.”
I smiled a little. “Yeah.”
He opened the black umbrella he'd brought. Then he walked a few steps.
I assumed our conversation was over. But then he stopped.
“Is your bus stop that way?”
I pointed. “Yeah.”
He looked toward the bus stop. Then he looked at his umbrella.
“If you want, we can walk there together.”
I was silent for a moment. There were plenty of reasons to refuse. But none of them really mattered.
“Okay.”
We walked side by side. Not too close. I noticed the distance between us. It was enough to make me comfortable. Enough to make me realize he was deliberately keeping it, too.
We walked in silence for several meters. Then he asked, “You're a third-semester student?”
“Yeah.”
“Communications major?”
I turned to him. “You know that?”
“From your presentation the other day,” Zayyen said.
“Oh.” I smiled.
“You remember?” I asked.
“The material was good,” Zayyen answered.
I held back a smile. “Thank you.”
“You're welcome.”
Silence again. Only the sound of rain on the umbrella. Strange. There was no special conversation. No line that made me want to remember that day forever. And yet, maybe because everything felt so ordinary, I felt a little more at ease.
When we reached the bus stop, I stopped. “Thank you so much.”
Zayyen nodded. “You're welcome.”
He was about to leave. Then he turned back for a moment.
“Oh, about your notes earlier,” Zayyen said.
“Yeah?”
“Don't forget to bring them tomorrow.”
I laughed. “Yeah.”
He gave me a faint smile. Then he left.
I watched him walk away. I didn't know why my eyes kept following him until he disappeared behind the building. Only then did I realize it. I was smiling. I immediately wiped the smile from my face.
“O Allah… no… no, Hana, don't. You can't.” I sighed.
That night, I stood on my prayer mat. The room had grown quiet. The sound of vehicles outside reached me faintly. I raised my hands after finishing my prayer. As usual, I mentioned so many things.
Family. College. The future. Health.
The things that were always part of my prayers. But that night, one thing was different. Someone appeared among all my requests.
I didn't say his name. I just stayed silent. For a long time.
Because I suddenly realized that I didn't even know him yet. I didn't know what he was like when he got angry. I didn't know how he treated his family. I didn't know how he dealt with problems. I didn't know whether he even had completely different feelings.
I only knew a few small things.
He lent me his notes.
He offered me his umbrella.
He kept his distance.
And strangely, those simple things were what made me start paying attention to him. I lowered my head.
“O Allah…”
My voice was barely audible.
“If these feelings will only take me farther from You, please don't let me drown in them.”
I stopped.
Then continued more softly.
“But if one day he really is someone who's good for me…”
I couldn't bring myself to finish. I smiled faintly to myself. I didn't even know whether he would become part of my life.
Yet that night, for the first time, there was one name I wanted to mention in my prayer. But I didn't. I kept it to myself.
Not because I was afraid Allah would hear me. Allah already knew.
I was only afraid that I was making someone my destination too soon, when perhaps he was merely a stop along the way.
So that night, I chose one simple sentence. “O Allah, if he truly isn't meant for me, teach my heart not to force it.”
I lowered my hands. And for the first time, I understood something:
Maybe guarding your heart doesn't mean you're not allowed to have feelings.
Maybe guarding your heart means knowing to whom those feelings should be returned.
I still didn't know where this story would take us.
I didn't even know whether Zayyen would still greet me tomorrow.
But I knew one thing. Since that day, his name had begun to live in my head. And without me ever asking it to, his name had begun making its slow way toward the fog of my prayer.
— TO BE CONTINUED IN EPISODE 2 —