<
"Good morning."
I pulled the blankets over myself the moment I heard the curtains being drawn open—Aster barging into my room yet again.
"What are you doing? Close the curtains, for Allah's sake."
"Get up… are you going to your classes today?"
"Yes,"
I replied, turning over in bed, then added,
"It's still dawn. Why are we up this early?"
"Get up and stretch. Come on—we're going for a run together."
I rose sluggishly, glancing around.
"The room's tidy…"
I muttered under my breath.
"Did you think we'd leave it a mess just because you're exhausted?"
Aster said as he opened the windows.
"Why are we running at dawn?"
Aster stared at me for a moment.
"Niyar, does information reach you slowly? Or does your data processing just take longer?"
I grabbed my glasses from the nightstand and stood up unsteadily.
"Is Albert awake?"
"He's asleep in the hallway."
"Asleep in the hallway?"
"Yeah. He woke up—but not completely."
I headed through the open door to shower. Warm water flowed over me, then I switched it to cold. Finally—some relief…
When I came out, I saw Atheer dragging Albert out of the hallway. I ignored them and started searching for the hair dryer.
Ten minutes later, we headed out for a run.
"How many laps have we done so far?"
"Three, Albert. Keep running and stop slacking."
"Oh Allah, let's stop already—we're almost back at the dorm! We'll be exhausted before the day even starts."
"A military academy student, and this is all you can manage?"
"And what makes you so sure I'll choose the military division—"
"Did the cat eat your tongue? Or did you just realize you're about to graduate?"
"Oh, Atheer~ let's stop, come on… Look at Niyar. Even without seeing his face, I can tell he's barely holding on."
"I agree. Let's take a break, Atheer. Neither of them runs regularly—it's hard for them to keep up."
This is exhausting.
Atheer glanced toward the girls' dorm, then said mockingly:
"Whose sister blew up the kitchen in the neighboring dorm?"
The three of us turned toward the girls' dorm, black smoke rising from the kitchen area.
"It's not my sister. Aisel is a skilled cook."
"Lia isn't bad either—she's good at baking, even if she's a disaster when it comes to balancing ingredients."
"…It's Joyce,"
I muttered quietly.
Who else could it be? Maybe blowing up kitchens is her dreadful hobby.
<
Was Niyar insulting me in his diary? Poor me.
But let me tell you what actually happened this morning.
December 1st, 4:00 a.m.
I woke up early because I wanted to bake something for Niyar. True, I'd never done it before—but my dear brother had been bedridden for five days. How could I not make him something he loves?
If only I'd thought it through first…
Aisel helped me prepare the dough and fillings. I was over the moon—but my happiness didn't last. With the first attempt at baking, everything burned.
It was so unfortunate. Luckily, I'd only used a small amount; Aisel didn't want to risk the whole batch.
I opened the windows to air the place, started cleaning, and left the baking to Aisel. As for Lia—she was still fast asleep.
When it was time for school, I changed my clothes and headed out carrying the box of pastries, only to find Niyar and his friends waiting for the bus.
I pulled Niyar toward me and said cheerfully,
"Good morning, my dear brother."
Niyar muttered irritably,
"Morning, Joyce. Where did you get all this cheer so early?"
"Look what I made for you! Pastries with the flavors you love—and it's the first of December, my dear."
"And what's so special about the beginning of December, Joyce?"
Lia asked.
"It's our birthday month! We're turning sixteen this month!"
"Isn't celebrating birthdays against your customs and traditions?"
Aisel asked.
"It's not just any birthday, Aisel—it's the sixteenth. I can get my legal ID now!"
I turned to Niyar and added,
"That means I'll become an adult before you, little one."
Niyar gently pushed me away, and Lia looked at me in surprise.
"You're older than him, Joyce?"
"Yes. I was born on December 25th. He was born on the 31st."
"So you'll both go register today, right?"
"Yes—we're going after school."
<
December 31st.
Our ID cards were issued today. Joyce and I went together to collect them. Fortunately, it coincided with Saturday—a day off at the academy.
I turned my ID card over in my hands…
This day wasn't supposed to be like this. These weren't our plans.
Two months ago, everything was different—with Bayram… my uncle.
Even the ID stamp wasn't what I had imagined. I never thought it would bear the capital's seal. I always believed my ID would be stamped with my birthplace's seal—and that Joyce and I would spend this day with our uncle.
Who am I to question Allah's decree.
"Niyar, look! It's Al-Nakheel Café!"
Al-Nakheel Café?
"I can't believe it's here! Is it the same one we know?"
Al-Nakheel Café… the one we used to visit with our uncle?
"Say something! I want to go!"
"Weren't we supposed to head home?"
"Everyone's out anyway."
She looked at me with a child's excitement, clutching my shirt. To be honest, curiosity got the better of me.
"Let's go."
The same façade. The same interior. Even the same people.
"Niyar? You're Niyar and Joyce, right?"
I turned to see the speaker—a boy our age, wearing a waiter's uniform. A familiar face I'd seen somewhere before.
"Een?"
"Een? Yeah, it's me! Allah, I wasn't mistaken!"
"I can't believe how long it's been—eight years? How have you been all this time?"
I remembered him.
"Oh, don't ask," he said. "I don't know how I survived. I live now with my older uncle's family—he runs this branch. There's no one else left. What about you? How are Iyas, your uncle and aunt?"
"Oh… Iyas is still missing. My mother passed away. My father is imprisoned. Even Bayram—"
"Bayram? But I saw him on November 8th."
"November 11th,"
I said calmly.
"Oh… how stupid of me. Where would you like to sit?"
"The garden."
He led us to the garden, where we sat among the palm trees in a corner. The same layout as the other branches.
"Let me guess your order," he said. "Since it's morning, I'm sure Niyar will have date jam, and Joyce will order fresh date cake."
"And two cups of coffee, please."
"Got it."
We waited until our order arrived. The fragrant aroma… the unique flavor. It was as if I were tasting the past at its sweetest. Memories flooded me—moments I thought would never leave. Did they leave me, or did I leave them?
"The taste hasn't changed," Joyce said softly. "Even though the one making it is different—it's exactly the same. As if each one is trying to cover for the other's absence, right? When your family's branch was destroyed and we moved to your city, I tasted the same flavor in the second branch. I cried that day… and you, Niyar, sat beside me, patting me nervously and offering me your cake."
Do you still remember that?
"And since I wouldn't stop crying, your eyes filled with tears—you didn't know what to do. Then Uncle Bayram came and burst out laughing. He was such a bully… did he actually enjoy children's tears? I can't believe the difference between him at nineteen and at twenty-seven."
A bully… yet always kind. I'll never forget what he said that day:
"Time will heal the wounds of the heart, children. And we ourselves may become wounds in others' hearts. Would you rather be a scar, or a balm that heals? Keep those who have left alive in your sweetest memories, so their warmth stays with you in hardship. As for me—I don't want to be weakness in your hearts. No one likes to be remembered as a fracture in the hearts of those they love. If the Creator reclaims His trust, remember me in my finest image."
He'd said it with a hint of sarcasm back then.
Now… we live his words as reality.
"Let's take a picture, Niyar."
"A picture?"
"Yes, come on."
She pulled her chair closer, leaning against me.
"Take it with your phone, grumpy—and take off your glasses too."
I took the picture. She grabbed the phone, inspecting it and adjusting it.
"Your dark circles are practically touching the ground, Niyar."
Silence… ominous silence.
Like the calm before a storm.
Sirens blared through the café. Then Een's voice echoed through the speakers:
"We kindly ask all customers and staff to evacuate the café immediately. I repeat—please evacuate."
"Evacuate? What's going on?"
Evacuate—why—oh.
I yanked Joyce from her seat as she swept everything off the table.
Within a minute, the café was completely empty. Joyce and I had barely made it outside when the café exploded behind us.
Instinctively, I pulled her close, shielding her from the flying debris. Flames engulfed the café. I gripped Joyce by the shoulders, making sure she was unharmed, so focused on her safety that I barely noticed the countless cuts on my own body.
Een ran toward us.
"Are you okay? I was worried—you were seated far from the exit."
"What happened?"
"A missile hit the café. What do you think?"
"And how did you know before it fell?"
"It was a long-range missile, thankfully. We received an emergency alert from security. We avoided human casualties—but the work waiting for me now… cleaning and rebuilding."
The calm has left us.
The storm is here.