Steph woke to the muted gray of dawn slipping through the blinds, her limbs heavy and tangled in the couch blanket. Hassan lay beside her, but he wasn't asleep. His eyes were open, fixed on the ceiling. The air between them felt different thin, uncertain.
He shifted gently, disentangling himself from the blanket. "I need to pray," he murmured, his voice quiet.
She nodded without a word. He didn't look at her as he left the room.
In the small storeroom where they kept extra supplies, Hassan found a bucket and performed wudu. The water was cold, but it grounded him. He spread his jacket over the floor and prayed, each movement deliberate. His heart, however, roared beneath the calm.
He prayed not just for guidance but for forgiveness. For strength. For Steph.
"Ya Allah," he whispered after his salat. "I gave in. I crossed a line. It felt right, but now I don't know. I feel hollow. Help me do right by her."
---
Steph made breakfast. It felt like something to do—something normal. Eggs, toast, and tea. Hassan joined her at the table, silent. Jeremy stumbled in minutes later, rubbing sleep from his eyes. The tension in the room was unspoken but palpable.
"Morning," Jeremy said, sitting. "Smells good."
Steph smiled faintly. Hassan barely nodded.
Then Noah entered, phone pressed to his ear, his face pale.
"What hospital? Is she conscious?"
All eyes turned to him.
He ended the call with a shaky hand. "My mum. She had an accident. She slipped and hit her head. Surgery... they're operating now."
Steph gasped. Jeremy stood quickly.
"I need to go," Noah said, already reaching for his shoes. "I'll take a bus or something."
Jeremy tossed him the car keys. "Take mine. Go. Keep us updated."
"Thanks."
Noah left like a storm passing. The door shut behind him, and the room went still.
---
Steph washed the dishes slowly. Hassan stood beside her, drying them, though his mind was far away.
"Do you regret it?" she asked finally.
He paused, setting down a plate. "I regret the timing. That I let it happen knowing I'm leaving."
"But not me?"
He turned to her. "Never you."
She exhaled. "I just… I don't want you to leave with that look on your face. Like what we shared wasn't good."
"It was. That's the problem."
---
Jeremy found Hassan later, obsessively wiping down clean tables.
"You don't need to punish yourself," Jeremy said.
Hassan didn't look up. "I shouldn't have done it. Not like that. Not before leaving."
"You're allowed to love, Hassan. Even if it's inconvenient."
"I made her a promise I can't keep."
"No, you made her feel seen. That's different. That's... real."
Hassan finally looked up. "It doesn't feel like enough."
Jeremy sighed. "It never does."
---
Steph texted Noah throughout the day. Her phone buzzed just after noon.
Noah: She's awake. Recovery room now. They say she'll be okay.
Steph: I'm so glad. I'm here if you need anything.
Noah: Thanks. I'm just... scared. She's all I have.
She stared at the message for a while before responding. She felt like everyone she cared about was slipping away somehow.
---
That evening, Hassan handed Steph a small envelope. Inside was a Polaroid—one they'd taken weeks ago when the power went out and they'd lit candles and laughed over board games.
And a note, handwritten, careful:
"You've been the calm in my storm. I wanted you in my future, but it turns out you were my present. Forgive me for leaving like this."
"-H"
Steph held the photo to her chest.
"Are you going to just vanish?" she asked.
"I'll say goodbye tomorrow. To you, to Jeremy, to Noah. Properly."
"Promise?"
He nodded.
They stood in the doorway as he left. He turned once, eyes lingering.
She raised her hand. He did too. No words.
The street swallowed him, but Steph stayed standing there long after he'd gone.
---
At the hospital, Noah sat by his mother's bedside, her fingers limp in his. She stirred.
"Noah?"
"I'm here."
They didn't say much. But for the first time in years, they didn't need to.
In the restaurant, Jeremy stood by the window, holding a mug of tea, watching the sky darken.
Everything was changing. And they could all feel it.