Chapter 10
---
Author's Voice
Alya had spent her life as an outsider—silent, unseen, uninvited. Today, laughter wove through the Pratama halls like sunlight through leaves. For once, she was not merely tolerated; she belonged.
Yet even in this warmth, dark currents stirred beyond the laughter: Victor Arman's shadow creeping over Reyhan's empire, whispered warnings carried on every breeze.
---
Cousins' Sleepover
The jasmine-scented night wrapped the guest wing in a gentle hush—until the door to Alya's room burst open.
Nisa strode in, pajamas in hand:
> "Sleepover rules: no phones, no secrets, all giggles!"
Tari followed, a stack of rom-com DVDs and bowls of popcorn balanced on her hip.
> "Operation 'Unlock Alya' begins now. Bring tissues—for tears, not fears."
Alya's chest fluttered at their exuberance. Even Reyhan, settled on a chaise with steaming chai, raised his cup in mock salute:
> "May your popcorn never burn."
The cousins piled in. Soon, the room glowed with fairy lights. Pillows flew. Chips were devoured. On screen, Rahul and Anjali drowned in tears—eliciting a gentle, unfamiliar giggle from Alya.
Nisa froze mid-popcorn toss. Tari's jaw dropped.
> "She laughed! We've leveled up!"
Alya's cheeks flamed as she covered her mouth—but the sound escaped, bright and pure.
Revelry followed: pillow fights, whispered confessions, and promises of weekly sleepovers affixed in glitter ink.
---
Kitchen Capers
At dawn's first light, the trio crept into the kitchen with mischievous grins.
> "Operation Toothpaste Oreo is a go," Nisa whispered, brandishing a butter knife.
Under Tari's expert hands, Oreo centers were replaced with mint toothpaste. Alya placed a single flower on the plate—for "visual innocence."
Moments later, Fadil wandered in bleary-eyed, spotted the plate, and exclaimed,
> "Breakfast of champions!"
One bite, and his face contorted in shock.
> "Why does this taste like mouthwash?!"
Zaki howled with laughter, nearly tipping his chair. Miko coughed into his tea. Even Dewi smothered a chuckle behind her hand.
Fadil swore vengeance; Alya texted him:
> "Better smile—minty fresh!"
Laughter echoed through the halls—a testament to her new place among them.
---
Cousin Counsel
Later, as they recovered from the prank, Reyhan lingered by the door. Zaki stepped forward, voice low:
> "Bro, the empire's under pressure. Victor Arman's moves are hitting supply routes hard. We might need new alliances… and fast."
Reyhan's jaw tightened. He nodded once, eyes flicking to Alya—her laughter still resonating in his mind. Protecting this fragile joy became his fiercest priority.
---
Sujood at Dawn
That night, hours before Fajr, Alya stirred. Habit guided her to perform Tahajjud—in a corner, on a simple mat.
As she rose in takbir, Reyhan slipped quietly from the bed, his own mat in hand. He laid it beside hers without a word.
Side by side, they bowed in sujood—two silhouettes beneath the pale moonlight. Each prostration echoed with unspoken prayers: for peace, for healing, and for courage in the days ahead.
When they rose, Alya's silent du'a still hung between them. She sent him a glance—eyes shining. He offered a soft nod, the first words he'd ever spoken to her in prayer:
> "I pray with you… every night since you came"
Her heart swelled with a fragile hope.
---
Balcony Dawn
Morning broke in hues of rose and gold. Alya stepped onto the balcony, a steaming cup of chai warming her palms. Below, the garden shimmered with dew and possibility.
Reyhan joined her in silence, handing her his own cup. Neither spoke. Words were unnecessary.
He slipped his fingers lightly around hers on the railing—steady, reassuring. In that simple touch, Alya felt a promise: that however dark the world beyond those walls, she would not face it alone.
And as the first birds called the dawn, two wounded hearts found a fragile peace—knowing that laughter could be home, and faith could be a shield against any storm.
---