The soft golden light of the late afternoon filtered through the dorm window, casting warm shadows across the room. The air was still, thick with something unspoken. Ahmad sat cross-legged on his bed, a notebook open on his lap, but he hadn't touched it in the last twenty minutes. His gaze lingered on Hyunwoo, who was lying on his side, head propped up on one hand.
Hyunwoo finally broke the silence. "Ahmad… can I ask you something?"
Ahmad turned to him. "Of course."
"Back in the kitchen… when you didn't eat the chicken, you said it wasn't halal. I know what that means in theory. But… can you tell me more? Not just about food. About your faith. I want to understand."
Ahmad's eyes softened. He closed the notebook and took a deep breath. "Islam is… everything to me. It's not just about rules or rituals. It's a way of living. A constant reminder to be kind, patient, honest — and connected to God."
Hyunwoo listened, eyes focused. Ahmad continued, his voice gentle and steady.
"Five times a day, I stop whatever I'm doing to pray. It centers me. Reminds me that life is temporary, and my purpose is to serve and improve. We fast in Ramadan — not just from food, but from anger, lies, bad thoughts. We give to the poor, respect our elders, and try to stay humble. Even if someone hurts us… we forgive, for the sake of Allah."
Hyunwoo tilted his head slightly. "That sounds… peaceful. But also hard."
"It is sometimes," Ahmad smiled faintly. "But it makes me feel close to something bigger than myself. Like I'm never alone. Even when I left my family, even when I cried on the plane to Korea... I knew Allah was with me."
A pause.
"What about… me?" Hyunwoo asked, voice quieter now. "I grew up Christian, but… I've never been religious. I only went to church when my mom dragged me. And now, I don't even know if I believe in anything."
Ahmad looked at him, his gaze thoughtful. "That's okay. Belief isn't something you inherit. It's something you explore. Ask questions. Doubt. Struggle. It's part of the journey."
Hyunwoo's expression was unreadable for a moment. Then he sat up slowly, folding his legs the same way Ahmad had. "Is it okay if I… ask more? Even if I don't agree with everything?"
Ahmad nodded, his lips curving into a soft smile. "Always."
A heavy silence settled between them — not uncomfortable, but full. Like the room itself was breathing. The walls, the books, the evening sun — all witnesses to a bridge being built, word by word.
"I wish I had your strength," Hyunwoo said quietly. "To believe so deeply."
Ahmad reached over and gently touched Hyunwoo's shoulder. "It's not strength. It's trust. And pain. And hope. All tangled together."
Hyunwoo blinked, eyes glassy with something he didn't yet understand. Then, without thinking, he leaned forward. His arms wrapped around Ahmad's waist, pulling him into a firm, almost desperate hug.
Ahmad froze for a heartbeat, surprised. Then his arms slowly came around Hyunwoo's back, holding him just as tightly.
They stayed like that, silent. One boy grounded by his faith. The other, drifting toward it — not out of obligation, but out of love, curiosity, and the way Ahmad made everything feel… safe.
In that quiet embrace, the difference between them didn't feel like a barrier anymore.
It felt like a path.