The clock ticked past midnight, and the Seoul sky stretched endlessly above, speckled with a few stubborn stars piercing the light-polluted veil. A soft breeze blew through the slightly open window, brushing against the curtains. The air held that rare kind of stillness that only settled after a long day of thoughts, laughter, and quiet tension.
Ahmad sat cross-legged on the floor, the soft light from his desk lamp casting a warm glow on the pages of his Qur'an. He wasn't reciting, just reading silently, his thumb occasionally brushing over a verse. There was peace in his presence, in the way he existed in silence and stillness.
Hyunwoo, however, couldn't sleep.
He lay awake in his bed across the room, his eyes fixed on the ceiling, arms folded behind his head. He had been watching Ahmad in secret for the last fifteen minutes — how gently his friend touched the pages, how focused and still his eyes were, as if each verse was a whisper from another world.
"Ahmad…" Hyunwoo finally broke the silence, his voice soft, uncertain.
Ahmad looked up, blinking himself back into the present. "Hmm?"
There was a pause. Hyunwoo sat up, his expression thoughtful but conflicted.
"Can I… try it?" he asked.
Ahmad tilted his head. "Try what?"
Hyunwoo looked down, a little embarrassed. "Praying. Like you do."
Ahmad's lips parted, stunned for a moment. He sat up straighter, his eyes wide with gentle shock, then soft joy.
"Are you sure?" Ahmad asked, his voice calm but unable to hide the emotion blooming beneath.
Hyunwoo nodded, his eyes serious. "I don't know if I believe in everything. Not yet. But… whenever I see you pray, I feel like... I want to understand what brings you peace."
Ahmad stood slowly, setting the Qur'an aside with respect, and walked over to Hyunwoo. "Okay," he said, voice low and reverent. "We'll start with wudhu."
"Wudhu?" Hyunwoo echoed.
"Ablution," Ahmad explained. "It's like… cleansing. Not just physically, but spiritually. Like washing away the dust of the world before standing in front of God."
He offered his hand. Hyunwoo hesitated, then took it.
---
The Bathroom Light Was Soft
Hyunwoo stood barefoot beside Ahmad as warm water ran in the sink.
Ahmad rolled up his sleeves and demonstrated. "Watch me first. We start with the hands."
Hyunwoo watched every movement—how Ahmad washed each part deliberately: hands, mouth, nose, face, arms, head, ears, and feet. It was like a quiet ritual, gentle and purposeful.
Then it was Hyunwoo's turn.
"Like this?" he asked, trying to mimic Ahmad's motions.
Ahmad nodded, his hand reaching up to fix a small error. "Not like scrubbing… more like flowing. Let the water carry the intention."
They stood close, shoulders nearly brushing. It wasn't just water; it felt like something deeper. Hyunwoo's fingers trembled slightly as he washed his face, not from cold, but something else entirely—something sacred.
When they returned to the room, Ahmad spread out the prayer rug.
"You don't have to say anything in Arabic," Ahmad said gently. "Just copy my movements. Just feel."
Hyunwoo nodded.
And so, side by side, they prayed.
---
A Silence Beyond Words
Hyunwoo bowed when Ahmad bowed. He prostrated when Ahmad did, forehead to the ground, unsure of the exact meanings, but overwhelmed by the surrender in each posture. There was no audience, no pretense—just Ahmad, and him, and something vast and unseen above.
After the final salam, Ahmad sat back, hands cupped in dua.
Hyunwoo didn't know what to say, so he just watched. When Ahmad finished, he turned, only to find Hyunwoo looking at him—eyes wide, brimming.
"How do you feel?" Ahmad asked.
Hyunwoo searched for words, voice shaking. "Empty. And… full at the same time."
Ahmad smiled softly. "That's the mercy of prayer."
They sat there, knees brushing, surrounded by stillness.
Then, after a moment, Hyunwoo whispered, "What do you say when… someone becomes Muslim?"
Ahmad's breath caught.
"The Shahada," he answered slowly. "It means: There is no god but Allah, and Muhammad is the messenger of Allah."
"I'm not ready to say it properly," Hyunwoo said quickly. "Not yet. I just… want to try whispering it. Just once."
Ahmad nodded, heart pounding.
"I won't count it," he whispered, smiling. "Just say it when you feel it."
Hyunwoo closed his eyes.
In a shaky voice, he whispered:
"Ashhadu alla ilaha illallah… wa ashhadu anna Muhammadur rasulullah…"
The words trembled from his lips like the first notes of a song he was still learning.
Ahmad's eyes welled. He reached forward and gently pulled Hyunwoo into a hug, his arms strong, grounding.
"You have no idea how much this means," Ahmad whispered, his voice breaking.
Hyunwoo buried his face into Ahmad's shoulder. "I still have doubts."
"You're allowed to," Ahmad said, his hand softly brushing through Hyunwoo's hair. "But you opened the door."
They stayed like that—entwined, silent, holding a moment neither would ever forget.
---
Later That Night
The prayer rug still lay on the floor, the Qur'an closed but present on the desk. Ahmad leaned back against the wall, cradling a warm mug of tea, while Hyunwoo sat beside him with his knees to his chest.
"I didn't expect this when I came to Korea," Hyunwoo murmured. "I thought I was just going to get a roommate. Not a guide. Not a… heartquake."
Ahmad chuckled. "Heartquake?"
"I made it up."
"I like it."
They looked out the window at the dark sky.
"Do you think… if I ever do say the Shahada officially… something will change?" Hyunwoo asked.
"Everything will," Ahmad said. "But not suddenly. Faith grows like a seed. First in silence, then in strength."
Hyunwoo nodded slowly. "What happens then?"
"You'll be my brother. In faith. Not just by feeling."
Hyunwoo smiled, his fingers absently tracing the cup in his hands. "What if I already feel that way?"
"Then maybe… your soul already knows the way home."
The sky was deep indigo, dotted with faint stars, and the faint hum of the city beyond the windows was all that filled the silence between them. The night was late, and a soft, comforting stillness enveloped the dormitory room where Ahmad and Hyunwoo sat on the floor. Ahmad had just finished Isha prayer, rolling up his prayer mat and placing it neatly beside his shelf. Hyunwoo sat cross-legged near the edge of the room, arms loosely wrapped around his knees.
Ahmad glanced at him and smiled gently. "You're quiet tonight."
Hyunwoo looked up, his brown eyes reflecting something unreadable. "Can I... ask you something?"
Ahmad nodded. "Always."
Hyunwoo hesitated. "Can you show me... how to pray? Like you do. Just once. I just... I want to feel it."
Ahmad blinked, surprised, but then his expression softened into warmth. "Of course. But before that, you have to make wudhu. Ablution. Come."
They walked quietly to the shared bathroom. Ahmad stood beside the sink, showing each step slowly: rinsing hands, mouth, nose, face, arms, wiping over the head, ears, then feet.
"Do I have to do it exactly like that?" Hyunwoo asked.
"Yes," Ahmad chuckled softly. "But don't worry, I'll help."
One by one, Hyunwoo copied the steps, his movements hesitant at first, but becoming steadier with Ahmad's guidance. The cold water made him shiver, but something about it felt cleansing beyond the physical.
When they returned, Ahmad laid out a spare prayer mat beside his own.
"Just follow me. You don't have to say anything. Just feel."
As Ahmad raised his hands and said "Allahu Akbar," Hyunwoo followed his motions. Bowing, kneeling, prostrating. It was foreign, but the stillness—the intention—moved something inside him.
After the final salaam, they sat back in silence. The room glowed gently with the yellowish light of the lamp, casting soft shadows on the walls.
Hyunwoo's voice came low, almost a whisper. "Ahmad... what do you say when you become Muslim? The... line."
Ahmad turned to him slowly, breath caught in his throat. "The Shahada?"
"Yeah. That."
"It goes... Ashhadu an la ilaha illallah. Wa ashhadu anna Muhammadur rasoolullah. It means: I bear witness that there is no god but Allah, and I bear witness that Muhammad is the Messenger of Allah."
Hyunwoo repeated it, barely audible. Not an official conversion. Just words whispered in the night, searching.
Ahmad blinked fast, his eyes wet. He leaned forward, wrapping his arms around Hyunwoo tightly.
"You don't have to say it unless you're ready," Ahmad said against his shoulder.
"I know," Hyunwoo replied, voice trembling. "But it felt right."
---
The Next Morning
The sunlight streamed through the window, painting the room in golden hues. Ahmad was already up, brushing his damp hair and prepping for class. Hyunwoo stirred in his bed, slowly blinking awake.
"Good morning," Ahmad greeted.
Hyunwoo sat up, yawning. "I had a weird dream."
"Oh?"
"I was walking through this garden. There were fountains. And a sky I've never seen before. You were there too. Smiling."
Ahmad's heart skipped. "Sounds peaceful."
"Yeah... it felt like home."
They had breakfast together, Ahmad making scrambled eggs while Hyunwoo toasted bread. There was no tension, just a calm air between them. At one point, a bit of ketchup stuck to Hyunwoo's cheek. Ahmad reached over instinctively and wiped it with his thumb.
Hyunwoo blinked. "Thanks."
Ahmad just smiled, a warmth in his chest he couldn't name.
Later in class, Hyunwoo messaged him:
"Can we pray together again tonight?"
Ahmad read it twice, his lips curving into a quiet smile.
"Of course. Always."