THE NIGHT BEFORE continued.
The night grew quieter.
Too quiet.
Even the sound of the takbir from outside began to fade… replaced by the slow rhythm of breathing inside the room.
Aina had fallen asleep.
Still leaning against the bed.
Still close to him.
Her hand… lightly gripping the edge of his blanket. As if afraid he might disappear if she let go.
Aiman looked down at her.
Long.
Carefully memorizing every detail.
Her hair. Her face. The way she always stayed.
No matter what.
His fingers slowly moved… brushing a few strands of hair away from her face.
"…you really never leave me."
His voice was barely there.
A soft exhale followed.
Then— a slight shift in his expression.
Not pain.
Not fear.
Acceptance.
Aiman slowly reached for his phone again.
The screen lit up his face in the dark.
He opened another message.
This time…
he didn't type a name.
Just one word at the top.
Draft.
His fingers hovered for a moment.
Then began to move.
Slowly.
Message — UNSENT
If tomorrow doesn't go the way I hope…
I'm sorry.
For everything I couldn't say. For everything I couldn't be.
Aina… you have to be strong. Even when I'm not there anymore.
Alya… thank you for waiting. Even when I didn't deserve it.
Nadia… I'm sorry for disappearing. You had the right to hate me.
Farid… you already know what to do.
He stopped.
His breathing grew heavier again.
The words blurred for a second.
But he continued.
And to everyone else…
Please don't remember me as someone weak.
Remember me as someone who tried.
Just… tried.
His thumb rested on the screen.
Hovering over save.
But instead—
he locked the phone.
The message remained unfinished.
Unsent.
"…not yet."
A whisper.
Almost like a promise.
Or maybe…
a lie he told himself.
Aiman placed the phone beside him.
His eyes slowly moved back to Aina.
Still sleeping.
Still holding on.
His hand gently returned to her head.
Same place.
Same warmth.
But this time…
his grip lingered just a little longer.
"…tomorrow."
Outside—
the wind moved softly through the night.
Somewhere far away, a faint sound of laughter echoed from another house.
People preparing for Raya.
For happiness.
For a new beginning.
Inside this room…
it felt like an ending.
Aiman slowly leaned back against his pillow.
His eyes grew heavier.
But he didn't sleep immediately.
He kept looking at the ceiling.
As if waiting.
As if counting down something only he understood.
"…just a little more time."
His final whisper before closing his eyes.
The night held him gently.
Quiet.
Still.
And fragile.