To say Naira was surprised would be an understatement. After her hangout with Kimi, she came back to the office, too tired to focus on anything. She planned to file her paperwork and call it a day, knowing her mother would be waiting for her at home with a hot cup of coffee.

Her father and Daris would be home around the same time, so family shenanigans were bound to happen where the three of them would give their father migraines with all the noise. A smile graced her lips at the remembrance of her family, and it motivated her to finish her work faster.

However, what surprised her wasn't her willingness to leave work and finish her tasks for the day. Rather, it was the open door that lead to the Red Knights, their practice room. From her understanding, the boys had personal schedules for the day and shouldn't be in that room.

After the confessions that rocked the group, she'd be surprised if they even thought about working today instead of taking some time off. She gave them the option to take a break, but she had no idea if they took her offer.

Curiosity got the best of Naira when she soon found herself walking through those doors. The true shock came from what she saw.

There he was, head bowed to the floor in humble prayer. A thin piece of paper sat in front of him, his messy handwriting all over it in what she recognized to be the words of prayer every Muslim recited from beginning to end.

Rayan was praying.

She covered her mouth to stop the gasp in her throat, eyes watering to see him push himself to stand before Allah. He wasn't forced, nor was he forcing himself.

No one who refused prayer would write out the format on a piece of paper to help them pray in case they forgot a detail. New Muslims would do that since they weren't accustomed to the Quranic language or the Arabic involved in the different steps of prayer.

The paper was like training wheels for those who devoted themselves to Islam later in life, and Rayan was inspired to take that first step towards his Creator.

Her heart thrummed like a new melody was beginning to take form, to shape the future in the noor (light) of their deen (religion). Being a Muslim meant to fully submit to Allah and His message, and one of the keys to Islam was through daily prayers.

It must have been so long since Rayan last prayed, and only Allah knew whether those prayers were truly from his heart in the past. Regardless, there was always a path to redemption no matter how broken or how damaged people thought they were. With Allah, there was always forgiveness.

She didn't know how long she stood there, but eventually he whispered his salaams to the angels and signaled the end to his prayer. His sea-green eyes met Naira's gaze, a slow smile touching his lips as he stood up.

"I didn't know you'd be watching me," he teased her, picking up the paper and putting it back into his pocket. "Uh... I thought prayer would ease some of this stress off my shoulders. You know, spirituality and all."

"I'm not judging."

He averted his gaze as if a shame was creeping up on him. "I suppose it's pretty pathetic-"

"Hey," she cut him off sharply, hardening her gaze. "Don't you dare call yourself pathetic. After everything that happened today, you owe it to yourself."

Rayan deeply sighed, threading his fingers through his dark curls. His eyes were stormy, full of chaos and uncertainty. "I didn't know about Kyle's eating disorder. How could I be so blind?" he asked.

"People with eating disorders can be the best at hiding their pain with a smile," she tried to ease his burden. "You couldn't have known. Hell, I didn't even know at first."

"What if we were too late, Naira?"

"But we weren't too late. We were right on time when he needed us the most, and that's what matters the most," she insisted as she held herself back from soothing the tension away from his rigid shoulders. His body trembled with fear, and Naira could only use her words as the remedy to his pain. "Friendship isn't about knowing everything that goes on in your friend's life. It's about being there when they need you. You're the shoulder they cry on, and you're the light when darkness falls."

Rayan shook his head, leaning back against the wall with his hands stuffed into his pockets again. She saw the clenched fist that he tried to hide but said nothing of it. The dimmed lights of the room caught against his thick lashes, his beauty seeping through as his dark skin glowed.  He looked up at the ceiling, mind too faraway from her, out of reach, unattainable.

Was she even capable of helping what she didn't understand?

Thankfully, Rayan broke the silence, a sad smile touching his lips. His gaze met hers in the same intensity that his deep voice spoke, choked with his disappointment. "I thought... I thought that prayer would help me sort my thoughts," he whispered. "Like you told me."

She edged on. "Did it?"

"Somewhat, but not entirely." He bit his lip, the popstar mask gone and in its wake was the vulnerability that he spent years concealing. "I feel like I'm tearing at the seams, Naira. I'm afraid of losing everything that this band stands for. It's like all our skeletons are coming out, and I don't know what to do."

"You know, skeletons are only scary at first. They won't be scary forever."

"Well, these feel cursed," he argued.

She offered a reassuring smile. "Then how about we face it together."

At this, he perked up. "Wait, what?"

"I am your manager," she said. "If all this seems scary right now, tell me what you need, and we'll work it out together. You, me, Wesley, and Kyle."

He furrowed his brows, pushing himself off the wall. "What do you think I should do then?"

"Talk to your band mates, Rayan. Tonight."

"Without you?"

As much as it pained her to say the next few words, she knew it had to be done. "Yes. Without me. You three need your privacy for this, but afterwards, we'll figure out what needs to be done. I think you need some answers from Kyle first, right?"

He nodded his head.

"Besides, I already know what professional stuff needs to be done," she added, lightheartedly. "Just focus on yourselves for a bit."

His visage softened at her voice, staring at her with such a gentle expression and kind eyes that her chest swelled with emotions. He stared at her as if she were the most precious person in his life, and in some way, she wished she was. Naira wanted to be as special to him as he was to her.

Unable to withstand the intensity of his gaze, she looked away, timid of the sudden change. It was no surprise to Rayan as he let out a deep chuckle, amused at her shyness.

"Honestly, Naira, you were right," he admitted. "Prayer did help, and it did sort out the chaos in my mind."

"Maybe you should do it more often."

His lips stretched into a sparkling white smile. "I think I will."

A warm feeling erupted within her, heart beating like drums as his genuine words sunk in. The ship to healing had sailed, and the currents no longer rocked him or her. It was steady like the wind, comforting like a loving embrace. She didn't see stormy skies or thundering darkness.

Because at that moment, all Naira saw was resilience.

And she prayed that Allah would keep that flare alive in both of them.

----

You know what's really wild? This chapter has been sitting in my drafts for three weeks, and I didn't even realize. I APOLOGIZE.

That was entirely on me. I made the chapter a little longer to make up for it.

But dang, look at Rayan praying. My little boy is growing up so fast :'D

I want to emphasize that many new Muslims write duaas and how to pray on a piece of paper and look at it as they pray. Choosing to be a Muslim when all your life you were told something else is hard, and we shouldn't judge for their struggles.

In Rayan's case, he hasn't prayed in years, so it makes sense that he forgot how to and now has to teach it to himself again.

Details about his past are coming soon ;)

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