Naira spent a while in her prayers, taking her time to reflect on the changes that passed her life like seasons. She stood in worship, remembering the peace that only Allah could bring even in chaos. Through the crackling thunder and turbulent waves, the calm came from her acts of worship, her prayer, her remembrance. 

Ya Allah, I ask for your guidance. I ask that You keep me off the wrong path. I ask that You uncover the blinds from my eyes so that I may see the truth of what I was meant to do in this life. 

Tears brimmed her eyes as she continued to whisper the words of Allah, continued to recite through the pain that lingered in her chest. There were so many expectations of her, and Naira drowned in the voices that surrounded her, at the critics that insulted her, and the love her family and friends always provided. 

For some reason, the words of the critics rang louder to the point where her father's words would fall on deaf ears, that her mother's struggles blurred in the background. 

I need to be strong. 

Even if her destiny was unknown to her, she knew that with Allah in her heart she could accomplish anything. She would not give into their taunts, not when her parents sacrificed so much in their youth to bring Daris and Naira into this world. 

Her father abandoned his wealth to follow his deen (religion). Her mother fought through bigotry to make an imprint in journalism. Her maternal grandparents left Bangladesh to give their kids a better life even if it meant moving thousands of miles away from their families. 

They walked on a path marred by difficulties, full of aches, full of tears, but at the end of that path she saw the light that blinked back at her as if it beckoned for her to come after it faster. 

Every person in this dunya (world) had their own paths to walk on. Sometimes they entwined like the way it did for her parents, and sometimes it diverged like it did for her father and grandfather. She saw those parallels with heightened eyes. 

Ya Allah, keep me on Your path. Let me stay true to my faith even when others criticize me. Let me be strong. 

She whispered her duaa (small prayer) into the palms of her hand before standing to her feet. It felt as if a weight was lifted from her chest, as if her broken wings healed and she was ready to fly into an endless, cerulean sky. 

A small smile graced her lips, and she began to fold her prayer mat, setting it in a specialized drawer within her office desk. She could only imagine the mischief the boys were making downstairs in the lobby. 

Only a few employees were still at the office, but they had upcoming investor deadlines to meet instead of worrying about the Red Knights. In fact, her grandfather was probably talking to his secretary about it given how successful the concert tonight was. 

She walked out of her office, pausing in front of the dark doors where her grandfather sat behind. His voice rumbled through, clearly in a phone meeting with someone, and she wondered if it hurt him to spend more time with his work than with his family. 

Naira still had to give him some of the reports, but she didn't want to interfere with his work. It was a busy time for the company, more than usual. Heck, Naira deserved a break, so her paperwork could wait another day. 

Just as she turned the corner towards the elevators, she was passing one of the bathrooms when a strangled groan came from the inside, followed by the sound of choking as if someone was hurling. 

Being the nosy person she was, Naira leaned in closer, hearing the same sounds again. Either someone was getting beat up or they were really sick. 

Her eyebrows scrunched in confusion. No one was allowed up on this floor other than her grandfather's secretaries, her, and the Red Knights. Fear pummeled her as the air knocked out from her lungs. It couldn't be, could it?

Naira knocked on the bathroom door. "Hey, whoever's in there, are you okay?" she asked in a soft voice. No answer, making her fear grow. "I'm coming in." 

She turned the knob, opening it slowly as she braced herself for the worst. A game plan was already in her head if she saw blood. 

But Naira didn't see anything violent, not on the outside at least. 

Instead, she saw a disheveled Kyle, pressing his stomach hard and leaning over a toilet. 

"Kyle?"

He jolted upwards, banging his head on the wall. "Shit," he muttered, sullen eyes glancing at Naira. "Why the fuck are you here?"

She frowned, not appreciating his tone. "I should be asking you the same thing," she said in a hard, disapproving tone. The signs were all there. His hand on his stomach, the wild look in his chestnut gaze. "Were you... forcing yourself to throw up?" she asked, voice cautious as she approached a deeply sensitive topic.

He stood up, walking towards the sink. "What's it to you?" 

"Kyle, I'm your manager. I have a right to know if you're struggling," she said gently. "You can confide in me, you know that."

The faucet turned on, installing a silence between them as the water ran through his fingers. The muscles on his back were rigid with tension, body quivering from the effort. Naira remembered girls from her university would binge food before running to the bathroom with guilt-struck expressions. 

It was all about body image. When they failed their calorie quota, they forced their bodies into cruel submission. Even if their health deteriorated, they would continue because if they didn't, the fear of judgment took over. 

When Kyle still didn't respond, she tried to call out to him in her softest tone. "Kyle?"

He turned off the water, clutching the handle tightly with his back faced to her. "Please," he croaked. "Don't tell the others what you just saw. I don't want them to worry." 

"I won't," she promised. "But I do think you and I need to talk about this." 

He exhaled a slow breath. "I know." 

"When did it start?"

"Five years ago," he admitted in a quiet voice. "I got big modeling jobs for top agencies. Even if they found my body to be good enough for photos, they still found parts to critique. The list kept getting longer, and I... I tried to follow all of them."

"You should have quit the second they started dictating you towards this path," she said as her anger towards the industry boiled under her skin. "I can't believe they gave you pointers as if you can control your appearance."

Kyle weakly laughed, finally facing her with the most broken expression she'd ever seen. He wasn't the type to look fragile or insecure, yet in front of her she saw a man without his mask, one who suffered alone for the success of his career. 

"What was I supposed to do?" he asked, sighing in defeat. "We were getting popular, rising up the charts with every song, and growing our followers by the second. Every one did their part, so I had to do mine." 

With all the money and success the Red Knights had, they held a lot of darkness in their hearts. Shame flooded her with her own failures. How did she miss the signs? How did she not realize? 

All this time, Naira was so focused on maintaining her image, showing the world what she could accomplish that she neglected the boys who needed her support the most. She forgot about what they had to endure for the sake of their jobs. 

I have to do better, she thought to herself with determination coursing through her veins. The industry might not care, but I do. I care about them. 

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I was blinded by my own ambition to notice, and I promise you that won't happen again."

"Don't feel bad, manager. People don't usually relate eating disorders to men," he said with a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "It's not a guy thing."

She glared at him. "If those words ever come from your mouth again, I swear I'll slap sense into you," threatened Naira. "Eating disorders can happen to anyone. It doesn't matter who that person is."

He raised his hands in surrender. "Trust me, getting on your bad side is the last thing I want to do." 

"Good," she said. "Now that I know about this, what do you say about a recovery plan?" 

Kyle looked uneasy, more fearful than willing. There was no way Naira would turn the other way when he was in need of support and help. Bulimia wasn't to be taken lightly. 

"We can keep this between us, okay?" she reasoned. "But you have to let me help. This isn't healthy for you. Before anything else, you need to take care of yourself."

"Won't it add more to your busy schedule?"

It would, but she wouldn't let him know that. "I'll be fine, Kyle," she smiled. "We might need to move some stuff around in your schedule, but I'll manage that tonight. For starters, we're going to hire a nutritionist. Therapy is also an option on the table." 

Plans began to formulate in her mind before she could stop, one after another. Perhaps she could use the nutritionist for the entire band so it wouldn't be suspicious to Wesley or Rayan. She remembered that eating disorders stemmed from insecurities and therapy could help build that confidence again. 

Naira would have to do more research on eating disorders when she went home, and look through financials to fund all of this. She didn't want to alert anyone about Kyle's issues out of respect. 

He winced slightly. "Do we have to do therapy?" 

"I won't force you," she said. Her gaze softened at the uncertainty written across his visage. "We can try one session, and if you don't like it, we can try something else. Sound good?"

He released a sigh of relief. "Yeah."

Though he agreed to seek help, there was a looming darkness that crossed his features, a hidden sadness seeping through like cracks. His perfect image was gone long ago, yet he continued to pursue that same image, fixing it before anyone could notice. 

To the Red Knights, she was more than their manager. She was their friend. This job wasn't supposed to make her form these bonds with them, but as she watched Kyle struggle to keep his composure, she knew he needed a friend more than anything in that moment. 

----

My dumb brain left my desktop on the page where I searched up 'eating disorders and bulimia' and my brother came by and stared at it like O.O "you wanna tell me something?"

I just- noooo. I had to explain it wasn't for me and for a character, and I really just dug my grave deeper the more I explained. My life in a nutshell. 

Anyway, do you think Naira will handle this well? Can they really keep Kyle's disorder from the rest of the band?

Don't forget to vote, comment, and follow!