Hayaat stood in the veranda—the narrow corridor just outside Amran's room—after being warned and dismissed by Zara.
The faint hum of artificial lights filled the silence around her.
She blinked rapidly, trying to clear the fogginess gathering in her vision, the tears threatening to spill like a broken dam —
she was desperately trying to hold together.
Her chest rose and fell unevenly.
She took a long breath.
Inhale… exhale.
Again.
Inhale… exhale.
Slowly, deliberately, as if forcing her body to obey when her mind refused to settle.
Her fingers moved on their own.
With her index finger, she began tracing lines along the metal grill beside her—random at first, then forming patterns. Shapes. Paths.
Mind maps.
Plans.
Something—anything—that could help her free her cousins… and get them out of here.
Out of this place.
Out of this world.
Amran stood quietly in the doorway behind her.
He had been there for a while.
Watching.
Waiting.
He wanted to say something. To do something. To comfort her, maybe.
But he didn't dare.
Approaching her without warning felt like stepping into danger—she might knock out a tooth or two before he could even explain himself.
Still… he stayed.
His presence lingered, soft but noticeable.
Hayaat felt it.
The weight of someone's gaze.
She turned slightly and looked at him.
Despite everything, she managed a small smile—fragile, barely there, her eyes still holding back unshed tears.
Amran smiled back.
"Hayaat…" he began, his voice careful, "I have good news…"
He paused, searching her face.
"…and bad news too."
A small silence stretched between them.
"Which do you want to hear first?"
"The bad one," she replied almost immediately, her tone steady but distant.
She didn't move closer. Didn't soften. "Tell me the bad news first."
Just because he was helping her didn't mean she trusted him.
Didn't mean she'd accept him.
Not yet.
His expression softened anyway.
"Can I talk to your father?"
"Wait—what?"
The question caught her completely off guard.
Her brows furrowed.
Where had that come from?
"To make it halal."
For a second, she just stared at him.
Confused.
Then she noticed his expression—slightly flustered, awkward, unsure.
And it clicked.
A small chuckle escaped her.
"Make it halal…" she repeated, amused despite herself.
"So… you like me?" she asked, a genuine smile finally slipping through.
Amran lowered his gaze, visibly bashful—but his answer didn't waver.
"Yes."
That simple word lingered.
Heavy.
Unexpected.
Hayaat sighed softly.
I'm 24… but in my world, not here.
"That's the bad news?" she smirked faintly, shaking her head. "If only we had met under different circumstances…"
Her voice softened at the end.
"Then what's the good news?" she asked, bringing the moment back to reality.
"I know how to return you to your original bodies," he said. "Or… more like—I was told you'll be sent back. Indirectly."
"By Zara?" she asked immediately.
"Yes."
Silence followed.
Long.
Awkward.
Neither of them seemed to know what to say next.
Amran shifted slightly, his hand lifting just a little—as if he wanted to reach out, to offer comfort.
But he stopped halfway.
Uncertain.
Instead, he just looked at her.
Softly.
With concern that he didn't know how to express.
Almost… like a lost puppy.
Hayaat noticed.
For a moment, she simply stared at him.
Really looked at him.
And something about that silent attempt—the effort without words—touched her.
Where is this even going to end…
If wish— I was – in my real world?
The thought slipped in before she could stop it.
She exhaled.
"You know what… I'm done," she said quietly. "It's okay."
She straightened slightly, regaining control.
"You should focus on helping my cousins. "
That snapped him back instantly.
"Yeah—yeah, right. We should," he said quickly, stumbling over his own words.
She nodded once.
"So… it's good news?" she smiled– but it didn't reach her eyes .
He let out a dry chuckle.
"Well… it's good news for you," he admitted, glancing away, "but kind of sad for me."
He muttered the last part.
She heard it.
"Not really," she said, tilting her head slightly. "If you're wondering whether I like you or not…"
She paused.
Thinking.
Then shrugged lightly.
"You know what? Let's make a deal."
His attention snapped back to her immediately.
"Find my brother first," she said. "Ask him… you know—to make it halal."
She smiled, the grin growing as she met his eyes.
"And if we can't go back… then maybe… we can be together here."
She added quickly—
"And we'll find a way to get you out of this research center too. Away from all this… ."
For a moment, Amran just stared at her.
Then—
His face lit up completely.
"Wallahi[1]"
A wide smile spread across his face, a deep blush rising all the way to his ears. He looked away, then back, then away again—completely unable to contain it.
"Y-yeah… yeah, let's find your brother first," he stammered. "Then I'll—uh—ask for your—"
"Hand?" she interrupted, raising an eyebrow.
She laughed softly.
"Look at the situation, Amran."
He huffed a quiet, embarrassed breath.
Still smiling.
"We need to tell our cousins the good news," she added, gently grounding him again.
"Right... The good news – what was it ." he said, forcing himself back on track.
His expression shifted.
Serious now.
"It's about Zara."
Hayaat's face hardened slightly.
"She's figured it out. The process—it works," he said. "And because of that… she doesn't really need you anymore."
A pause.
"You're not from this world," he continued carefully. "So… you don't belong here."
His voice softened on those words.
Too much.
You don't belong here.
There was something unspoken beneath it.
"I wish…" he murmured under his breath, then cut himself off.
He cleared his throat.
"There are two machines," he explained.
"They're connected. Once activated… you pull a lever. That's when the transfer happens. Something like that."
He downplayed it, like it was nothing.
Like he wasn't sure.
But he was.
So why pretend?she questioned .
Hayaat listened closely now.
Focused.
Alert.
"Your souls will be sent back to your original bodies," he finished.
She didn't interrupt.
"Zara ... she wants to send you guys back," he added. "Not out of kindness… just because you three are not useful to her anymore."
Hayaat's eyes narrowed slightly.
"And also…" he hesitated, "she knows the clones are planning something. An escape."
That caught her attention immediately.
"She knows?" Hayaat asked.
He nodded.
"But she doesn't want to trap you guys with them," he said. "She doesn't want to treat you all the same way."
Hayaat frowned.
"She still wants control over the clones," he continued. "She wants them to see her as merciless. Untouchable."
A pause.
"But at the same time… she doesn't want to cross a line she can't come back from."
The contradiction settled heavily between them.
"She believes clones aren't really human," he said quietly. "Just copies. That's what she was taught."
Hayaat's gaze hardened.
"So sending you back…" Amran finished, "that's her way of keeping control—without admitting she's wrong."
Silence followed.
Thick.
Heavy.
Uncertain.
Amran looked at her again.
Carefully.
Trying to understand her thoughts.
Trying to see what she would do next.
Waiting.
[1] it means – I swear by Allah in arabic