Morning

The house wasn’t as loud as the previous night.

The laughter, the teasing, the chaos… all reduced to soft murmurs and occasional footsteps. Some of the girls were still asleep, their bodies tangled in wrappers and pillows, while a few were already awake, scrolling through their phones or whispering.

Amna’s eyes slowly opened.

For a moment, she didn’t move.

Then she lifted her hands slightly in front of her face.

The henna.

Darker.

Richer.

More beautiful than it was last night.

A soft smile crept onto her lips.

“Masha Allah…” she whispered.

No girl ever gets tired of admiring her henna.

Carefully, she got up, making sure not to step on anyone. She adjusted her scarf and quietly slipped out of the room.

The hallway was calm.

Sunlight filtered through the windows, casting a warm glow on the tiled floor. The house felt… different in the morning. Softer. Realer.

Voices came faintly from the kitchen.

Amna made her way there, her steps slow, her presence almost unnoticed.

She reached the entrance… and paused.

He was there.

Standing by the counter, pouring tea into a cup like it was the most normal thing in the world.

For a second, she just stood there.

Last night was different—it was dark, quiet, uncertain.

But now…

Now she could see him clearly.

And somehow, that made it worse.

Her heart betrayed her immediately.

He turned slightly, as if sensing her presence.

Their eyes met.

Just for a moment.

“Good morning,” he said, his voice calm, like he wasn’t aware of what that simple moment just did to her.

Amna blinked, then quickly looked away.

“Good morning,” she replied softly.

A brief silence followed.

Not awkward.

But not comfortable either.

Just… something in between.

He picked up another cup, then paused.

“You take tea?” he asked.

Amna hesitated for a second before nodding.

“Yes… thank you.”

He handed it to her carefully, making sure not to touch her hands.

But still…

She felt it.

That small closeness.

That quiet awareness.

“Your henna,” he said after a moment, his eyes briefly dropping to her hands, “it came out nice.”

Amna instinctively hid her hands slightly behind the cup.

“Thank you,” she said, her voice almost a whisper.

He gave a small nod, like that was enough.

But his eyes lingered for just a second longer than necessary.

And she noticed.

Ya Allah.

Before she could say anything else—

“Amnaaa!”

Mariya’s voice broke the moment.

“There you are! We’ve been looking for you—” she stopped mid-sentence, her eyes moving from Amna… to him… then back to Amna.

A slow smile spread across her face.

“Ohh…”

Amna closed her eyes briefly.

Not now.

Not Mariya.

“Good morning,” Mariya greeted, clearly trying to act normal but failing.

He nodded. “Morning.”

Mariya grabbed Amna’s arm.

“Come, come, they need you inside,” she said, dragging her away before Amna could even finish her tea.

Amna didn’t resist.

She couldn’t.

Not when her heart was already doing too much.

As they walked away, Mariya leaned closer.

“Hmm… tea in the morning?” she whispered.

“Mariya please,” Amna warned, her cheeks already giving her away.

“I didn’t say anything,” Mariya smirked.

“Exactly.”

Back in the room, the noise returned.

Voices, laughter, chaos.

But somehow…

Amna felt different.

Her mind wasn’t there anymore.

Without thinking, her eyes dropped to her hands again.

The henna had gotten darker.

Deeper.

More visible than before.

She stared at it for a moment longer than necessary.

Then quickly looked away.

No.

It was just henna.

Nothing more.

But deep down…

She knew something had shifted.

Something small.

Something quiet.

Something she wasn’t ready to understand.

And just like the stain on her hands…

It wasn’t fading anytime soon.

Author's note;

The more darker henna stain is, the more love deepens.