Chapter 5 Open Doors and Quiet Devotions

Before her feet ever touched the pavement of campus again, Jamal braved the storm of nerves and early-morning fog that clung to the barracks' streets. He arrived at Colonel Edrees's front door just as the first hints of dawn painted the sky pale blue. Inside, Alia's family was gathered around the breakfast table-her father in his uniform, her mother ladling porridge into bowls, Adam in cadet greens, and Aisha perched at the edge of a chair.

Alia looked up from her tea and froze.

Jamal stood on the threshold, rain-damp hair plastered to his forehead, uniform jacket still unbuttoned. He offered a slight, sheepish smile.

"Sir, Ma'am," he began, voice steady but warm, "I-uh-wanted to ask something. Officially."

The Colonel set his spoon down, eyebrows raising. Alia's mother paused mid-ladle, and Adam sat straighter in his seat. Even Aisha stilled, spoon in mid-air.

Jamal took a breath. "Colonel Edrees, Mrs. Edrees... Alia," he corrected himself with a grin, "I'd like your permission to court your daughter. I realize none of us needs an invitation-Alia and I have spent plenty of time together already-but I want to ask, out loud, in front of you all. Because she deserves nothing less than honesty."

Silence followed.

Alia's heart thundered. She glanced at her father, whose face softened from surprise to something like pride.

"Jamal," the Colonel said after a moment, "you're a good man. You've proven that. Alia's been through hell and back-and you stood by her. Permission granted. But remember-this is a house of rules. Treat her right."

Jamal's eyes gleamed. "Thank you, sir. I promise I will."

Alia's mother reached across the table to squeeze her hand. Adam cracked a grin that made her cheeks tingle with warmth. Aisha's spoon clattered as she set it down and leaned forward to whisper, "Did that just happen?"

Alia could only nod, too breathless to speak. In that moment, something inside her shifted: the invisible barrier Jamal had once tiptoed around now lay in ruins at her feet.

---

Back at her apartment-less than two hours later-Alia finally forced herself to breathe. She straightened the notes on her desk, retrieved the cover letter from the hospital, and tucked it into her bag. The memory of Jamal's words hovered on her lips, sweeter than any caffeine could deliver.

---

At the university clinic, Nurse Hasan recognized her instantly. His eyes lifted from his paperwork-half-concerned, half-curious.

"Ms. Edrees, again so soon?"

Alia managed a small, tired smile. "I need to submit this." She placed the envelope on his desk, every beat of her heart echoing. "After that, I'll take whatever you've got for me-IV fluids, aspirin, pep talks. Whatever it takes."

Hasan unfolded the letter. "We'll forward it to the Dean immediately. I'll let you know when it's done."

She nodded, gratitude and nerves warring beneath her skin. "Thank you. Really."

He tapped the top of the envelope. "Good luck, Ms. Edrees."

---

Outside, the sun broke through in gentle rays of late afternoon. Alia let it warm her face as she climbed into the taxi that would take her back to the campus apartment complex. Across the way, she saw classmates hurrying between lectures-no one noticing the fierce determination in her step.

Inside, Aisha greeted her with a cheer. "You look official! Did they accept it?"

Alia sank onto the couch where Aisha and two other classmates-Mariam and Tolu-pored over notes and diagrams. "Mostly," she said, exhaling. "Three professors are giving me makeup exams. One... decided my final will count for 100% of the grade."

Mariam frowned. "That's brutal."

Alia shrugged. "Better that than nothing. I'll study harder."

Aisha handed her a plate of sandwiches. "And you will, of course. But no one works alone." She gestured to their spread of textbooks. "Study power hour-right now."

Grateful, Alia slipped the sandwiches aside and joined them. For the next three hours, they quizzed each other on mechanisms of drug release, clinical cases, dosing calculations. Laughter bubbled up when Alia mispronounced a fancy chemical name; cheers erupted when she aced a tricky drug-interaction question.

---

That night, her phone buzzed with an email from Nurse Hasan:

> Subject: Makeup Exam Confirmation

Body:

Drs.

Organic Chemistry, Pharmaceutics, Biostatistics: makeup scheduled.

Pharmacognosy: final only.

Good luck,

University Clinic

Alia stared at the message, heart pounding. She sank onto the couch, wrapping Aisha's shawl around her shoulders.

"Pharmacognosy," she murmured. "I have to nail that exam."

"You will," Aisha said firmly, draping an arm around her. "And we'll be there every step."

---

A soft knock came at the door. Before she could answer, Jamal's familiar voice drifted through.

"Permission to enter?" he teased.

Alia opened the door to find him holding a sheaf of pastel flashcards, damp from the evening mist. His uniform jacket was neatly folded over his arm; he wore a simple sweater instead, more at home here.

"I made these," he explained. "Color-coded per your system: pink for pharmacokinetics, blue for pharmaceutics, yellow for drug–drug interactions. I figured it might help speed things up."

Alia blinked. "You didn't have to-"

He stepped inside, setting the cards on her coffee table. "But I wanted to. I'm not going anywhere." His voice was soft, but it carried the weight of his promise.

"I-thank you," she said, pulling him into her living room. She sank onto the couch; he sat beside her, careful to give her space yet close enough that she could feel the warmth radiating from him.

For the next two hours, they studied under the glow of her desk lamp. He quizzed her in rapid-fire questions; she answered, stumbling sometimes, but always encouraged by his quiet praise. Every correct response earned a soft smile; every mistake drew a tender squeeze of her hand.

When the clock ticked past midnight, Alia's eyelids drooped. She yawned, book slipping from her grasp.

"I'd fail pharmacognosy without you," she murmured, voice thick with exhaustion and... something else. Gratitude. Affection. A flutter of something new.

He let out a gentle laugh. "Then don't. You're smarter than any test."

She looked at him, eyes soft in the lamplight. His hair had fallen forward; he tucking a lock behind his ear, revealing the steady resolve in his gaze.

"Promise me something," he said quietly.

"Anything."

"Promise you won't face this alone anymore. Let me help-let me be part of your fight."

Her heart squeezed. She thought of the Colonel's blessing, given so early that morning-permission granted, honor upheld. She thought of her friends, of the clinic staff, of Adam's unwavering presence. And she thought of Jamal-always there, silent sentinel, patient as sunrise.

"I promise," she whispered, leaning in to brush a kiss across his cheek.

He closed his eyes at the touch, resting his forehead against hers. "I love you, Alia."

She's forced a smile through tears. "I love you too, Jamal."

He kissed her forehead, then her temple, each touch a vow. And as she slipped under her blankets that night, textbooks closed and flashcards set aside, Alia realized she was no longer alone on her journey-not in her fight against illness, not in her battle for grades, and certainly not in her slow, unfolding fight for love.

For the first time in a long while, she slept not in fear, but in peace-her heart secure in Jamal's unshakable promise.