The Next Morning — Aisha's First Day in Baghdad
Morning entered Aisha's chamber quietly. Pale light filtered through the window. Baghdad was already awake.
The city stirred in its own time—the call to prayer drifting faintly, servants moving through the halls, and somewhere beyond the walls, the smell of fresh bread drifted through the air."
After performing the dawn prayer, Aisha stepped into the corridor. The morning air of Baghdad felt unfamiliar yet tempting—spices from the kitchen mingling with the damp scent of earth from the courtyard.
She had just settled onto a carved wooden chair when a young servant approached.
Nadira.
Aisha recognized that face at once.
Aisha noticed her immediately.
She poured the tea. Steam rose from the cup.
The moment Aisha touched it—
"Ah!"
The cup slipped and shattered on the floor.
"Astaghfirullah—!" Aisha pulled her hand back, pain stinging her palm.
Nadira froze. She didn't scream. Didn't rush. She just stood there, pale and silent.
"Sayyidati… I—"
"This tea is too hot," Aisha snapped. "Are you careless, or do you simply not know your duties?"
"Forgive me," Nadira said quickly.
The other servants stopped moving.
Aisha hated the attention. She straightened her back.
"Clean this," she said. "And be careful next time."
Nadira bowed and turned away.
Mariam stepped forward.
"Sayyidati, allow me to compress your hand."
Aisha nodded. "Very well."
Before the tension could settle, a cheerful voice rang out behind them.
"Assalāmu 'alaikum, the newest princess of Baghdad!"
Layla appeared with a wide grin, as though the small storm moments ago had never existed.
Aisha turned. "Wa 'alaikumussalām. You are early."
Layla glanced at the damp floor.
"Well. Causing trouble at dawn already?"
"It was a reflex," Aisha replied flatly.
"A frightening reflex," Layla chuckled. "You know, new servants are often traumatized for life."
Aisha shook her head slightly, then smiled faintly. "Be quiet. Or one day I will write you into the pages of tarikh as the most irritating person to ever exist."
Layla settled by the window and picked up a date.
"I am deeply honored, Princess."
"I hope you write it in gold ink," she added lightly.
Aisha smiled.
When Nadira returned to gather the shards.
She bowed low. No tears fell.
That morning, Nadira learned what she already knew but never spoke aloud.
Pain did not always scream.
Sometimes, it stayed.
---
"So you came this early just to disturb me?"
Aisha asked.
"Of course," Layla replied dramatically. "I knew you'd be standing here, staring at Baghdad as if the city belonged to you."
"I am not like that," Aisha denied.
Layla shrugged.
"Very well. Then allow me to offer something far more interesting than the spice market—Bayt al-Hikmah."
"Bayt al-Hikmah," Layla said brightly. "Scholars everywhere, books stacked higher than sense, and debates that never seem to end."
"And a chance to prove that I'm smarter than you?" Aisha teased.
Layla gasped theatrically.
"Astaghfirullah! How arrogant! Very well—we shall see who triumphs."
Aisha laughed.
"Wait. I must ask Father for permission first."
"Of course!" Layla replied eagerly.
After a light breakfast—this time with tea poured safely—Aisha met Al-Fadl in his study, a room filled with maps and documents. She requested permission to go out, naturally with an escort.
Al-Fadl agreed, but with three conditions: proper protection, Bayt al-Hikmah as the first destination, and returning before sunset.
Aisha and Layla rode in a litter, accompanied by Zahra, Mariam, and several guards. Layla looked at Aisha.
"Ready to see the real Baghdad?"
"Of course. I'm not a little girl anymore," Aisha replied.
"But you've never walked freely in this city," Layla teased with a chuckle.
Zahra added, "And there are many thieves as well."
Aisha turned to her. "You worry too much."
"Because you're often reckless," Zahra muttered.
Mariam laughed. "I agree. You really need supervision, Miss."
The litter moved slowly. Aisha lifted the curtain slightly, observing the streets of Baghdad. Layla nudged her.
"Look at that jewelry shop! Want to stop?"
"Not yet. I'm curious about Bayt al-Hikmah," Aisha replied.
Layla sighed dramatically. "Subhanallah, you're so lively this morning."
Zahra glanced at Mariam and whispered, "They really are the same."
Mariam nodded.
As they neared Bayt al-Hikmah, Aisha peeked through the litter's curtain, her eyes sparkling at the bustling scene outside.
"So many people," she said, feigning awe, though her real attention was on their clothes and how expensive their fabrics were.
Zahra peeked from behind. "Yes, and most of them are islamic scholars. Carrying books, scrolls, even discussing as they walk."
Layla smiled. "Feeling like you're in heaven yet?"
"Maybe." Aisha smiled faintly. She admired those who loved knowledge deeply—but spending hours buried in scrolls? She suspected that would test her patience more than any sword practice ever could.
Mariam signaled. "We're almost there, Sayyidati."
When the litter stopped, Aisha stepped out gracefully and gazed at the grand building before her.
"Bayt al-Hikmah…" she whispered softly, her voice dramatic, but her heart raced as she tried to steady herself.
On the other side of the world, thousands of miles from Baghdad, night had fallen over a pesantren in the Nusantara.
---
Indonesia, 2024 CE
Rain fell heavily that night, striking the roof of the pesantren in uneven rhythms. The wind stirred the trees in the courtyard, branches scraping together in the dark. When the electricity failed, the corridors were swallowed by shadow, save for a few weak emergency lights flickering stubbornly.
Upstairs, Ruqayyah stared out her window, half sleepy, half curious. From the corridor came a shout:
"Ahhh! A pocong is coming!"
Ruqayyah blinked. "They're doing this again."
Several islamic boarding school students, normally calm, had now transformed into "instant ghosts." Some wore white cloth, pretending to be pocong. Others waved black sheets like kuntilanak, complete with eerie sounds. Some mischievous friends even screamed while pretending to crawl like ghosts, causing a few Islamic boarding students to run into the walls.
Bela stifled her laughter, bending over and patting her knees. "I… I want to be a crawling ghost too!" she murmured quietly.
Ruqayyah was shocked, her mouth agape at Bela's antics.
After a few minutes, the supervisors patrolled with small flashlights, giving firm instructions.
"Quiet! Don't panic! The power outage is only temporary."
The mischievous islamic boarding students merely smiled.
The rain began to ease as the night grew late. The hallways became calm again, only the last drops dripping from the roof could be heard. Ruqayyah walked toward the library—her initial intention to iron her uniform now just an excuse. Unconsciously, her steps slowed, her eyes fixed on the shelves that seemed to call her.
Inside the library, Ruqayyah noticed something different. The shelves seemed taller, the light from candles glowed warmly, and it felt as if every book held a secret waiting to be read.
As she reached for a thick book, a soft voice sounded:
"Do you want to know the story of the Abbasid Dynasty?"
Ruqayyah turned, seeing a woman smiling, holding a thick volume.
"This is Al-'Abbāsiyah," the woman said. "Records of a glorious era—when knowledge and power walked hand in hand."
She began reading the tales of islamic scholars, philosophers, and scientists working under one sky.
"However," she continued, "But even Bayt al-Hikmah did not last forever," the woman said quietly. "When the Mongols came in 1258, books were thrown into the Tigris until the river itself turned dark. What was lost that day was not only ink—but memory."
Ruqayyah was astonished. She stared at the book in her lap, feeling the weight of history. But when she tried to look at the woman again, she had vanished without a sound.
Her eyes widened. "Who was that?" she whispered. "Did Allah send someone to teach me?"
Ruqayyah closed the book, smiling faintly while shaking her head. "Ah, I'm just an ordinary pesantren student. I shouldn't daydream too much."
Not long after, Bela's voice called from outside the shelves.
"Ruqayyah! What are you doing alone?"
Ruqayyah jumped, turning quickly. "B-Bela?! Since when are you here?"
Bela smiled casually, arms crossed. "I should be asking. Weren't you supposed to go downstairs with the others to iron your uniform? How did you end up in the library?"
Ruqayyah closed the book, stood up, and patted her cheek. "Alright, let's go back to the dorm before the night gets any later."