Before them stood a tall, radiant figure.
Its face could not be perceived—vision itself seemed to reject recognizing it. Yet its presence was impossible to ignore.
When it spoke, the sound did not reach their ears.
It echoed directly within their hearts.
"You are two souls from two different eras."
"You will not return to your original states… until you have learned to live as one another."
Aisha narrowed her eyes.
"Live as one another?" she scoffed. "I am not some poor boarding-school girl, you know."
Ruqayyah was not offended. Instead, her gaze remained fixed on the luminous figure.
"How?" she asked quietly.
"We grant time."
"One month in this realm."
"To learn language, family, emotions… and wounds you have never spoken aloud."
"After that, your bodies will be exchanged."
"The world will see you—not as yourselves."
Aisha sprang to her feet.
"No! That isn't fair!"
"Fairness is not about comfort," the voice replied softly, yet piercingly.
"Qadar does not always offer choices."
The walls of light shifted.
On one side appeared a modest pesantren room—prayer garments hanging to dry, the distant recitation of the Qur'an flowing gently through the air.
On the other side stood the stone corridors of a vizier's palace—lanterns suspended above, servants speaking refined classical Arabic.
Aisha stared sharply.
"That's real? You sleep in a place that small?"
Ruqayyah raised an eyebrow.
"And you live in a palace this large? Astaghfirullah…"
"For one month, time continues in your worlds," the Guardian of Light continued.
"Your families wait. But your souls… will learn."
Aisha crossed her arms.
"And if I refuse?"
"You will still be exchanged."
"Without preparation. Without understanding."
"And life will become far heavier."
Ruqayyah glanced at Aisha quietly.
"We don't really have a choice, do we?"
The figure vanished—like mist swallowed by light.
Aisha snorted.
"Great. Even this realm forces us."
"This isn't heaven," Ruqayyah said gently.
Days in the White Realm
Time shifted.
They learned—not through books, but through feeling.
Aisha heard Ruqayyah's mother's voice, soothing as it brushed through a child's hair.
Ruqayyah understood the unspoken gestures of Aisha's servants without being taught.
They witnessed one another's pasts.
Aisha saw a young Ruqayyah crying after misreciting the Qur'an.
Ruqayyah saw a teenage Aisha standing tall, holding back tears as her father departed for Khurasan.
Aisha pretended indifference.
"Your life is overly dramatic."
She added, "If this were a story, the audience would run out of tissues."
"At least I didn't throw a teapot at a servant just because the tea was too sweet," Ruqayyah replied flatly.
Aisha laughed.
"She was stubborn. Reminded me of someone I know."
Still, they kept learning.
Ruqayyah mastered noble etiquette, subtle gestures, and the art of guarding dignity.
Aisha learned to wash prayer garments with cold water, bathe in communal rooms, and sleep without soft pillows.
And though Aisha's tongue remained sharp… her eyes grew honest.
She observed.
She recorded.
She listened.
One night, as the "sky" of the White Realm glowed like a suspended dawn, Aisha sat hugging her knees.
"I still don't like any of this."
Ruqayyah remained silent.
"But… maybe this is the first time I don't know everything."
"Welcome to my life," Ruqayyah whispered.
"That's how it feels every day."
Silence enveloped them.
And from that silence, something began to change.
Hospital — Indonesia, Night
Ruqayyah lay motionless. An IV line was attached. The monitor beeped steadily. Her eyes remained closed.
Her mother sat beside the bed, exhaustion etched across her face. Asta hugged his knees in the corner, holding back tears. Their father moved back and forth between the hospital room and the prayer room, his supplications unbroken.
Nearly a month had passed.
The doctors called it a mild coma.
"They're waiting… for her will to live," one of them said.
At the Boarding School
Life continued as usual.
But not everyone could forget.
Bela sat on the dormitory steps. The letter she meant to write was torn apart once more.
Rina approached with an irritating smile.
"Good riddance. That holier-than-thou girl is probably going to die."
Bela stood up.
"Watch your words."
"She acts pure, acts pretty—"
"Enough!" Bela's voice trembled. "She's human. She has a family waiting for her."
Rina scoffed.
"So dramatic."
"Don't add to your sins," Bela murmured.
Assembly Hall
Raiz stared at the rain streaking the window.
"You thinking about Ruqayyah?" Ghazali asked.
Raiz nodded.
"…she shouldn't be like this," he said quietly.
"You feel guilty?"
"Not feel. I am guilty."
His fist clenched.
"That afternoon… she looked back at me. And I pretended not to see."
Ghazali smirked faintly.
"So what were you supposed to do?"
Raiz shot him a sharp look.
"Shut up. I'm not in the mood."
The rain continued to fall.
And in two different worlds…
two souls were preparing to exchange fate.
---
At the Hospital…
Ruqayyah's mother gently adjusted the blanket covering her daughter.
"My child… are you sleeping?" she whispered. "Mama is still here. I'm not going anywhere…"
Asta climbed carefully onto the bed and lay beside his sister, who had yet to awaken. He whispered softly:
"Umi said you can hear us, Sis… if that's true, wake up soon, okay? I miss playing on the swing with you…"
While the world waited, beyond the veil of light, two souls were slowly learning to understand one another—carefully, inevitably.
Before the light around them faded completely, the Guardian of Light appeared once more.
This time, its voice was deeper, carrying a weight far heavier than before.
"Before you return to your respective worlds—within bodies that are not your own—there is one final matter."
From the light in its hand emerged a small book, pale gray in color. It looked simple, yet glowed softly. There was no title—only a thin ribbon marker at its center.
"This is the Book of Qadar. It will accompany you into both worlds."
Aisha narrowed her eyes. "A book? For what purpose?"
"Through this book, you may write to one another. Only the two of you may read it or fill its pages."
"It will never run out, cannot be burned, and cannot be found by anyone else. Even if lost, it will return to you. But—never show it to another human."
Ruqayyah touched the cover gently.
"And if… we break that rule?"
"Then your tongues will be sealed. For a time, you will lose the ability to speak."
Aisha scoffed. "How obvious—this is a trap."
"Not a trap," the angel replied calmly. "A protection."
"Through this book, your deeds and conduct during the exchange will be recorded. For you are not living new lives—you are being tested."
Its light sharpened as it looked upon them.
"And only those who safeguard the trust will return safely."
--
Baghdad — The Grand Residence of Vizier Al-Fadl
Her eyelids felt unbearably heavy. Yet that voice—gentle, trembling with worry—kept calling her.
"My beloved… Aisha…?"
Aisha's eyes—or rather, Ruqayyah's eyes within Aisha's body—finally opened.
She stared at an unfamiliar ceiling carved with intricate wooden patterns, bronze lamps hanging above. The air was perfumed with incense. And the first person she saw was a woman wearing a light shawl, her face serene yet tear-stained, clutching her hand tightly as prayers spilled from her lips.
"My daughter… praise be to Allah—you're awake…"
Ruqayyah froze.
She knew who this woman was. Aisha's mother.
But how should she respond?
Should she embrace her? Or pretend to still be asleep?
Sudden hurried footsteps echoed outside. The carved door opened, and Muhammad entered.
"Mother," he said softly. "She's awake?"
"Yes… Alhamdulillah… she opened her eyes," Salma replied, her voice trembling.
Muhammad approached, steadying their mother before gazing at his sister's face.
"Aisha… can you hear me?"
Ruqayyah looked at him deeply. She wanted to cry. Wanted to say, I'm not Aisha.
But her tongue felt heavy—and all eyes were upon her.
Servants entered quietly, standing ready in the corners of the room. Moments later, the sound of a wooden staff echoed. A guard opened the door carefully.
Vizier Al-Fadl ibn Sahl stepped inside.
The servants bowed and moved aside.
"Aisha…" he said softly.
Ruqayyah turned her head.
The great vizier stood before her, his gaze sharp yet filled with restrained love.
"Father…"
The word left her lips hesitantly. It felt foreign—yet this role… she had to play it, for now.
The room filled with restrained emotion. Zahra and Maryam stood near the doorway, tears held back. Outside, Layla's anxious voice could be heard asking the servants again and again, "Is it true? Has she truly awakened?"
But only family was allowed inside.
Ruqayyah took a breath.
This body was not hers.
But the love in this room was real. Warm. Overwhelming.
O Allah… she prayed silently. I must protect their trust. Even if I am not Aisha…
And for the first time, Ruqayyah felt something unfamiliar.
Jealousy.
They loved her so deeply—as if the world revolved around Aisha alone.
Had anyone ever loved Ruqayyah like this?
--
Hours later, after the family had stepped out…
Soft footsteps approached. Zahra opened the door carefully.
"Miss Layla wishes to see you, if you don't mind…"
Ruqayyah nodded. Her heart raced.