The mosque was always calm before Jumu’ah. That stillness before the imam’s voice filled the hall was Yusuf’s favorite part of the week — the soft hum of air, the faint rustle of prayer mats, the muted whisper of someone reciting Qur’an nearby. He sat by the second pillar from the front, fingers tracing the wooden beads of his misbaha. The sunlight fell in angled stripes across the carpet, catching the dust in slow, golden motion. It reminded him of mercy — quiet, constant, unnoticed by most. He came here to reset. To breathe. The world outside always felt loud and hurried, but in here, time softened. That’s when he noticed her. Not by intention — he was lowering his gaze after finishing his sunnah prayers, when he saw a small notebook drop from the hands of a woman on her way out. She didn’t seem to notice. He picked it up. The cover was plain, worn at the edges, with her name written neatly on the inside corner: Aisha. A bookmark rested between its pages, open to a verse in delicate handwriting — “Indeed, with hardship comes ease.” Something about that line made him pause. It wasn’t just the verse; it was the way she’d underlined ease, like she was reminding herself to believe in it. When he looked up, she had turned around. Their eyes met for half a second — enough to see kindness there, and something thoughtful behind it. He held out the notebook. “Assalamu alaikum,” he said quietly. “You dropped this.”