The city lay still under the soft glow of the moon. The power had been out for hours, and silence filled the empty streets. It was a white night— one of those rare nights when darkness could not fully take over, when light refused to disappear.

Asmaan and I sat in the yard, wrapped in our shawls, staring at the sky. The cold air touched our faces, but we did not move. The stars above twinkled like tiny hopes in the vast darkness.

There was a time when our nights were filled with stories about the future. We had spent our whole childhood walking side by side, following the same path. Every morning, we hurried to school together, our books pressed against our chests, our laughter filling the streets.

We had big dreams—to graduate together, to hold our diplomas in our hands, and to step into the future as strong, educated women. We promised each other that no matter what happened, we would never stop learning.

However, life had other plans. One morning, everything changed. The school we have loved, the place where we had built our dreams, has taken away from us. The doors were shut, not just on the building, but also on our futures.

Suddenly, the streets we had walked with confidence felt unfamiliar. The world that once welcomed us now seemed to whisper, You do not belong here anymore.

For months, we sat at home, trapped between four walls. The books on our shelves gathered dust, and the notebooks we once filled with lessons remained untouched. We felt like birds in a cage—able to see the sky, but never able to fly.

One evening, as we sat in the same yard, lost in our thoughts, Asmaan whispered, “Do you think this is how our story ends?” I shook my head. “No,” I said firmly. “When a door is closed for us, Allah will open a greater door.”

It was a few weeks later that we were able to continue our conversation in the same spot.

“Look, our prayer was answered. We found this school—an online school, better than the one we had before. A place where we could learn again, where our voices mattered, where our dreams still had a chance. It was not just a school; it seemed like a light in our darkness, a door that led us back to hope.

“Maybe this is our white night,” I whispered, looking at the glowing sky.

Asmaan smiled softly. “Maybe. Maybe this is the night before a new morning.”

The wind blew gently, carrying away the heaviness in our hearts. The world was still uncertain, but for the first time in a long while, we knew one thing for sure—our journey was not over.

The future was still ours to chase.