Hatim stepped out of the hospital, the afternoon sun pressing warmly against his face. The February air was cooler than midday summers, but it still carried the dry warmth of his town. For a moment, he considered heading straight home—but then he remembered something.
A week ago, his friend from school, Farhan, had asked him a favor. Farhan had two younger siblings in grade six—a brother named Imran and a sister named Sana—both struggling in science and computer studies. Farhan had told him, "If you've got free time, you could come and tutor them. My family can pay you for it. You're the smartest in bio and computers anyway."
At that time, Hatim had brushed it off, too preoccupied with his mother's illness. But now… with the hospital bills piling up, every bit of income could help. And Farhan's house was not far from the hospital.
He adjusted the strap of his schoolbag on his shoulder and started walking.
The road toward Farhan's neighborhood was lined with small shops, tea stalls, and fruit carts. The air smelled faintly of cardamom from a chai vendor brewing tea in a large pot. Hatim's shoes crunched over a scattering of dry leaves as he passed a group of schoolboys in uniforms, laughing loudly and kicking a half-flat football.
Halfway down the street, the air shifted—hotter, sharper. A faint trail of smoke curled upward in the distance. Hatim frowned and quickened his pace.
When he reached the next junction, the sight made him stop. A clothing shop was on fire—its front already blackened, with gray smoke billowing out. Flames licked the edges of the wooden signboard. A yellow tape stretched around the area, holding back a growing crowd. Two fire trucks stood nearby, hoses spraying arcs of water into the building.
Police officers were scattered around, keeping people back, while firefighters shouted instructions to each other. The heat from the flames was strong enough to make Hatim take a step back.
A man standing nearby shook his head. "It started so suddenly. One second, the shopkeeper was folding clothes, and the next—fire everywhere."
Hatim looked at him. "Do they know how it started?"
The man shrugged. "No one knows. Some people are saying it just… appeared. Out of thin air."
That made Hatim pause. He looked back at the burning shop, his curiosity rising. The front was too crowded to see much, but maybe from the side…
He moved away from the main street, circling toward the back of the shop where a garbage dump stood. The smell of burning cloth and melted plastic was heavy in the air. From here, the flames were smaller—almost under control—but what caught his eye froze him for a moment.
There was a body.
Charred and collapsed near the back corner of the shop, it was barely recognizable as human. The skin was blackened, the clothes melted into the flesh. Hatim's stomach twisted, but he couldn't look away.
A shopkeeper, standing with a cloth over his nose, noticed him.
"Who… who was he?" Hatim asked quietly.
"One of the workers," the man said, his voice trembling. "I didn't even know he was inside. Not until I heard him scream. By then…" He shook his head, unable to finish.
The sound of another hose starting up made Hatim turn his head. As his eyes wandered over the ground, something caught his attention.
It was a bead.
Small, smooth, and glowing faintly in the gray light. It sat on top of a pile of damp ashes and bits of burnt fabric, looking completely out of place.
Hatim stepped closer and crouched. The bead shimmered faintly—like a drop of liquid metal frozen in place.
He reached out and picked it up.
The moment it touched his skin, the glow vanished. It now looked like an ordinary dark stone, smooth but dull. Hatim turned it over in his palm. On closer inspection, there were patterns etched into its surface—tiny lines curling into spirals and shapes that reminded him of constellations.
He didn't know why, but he slipped it into his pocket.
There was still shouting from the firefighters, but Hatim decided to leave. He had seen enough—and the smell of smoke was beginning to cling to his clothes.
Farhan's house was only ten minutes from here. Hatim walked quickly, the bead's weight a strange, constant reminder in his pocket.
When he reached the neighborhood, the streets were calmer. It was a small residential area with rows of modest houses painted in pale colors. Children played marbles in the dust, and an old man sat under a neem tree reading a newspaper.
Farhan's house was one of the larger ones, painted light blue with a small iron gate at the front. Hatim knocked, and a moment later, Farhan himself opened the door.
"Hatim! I didn't expect you today," Farhan said, surprised but smiling.
"I was at the hospital," Hatim explained. "I thought I'd stop by and talk about tutoring your brother and sister."
Farhan's smile widened. "That's great! Come in."
Inside, the house was warm and smelled faintly of fried onions and spices. In the living room, Farhan's mother greeted Hatim kindly, offering him a glass of water.
Farhan motioned for him to sit. "Imran and Sana are in their room, probably pretending to study," he said with a laugh. "If you can help them even twice a week, it would be a big help. And, of course, we'll pay you."
Hatim nodded. "I'll do it. I could use the work."
Farhan's mother looked pleased. "The children need someone patient, and I know you're a good boy. Let's start from tomorrow, yes?"
"Tomorrow works," Hatim agreed.
As they spoke, his fingers unconsciously touched the bead in his pocket. The patterns on it felt faintly warm now, as though it wasn't as lifeless as it seemed.
The evening slipped by faster than Hatim realized.
After finishing his talk with Farhan and helping Imran and Sana with a few tricky homework problems, the two friends decided to stroll around the neighborhood. They bought tea from a street stall, shared a plate of spicy fried pakoras, and caught up on the months they had missed.