The heavy haze in Moscow did not prevent the Aeroflot-Plus aircraft from landing at Sheremetyevo Airport in Moscow. The weather was extremely harsh; the pilot could barely see the signals guiding him to land. Nothing was falling except snow. For someone with asthma, the cold could cause serious harm and even push them into a critical condition. Slowly, the aircraft taxied until it finally reached a parking spot. Inside the plane, passengers began unfastening their seatbelts in preparation to disembark.
He took a slow, heavy breath, clenching his hands as they produced a sound of exhaustion. He checked his wristwatch—it was 1:15 a.m. Gently, he stood up, slipped his hands into the pockets of his suit, and walked slowly toward the VIP section. His mind was filled with worry: why hadn’t his twin come out yet? Was he alright? Had the cold affected his health? Softly, he murmured, “Ya Rabb, here is Your servant,” as he gently opened the VIP door and stepped inside.
He froze instantly when he saw him lying on a long couch. In fact, there was no sign he was about to wake up—his eyes were closed, his arms folded across his chest, his breathing calm and steady. He was sleeping peacefully, looking strikingly handsome in his sleep, with the hair on his forehead falling softly over his face like a woman’s. Zain stared deeply at Abeed, his eyes filled with pure love and affection for his twin brother.
Zain walked closer to where Abeed lay and gently moved his folded arms away from his chest. He paused, watching Abeed’s chest rise and fall, then slowly rested his head on Abeed’s chest, trying to figure out what was wrong—why was he breathing like this? Something felt off. Abeed never slept on airplanes.
Zain pulled back and quietly said to himself, “I don’t know what’s wrong with my twin. What could he be hiding from me? No… Abeed wouldn’t hide anything from me. He is my life, and I am his life. He can’t do that… seriously.” He picked up Abeed’s iPhone and noticed twenty missed calls from Riya—she had been calling since she was in Nigeria, yet Abeed hadn’t returned a single call. Worried, Zain said, “Sorry, Riya. In shaa Allah, I’ll explain to you later.” He slipped the phone back into Abeed’s pocket and whispered, “I love you, my twin.”
Suddenly, Zain felt a movement. He turned quickly and their eyes met. Despite Abeed’s naturally blue eyes, they were now an alarming red. Zain stayed silent, observing him, unable to understand what was going on. With a relaxed face, he asked, “When did you wake up?” Abeed seemed unwilling to speak at first, then slowly opened his mouth with difficulty, rubbed his face, and in a low, slow voice replied, “From when you said ‘I love you.’” He said this while standing up and adjusting his suit.
Zain simply smiled in respect. Abeed carried a certain weight and presence—even Zain, who was born with him on the same day, same time, same month, and same year, sometimes found him overwhelming for no clear reason. Abeed felt truly comfortable living with only three people: first, his twin Zain; second, His Majesty; and third, Naila.
Zain was tall and fair-skinned, with light-colored eyes and an open, carefree face. His only worry in life was his twin. He hid nothing and was easygoing. Abeed, on the other hand, was reserved and disliked attention unless he was on stage performing his music. He never lied—he didn’t even know how to. If he said “Yes, of course,” he meant it fully. No one could make him lie. He was very fair, with large blue eyes and beautiful hair that fell across his forehead. That fringe was what distinguished him from Zain—through it, one could always tell who was Abeed and who was Zain.
Yet, even now, there was something Abeed was hiding from Zain. What was it?
A Secret He Couldn’t Share
Abeed walked slowly into the airplane’s restroom, his hands still in his pockets. Once inside, he closed the door and leaned against it, breathing with great difficulty. He wasn’t afraid of losing his life—but if he did, what state would Zain be left in? That thought was what troubled Abeed the most and robbed him of sleep. Medical findings had shown that he had only five months left to live.
Noticing Abeed’s prolonged silence, Zain lightly knocked on the restroom door and called out, “Hey, my friend, is everything okay?” Abeed remained silent because nausea suddenly overwhelmed him. He hurried to the sink and began vomiting—half of it was blood.
Description
A Snowy Landing in Moscow
The heavy haze in Moscow did not prevent the Aeroflot-Plus aircraft from landing at Sheremetyevo Airport in Moscow. The weather was extremely harsh; the pilot could barely see the signals guiding him to land. Nothing was falling except snow. For someone with asthma, the cold could cause serious harm and even push them into a critical condition. Slowly, the aircraft taxied until it finally reached a parking spot. Inside the plane, passengers began unfastening their seatbelts in preparation to disembark.
He took a slow, heavy breath, clenching his hands as they produced a sound of exhaustion. He checked his wristwatch—it was 1:15 a.m. Gently, he stood up, slipped his hands into the pockets of his suit, and walked slowly toward the VIP section. His mind was filled with worry: why hadn’t his twin come out yet? Was he alright? Had the cold affected his health? Softly, he murmured, “Ya Rabb, here is Your servant,” as he gently opened the VIP door and stepped inside.
He froze instantly when he saw him lying on a long couch. In fact, there was no sign he was about to wake up—his eyes were closed, his arms folded across his chest, his breathing calm and steady. He was sleeping peacefully, looking strikingly handsome in his sleep, with the hair on his forehead falling softly over his face like a woman’s. Zain stared deeply at Abeed, his eyes filled with pure love and affection for his twin brother.
Zain walked closer to where Abeed lay and gently moved his folded arms away from his chest. He paused, watching Abeed’s chest rise and fall, then slowly rested his head on Abeed’s chest, trying to figure out what was wrong—why was he breathing like this? Something felt off. Abeed never slept on airplanes.
Zain pulled back and quietly said to himself, “I don’t know what’s wrong with my twin. What could he be hiding from me? No… Abeed wouldn’t hide anything from me. He is my life, and I am his life. He can’t do that… seriously.” He picked up Abeed’s iPhone and noticed twenty missed calls from Riya—she had been calling since she was in Nigeria, yet Abeed hadn’t returned a single call. Worried, Zain said, “Sorry, Riya. In shaa Allah, I’ll explain to you later.” He slipped the phone back into Abeed’s pocket and whispered, “I love you, my twin.”
Suddenly, Zain felt a movement. He turned quickly and their eyes met. Despite Abeed’s naturally blue eyes, they were now an alarming red. Zain stayed silent, observing him, unable to understand what was going on. With a relaxed face, he asked, “When did you wake up?” Abeed seemed unwilling to speak at first, then slowly opened his mouth with difficulty, rubbed his face, and in a low, slow voice replied, “From when you said ‘I love you.’” He said this while standing up and adjusting his suit.
Zain simply smiled in respect. Abeed carried a certain weight and presence—even Zain, who was born with him on the same day, same time, same month, and same year, sometimes found him overwhelming for no clear reason. Abeed felt truly comfortable living with only three people: first, his twin Zain; second, His Majesty; and third, Naila.
Zain was tall and fair-skinned, with light-colored eyes and an open, carefree face. His only worry in life was his twin. He hid nothing and was easygoing. Abeed, on the other hand, was reserved and disliked attention unless he was on stage performing his music. He never lied—he didn’t even know how to. If he said “Yes, of course,” he meant it fully. No one could make him lie. He was very fair, with large blue eyes and beautiful hair that fell across his forehead. That fringe was what distinguished him from Zain—through it, one could always tell who was Abeed and who was Zain.
Yet, even now, there was something Abeed was hiding from Zain. What was it?
A Secret He Couldn’t Share
Abeed walked slowly into the airplane’s restroom, his hands still in his pockets. Once inside, he closed the door and leaned against it, breathing with great difficulty. He wasn’t afraid of losing his life—but if he did, what state would Zain be left in? That thought was what troubled Abeed the most and robbed him of sleep. Medical findings had shown that he had only five months left to live.
Noticing Abeed’s prolonged silence, Zain lightly knocked on the restroom door and called out, “Hey, my friend, is everything okay?” Abeed remained silent because nausea suddenly overwhelmed him. He hurried to the sink and began vomiting—half of it was blood.