Title: “Her Silent Dua”

In the crowded lanes of Mumbai, there stood a tiny house, tucked between tall buildings and endless noise. Inside that house lived a 27-year-old girl with quiet eyes and a heavy heart. She lived with her parents, but peace had long left the walls of her home.

Her life was never easy. She tried to be the perfect daughter, the perfect sister — always smiling, always obeying. But no matter how hard she tried, nothing ever seemed enough. Harsh words from her parents had become her daily music, and she began to believe that maybe she really was a failure — as a daughter, as a sister, and maybe even as a person.

Every night, she would sit near the small window of her room, looking at the sky and whispering dua to Allah.

She didn’t ask for money or fame — she just asked for peace, for love, for something that made her feel alive.

When she was younger, back in her 12th class, she had dreams — big ones. But life had forced her to drop out of school. Still, her heart found light in the most unexpected place — in music, in K-pop, and in the voice of one person — Jeon Jungkook.

To her, Jungkook wasn’t just an idol. He was a dream, a hope that something pure still existed in the world. She loved him deeply — not like a fan, but like someone who believed that souls could meet beyond distance, language, and fame.

She often told herself, “If I ever deserve happiness, let it be with him.”

Every night she would pray,

“Ya Allah, if there’s a world where I can start again, let me be someone better. Let me find peace. Let me meet him.”

Sometimes she imagined going back in time, changing her story — becoming an idol herself, standing on stage under bright lights, not as the girl everyone misunderstood, but as the woman who finally found her voice.

She didn’t want to run away from life — she just wanted to rewrite it.

To be free.

To be loved.

To be understood.

And so, every night, as the city slept, she made the same silent dua —

that someday, somehow, her heart would find its place in the world…

even if that world existed only in her dreams.

---

The next morning, the small Mumbai house was filled with the clinking of teacups and the murmurs of routine. Ana’s mother walked into her room, her phone in hand, a smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

“Ana, look at this boy’s picture. He’s a good man — government job, good family. It’s time you got married,” she said, showing her the photo on her phone.

Ana looked at the screen for only a second before shaking her head.

“Mummy, I don’t want to marry anyone. I just want to live alone… please,” she said softly.

Her mother’s smile disappeared instantly. Her tone turned sharp, her words heavier than stones.

“You always say no! You think life is a dream? You’ve done nothing for this family. What will people say?”

Her words cut through Ana’s heart. She stayed silent, tears welling up in her eyes, because she had no strength left to explain herself anymore. She went to her small room, shut the door, and sat by her window — her only friend.

That night, like every night before, she prayed.

But this time, her voice trembled, and her heart broke completely.

“Ya Allah, please… I don’t want to live here anymore. Send me to my past. Let me change everything. Please, I beg you.”

For ten long years, Ana prayed the same dua — every night, every tear, every whisper.

She stopped talking much to people. The laughter she once had faded away. She spoke only to Allah — her only hope, her only listener.

Every night she whispered the same plea:

> “For You, Ya Allah, and for Your Prophet Muhammad (peace be upon him), please accept my dua. Send me back to my past life. Let me fix everything. Please…”

Sometimes she thought maybe her dua was lost in the sky.

Sometimes she believed maybe Allah was still preparing her moment.

But one night, as she cried herself to sleep — something strange happened.

The wind outside howled softly, her room filled with a light glow, and her heartbeat slowed.

For the first time in years… Ana felt peace.

--

The Night of 2 January 2026

The calendar on the wall read 2 January 2026 — another year, another beginning that felt the same.

But for Ana, every day was a repeat of her pain, her prayers, and her longing.

That evening, the city outside was alive — fireworks still echoing from the New Year celebrations, laughter filling the streets — but inside her tiny Mumbai room, there was only silence. The only sound was the soft scratch of her pen moving over paper.

She was writing again.

A novel — the only place where she truly lived.

In those pages, she wasn’t the broken girl her parents scolded.

She was someone loved.

She was with Jungkook, smiling, singing, traveling — living a life that was light and warm.

In her stories, her world was perfect. And for a few hours each night, she could breathe again.

She looked at Jungkook’s photo on her wall — the one she had kept for years, edges worn, but her faith untouched. She whispered softly,

“If only I could meet you once… maybe my heart would heal.”

That night, as the clock struck twelve, Ana folded her notebook and sat by her window.

The moonlight touched her face, and tears filled her eyes.

She raised her hands and prayed again — the same dua she had been making for years, but this time with all her soul.

> “Ya Allah, please... tonight, change my fate. I accept whatever You give me — even if I’m an orphan, even if I have to start again — but please, send me back to my past. Send me back when I was twelve years old. I just want another chance.”

Her voice broke as she whispered the final words,

“For You, Ya Allah, and for Your Prophet Muhammad (peace be upon him), please accept my dua this time.”

The wind outside grew colder, her candle flickered, and a single tear fell on her notebook.

As she closed her eyes, her heart whispered one last time —

“Please… let me start again.”

And as she drifted into sleep, the city continued its noise, unaware that somewhere in a tiny house, a girl’s destiny was about to change forever.

---

The Awakening in the Past Life

Ana’s eyes fluttered open. At first, everything was blurry, and her body felt heavy and strange. A small hand shook her shoulder.

“Ana! Wake up! We have to work!”

She sat up, confusion flooding her mind. Her room — or what looked like a room — was unfamiliar. The walls were old and worn, the air smelled faintly of soap and dust, and through the narrow window, the sun filtered in weakly.

Ana blinked rapidly, looking around. This… isn’t my room. This isn’t my house. It must be a dream, she thought, her heart pounding in her chest.

The building was old, almost forgotten, with many children moving about in sleepy confusion. She walked slowly down the corridor, her feet hesitant on the creaky floorboards. Passing by a cracked mirror, she caught her reflection and froze.

Her hair was long and black, cascading like a waterfall. Her eyebrows were thick, framing her eyes — hazel green, but different somehow. There was a strange depth to them, a sharpness she didn’t recognize. Her face was younger, smaller… she was twelve years old.

Ana’s mind raced. This can’t be real. Did Allah answer my dua?

A voice called out behind her:

“Ana!”

She turned quickly and gasped. Standing there was Saba, her cousin’s best friend — someone Ana hadn’t seen in years. Saba’s face was familiar, warm, but her eyes held a strange, hardened look.

“Ana! Let’s go! Mr. Park will beat us if we don’t do the work!” Saba grabbed her hand, tugging her forward.

Ana’s mind spun. “Where… where are we, Saba?”

Saba looked at her, surprised at the question. “Yaa, Ana… we live in the orphanage, Dumbo.”

Ana’s heart skipped a beat. “Saba… why are you here?” she whispered, confusion and fear creeping into her voice.

Saba’s eyes widened. “Ana… have you hit your head or something? We’ve lived here for years! Don’t you remember?”

Ana shook her head, a cold fear creeping through her chest. She… she doesn’t remember… she doesn’t know anything about what I prayed for. Maybe this is my new chance… my second life. Everything is real. I’m really here.

Her heart both ached and swelled with hope. This was her new life, a life she had begged Allah for for more than ten years. And now, everything depended on what she would do next.

Ana took a deep breath, glancing around the orphanage, feeling the strange mix of fear and possibility. This is it… my chance. My second chance.

-

The First Meeting

Days passed slowly in the orphanage.

Ana swept the cold marble floors, the scent of soap and old wood filling her nose. She worked quietly, lost in her thoughts, still trying to understand this strange new life Allah had given her.

As she hummed softly, she suddenly realized something — she was speaking and thinking in Korean.

She paused, her broom frozen midair.

“How… how do I know this language so well?” she whispered to herself.

It was as if the prayers of her past life had come with her — every word, every dream, every wish.

That night, when everyone slept, Saba curled up beside her, hugging her gently like a little sister. The room was silent except for the sound of soft breathing and the faint whistle of the wind outside.

Ana got up quietly, spread her small prayer mat on the cold floor, and raised her hands to the sky.

“Alhamdulillah… Ya Allah, thank You. You heard me. You gave me another chance. Please guide me now.”

Her eyes glistened with tears as she performed salah, feeling closer to peace than she ever had before.

The next morning, sunlight peeked through the cracked windows. Ana turned to Saba.

“Saba, can you tell me where we are? I mean… which city?”

Saba looked confused. “We’re in Busan, Ana. Why?”

Ana’s heart skipped a beat. Busan.

That was his hometown. Jeon Jungkook’s.

Her lips trembled with a small smile. “SubhanAllah...” she whispered under her breath. “Saba, let’s go to the park today!”

Saba gasped. “Are you crazy? Mrs. Park will never allow it!” she said quickly. “She says we have goddess beauty — people might kidnap us if we go out!”

Ana sighed, looking out the window longingly. All she wanted was to see him — even from afar, even once.

Weeks passed before fate opened its door.

One morning, Mrs. Park, the strict caretaker, called out, “Ana! Saba! Come with me. We’re going to the supermarket for groceries.”

Ana’s heart fluttered — it would be her first time outside.

“Cover your faces, my little angels,” Mrs. Park said, handing them scarves.

They wrapped their faces, leaving only their eyes visible, and stepped outside.

The sunlight touched Ana’s skin, warm and alive. She whispered softly,

“Alhamdulillah… thank You, Allah.”

When they reached the market, Saba helped Mrs. Park pick vegetables, while Ana wandered near the candy shelves. Her gaze fell on a packet of chocolates on a high rack. She reached up on her toes, struggling to grab it.

At that exact moment, another hand reached for the same shelf.

A boy — maybe her age, maybe a year older — tall for his age, with messy dark hair and bright, curious eyes.

Both stretched their arms, fingers brushing against the same packet. The box wobbled — and suddenly slipped.

They both leaned forward, catching it at the same time — and in that instant, their eyes met.

For a moment, the world around Ana stopped.

His eyes were warm, deep, and kind — eyes that felt strangely familiar. The kind of eyes she had seen a thousand times before… on posters, in dreams, and in her heart.

The boy blinked, speechless, staring at her hazel-green eyes that shimmered under the store’s lights. Neither of them spoke, but something in the air changed — quiet, magnetic, fated.

Then Mrs. Park’s sharp voice broke the silence.

“Ana! Come here!”

Ana startled, quickly bowed her head, and whispered,

“Sorry!”

She placed the chocolate packet back and ran to Mrs. Park, her heart beating wildly.

But as she glanced back one last time, she saw the boy still standing there — staring at her, frozen, the chocolate packet in his hand.

And though she didn’t know it yet, that moment — that single gaze — had just tied their destinies together forever.

---

The Boy with the Bunny Smile

The next morning, sunlight streamed through the cracked windows of the orphanage. The air was lighter than usual — Mrs. Park had decided to take all the children to the park. It was a rare day, a day for laughter and fresh air.

Ana followed silently, her scarf wrapped neatly around her face. The children ran ahead, giggling, their shoes kicking up dust on the path.

Saba, full of energy as always, tugged Ana’s hand. “Come on, Ana! Let’s play!”

But Ana just shook her head. “You go, Saba. I’ll sit here.”

She found a quiet bench under a tree, far from the noise and games. The soft wind brushed through her long black hair as she watched the sky.

Her heart was full, but her mind was tired.

She whispered to herself,

“Never again. I’ll never let anyone use my kindness. I’ll stay quiet. I’ll stay cold. No one will break me again.”

In her past life, her heart had been too soft, too open — and people had only hurt her.

But this time, she had promised herself: no more tears, no more trust.

As she sat lost in thought, a ball rolled gently to her feet. She looked down at it — colorful, dusty, spinning slowly.

Before she could move, a voice echoed through the air,

“Hey! Wait!”

A boy came running — fast, laughing softly, his hair bouncing as he reached her.

He stopped when his eyes met hers.

For a moment, everything fell silent.

It was him again.

The same boy from the supermarket.

He froze in front of her, his hand holding the ball, his breath uneven from running. His dark eyes stared into hers — those same hazel-green eyes that had haunted his thoughts since that day.

Then he smiled — that soft, innocent, bunny smile — the kind of smile that made the world feel gentle for a second.

Ana blinked, confused. Her heart thumped quietly in her chest. Why… does he look so familiar? she thought.

But she quickly lowered her gaze, hiding her face beneath her scarf.

Before she could say a word, Saba came running toward her. “Ana! Come on, they’re giving out juice!” She grabbed Ana’s arm and pulled her away.

Ana glanced back once — just once — and saw him still standing there, holding the ball, watching her leave.

Neither of them knew yet what fate was weaving between them.

But Allah had already written something in their hearts long before they were even born.

The Boy on the Rainy Bench

A year passed quietly like a whisper through time.

Ana turned thirteen, and Saba was fourteen now.

Their lives in the orphanage had become routine — school, chores, prayers, and small dreams stitched between tired nights.

One cloudy morning, Mrs. Park announced,

“We’re going to Daegu for a few days. My hometown.”

The children cheered, happy to leave the gray walls for once. For Ana and Saba, the trip felt like a small adventure — a breath of freedom.

That night, Daegu was wrapped in soft rain. The streets glistened under the yellow streetlights, puddles rippling with every drop.

After dinner, Saba couldn’t sleep. She loved the smell of rain — it made her feel alive.

So she slipped outside quietly, her sandals splashing softly in the puddles.

As she walked past the park, she saw a boy sitting alone on a bench, drenched, his head bowed, his small shoulders shaking.

Curious, she ran to him.

“Hey… are you okay? Why are you crying?” she asked gently.

The boy looked up — his eyes full of tears. He was around her age, maybe a year older, with dark wet hair sticking to his forehead.

“My friends… they all went to a party. They didn’t invite me. They said I’m poor. That I don’t belong with them.”

Saba’s heart softened instantly. She sat beside him, unbothered by the rain soaking her dress.

“Don’t be sad,” she said softly. “One day, you’ll be someone great. The whole world will know your name. You’ll be so handsome and successful that no one will dare make fun of you. I’ll pray to God for you.”

The boy sniffed, looking at her with wide eyes, surprised by her kindness.

Saba smiled and took off a small bracelet from her wrist — a simple silver thread with a small charm.

“Here, take this.”

The boy hesitated. “What’s this?”

“A lucky charm,” she said proudly. “An old man gave it to me once and said it helps when you feel lost. Whenever you’re stuck, hold it and pray. You’ll find your answer.”

The boy smiled for the first time, eyes glimmering under the streetlight.

“Thank you… what’s your name?”

“Saba,” she said, grinning. “I know, it’s unique, right?” She laughed softly.

He nodded shyly. “I’m Taehyung.”

For a moment, they sat there — two young souls, strangers in the rain, bound by a small act of kindness.

Then Saba stood up. “Okay, I should go before Mrs. Park finds out.”

Taehyung quickly asked, “Wait! When will we meet again?”

Saba smiled, stepping back into the rain. “I don’t know… maybe in the future. But remember my words — one day, the whole world will know you, Taehyung.”

And with that, she turned and ran — her laughter echoing through the rain.

Taehyung watched her go, holding the bracelet tightly in his hand.

He didn’t know why… but somehow, her words stayed with him forever.

The Second Meeting

The morning after the rain was fresh and bright. The clouds had cleared, and the sky above Daegu looked washed clean — full of soft sunlight.

Mrs. Park called out, “Ana, Saba, get ready! We’re going to a children’s party in the village nearby.”

Ana and Saba followed her quietly, their dresses simple but neat. The village square was decorated with colorful ribbons, children laughing, music echoing through the air.

As they entered, Ana whispered, “Saba, I’m going to the washroom. You stay here, okay?”

Saba nodded, watching Ana disappear into the crowd. A few moments later, Mrs. Park turned and said,

“Saba! Come, they’re taking pictures!”

Saba hesitated. “But Ana—”

“She’ll come, don’t worry. Come on!” Mrs. Park insisted.

Saba sighed and followed her. The camera was set up under a big tree, the group of kids lined up for the photograph. She stood near the end, beside a few unfamiliar faces.

Just as the photographer counted down, someone stepped beside her — and her heart skipped.

Taehyung.

He was there, smiling shyly at her, his hair still a little messy from the rain.

The camera clicked — flash! — capturing them side by side, smiling without realizing.

Taehyung turned to her. “We meet again.”

Saba grinned. “Yes, Mr. Handsome. I told you, remember? You’ll become someone everyone knows one day.”

He laughed, scratching the back of his head. But before he could reply, a few of his friends came over, teasing.

“Wow, Taehyung! Who’s this girl? She’s really pretty! Hey, can we be friends?” one of them joked, smiling at Saba.

Saba rolled her eyes. “Excuse me, I have to go.” She turned to Taehyung one last time. “See you in the future, Mr. Handsome. Don’t forget me.”

And before he could say anything, she was gone — disappearing into the crowd, her laughter soft like a song in the air.

Taehyung watched her leave, the bracelet still on his wrist, the memory of her words glowing in his heart.

One of his friends nudged him. “She was really beautiful, Taehyung. You’re lucky.”

Taehyung smiled faintly, eyes still on the path where she had gone.

“She’s mine,” he said quietly. “So make distance.”

---

That evening, the bus rumbled softly as it made its way back to Busan.

Rain clouds returned, painting the sky gray again. Ana and Saba sat side by side, watching the raindrops race down the window.

Saba leaned her head on Ana’s shoulder, whispering, “Ana, I met someone again — the same boy from yesterday. His name is Taehyung.”

Ana turned to look at her, smiling softly.

And in that moment, memories from her first life rushed back — Saba’s old crush on Taehyung, her innocent giggles, her dreams.

She looked out the window again, eyes full of peace. Allah had given them both a second chance — a new beginning.

Ana smiled quietly to herself and whispered,

“Alhamdulillah… this time, we’ll live right.”

---