The sun had only just started to spill golden streaks across the sky when Washma slowly opened her eyes. The morning was still, her body slightly aching from the floor bedding in Uncle Rehmat and Aunty's room — but her spirit felt lighter than before.
Today was her second day at university.
She dressed in a pair of jeans and a soft t-shirt, slipping a light scarf across her shoulders the way she liked — casual but graceful. Her long hair, combed and loosely tied, framed her innocent, glowing face. There was still a hint of nervousness in her chest, but it was wrapped in quiet excitement.
In the kitchen, the cool air greeted her as she opened the fridge to grab milk for tea. Her eyes fell on a sandwich wrapped neatly in foil — and a small note stuck to it in handwriting she instantly recognised:
"Have a great day, sis. Don't forget to eat your lunch."
A smile lit up her face — a real one. She held the sandwich gently, like it carried more than just food. She folded the note and slid it into her bag with care, then added the sandwich too. The simple gesture from Ali bhai reminded her of the affection she had left behind, and how compassion still existed in unexpected corners of the world.
She boiled water, made a quick cup of tea, and nibbled on some biscuits in silence. Her thoughts wandered to Ammi — how she used to make her a perfect breakfast even when she woke up late. There was always love in small things at home.
Before leaving, she grabbed the map Ali bhai had printed for her — a careful route from the house in Willesden to her university in Central London, in case her phone battery betrayed her again. She checked her bag, made sure her Oyster card and documents were in place, and stepped out.
The streets were still waking up, dew clinging to leaves and shop shutters rising with a clatter. She walked briskly toward the underground station, her scarf fluttering gently with each step.
Her reflection passed by the glass windows of closed shops and bus stops, and she caught sight of herself — more confident today. More assured. This city was still big, still cold in parts, but her feet were finding rhythm.
And in her bag, a sandwich reminded her:
She mattered to someone here.
---
A New Connection
The soft, gray sky hovered low over London as Washma stepped out of the underground station and made her way toward the university. Her scarf draped neatly across her shoulders, swaying slightly as she walked. She could feel her nerves growing again—second day, but still unfamiliar.
Inside the university building, she paused at the glass entrance before pushing through. The campus was alive with chatter, shoes clicking across tile floors, and the faint aroma of coffee lingering from the café nearby.
She reached her classroom, scanned the room quietly, and noticed the same small group of girls from yesterday—only five in total—and mostly boys filling up the rest of the seats. Among the girls, one caught her attention immediately.
A tall girl with expressive eyes, her hair straightened and dyed a soft chestnut brown, dressed in a casual denim jacket. She wasn't wearing a scarf and had a bold, open expression. Before Washma could find a seat, the girl spotted her and waved her over excitedly.
"Oh thank God, a Pakistani face! I was beginning to think I'd have to spend the whole semester pretending to understand all these accents!"
"I'm Shiza. From Karachi. And you?" she asked, already opening her water bottle.
"I'm Washma… from Lahore," she replied softly, offering a polite smile.
Shiza gasped playfully and placed a hand over her chest. "Oh nooo! Karachi and Lahore? Rivals back home—besties in London? What's next, miracles?"
She burst out laughing at her own joke. Washma smiled faintly, a little unsure, a little amused. She wasn't used to someone being this forward so quickly.
Shiza leaned in a little, lowering her voice dramatically. "Only two Pakistani girls in this whole batch—and we're from rival cities? That's such a desi drama setup!"
She laughed at her own joke again. Washma gave a soft, unsure chuckle. She wasn't used to this kind of humor—sarcastic, forward, unapologetically open. But something about Shiza was... disarming.
"I swear, the rest of them all look like they were born speaking English," Shiza said, waving her hand at the class. "I feel like I need subtitles sometimes."
Washma smiled again, this time a little more genuinely.
"Don't worry though," Shiza continued, "You've got me now. We'll get through this together. Like true desi survivors."
Washma listened quietly, nodding where appropriate, still observing more than responding. Shiza clearly didn't mind doing most of the talking.
"You staying with family?" Shiza asked eventually.
"Yes, distant relatives," Washma replied softly.
"I was so homesick the first week, you won't believe it," Shiza continued, lowering her voice to a dramatic whisper. "I actually missed Karachi traffic. Can you imagine?"
Washma giggled, her body softening a little.
Shiza was full of energy, talking about how different university was here, how she missed street food, and how strange it felt to carry a thermos of chai in her bag like an old auntie.
Washma found herself warming to her despite the fast pace of her chatter. There was something familiar in the way Shiza spoke—a comfort in her accent, her honesty.
They talked about courses, professors, and then eventually the conversation drifted to families.
"I live with my parents and younger brother," Shiza said. "They're trying to settle in too. My mom still thinks it's too cold to go outside without seven sweaters."
"You'll see," Shiza continued, "We Pakistani girls are going to take over this campus. You and I? Dream team."
Washma nodded politely but kept her smile small. She liked people—she really did—but trust wasn't something she gave easily. Still, having someone from Pakistan, someone who wasn't trying to mock her accent or ask strange personal questions, made her feel slightly more grounded.
And maybe... just maybe... friendship in a foreign land didn't have to be instant. It could grow, slowly, gently—like a flower in an unfamiliar garden.
---
Evening – Home Conversations & New Resolve
The sky had turned a soft golden-gray as evening settled in London. A light drizzle tapped gently against the windows while the warm lights inside the house gave a cozy glow. Washma was back home after her second day at university, and the house was unusually calm.
Uncle Rehmat sat at the dining table with his newspaper spread open, glasses perched on his nose. Ali bhai was helping his daughters with their school bags in the living area, while Amna bhabhi stirred something aromatic on the stove. The children were giggling softly nearby.
Washma walked in, looking visibly brighter than the last few days. She placed her bag aside, took off her shoes, and entered the living-dining space with a cheerful smile.
"Assalamualaikum," she greeted.
"Walaikumassalam," they all replied in chorus, sensing her lifted mood.
"So, how was your day, beta?" Uncle Rehmat asked, folding the paper.
Ali bhai looked up too. "You look like you actually enjoyed today."
"I did," Washma admitted, sitting at the edge of the sofa. "It felt more real today. I started settling in. Classes were good, and I made a new friend."
"Oh really?" Amna bhabhi said, placing teacups on a tray. "Tell us!"
Washma took the cup and smiled. "Her name is Shiza. She's from Karachi. She moved here just two months ago with her family. She's very talkative—but funny and warm too. She instantly said we should be best friends. I didn't even know how to respond."
Ali bhai laughed. "That's a Karachi girl for you."
"She said Lahore and Karachi rivalry should turn into friendship now that we're in London," Washma added, chuckling.
Everyone was amused.
"Well, I'm glad you're not alone anymore," said Uncle Rehmat with a nod of satisfaction. "I wish you find good friends."
Washma took a deep breath and looked at all of them, then lowered her gaze. "Actually... I wanted to talk about something."
The mood quieted. Ali bhai and bhabhi turned to her attentively.
"My father paid my first-year fee before I came. Alhamdulillah, we were always well off back home," she started gently. "But now that I'm here, and everything is in pounds, I know how hard it must be—even with the best planning. I don't want to be a burden."
"Washma…" Bhabhi tried to interrupt gently, but she raised her hand with a smile.
"I know you're all doing so much for me already. But I want to start looking for a part-time job. I want to support my expenses—and I want to be able to save for my next year's tuition myself."
There was a moment of silence.
Uncle Rehmat leaned back in his chair, visibly impressed. "You're a brave girl, Washma. That's a wise decision."
Ali bhai nodded with encouragement. "I'll help you with job applications. I know some online platforms. And maybe we can make your CV together."
Amna bhabhi smiled warmly. "You'll do well. And we're always here, so don't hesitate to ask for help."
Washma felt a deep comfort in that moment. The house may not have been perfect, but the support of these people made her feel less alone. She took a sip of her tea, her heart slightly lighter, her mind already thinking ahead.
She looked out the window, watching the soft droplets slide down the glass. A new chapter was slowly unfolding.
---