Why Leila Put the Tablet Away at Bedtime

Leila's tablet glowed long after lights-out, stories and games looping like a never-ending road. She told herself five more minutes until her eyes ached and Fajr felt far away. Mornings were groggy and cross, like shoes on the wrong feet.

Mama suggested a charging basket in the kitchen. "Let the tablet sleep so you can sleep," she said. Leila protested, then tried one night, restless at first, listening to the fridge hum instead of videos.

She slept deeper than she had in weeks. When the adhan app chimed, she actually heard it. Leila stumbled to the prayer rug, cool floor on her toes, and stood beside Mama as pink light touched the curtains.

Fajr became quiet and sweet, not a punishment. Leila liked the secret feeling of praying while neighbors slept. Her days felt longer and brighter, as if she had found extra minutes hidden in the morning.

She still used the tablet after homework, with a timer Mama helped her set. Leila learned that what you do at night shapes your dawn. Putting the tablet away was not losing fun. It was finding Fajr, and finding herself awake for it.