I’ve never been a early morning person. Night is my love language; quiet, slow, nobody asking for anything.
I could stay up forever just for that hush.
Then I married an even bigger night person. My husband basically has a whole social life at 2 a.m. He’ll be answering emails, designing, planning… meanwhile I’m next to him with my own to-dos, both of us pretending sleep is a myth.
Most nights, we wrap up around 5, pray Fajr, and have a very serious debate about breakfast. Paratha? Omelette? That one coffee we saw in a reel? We take food diplomacy very seriously. Not kidding.
And on the days we’re not completely dead, we don’t go straight to bed. We get in the car and drive. Karachi at dawn is a different city. The roads are calm. No horns. No dramas. Shops are yawning awake. Street cats are doing their morning meetings. It feels like the whole place took a deep breath and forgot to exhale.
Those drives turned into our little car dates. Sometimes it’s paratha chai from a no-fuss spot, sometimes a quick coffee, sometimes a sandwich that tastes better just because it’s too early to be making decisions.
We roll the windows down if the breeze is kind, put on a playlist that doesn’t shout, and let the city show off in soft light. There’s a pocket of peace you can only catch at that hour, like the world hasn’t remembered its problems yet.
I didn’t expect to love it. I thought mornings were the enemy. But there’s something about watching the sky go from ink to cotton candy while your person is next to you, both of you running on five hours of chaos and one hot cup of tea. We talk about nothing and everything… what to eat later, a funny reel, a plan we’ve been avoiding, a story from years ago that somehow still makes us laugh. Tiny conversations that wouldn’t happen if we were “being productive.”
It’s not glamorous. It’s us in pajamas, puffy eyes, lip balm, and the kind of comfortable silence that only shows up when you’re both safe and sleepy. We don’t plan it. We just look at each other after Fajr and decide: nap now or catch the sunrise? When it’s the second, I know we’re about to make a small memory I’ll keep forever.
If you’re also a night creature, try it once. No pressure, no fancy plan. Just you, a quiet road, something warm to sip, and the city before it fully wakes up. You might find your version of peace sitting in a parked car, sharing a sandwich, watching the sky lighten like it’s doing makeup for the day. And when you finally crash into bed after, the sleep hits different. Earned, soft, happy.
Our early morning drives weren’t meant to be a ritual. They just became one. A little love note to our tired selves. A reminder that even after a long night, there’s still a gentle way to begin.
