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I wrote many letters to Layla. I wrote poems, I wrote confessions, I wrote apologies and random thoughts but they all ended up burning in an ashtray. I never had the courage to send any of them. I thought of calling her but that required a great amount of strength that I did not have. How would she react if I contacted her? I often wondered. Would she be happy that I did? Would she be mad? Would she even care to give me the time of day? What would I say? What would she say? I figured I would probably never know.

When I arrived at Jeddah’s airport, my family was waiting for me. I had missed them so much since I had not seen them in a long time except for Badr whom I had seen just a couple of months ago. One of the worst things about working in Canada is never getting to see my family enough. I usually saved up my vacations for the summer and they would come and spend their holiday with me there. I had not come back to Jeddah ever since I left and I could not believe how much I had missed this city.

My mother was in tears when she saw me walking without a crutch for the first time and rolling my suitcase behind me. I hugged everyone and shook hands with Firas, Noor’s husband, who was also present. During the three years I was away, there was no reason for me whatsoever to visit Jeddah. Even my sister’s wedding took place in Beirut. True, some friends of mine in addition to two cousins got married and I was invited to their weddings but I did not have the willpower to travel and attend any.

Albeit my mother’s objections and her insistence that I get some rest, I was determined on going to Makkah. I convinced them that it was something I had to do now that God has blessed me with the ability to walk without pain. It was 3 after midnight when I, alongside my mother and Badr, headed to Makkah. We prayed Al-Fajr there then we did the Tawaf. I got tired and my knee was exhausted after it, therefore I had to rent one of the electrical wheelchairs to complete Sa’y. This was the first Umrah of any I had performed before that I wished it were longer.

I thanked Allah for all the good things He had granted me in this life. I thanked Him for all the things that I was blessed with, those that I knew and thought about and those that I did not. I prayed that He grants happiness for each of my loved ones. I prayed for my father, my mother, my sister, my brother, my cousins and my friends naming each of them. I prayed that He spares us Hell and grants us entry into Heaven with His generosity. I begged for His mercy. I asked that He erases all of my sins and magnifies all of my good deeds. I prayed that He eases the ache in my heart and gives me peace.

I prayed that He forgives me for all the mistakes I have done in my life, especially those that I made early in my relationship with Layla. They always weighed on my chest and at times when I was alone at night in Canada, I wondered if they were one of the reasons Layla and I were not blessed with happiness and ended up in the misfortunate way we did. I prayed that Layla was healthy and leading a good life. I sincerely hoped she was happy. I wished her Heaven, too

“God, if Layla and I are meant to be, if she is going to be good for me in life and the afterlife, then please inspire me with the words to soften her heart towards me. Please remind her of the joyful times we once shared. Please guide me to the actions that will bring her closer to me. Please help us get back together and bless us with happiness. You are the only one who can make this happen and you are capable of everything. Ya Allah, you know the amount of pure love I carry for this woman deep within me. Please grant me this wish.

God, if Layla and I are not meant to be, then I will not question your wisdom. I only ask that you rip the love I have for her out of this soul for otherwise I would not be able to live. Please help me forget her so I can finally move on. Please heal me and plant peace in my heart. O’ great one, bless me with the gift of being with her or forgetting her. Ya Allah, hear me as I pray. I’m but a humble servant for you begging for what it’s easy for you to give.” I prayed with all of my being.

After we were done, I felt relaxed even though I was tired. I felt some kind of peace within me. I had a big smile on my face the entire drive back to Jeddah. When I got to my room and lied on my bed. I slept like a baby, which is something I had not done in a long time.

During the next couple of weeks, I called all of my old friends who remained in Jeddah and tried to contact those who did not. I visited my uncles, aunts and all the close members of my family. I spent time with them and enjoyed myself. I wanted to make amends for all the mistakes of my past. I wanted to let them know that I am different now. I truly cared for these people and I had to let them know that I did. Everyone was glad to see me walking unaided and it gave me a warm feeling in my heart. The only one that I was not brave enough to call or visit was Layla.

Two days before my scheduled flight back to Canada, I went to Apple Bee’s with my mother, Badr, Noor and her husband Firas. As we were ushered in, I felt my heart flinch. Something has gripped it from within. The feeling was very familiar and I recognized it instantly. My heartbeats were getting faster and stronger. It had been years since that last happened. I looked around and her eyes met mine. Layla was there.

When you truly fall in love with someone, you give a part of your soul to him or her. This part belongs to that person forever. No matter what you do, you cannot claim it back. This part of you is what you sense whenever that someone you love is close. That part of me is what let me know that Layla was near by.

I just stood there frozen in my place staring at her. She stared back just the same. She was sitting with two of her friends at the table in the far corner. My skin was heating up and my knees were growing weak. I did not know what to do. Out of all the scenarios I had in my head, somehow, I did not expect that I would meet her accidentally. I was not prepared to see her after it has been so long. “Isn’t that Layla sitting over there?” my mother asked me. “Yeah, it’s her,” I said. “Go and speak to her,” my mother said in a soft voice and patted me on the back.

The distance to her table seemed like a thousand miles. I wanted to run them yet I wanted to walk as slowly as possible. Every step closer to her was harder and I was getting anxious. When I finally reached the table, I said, “Hey.” “Hey,” she said. God, “I missed her voice,” I thought to myself.

I took a long look at her. This angelic face of hers must have been made in heaven. She had not changed a bit. If anything, she grew more beautiful. I could not believe my eyes. Was this really Layla? Was she the one who barely a day passed by without me thinking of? Was she the girl in the picture that hanged above my bed for the last couple of years? Was I finally talking to her? I was overwhelmed.

“It’s been a long time. How are you?” I said, my voice trembling a little. “I’m good. I see you’re no longer using a crutch. I’m happy for you,” she said. “Yeah, thanks. I had a surgery in Canada and my knee’s better now. It still has limitations but Alhamdellah for everything. How’s Lama and Yasser? How’s your mom?” I said fidgeting in my place standing. “They’re all fine, too. Do you want to sit down for a minute?” she said when she noticed I was not standing comfortably. I nodded my head and took a seat at the corner closest to Layla. “I’m sorry for my rudeness. Hi,” I said and greeted the two girls sitting at the table, one who I recognized as Rana. They said Hi back and then silence took over.

I turned to Layla and when our eyes finally met, the noise started to fade away. All the sounds disappeared and none remained except for the sound of our breaths. The entire universe was shrinking into this small spot that contained us. No one else existed. Nothing else mattered. The walls of ice between us were melting slowly by the warmth in our eyes. The years of distance were crumbling down by the strong beating of our hearts. The tenderness of which she used to look at me a long time ago was returning in her gaze. Her lower lip was quivering a little. My hands were trembling underneath the table. I was lost in this moment in which time seemed to stand still. All the defenses around my heart were breaking. It longed to escape from its safe shelter. It longed to feel alive once again.

“You look beautiful, breathtaking in every meaning of the word,” I said, sincerely. “Thank you, you look good, too,” she said shyly and we had another moment of silence. I had so much to say that I did not know where to start. All the words that I have memorized a thousand times before, I could not remember them. All the million ways I have imagined this encounter have vanished. Emotions were running wild inside of me and thoughts were colliding in my head. I closed my eyes for a second and took a deep breath. “There’s just so much that I want to say,” I said and my voice trailed off.

“Layla…” I said, not knowing how to proceed. She put her hand on mine and gave me an assuring look. “I know,” she said with a kind smile that captured my heart. I knew then and there that I was still in love with her. I knew that she was the one I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. I knew that I wanted her to be my wife until death do us part. I knew that I wanted her to be the mother of my children. I knew that she was and always will be everything to me. We have lost enough time away from each other already. I took her hand in between both of mine and squeezed it gently before raising it to my lips and kissing it softly. My heart was dancing in joy when she did not resist what I had just done. She had a bigger smile on her face and she was beaming with delight. For a few minutes, neither one of us said anything. This time, our eyes were telling each other all about our mistakes, our apologies, and our love with a language of their own. Silence can be more eloquent than words sometimes. “Do you think we can start over?” I asked. Her tears fell.

August 5, 2007

Dear Layla,

It is 3 a.m. and I cannot go to sleep. Thoughts of you are haunting me. I lie on my bed and I close my eyes but all I see is your beautiful face and all I hear is your sweet voice. I toss and turn on the bed trying to make myself comfortable but it had turned into a hostile ground. I open my eyes and look at the other side of the bed. I imagine you lying there and it makes my heart ache. The worst thing about going to sleep is the knowledge that I will not find you next to me when I wake up. God, how empty my bed seems in the morning. How empty my life seems in the morning.

It is 3 a.m. and I am wondering what you are doing this very moment. I hope you are laughing your heart out. I miss that laugh of yours. You are a million miles away but still I can hear it in my head. I have a picture of us hanging above my bed. Do you know that? The one from our first anniversary on the beach at night when we were holding glasses pretending to drink champagne, do you remember it? Every night I look at it and it makes me smile. It is the part of day that I look forward to the most. I am here without you in a strange country in a lonely apartment but this picture makes this dark room of mine shine a little bit.

It has been four years since I have last spoken to you. I cannot believe it has been that long. Four entire years have passed by. Time sure flies. Four years that do not mean as much as a single day I have spent with you means. It is funny I still recall everything as if it happened yesterday. These memories do not abide by the laws of time and distance. The harder I try to forget, the more I remember. The further I go, the closer you seem to get.

I kept up with your news by the way. I was sorry to hear about your divorce. I honestly prayed that this man would be able to make you happy. I was also deeply saddened when I learned that your father had passed away. He was a good man and he loved you from the bottom of his heart. That, I am sure of. I meant to call or send a letter but did not know if I should. I regret the fact that I was not there for you when this happened. I know how much you loved him and how badly you must be missing him, may God rest his soul in peace.

I have news of my own too but they can wait. I have so much to say to you that I do not know where to start. I think the first thing I should say is that I am sorry for everything. I am sorry for every tear I made you cry. I am sorry for every word I said that hurt your feelings. I am sorry for every night you went to sleep upset because of something I did. I am sorry for every day I made you feel unappreciated. I am sorry for every time I made you doubt my love for you. I have been a complete jerk and I deserve the worst this world has to offer. Letting you go was the greatest mistake of my life. I have paid the price and I am still paying for it everyday. Would you ever find it in your heart to forgive me? I know that my words can never undo any of the harm I have done to you but they must mean something because I am writing this letter from the deepest corner of my soul.

Layla, nothing means anything without you. This beautiful city is ugly because you are not here. The coffee is bitter because I do not get to drink it with you. The food does not have a taste because I am not eating it with you. What good is anything without you? You are the only woman in this universe that my heart longs for. You are the only one that matters. No one else is as beautiful, intelligent or funny as you are. You were the colors of my life and ever since you were gone, it has become dark and grey.

I would understand if you said you could never love me again. I would understand if you said you did not want anything to do with me anymore. My mistakes could be too big to ever be forgiven. I just want you to know that if given the chance, I would make up for every single one. I would try my best to make you happy. I swear I will make it my purpose to please you because you deserve nothing less than that.

It is 4 a.m. now and I remember how I used to call you and wake you up from your sleep at such times just to hear your voice. Not once have you protested or said that you were too sleepy to exchange a few words with me. You tried your best to stay up but you always fell asleep on the phone in the matter of minutes. Your words would become further apart and your voice fainter. It is only soon that I would hear the steady rhythmic sound of your breaths. I never hung up immediately. I always remained on the end of the line listening to you breathing. It was more beautiful than a love song. It was sweeter than a children’s lullaby. It is no wonder I cannot go to sleep these days. I miss you.

Forever yours,

Khalid

I signed the letter then re-read it for at least ten times. I took the lighter and stared at its flame for a while. I set the paper on fire and watched it burn into ashes slowly as I laid it in the ashtray. I lit up another cigarette.

“I think you should go and see Dr. McCloud,” said Dr. Ingraham, the Pediatrics Chief Resident at Toronto General Hospital where I was doing my residency program. “There have been some complaints about you during the last couple of weeks. You are one of our most promising doctors and I’d hate to see your future with us affected in any way. I’m sure there is a reason for this deterioration in your performance and I’m positive that Dr. McCloud can help you. He’s a good psychiatrist and I understand that you and him are sort of friends already. This is not an official request but I strongly suggest you do so. Take a few days off if you want so you can come back energized and on top of your game, ok?” she said. I always thought of Dr. Ingraham as a big sister to me and I knew she was looking out for me so I thanked her and promised her I will.

The next day I was at Bryan’s office. “You think I can smoke a cigarette in here?” I asked him as I was sipping my coffee. “You know it’s prohibited to smoke inside the hospital. Not to mention you’re a doctor and out of all people, you shouldn’t smoke,” he said. “Well, my friend, there are many things that I shouldn’t do but that doesn’t stop me. Oh yeah, what I was telling you earlier. Take smoking for an example. I used to despise it alongside those who smoked. I don’t know how I ended up being one. If you asked me a few years ago, I would tell you that I don’t imagine myself ever smoking. Hell, I would tell you I don’t imagine myself ever talking to a shrink but here I am. I guess we can never really tell the future, can we? I used to think I had the entire future figured out. I was going to be happily married to the girl of my dreams, maybe entertaining the possibility of having a baby and on my way to becoming a successful surgeon. But look at me, a divorced, lonely, bitter man who blames the world for the choices it has made for him.”

Bryan was one of the few friends I have gained there. He helped me with a jammed vending machine in the hallway once and somehow we became friends albeit the age difference. All he knew about Layla prior to our therapy sessions was that she is my ex-wife. He had asked me where is the Mrs. and what does she do when he noticed the engagement ring in my finger. He sensed from my answer that it was a sore topic for me and therefore he never pushed to know more. Over the course of many private sessions with him, I have told him most of the details regarding Layla and what had happened between us. The first thing we discussed, however, was the reason that led Dr. Ingraham to advice me to seek help.

A couple of weeks ago, I was talking online to my cousin Rima. She kept saying that she wanted to tell me something but did not know whether she should or not because it might upset me. I told her that I have heard it all and hardly anything really upset me anymore so she should just tell me. When I finally convinced her to tell me what it was, I wished I did not. She told me that Layla was getting married the next week.

My first instinct was to ask her to whom and when exactly and where but then I thought better not to. What was the point anyway? Wasn’t this what I had wished for Layla? Didn’t I want her to be happy? I prayed that this man is a good man who would compensate for the pain I have caused her. Rima asked me if I was all right and I lied to her telling her that I was. I said that I had work to do then I signed out.

It had been over two years since our divorce. It felt like eternity had passed but as if eternity was merely minutes. Layla and I seemed like a previous life on its own yet the events were so vivid in my mind as if I had lived them yesterday. The memories did not acknowledge the normal laws of time. They did not become less clear. They did not become harder to recall. On the contrary, the more time passed by, the more frequently bolts of memories attacked me and the finer they have become. I did not know if I should move on or not, or more accurately, if I could or not. Talking to another woman felt like betraying Layla but here she was getting ready to marry another man. I could not help feeling angry. How can she do that? How can she forget me so fast? I did not realize how hypocritical it was of me. I had no right to judge anything she did. I had forfeited that right by my own choice a long time ago.

I remembered I had a bottle of wine in my kitchen back from the first time I have invited some people from the hospital. Nicole, the pediatrics department’s secretary, had brought it over. I opened it and took a sip. It tasted like shit. Why on earth do people drink this horrible thing? I wondered. To escape, I thought. The next time, I took a larger sip and lied on the couch. I figured I would drink the entire bottle as long as it would prevent me from thinking about Layla at least for the night.

I woke up the next day with a severe headache and called in sick. In the following couple of weeks, I started drinking beer even though it tasted even worse than wine because I told myself I could not get drunk form beer easily. I also used up most of my sick leaves and on the days I went to work I could barely concentrate and my bad temper was even worse. Eventually, Dr. Ingraham asked me to meet her to discuss my current condition and told me to go see Bryan, Dr. McCloud.

“So what is your hunch, Dr? Is something wrong with my head?” I asked at the end of our first session, jokingly. “Not really. It’s more your heart. You’re still in love with your ex-wife,” he said.  He advised me to ask someone out and go on a date. He told me getting involved with someone else might busy my mind off thinking about Layla and the past. 

The next day, I asked Nicole out. She was funny and smart and I liked spending time with her, not to mention she had been flirting with me for some time before. Hence, we became an item for many months to follow. I guess I wanted a cure for my loneliness and Nicole provided just that. It was more of a companionship than a relationship to me but she took it more seriously than I did. Things were going well between us until she started nagging me about my engagement ring. “When are you going to take it off? Don’t you think it’s time you moved on?” she used to say every now and then. I kept telling her that I was not ready yet. Removing the ring meant leaving Layla behind for good and I did not intend to do that for anyone’s sake. We had an intense argument about it and she, basically, told me it is either her or the memory of my ex-wife and the ring. It was not much of a tough choice for me. I kept the ring and broke up with Nicole. The ring meant much more to me than anyone else.

I sought a cure for my knee’s condition. At the hospital where I worked, the Orthopedic Surgeon did not have an answer for me. He admitted that my constant knee pain baffled him and he was uncertain of what the cause might be. He referred me to another consultant in a different hospital telling me that this particular doctor specialized in knee injuries and maybe he could help me.

Two weeks later, I had an appointment with him. The hospital in which he practiced was a 30 minutes drive from where I lived. In the taxi, I was lost in my thoughts. I had high hopes and low expectations. When the nurse called my name, I entered his clinic and I said a small prayer that God grants this man the ability to fix my knee. He was a middle-aged man with nothing special about his appearance. We exchanged pleasantries then he took my full history. He examined me and reviewed my recent X-Rays and MRI. He ordered an X-Ray for my knee with a special view. “I think I have a theory regarding what’s causing this pain of yours. It’s not that clear in your X-Ray but I think you have Patellar Lateralization exacerbating your Retro-Patellar Chondromalacia but it will be evident only in arthroscopy. I have to operate on your knee and then I’ll be able to tell.” We talked some more and the thought of having yet another operation scared me. Going through that whole ordeal again was not something easy to accept. This time I would have to go through it alone since none of my family was here.

I told him I needed to think about it. I did not sleep that night. I just lied on my bed contemplating my options. What if this was the answer? Can I afford not to have this surgery? I did not plan to visit the doctor at the hospital where I worked and when he referred me to this one, I did not plan to see him either. Somehow, I found his number in my white coat and thought, what the hell, and I called him. So up until that moment, everything had been strangely facilitated. I prayed Estekhara and slept afterwards. In the morning, I called him and said that I will have the surgery. A week later, I was rolled into the OR.

I had taken two weeks off work and my brother Badr had flown in from Jeddah. He was going to miss college for a week and he had a vacation on the second. After the surgery, the doctor met me and told me that it was a success. He told me that running or carrying heavy things or any severe strain on my knee could still cause me pain especially that it had been gravely traumatized before but that at least I would be able to walk without a crutch and without pain. As I lied there on the hospital bed, for the first time in many years, I felt free. I thanked him and promised to stick to the new physiotherapy program they had planned for me. “Doctors make the worst patients,” he joked. “Oh no, not this one I assure you,” I said and we all laughed.

Exactly two months later, I was perfectly fine. I was able to complete my rounds and finish my shifts at the hospital without taking any painkillers of any kind. Everyone around me noticed how cheerful I had become. I also cut back on smoking. I had not quit completely but I was trying to. I was slowly turning back into the person that I once used to be and I had missed that person. Dr. Ingraham said, “If we knew this operation would change you in this way, we would have paid for it ourselves and made you do it a long time ago.”

I decided that I had to perform Umrah to give thanks to Allah for the gift he had given me. Now that I could walk, I should walk around Al-Ka’bah. My next vacation was coming soon and I had already booked a flight back to Jeddah. This would be the first time I return to Jeddah in three years.

I never told anyone why I did not fight for Layla. I never told anyone why in that afternoon in her house, I raised the white flag and surrendered. I simply gave up on us. I did not ask for a second chance. I did not beg for forgiveness. I did not apologize for all the mistakes I have made. I did not promise to make things right once again. I did not say I loved her too much to let her go. I did not do any of the things I could have and should have done to save our relationship. Later in life, whenever someone asked me why, I just shrugged and looked away. I made it clear to everyone it was something I did not want to talk about. Not even Badr, Noor or any of my friends could persuade me into opening up about my undisclosed reasons. They were my own and I kept them to myself. No one needed to know.

There was a moment when Layla was talking in which a dreadful realization hit me hard. It was I who made her utter those words. It was I who caused her this much pain and misery. It was I who made her weep. It was I who, blindly, destroyed the wonderful relationship we used to have. Everything was my fault and no one else’s. There was no one to blame but myself. Wasn’t I the one who promised her happiness? Wasn’t I the one who swore never to make these eyes of hers cry? Wasn’t I the one who vowed to protect her from all harm? I asked myself. Where were all my promises and vows? Gone and disappeared. She had given me all the love she could offer and more. What have I given her back? Shit was the word that, unfortunately, came to my mind. I felt guilt and shame eating me up inside.

I did not ask for a second chance because I did not think I deserved one. I did not feel worthy of Layla anymore. I was no longer good enough for her. She deserved someone better than me, someone who is not as pathetic and miserable as I was. She deserved someone who is not damaged as me. I felt as if staying with me would be only a gesture of kindness on her behalf and I could not accept that. Who would want to be with a crippled man anyway? Even though I never admitted it, that was how I felt, crippled. I could not dance with her the way I used to do. I may not be able to protect her when need be. I could not carry things for her. On the contrary, she had to carry things for me. I could not carry her anymore. I could not drive her to wherever she wanted. Instead, I had to wait for a driver. Even on our wedding day, I would have to stand next to her with a crutch. That was not how I pictured it would be one day.

Suddenly people’s opinions had a value to me. I never cared what people say but now I did. I imagined them whispering whenever we passed by, “Oh poor lady. Her man is damaged.” “Look at those two; what a lovely young girl stuck with a fat crippled man.” In addition to other remarks similar to those. I never heard anyone say such things with my ears but I heard them in my head nonetheless. I had gained a lot of weight after the accident since I overate whenever I got upset and I did not exercise anymore. I felt ugly especially when standing next to Layla whom sadness, in a strange way, made her look translucent and delicately beautiful.

I had been thinking whether Layla and I should remain together or not for some time then but her father’s words and the frozen tears in her eyes that day made me realize that I could no longer offer happiness to Layla. Perhaps she was better off without me. We were both still young. Maybe she could find someone else who can give her what I failed to give. Maybe letting her go is the right thing to do for her sake. She might hate me a little now but that would be better than resenting me for life if we stayed together and I kept being the awful person I was. I thought that this was the best possible way to preserve the wonderful memories we shared and stop tainting them with blood and tears.

I could tell Layla was shocked with my reaction. It was not what she had anticipated. It was obvious in her widening eyes and slightly opened mouth. She was lost for words. She shook her head a little and I noticed her hands trembling. “I think that is the best thing to do now,” I said. I pretended to be strong. My voice sounded cold and emotionless. Under the surface, my entire world was falling apart. I felt as if the words cut my throat from inside and I was choking with blood. It is the best thing to do now. I repeated the sentence to myself silently. Layla’s tears were pouring down and I prayed to God that mine do not fall. I stood up and hesitated for a second before leaning down and kissing her forehead. “I wanted to make you happy. I’m sorry I couldn’t,” I said. I walked out the door and it was the last time I saw or spoke to Layla for a long time.

Our fathers discussed the legal issues of our separation. Layla’s father insisted that they give back the Mahr I had paid. He wanted us to have Khol’a instead of Talag. Both meant divorce and the termination of our union and were frowned upon by society. However, the former was usually by the wife while the latter by the husband. Thus, Khol’a indicated that something must have been wrong with me in order for my wife to leave me. This would make a difference in the future when other suitors would come for her. If we had Talag then they would think that there must be a reason why I divorced my wife and they would lose their interest. That was how our society worked and we played by the rules. I told my father not to argue with anything and to grant her whatever she asked for.

As it is my defense mechanism, I dived deeper into work and spent most of my time at the hospital. I was either at the hospital or in my room. I stopped going out all together. My parents tried to take me out many times but I always refused to go except in a few rare occasions. Badr and Noor did not have better luck with me, too. Sometimes, Bashar and Ahmad, who were the only remaining friends I had left, came by to visit and watch a movie with me in my room but other than that, I did not see people outside the hospital. I did not want to go to a place and risk meeting Layla or a member of her family or any of our mutual friends, not to mention that all the places in Jeddah had a memory of some kind of us. I did not need the reminders or the blameful looks. I was content on staying in my room reading, writing, and dealing with my tragedy alone. In the end, I had asked for this.

I liked the hospital because it felt like the only place in the world where I had a purpose, where my presence mattered. Helping others was the only thing left that made me feel good about me. It is ironic though how kind I managed to be to complete strangers and could not be that to Layla. I had one month left of my internship when Layla and I were officially separated.

Six months later, I was at the airport waiting for my flight to Canada. The University Hospital was sponsoring me for a Pediatrics Residency program. I had two large suitcases with me. I had taken all that I thought mattered to me for I was not going to return to Saudi Arabia anytime soon. My family and a couple of friends were waiting with me and everyone was in tears. Saying goodbye to them was one of the hardest things I had to do but I promised to call often and I kept reminding them that we could chat over the internet everyday.

It felt weird leaving the life I had known for so long behind and going off alone to a far away country to begin an entirely new chapter in my life. Even though I had been waiting for this moment for the last few months because I longed to escape for good, I was still unprepared for it. I had many mixed emotions. I was excited and afraid at the same time. I was relieved and worried. I was happy and sad. Emotions were swirling inside like a wild twister. When the final call to board the plane was made, I kissed my parents hands, hugged them and hugged my sister and brother, and said goodbye. I was crying like a baby when I handed the customs officer my passport.

On the plane, I thought of Layla. I wondered what she was doing that very moment and if she was thinking of me too. I wondered if she knew that I was leaving tonight or not. I contemplated calling her for the first time in a few months but then I thought what that would accomplish. It was too late. I was going away to a different country that does not know about Layla and me. They always say that endings are nothing but new beginnings and I wondered if this was my so-called new beginning. I was lost in my thoughts when I heard the flight captain announcing, “Please fasten your seatbelts in preparation for take off.”

That was the first break of many to follow. Too many broken promises, too many prayers to make things right, too many apologies and tears, too many sleepless nights, too much pain, guilt and swallowed pride had had their toll on us. We still loved each other. We wanted to fix things between us badly but wanting to fix things is not enough if you do not know how and we did not.

We were on our second break when the 6th year’s finals started. I locked myself in my room and did not go out unless I had to. I burned myself studying. It was the only thing left that I had control over. I was determined to prove to everyone that the crutch I depended on did not hold me back. I was going to become a good physician and nothing would stop me from achieving that. In the middle of the exams, Layla sent me a short message asking how I was doing and I replied with a shorter one saying that I was fine. When the exams were over, a strange sense of emptiness conquered me. A part of my life was over and it made me feel hollow. I had replaced my family, friends and even Layla with mute books and now it seemed even books were abandoning me.

Do you know what it feels like talking to an old friend whom you had lost touch with a long time ago? Even though you used to be close and you share many fond memories together, somehow you do not know where to begin or how to pick up from where you had left. The once friend has turned into a stranger. I called Layla the night I was done with my exams and that is how I felt. It felt weird asking her about work and her family in general. Our words were precise and short. We were simply polite towards each other as if the call was an obligation. For the first time I remember in our relationship, I did not have much to say to her. Ten minutes later, we hung up and sadly, I was relieved we did.

A week later when our results were posted, I found out I had finished 7th on my class which is a huge achievement. I called Layla immediately to tell her the news. “At least the month in which you completely ignored me paid off,” she said. We had an argument over the phone and I hung up on her. After such a thing, no achievement would have a taste or a meaning. Friends called to congratulate me and I was not in festive mood anymore. That night, my family put together a small celebration for me. I felt neither proud nor joyful.

“I’m going to Egypt tomorrow with my family. I need to get away for a while,” she said. I knew what she could not say. She needed to get away from us, from me. I told her to enjoy her time and that we will talk when she gets back in a couple of months. I was going to Dubai myself with my family so we both hoped that the time and distance would help us clear a few things.

In Dubai, I went berserk on my mother one day. My brother and sister wanted to go to Wild Wadi, an aqua park, but she refused to let them go because I was not capable of accompanying them. “Your big brother can’t go so you’re not going, too. It will upset him if you two went without him,” she had told them. I yelled at her, “If I’m going through shit then I will go through it alone. Others don’t have to. Noor and Badr shouldn’t suffer because of me. It’s enough the amount of things they endure for my sake. You need to stop worrying about me and then letting out your frustrations on someone else. I try to avoid you when I’m not feeling alright but then you come and while you’re trying to make it better, you make it worse.” I stormed out of the hotel room. I came back later and apologized but the damage was done.

When Layla came back from Egypt, I had started my internship. We tried to resume our dysfunctional relationship. Things kept going down hill. Layla was content on remaining the passively hurting part with occasional outbursts of anger while I continued being the aggressive attacker. She waited for a sincere apology that will take effect in my actions towards her but hollow words were all I offered.

Our families tried to help us. In the beginning, they served as a good diffuser for us and we liked having them around. However, eventually, we started dragging them into our arguments and they did not appreciate that. We used them as fuel, weapons and armors in our fights. Our friends tried to help us too but it was something we had to fix ourselves.

We tried to survive on memories of a better time but how long can you do that? At first, it makes you think what a shame it would be to throw something as beautiful as what we once had away and therefore you try to make things right again but after some time and failed attempts, it becomes a cause of hurt and disappointment. Looking back at what we used to be and comparing it to what we had become. How did we get here? We would ask ourselves over and over again. The hurt and disappointment are only made worse when the contrast between the past and the present is so obvious, so heart wrenching.

The final straw that broke the camel’s back was when I started smoking. Layla would not have it. “Since when do you smoke?” she asked me, shocked, when she found the pack of cigarettes in my car. “Over a month now,” I told her. “When were you intending to let me know?” I shrugged and did not answer. I told her that a few cigarettes a day do not make me a smoker but she said that one is as good as an entire pack as far as she is concerned. I do not really recall why I started smoking to tell you the truth. I had just gotten out from a long tiring shift when I met a friend of mine smoking outside the hospital. I asked him for a cigarette. “But you don’t smoke,” he said, surprised. “I do now,” I told him. It burned my mouth and I did not like its taste. Nevertheless, I finished it. I liked the way it made me feel.

Nine months of my internship had passed then. A few days later, Layla’s father called me and asked me to meet him at their house the next day. I went, not knowing what to expect. The entire time my relationship with Layla was deteriorating, he did not get directly involved. He simply remained distant. He watched from afar waiting for her to turn to him and admit that she was indeed wrong and that perhaps I was a mistake in the end.

“Son, I think you and Layla should leave each other for good,” he said. Just like that. Without any introductions, without any warnings or signs of any kind, he threw this bomb at me. I blinked my eyes then opened them wide in disbelief. “What?” I said, thinking that maybe my ears had fooled me. “You heard me. I had spoken to Layla and convinced her that this is the best thing to do. I watched you torture my daughter for over a year now and I won’t let you do that anymore. Do you have any idea how many times you have upset her and made her cry? Do you have any idea how unhappy she is? I hardly ever hear her laughing from her heart like she used to. She is a bright spirit but you crushed her soul. Her only fault is that she loves you. Do you think you’re the only one who suffers? Trust me. She feels the pain you feel if not more. I had a bad feeling about you from the very first day. I didn’t know why but I had a hunch that you’ll make my daughter miserable and time proved me right.

You are both still young and it would be a shame for you to destroy each other’s chances of happiness in the future. I will not sit and watch my daughter spend her days in agony over something that is not worth it. She deserves the happiness you obviously can’t offer her. So if you truly care for her, you have to let her go.”

Each word he said felt like a stone being thrown at me, like a dagger being inserted into my flesh. I did not know what to say. I did not know how to respond. “I need to speak to Layla,” I said. He stood up and called for her. “She’ll be down in a minute,” he said and went upstairs, leaving me alone with my thoughts. “You should leave each other for good.” His words were still echoing in my head. Even though Layla and I did not have a wedding yet, we were technically married. He means divorce. He wants me to divorce Layla. People terminated Melkas all the time but I never realized how hard it could be until I was faced with that option. “Divorcing Layla,” I kept repeating that sentence in my head.

I saw Layla coming down the stairs slowly. There was a blank look in her eyes as if she was lost in another world. She sat in front of me and stared at the floor. “Do you know what your father just told me? Do you agree with what he said?” I asked. She did not say a word and just took a deep breath. I tapped on the table with my fingers. It was an unbelievingly uncomfortable situation. “So now what? Do you want us to part then? Is that what you think we should do?” I asked. She kept staring at the floor not saying anything. “Layla, say something,” I pleaded. “I’m tired,” she said then sighed before continuing, “I’m tired of you. I’m tired of me. I’m tired of us. I’m tired of fighting all the time. I’m tired of pain. I’m tired of unhappiness. Do you understand me? I’m tried and I don’t know what to do anymore.” She lifted her head and her eyes met mine for a second before she looked away. There were frozen tears in her eyes.

I knew what she wanted and needed. That was my cue, my sign to rise up to the occasion. She wanted me to take her into my arms. She wanted me to promise her that everything was going to be all right. She wanted me to fight for her, to stand up and say that I am not giving up on us that easily. She wanted me to give her hope that we can still make it through. She wanted me to put together her broken soul. She wanted me to apologize and make up for all the mistakes I have done. She wanted me to be the man she fell in love with a long time ago. She wanted me to say I loved her.

I took a long look at her then closed my eyes so I do not see her face. “Maybe we should go our separate ways. I’m sorry,” I said.

I spent two nights at the hospital before going home. The physiotherapist had taught me how to use the crutches, which I will need to aid me walk hopefully only until the next month at the most if all goes well. The first couple of weeks after the surgery were of the most gruesome weeks of my life. The pain was constant and I counted the hours between the doses of painkillers prescribed to me. I could barely move the first week. I needed help when I had to go to the bathroom. I felt weak and completely dependent on others. I hated that. However, there was a silver lining to that dark cloud; you cannot help feeling loved when so many people come to your house carrying gifts and wishes of well being to you. Two old friends of mine whom I had lost contact with through the years found out by chance and came to visit me. My best friends took turns spending time with me. There was always someone with me in my room to keep me company and I appreciated that more than anyone could imagine.           

Layla was my anchor throughout these tough first weeks. The night I went home, even though I was in excruciating pain, I was happy that Layla was going to spend the night at our house. She never did before. Of course, her mother had a condition, Layla has to sleep with my sister in her room but she and we knew that was not what was going to happen but she said it anyway. Layla slept on the sofa in my room because she could not sleep next to me out of fear she might accidentally hit my leg in her sleep or something. I could not sleep from the pain but looking at her angelic face was my morphine. It made the pain fade away a little every once in a while.      

A week after the surgery, my rehabilitation and physiotherapy program started. I went to the hospital four times a week for horrendous two hours every time. I was trying my best to improve as fast as possible. I also had a concurrent schedule of home exercises to support my physiotherapy sessions. I felt progression every time but apparently, it was slower than expected. My first moment of fear was three weeks after the program had started when the physiotherapist, Robert, frowned during an exercise in which I am supposed to bend my knee all I could and he would measure the maximum angle of flexion. He said, “Is that all you could bend? Try harder.” I told him that I could not bend it anymore because the pain was killing me. I felt my entire body in stress trying to increase the angle but I could not. He told me that I should be able to bend my knee more than that by now but that it is still not a reason to worry then we switched to another exercise. The next day, I met with the surgeon who had performed the operation and he examined me. My knee was still swollen and he instructed me to keep taking my medications and continue with physiotherapy.

Two months later, the pain was still present, and I could not stop using the crutch. I only needed one then instead of two. I could not bend my knee to full flexion without feeling the pain rising from within. I could not walk for more than fifteen minutes without feeling the pain rising, too. I became careful with my movement. I could no longer run or carry heavy things. I could no longer drive, stand or walk for long periods of time. Anything that put the slightest pressure on my knee was forbidden to me. I saw a different doctor who requested new X-Rays and an MRI but he could not tell what the exact cause of my pain was, neither could he treat it. The pain was not as bad as it used to be but it was always there, constantly present and exacerbating intermittingly. I would be fine for a few days then without a warning, without any reason whatsoever, I would feel a strike of electrical current in my knee and the mind numbing pain would begin. It usually lasted for half an hour before it went away after taking my pain pills and applying ice packs to my knee.        

“Just give it time. Be patient. Inshallah it will get better,” Layla said. “It’s been three months already. I’m tired of waiting and it doesn’t seem like it’s going to get better any time soon. I’ve been to two other doctors now and none could figure out what’s wrong. I’ve done everything they asked me to do. I never missed a single dose of medication. I followed the physiotherapy program fully. I was the most compliant patient a doctor could ask for but my knee still hurts. School starts next week. What am I supposed to do?” I almost yelled at her.

My 6th year, the most important one of my entire study, was going to start and I was walking around with a crutch. I knew well enough that no matter how hard I would try, there will be some limitations to what I can do and learn and I feared it would affect my education not to mention my grades. Everyone kept telling me to give it more time and I hated that. I was running out of time. I was getting tired and impatient. Everyone had some sort of brilliant advice to help me through and I was not ready to listen to anyone anymore. “Pray and ask God to heal it,” my mom said when she heard my voice rising in the living room once. Layla concurred, “Yeah you should. You even stopped praying some time ago and that’s not good.” My knee had started throbbing with pain and therefore I snapped at both of them saying, “I can’t even bend my knee to pray. I don’t want to use a stupid chair when I pray anymore. This wasn’t my choice. I did not ask for it. I did not wish this to myself. You go pray if you want. I’m not going to.” I went into my room and shut the door leaving them with stunned faces.    

Showing up with a crutch when school started made me a hot topic. Everyone who did not know about the accident kept asking me what happened and those who had heard about it kept asking me how my knee was. It was obviously a good conversation starter in everyone’s mind and I was getting sick of it. I did not want to retell the story every time over and over again so eventually I ignored any question regarding my knee or the accident and many thought I was being cold or arrogant but I could not care less. I also snapped whenever someone said that he or she understood how hard it must be for me. I would tell them that they do not understand shit about what I am going through. People started calling me Dr. House, who is the main character in a TV show, around the hospital because I became famous with my crutch and bad temper. The smallest of things easily triggered me and therefore I tried to keep my distance from others by constantly burying my nose in whatever medical book I had with me. It actually helped me get ahead in our competitive field and the doctors easily recognized me and admired my knowledge. I never let the pain or the crutch stop me. I pushed myself harder than I should have probably and ignored the pain whenever it came. I simply gritted my teeth and took more painkillers. I pretended to be fine in front of the doctors and did not complain so they do not consider it a sign of weakness. My friends kept telling me to take it easy and that it was not wise what I was doing to myself but I did not listen. All of my attention was focused on medicine. I felt as if it was the only thing that I had left and so I had to excel in it. The pain was getting worse every day.

Layla had the worst deal of everyone else. My family and friends suffered from my bizarre change of character but she suffered the most. I snapped at her whenever she said something I did not like no matter how insignificant it might be. I yelled at her for things that were not her fault. I ignored her for days and would not return her calls. I sent her on guilt trips telling her that she was the cause of the accident. I resented her at times when she was too good of a person to sink to my level and counter my attacks. I made her cry and hurt her more than the coldest heart in this universe would hurt an enemy. I hated myself every time I said a word that hurt her feelings or raised my voice at her. I loathed myself. I tried to understand why on earth I was doing that but I could not figure it out. Why, of all people, would I hurt Layla? I kept asking myself. Not everyone is blessed to have such an angel in their lives but here I was breaking this angel’s wings and pushing her away. I kept promising myself every moment of day and night that the next time is going to be different but whenever pain traveled through my nerves, I felt myself turning into the devil again and I would do exactly what I had sworn I would not do just a few minutes ago. I guess we hurt the ones who love us the most because they let us. That love will make up excuses on our behalf and those who love us will believe these excuses regardless of our actions. This vicious cycle that was sabotaging our relationship was a reason for me to try to stay away from Layla. I started telling her every time she called that I was busy, that I had studying to catch up on and other plainly false excuses.   

Before the accident, I used to go for a late night jog in the path behind the Hilton Hotel whenever I got frustrated, angry or distressed. It was my safety valve for negative emotions but I no longer had that and therefore things just accumulated inside of me and started blowing up any minute and those who were closest to me the most, got hurt the most. That is not to say that Layla and I did not have some good times because we did. When my brother, Badr, graduated from high school, he applied for medical college. We celebrated when we learned that he was accepted. Layla’s brother, Yasser, surprisingly, proposed to a girl named Shaima’a who went to the University of Birmingham with him and we were happy for him. The difference was that this year, you could actually count the good times rather than the bad ones. Most of that year is tainted by something that I have done. Guilt was probably one of the most prominent feelings during that period of my life. It ate me up inside every day and I could only feed it more by the actions that caused it in the first place. I longed to break free for some time, be alone and fix myself just enough for me to function as a normal human being rather than the angry bitter jerk I had become.       

I hated feeling sorry for myself and repeatedly told myself that there are many in this world who are less fortunate than I am and I should be thankful instead of sorrowful but I could not help it. I remember once in Prince Sultan Street, I saw an old man who had no legs and a missing arm, too. He smiled at me and said Alhamdellah after he thanked me when I reached to give him 20 Riyals. I despised myself. This man is smiling and I cannot find it in me to be happy. He is saying Alhamdellah and I am not. I promised myself that this was the last day I feel sorry for myself. That promise did not last for long because a week later, Layla, I and my family went to Java Lounge which we had not been to ever since the accident. Layla was quick to say let’s sit downstairs. I refused and insisted that we go sit upstairs at our usual table. The stairs took me a long time to climb up with my crutch and I felt as if everyone was staring but I was determined. I was in a lot of pain when we finally reached the table and sat down. I cursed silently.  

Layla was getting fed up and who could blame her? She started to yell back at me sometimes. She started creating some distance between us from her side. She was getting tired. She had every right to. She was an angel while I was the devil incarnated. She did everything I could ever ask for to help me without me even asking. She was patient and understanding. She was loving and caring. She was more than I deserve. The better she was to me, the more I resented her and resented myself.

A few days following a big fight we had, I was at Layla’s house in a poor attempt to fix things between us. We agreed to go out and so I called the driver and told him to start the car. It still was not easy for me to ride with a driver every time I wanted to go somewhere but I was beginning to get used to it. On our way out, my mobile phone fell on the floor and I reached to get it. I could not. I leaned on my good knee and extended my arm to get it when, I do not know how, I lost balance suddenly and my right knee hit the floor and I felt the pain exploding in my brain. I cursed and stood up grasping my knee in my hands and noticed that I still did not pick the phone. I reached for it again when Layla said, “Wait! Let me get it for you.” I do not know what possessed me to yell at her, “Don’t treat me as if I’m fucking crippled. I’m not. I’m completely capable of getting the stupid phone off the floor myself.” She looked at me with the burning hurt look in her eyes that I am too familiar with and I could not take it anymore. I felt it piercing my skin and making holes in my soul. “Don’t look at me that way. I can’t stand it. I’m sorry if I got into a stupid accident and screwed my knee for good. It’s my fault I can’t even pick a fucking phone off the floor. What do you want me to do? Out of all people, you shouldn’t treat me with pity. It’s annoying as hell,” I yelled again. A small tear was forming in the corner of her eye that made me despise myself. Heavy silence ruled then. The silence that has an actual physical weight you feel pressing on your chest. We just stood there staring at the walls avoiding each other’s eyes. “I think we need a break from each other, at least for some time,” I finally said. She did not say anything and that itself expressed her agreement. I walked past her and slammed the door behind me.

That night, I went for a run for the first time in nearly eight months. I ran until I fell on the ground scraping my palms in the process. I started crying then and there from the overwhelming pain. I could not tell which pain was more sever though, my knee’s or my heart’s.

The second we hit the pavement, the world switched into slow motion and turned mute. Layla’s loud scream was the last thing I heard before silence conquered all the sounds. I remember I screamed too but I did not hear my own voice. Nothing could have broken the silence. I lifted my arms to protect my face and started reciting Alshahadateen. The right front tyre had hit the pavement first so in the air, the car tilted to my side and I thought it was going to flip over and that it was going to be the end for me, if not for the both of us.

I started seeing flashbacks of my entire life right in front of my eyes. Everything from scattered bits and pieces of my childhood and the major events that occurred in my adulthood up until the moment I saw my grades for this year a few minutes ago. The memories were so vivid I would not have been able to remember them with such clarity had I tried. They felt so real as if I were reliving them again.       

I recall bargaining with God while we were in the air. Please, God, if you let us make it through this alive then I would be a good man. Layla would be good too. I would keep my prayers on time. I would perform Umrah at least once a month. I would donate more money to the poor and needy. I prayed and begged for His mercy.   

We could not have been in the air for more than ten seconds but it felt like eternity. The windows were starting to break and I could swear I saw the lines forming slowly from a point of origin and spreading like a spider’s web. Finally, I closed my eyes and waited for my fate.

Luckily, the car did not flip over. My side of the car hit the ground first and I felt the power of the collision explode through my entire body. The car dragged in the dirt for a couple of meters ahead. A few seconds later, silence surrendered and sounds took over again. I opened my eyes not believing we had survived. “Alhamdellah,” I said then looked panicky at Layla. “Layla, Layla, are you ok?” I asked. She seemed drowsy but she replied, “Yeah. I guess I am.” I let out a sigh of relief.    

Just then, my friend, Ahmad, forced open the driver’s door while yelling, “Khalid, Layla, are you alright?” Turns out, he was right behind us when we exited the university and saw the entire accident take place. He parked his car on the side of the road and came running to us but we could not see him because of all the dirt floating in the air around the car due to the impact. Layla’s door was stuck, too, so he had to force it open same as he did with mine. He helped us both get out of the car because we did not have the energy to do so on our own. He told us he called the traffic police and that they were on their way. He asked us if we needed him to call an ambulance but I said we were fine. I told him to call my father immediately because there will be many repercussions to this accident and my father can use his connections to get us out of this mess. “Do you have insurance?” he asked me and I told him that I did. “Inshallah Khair,” he said and stepped away to call my dad.      

I was holding Layla’s trembling hand in mine while we sat on the ground with our backs resting against the side of the car. She did not say a word during my short conversation with Ahmad. She only stared ahead. I turned to her and said, “Alhamdellah for everything. Hey, don’t be upset. What happened has happened. The important thing is that we’re both ok, yeah?” She burst into tears. “We almost died just now. Life as we know it could’ve ended in the matter of seconds. No, I’m not ok. It was scary as hell and I can’t stop thinking about it,” she almost yelled and continued crying. I put my arm around her and said, “I’m sorry. I would undo it if I could. Everything’s going to be alright now, I promise.”

An officer showed up twenty minutes after the accident but thankfully, my father had arrived at the same time. I told my dad what had happened and he promised to make it all go away. Layla was on the phone talking to her family and assuring them that she was fine. I could picture the look on her father’s face now filled with certainty that I was not worthy of being welcomed into their family indeed. Layla complained of her back and so did I in addition to my neck so Ahmad offered to take us to the hospital where my mother works and we thought it was a good idea. Layla told her family to meet her there. My father was going to stay behind to take care of all the paper work and legal issues. He would meet us later. I took only a few steps when I fell on the ground with striking pain shooting from my right knee up into my brain. I held it tight in my hands and screamed because the pain was more than I could take. I gritted my teeth hard. I had hoped that my right knee was not injured again in the accident and so I was afraid of walking on it and therefore remained where I was after Ahmad helped me out of the car. Apparently, it was. I had to lean on Ahmad’s shoulder and use my left leg until we reached his car.  

When we reached the emergency room of the hospital, I found my mother waiting for me. She had called in ahead and alerted the ER team that I was coming and that I have been in a car accident and so a room was prepared for me and a wheelchair was ready for me at the door. I was injected with a painkiller the moment I came in. X-Rays and an MRI were performed for my knee since it was the main concern then. The radiological consultant said that there was an apparent tear in the medial meniscus, a ruptured ligament and suspicion of minor hemorrhage. The orthopedic surgeon agreed upon reviewing the X-Rays and MRI himself. I was scheduled for surgery first thing in the morning the following day.    

Layla’s family had arrived a while ago and she assured them for the hundredth time that she was fine. They went with her for a complete physical examination while I had the X-Rays and MRI done. Layla’s dad showed me some compassion after he had learned that I am to have surgery the next day. My brother and sister too showed up worried about me. Everyone was scared for my sake and for a moment, I felt lucky to have so many people care about me.
Dad came in later and told me that everything concerning insurance, traffic police, the other man who had hit my car and related issues were all settled and I am not to worry about them. I thanked him and I wondered what I would have done without him. He was always there for me ready to get me out of whatever trouble I got myself into throughout the years.

Since it was late afternoon by then, we saw no need for us to go home and come back so we decided to stay the night in the hospital. My mother and Layla remained with me when it became late and everyone else went home with the promise of coming early morning before I would be taken to the operating room. Layla and my mother took turns sleeping on the couch. I would not have been able to sleep if not for the sedative I was given at midnight.

When I woke up the next morning, I found Noor and Badr talking with Lama. Poor Layla was asleep. Half an hour later, I was being prepped for surgery. My anxiety levels were sky rocketing because being a medical student; I knew everything that could go wrong during any procedure. I kept praying silently while everyone tried to cheer me up and to encourage me each in his or her own way. When the chief anesthesiologist was infusing the sedative into my blood stream right before taking me into the operating room, Layla held my hand tight and whispered into my ears, “Inshallah you’ll come out safe. May God be with u, dear. I’ll be here the moment you open your eyes again.” My consciousness faded away in a few seconds.           

Around noon, I opened my eyes for the first time and saw that everyone was asleep on the couch and on chairs except for my mother who was awake. “Alhamdellah,” she said. My throat was dry and I could barely speak. Less than a minute later, I fell asleep again. I kept falling asleep and waking up in a drowsy state until late afternoon when I fully regained consciousness. “Hey, everyone, sorry I kept you waiting for long,” I said. Everyone smiled and started cheering me for making it through. We have been talking for a few minutes when I asked my mom, “How did the surgery go? What did the doctor say? Did you meet with him after the operation?” My mom gave me half a smile and told me that we will talk about it later and that I needed to say Alhamdellah and thank God for keeping me safe. I sensed something was wrong so I asked her again to explain to me or to call the doctor so I could speak to him myself. She then gave in and told me what the doctor had told her.

“The operation went well Alhamdellah but there might be a few complications. Your son’s injury was more severe than it appeared to be in the MRI. The bleeding more prominent and there was damage to one of the nerves supplying the knee as well. In addition, your son has a poorly healed previous injury, which did not help. We can’t really tell now how it would all turn out in the end. We did the best we could and inshallah there will be no complications. Nevertheless, you have to prepare yourself for the possibility of that happening in the form of limited movement of the knee that might require him to walk with the aid of a crutch for some time. Of course, with an intensive rehabilitation and physiotherapy program we could help restore his knee into its original state or as close to that as possible. At this point, only God knows what is going to happen. Whatever that might be, God knows best. Alhamdellah for your son’s survival and for everything,” he said.

Layla’s father never approved of me. It was obvious that even though he was happy for his daughter he was not going to consider me a welcomed addition to his family. True he never failed to treat me with respect yet it was the respect you would offer a stranger rather than a dear son in law. Honestly, I could not have cared less if it did not mean that much to Layla. I tried to impress him in numerous ways. I was always on my best behavior whenever he was around. I attempted to engage him in conversations about topics I knew he was interested in but to no avail. After some time, my attempts became less frequent and my desire to gain his approval grew weaker. I made peace with the fact that my relationship with him is going to remain strictly formal. Layla, however, never gave up and she always had ideas regarding how to get her dad to like me better or to include him in our usual familial gatherings of which he often declined to join.

I remember once having a conversation with Layla early in our engagement about her father’s apparent unwillingness to embrace me into their family and what could be the reason for that and she said, “It’s not simply a dislike of your character or disapproval of the way we had met and our old relationship. There are many other factors too I believe. You see, I was always dad’s favorite and our relationship used to be strong especially when I was younger. He was my confidant you could say and I used to tell him everything. Therefore, it’s upsetting to him that I hid such a big part of my life from him for that long. It doesn’t make it easier too the fact that he discovered it by chance rather than my own confession which would’ve made it more acceptable to him in a way. I guess he feels cheated and it’s not an easy feeling. Maybe he’s disappointed that I had a relationship with someone to begin with. Perhaps in his mind he didn’t think it’s something I would do. You know how parents tend to be sometimes, thinking that their kids are angels on earth. You’re also the new man in my life. You’re the one he has to compete with now and eventually you’ll win and you’ll steal me away as it always the case with marriage. I also expect that dad would’ve preferred that the man I was going to marry came through him or by his knowledge. Last but not least, even if he changed his mind now and thought that you are indeed worthy of his daughter, that would mean he would have to admit he was wrong in his early refusal which is a very hard thing for my father to do. And of course there could be other things that neither you nor I know about.” I asked while she was sipping her cup of coffee, “So, basically what you’re saying is that he might just never like me?” “Don’t be so pessimistic. I’m sure with time he’ll love you,” she said with an assuring smile. Little did we know then of the chain of events that was going to take place later in time and serve to affirm that disapproval even more.

——————–

Just as the new school year started, Layla began working in Samba bank as a teller. She was not looking for a job then but when my uncle mentioned they were looking for females to hire in different positions, I brought up the subject and she said why not. Next day she was hired on the spot after my uncle made a call to one of his friends. She was in a good financial situation since she received 4200 Riyals a month while I was stuck with the monthly 990 I get from college. I jokingly demanded that she gives me at least a thousand Riyals out of her salary every month so we can have a better balance but she refused! It was not the best of sensations to know that for at least two more years, she would be the one supporting us. She liked working there and made a few new friends. It was not the dream job but it was perfect for the time being.

I would finish college around 4-4:30 and I would go pick up Layla from the bank and take her home. Sometimes we went out for lunch but most of the days we both would be very tired and cannot wait to get home. That year passed in a glance. Due to the extensive number of rotations, clinical exams, finals and the concomitant large amount of studying required not to mention maintaining my relationship with Layla, I was busy most of the year with barely time to breath. Towards the end of the year, I was exhausted. I had studied hard and performed well but had no idea how my grades were going to turn out. I felt drained and I could not wait for the summer to come. Layla, too, grew bored with the routine of her job and longed for a break. What we anticipated the most, however, was our Melka.    

When Layla and I first got engaged, we had decided that our engagement period would be prolonged until I become an intern in two years time at least and then we would have our Melka and the Wedding to follow after a few months. We also agreed that we would leave to Canada after I finish my internship so that I could enroll in a Surgical Residency Program and hopefully upon completion; aim to get a Fellowship degree in Pediatric Surgery all of which will take probably eight years. During that time, Layla intends to get her Masters and PhD, too. After she is done with her studies, I will still have a couple of years left to receive my Fellowship degree so in that period, we intend on having two babies, preferably a boy and a girl. We had not decided on their names yet though. Layla would work in these three years left here until it is time for us to leave. Our families did not mind the general layout of our plans except a little for the long period of time that we would spend outside the country but they understood my need to do so in order to become a good surgeon. It seemed like we had our entire future figured out then.

During the second term of that year, the subject of the summer vacation often came up and discussed. I never had the chance to spend the summer with Layla since she was always abroad on most of its days and this time I wanted that to change. In the summer, my brother would be busy with college applications and admission exams that most likely he will not be able to travel anywhere and my parents would surely stay with him. My sister was going to Dubai with a couple of her friends. I was invited to go along with them and I almost agreed if not for the seemingly brilliant idea that came to my mind. Layla and her family were going to Italy in July instead of their annual summer trip to Egypt. Her dad cannot go with them because he is busy with work. When I told Layla about my idea, she got extremely excited and we agreed that we would discuss it with our parents the next time we are all together.

On a Wednesday evening while we were all on the dining table in Layla’s house, we asked everyone to hear our idea. “Khalid and I have been doing some thinking, about this summer vacation, and we thought it would be really nice if he could come along with us to Italy,” Layla addressed her mother. Both her mother and mine looked at us as if they did not know whether to laugh or to strike us with the big wooden rice spoon! Luckily, Lama shouted, “That’s a great idea!” We had told Lama, Noor and Badr about our plan and instructed them to support it. I felt bad for Badr because he would not travel anywhere while Noor did not seem to care since she was going away anyway but they encouraged me to suggest the idea. Lama was ecstatic from the moment we told her. Yasser, however, was, as usual, a mystery and we did not know if he would welcome me coming along or not but we figured we would deal with him later if we managed to convince our parents first.  

It took us a couple of weeks and continuous nagging until our parents, surprisingly, agreed. However, Layla’s mother had a condition. “I spoke to your Dad.” She looked at Layla and continued, “As you might expect, he wasn’t crazy about the idea but he also knew that there’s no point in fighting it so he simply said it was fine by him. But I do have a condition to give you my final approval.” Now she addressed me, “I don’t think it would be appropriate for you to travel with us while you’re still just Layla’s fiancé. It doesn’t look good for us, for Layla and even for you. In the end, we live here and it’s just not that ok. I know that we had spoken about this before and said that we would wait until you finish school but if you want to come with us to Italy then you should have your Melka done before that, preferably in the first weekend after your finals. It would put my heart at ease this way. What do you think?” Layla and I exchanged glances and I said, “That is a great idea.” We would have hugged each other if her mother were not sitting right in front of us.

Our Melka was set to be a traditional affair because we figured that since our wedding is going to be far from traditional, at least our Melka should be. My last exam was on Tuesday. Our Melka was on Thursday a week later. The men’s Melka was in my house while the women’s took place in Donyaty Hall in Westin Hotel. At my house, I was trying to sense how Layla’s father was feeling as the guests were arriving but he was vague as usual and I could not tell much but he seemed happy. When it was time for us to sit with Alma’zoon and for him to pronounce Layla and me officially married, I was nervous and excited at the same time. When he asked Layla’s father since he is her guardian if he accepted me to be Layla’s husband, there was a moment of hesitation I do not think anyone else had noticed. I thought to myself, “Holy shit! He’s going to say no!” Thankfully, he did not and he said yes. I let out a silent sigh of relief. After that, we danced and sang with Al-Jassesah and had a good time.

After dinner, the guests started leaving and less than an hour later, I headed with my family and Layla’s to Westin Hotel to participate in the celebration that is taking place there. I always thought that the entire concept of Al-Zaffah is funny but when I stood there next to Layla, holding her hand in front of all the women present in the wonderfully decorated hall, suddenly it seemed like a fairytale that I never quite pictured myself as a part of before. I cannot begin to describe the overwhelming sensation of happiness that took over me that moment. Layla was absolutely beautiful. I could not believe that this piece of perfection, which God has created, this heavenly angel on earth now belonged to me. I could not believe that now I get to call her my wife. She was breathtaking in every meaning of the word. I felt like the luckiest man that has ever lived and I said a silent prayer of thanks. I leaned over and whispered to Layla, “I love you.” I felt her hand shaking in mine but it could have been my hand that was shaking. We squeezed each other hands tight and started descending upon the stairs accompanied by the sound of music and happy cheers from everyone there. We had the most magical time that night. I remember when I went back home that night when it was all over, I lied on my bed thinking to myself, “What good deed have I done to deserve all of this happiness in my life?”

A week or so after our Melka, my exams results were posted. I passed by Layla, took her with me and headed to college. I went to see my results while she waited for me in the car. I found out I had gotten my badly hoped for B and I was thrilled. I rushed back to the car and told Layla. “What do you want to do to celebrate?” she asked. I said, “Let’s just get out of here and we’ll think about it. Maybe go have a day at the beach or something. Let’s call the others and see.” Just as we were entering King Abdul Aziz Square near college, Layla said, “I’m proud of you.” Then she leaned over and kissed me on the cheek. I smiled and looked at her. I was distracted only for a second in which I took my eyes off the road ahead of me. In this senseless second, my car got hit in the left front tyre by another car heading right that I failed to see. I was speeding and when I pressed the breaks hard which is something I should not have done, I lost control of the car and it headed insanely towards the sidewalk. We hit the pavement and the car literally flew in the air.

My mother looked at me in a funny way trying to decide whether I was serious or joking. When she saw from the look in my eyes that I was serious, she gathered up all her papers, put them aside and said, “Work can wait until tomorrow. Now come here and talk to me.” She sat on the edge of the bed and I did the same. “Are you sure you want to marry this girl?” she asked. “Yes, I’m sure. I wouldn’t have brought it up if I wasn’t.” She nodded her head then said, “The other important question is: Does she feel the same about you too?” “Of course she does! We’ve been together for almost two years now.” “What’s the rush for then? Why not keep things the way they are now? Don’t you think you’re too young? God knows we’d be thrilled to see you engaged, especially your dad, but I have to know your reasons behind this decision. I mean why now? Why not wait one more year or so at least until you’re in your final year and then you’d be the perfect suitor for her or any other girl for that matter. I’m sure if she loves you she wouldn’t mind waiting for you,” she said.

I knew that there was no point in hiding anything from my mother because eventually she was going to find out. I was always an open book to her and she never failed to read me clearly. Therefore, I told her how Layla’s dad found out about us and what happened. “Well, you can’t blame him. Don’t tell me you don’t understand or see his point of view. The man is afraid for his daughter and I think he handled it really well. Someone else might’ve slapped his daughter, hit her, or locked her in her room. He was very moderate in his reaction to tell you the truth. You both should be thanking your lucky stars it ended up like this.” “I guess,” I said. “So you think proposing to her is the best solution to this problem?” “Yes,” I said and she smiled without a comment

“Tell me about Layla. You didn’t tell me a lot the few times you talked to me about her. Now I think I have the right to know all about her, don’t you agree?” So for a little over an hour I told my mom about Layla and how even her little imperfections are what make her perfect for me. I even showed her a picture of us together that I keep in my wallet and she said that Layla was beautiful.

“So, is it the right thing to do?” I asked. “Listen sweetie, you know very well that I’ve always supported you in every choice you have ever made, even the wrong ones, because that’s how you learn. I trust that you’re wise enough to know what’s best for you and I’m here only to advice you. I haven’t met this girl personally yet but if she’s half as wonderful as you describe her and if she’s half as crazy about you as you’re about her, then you have my blessings. I say let’s do it. May Allah write what’s best for you and guide you in every step you take into the path of happiness.”

She then hugged me and when she let go I saw her eyes tearing up. “What’s wrong, mom?” I asked. “My little boy wants to get married. I can’t believe this day has come. It’s only yesterday you were crawling and couldn’t even feed yourself!” I laughed and hugged her again then said, “Don’t start with the emotional and embarrassing stuff now please.” “I’ll make the call tomorrow and inshallah khair,” she said.          

The next day in the afternoon, I was sitting in the living room with my mother when she made the call. I was nervous like I had never been in a very long time. My mom introduced herself and said that she was calling because her son wanted to propose to Layla. After some pleasantries, Layla’s mother asked how did we get her number and from where do we know Layla. My mom told her through Rima who’s a friend of Lama, Layla’s younger sister. Layla’s mother knew who Rima was and immediately the conversation became friendlier and even drifted into the topic of young teenage girls and hard it is to tame them these days. After a few minutes of chatting, my mom told her that I had seen Layla before and that she really impressed me with her beauty, elegance and intelligence and that when I decided I wanted to get engaged, I couldn’t think of someone else better. Then came the selling part in which my mom had to emphasize my good qualities. They talked some more and they agreed that my mom and my sister visit them at their house next Wednesday.  

All of that took place without Layla’s immediate knowledge since I did not have a way of contacting her and had to wait for her to call me but I figured she would not really mind. The next morning, she called from her friend’s mobile sounding nearly freaked out. “You can’t do something like that without telling me first!” she almost shouted through the phone. “OK. I’m sorry. I didn’t know you’d react this way. Fine, I’ll tell my mom to call yours and cancel the whole thing if that’s what you want.” She giggled and shouted again, “You evil man! That’s not what I meant but next time, consult me first!” “Next time I want to propose to you I’ll tell you first! Now for my sake please dress up nicely and impress my mom on Wednesday.”     

Wednesday came and apparently, it was a success. My mom came home ecstatic talking all about how sweet and funny Layla is. She also said that she and Layla’s mom hit it off from the start. I could not believe my ears. My mom does not like anyone easily so it is rather remarkable that she liked Layla’s mom. A couple of days later, Layla called me and told me that the joy was shared in their house, too. Her mom liked my family. They had agreed that next Wednesday, it is time for me to come along for the visit.           

Layla had not told her dad that it was I, the guy whom he saw with her in the pictures, who is coming to their house. We thought a lot about it and figured it is best to withhold that information from him and see how he reacts. Of course, he was not going to embarrass us in front of our families. We predicted that he might sense it is I but he would not be sure enough to reject me before he sits with me, especially after the great success of my mom’s previous visit. We feared that if she told him that it was in fact me, he would probably refuse to meet my family and me, which would leave us in awkward position. However, if we left him in the dark and he met us, maybe his previous perception of my character would change into a better one. Perhaps after he gets to know a little more about my family and me, he would realize that I am good enough for his daughter and that we in fact belong together.

We also hoped that Yasser would be a supporting element for us. He had arrived from UK on Friday and was genuinely happy for us. He even called me to say congratulations. I told him that we still do not know what his dad’s opinion would be so he should hold off his congratulations yet. He told me that I should concentrate on winning his mother because if I did that, she will deal with his father and I will not have much to worry about then.        

On the promised day, we were sitting in their big salon chitchatting about trivial subjects such as the weather and the newest restaurants in town. We were waiting for Layla’s dad to come down and join us since we were all there. 

Half an hour later, he showed up and shook my dad and brother’s hands. When it was time for him to shake mine, I could easily see the recognition look in his eyes. He knew who I was but he did not say anything. I said, “Honored to meet you.” He nodded his head. He took the seat opposite me and that declared the beginning of the interrogation-like event. I had expected that so I was prepared. They asked for all kinds of personal information. Which schools did I go to? What were my grades? What do I want to do when I grow up? Which field do I want to specialize in? Where do I want to live? What are my plans in case we actually got married Layla and me? I tried to answer all of their questions in the most gracious and respectable way, not forgetting to add a touch of humor every now and then.

Sometime in the middle of the evening, Layla’s dad asked me, “So, how do you know Layla?” I sensed that he meant to put me on the spot by that question. “Lama is one of my cousin’s best friends and I’ve met her before a few times. Through her I met Layla too.” I answered. At the end of the night when it was time to leave, everyone said goodbye and what a pleasure it was to meet each other. The most mysterious person was of course Layla’s dad because I did not know whether he liked me or not. He did not give me any indications whatsoever towards this or that. He seemed pleasant enough and polite enough. Overall, it was not exactly the dream visit I once hoped for but it was much better than what I expected it to be.    

Later, I learned how true what Yasser had said was. After we left and while Layla’s mom and the maid were cleaning up, her dad voiced his objection. “I don’t think we should agree to this guy. We don’t know anything about him and frankly I don’t like him that much.” Her mother looked at him as if he is crazy, Layla told me. “What are you talking about? He’s such a gentleman. He’s going to make a really good husband for Layla. Anyone with a sane mind can easily see that. True that we don’t know him that well, but that’s why there’s an engagement period. It’s not like they’re going to get married immediately. They’ll probably remain engaged for more than a year and that’s plenty of time for them to know each other better and for us to know him better, too.” Her dad would not quit and said, “This is not the first guy to propose you know and he’s not going to be the last. Why wait around for him to graduate while there are other suitors who are more financially secured and career established than him. He’s still a student with a long way to go.” “But I like him and his family and obviously Layla likes him too. Didn’t you notice how they were stealing glances towards each other when they think no one is looking? I thought that was adorable,” she said. “Because they already know each other from before.” “Yeah well he told you that he had met her before. His cousin is Lama’s best friend.” “I’m not talking about that. A couple of weeks ago I saw some pictures of your daughter and Mr. gentleman holding hands meaning there’s more to the story than “We’ve met through Lama.”"

Layla told me that her dad had a smirk on his face when he said that as if he has dropped the bomb that is going to win him the battle but her mom then simply said, “Oh Abdulmalik, grow up. So what? All the girls these days have boyfriends and guy friends. You think I didn’t figure out that there was something going on between them? I had suspicions that Layla was involved with someone a long time ago but I chose not to dig deep and prayed that I had raised her well and that she’d make the right decisions. Luckily, her boyfriend turned out to be a decent young man who did the right thing and came to our house through the front door with his family rather than play her and break her heart then disappear for good. I’m very fond of him and his family. I think Layla and Khalid are going to make such a nice couple that everyone will envy. Just be happy for your daughter please because clearly she is flying high now” And that was the end of the discussion.      

Three weeks later was the day of Qira’at Alfateha, which is the official ceremony that announces us to be engaged. We had decided that it is going to be a small affair with only family and close relatives. We exchanged rings and then spent the rest of the evening mingling, receiving congratulations and watching the two families getting to know each other.

The real celebration, however, was the following night. The father of a friend of mine was the manager of a private compound so with his help we arranged a poolside dinner party. We invited all of our friends and cousins and told them that it is going to be a mixed party and that casual attire is required. We did not want any thobes or suits present. We just wanted to have a good time and celebrate our engagement with those who were genuinely happy for the both of us. We danced, drank, ate and laughed until tears came out of our eyes.

At midnight, my sister and a friend of hers emerged out of nowhere carrying a large cake that had a picture of Layla and me on top. We cut the cake and everyone cheered then after taking a couple of pictures of us with it, I took my piece and jammed it into Layla’s face and she, in a very fast reflex I must admit, did the same to me with her piece. Suddenly everyone was trying to get their hands on a piece of cake so they could slam it into either Layla or me. I was covered in cake and before I even knew it, I found myself being carried up by my friends and then thrown into the cold water of the swimming pool. A few seconds later, Layla was dropped into the water too by her friends. We got out of the pool laughing so hard we could not even stand up straight anymore. Probably the next day we are going to wake up sick with fever and we would not be able to get out of bed but still we will feel good. This was a night to remember, a night to cherish forever. Nothing really mattered then.

We were engaged.

“We both know very well that I’m not a hero

We both know that I do not have any super powers

I may not be able to save you when you need me to

But I will gladly jump in the fire with you if you were burning

I will gladly jump in the water with you if you were drowning”

“Calm down, dear, and tell me what happened. Everything’s going to be alright. Just please stop crying and tell me. Maybe we can work it out.” I tried to reassure her and understand what happened and finally after a few more minutes of continuous sobbing and scattered words, she seemed to be capable of speaking coherently. “Sunday morning, I went out for breakfast with Abeer and her sister. I had left my laptop in my room on hibernate as usual. Anyhow, dad’s laptop is being repaired and therefore he decided to use mine in order to check his email. Usually I put our pictures in CDs and remove them from the laptop but the pictures from our last visit to Al-Shallal were still there. I blame myself for being so foolish and careless but I swear to you my dad has never even did as much as touch my laptop ever since I got it. I have no idea why this time out of all times he decided to use it instead of just waiting to use the computer at work and why on earth did he look in My Documents.

I came back home and found him waiting for me in the living room. He asked me to sit in front of him and said that we needed to talk. I felt uncomfortable when I heard his unfamiliar harsh tone. “I opened your laptop today and guess what I found in it,” he said looking directly into my eyes. “What? How could you? You don’t have the right to do that.” I raised my voice trying to seem offended especially that I didn’t know what he had found and I wasn’t going to admit anything yet. I had forgotten about the pictures.

He completely discarded my dismay and continued in even a harsher tone, “Well, regardless of your little protest, the point is that I saw pictures of you holding hands with some guy and clearly you’re close to him. Don’t act like I’m mistaken. You know damn well what I’m talking about so wipe that stupid shocked look off your face now. Anyhow, I really don’t want to nor do I need to know anything about this guy or whatever is going on between you two. I don’t care. You will, however, stop contacting him from this day on. I will be watching you and if, God forbid, I found out you were still talking to him then the consequences won’t be good for either of you.

You have disappointed me much more than I ever imagined you could. I thought I had raised you well but apparently, I didn’t. The most precious thing a girl has is her honor and reputation and for you to go and throw them away at the feet of some guy is despicable. I think it’s fate that has led me to this awful discovery. I have never laid hands on any of you personal belongings before and look what happened the first time I did. It’s such a shame that I had to find out this way. If you had any respect for your mother or me, you would’ve told us about him before. Moreover, if you had any respect for yourself, you wouldn’t have let him touch you and hold your hand like he does in the pictures.

Homes have doors you know and you should’ve insisted that he comes to us from the front door and asks to have a relationship with you in the proper way rather than doing it in the dark behind our backs just like low people do. I’m pretty sure that this guy once he got whatever it is he wants from you he’s going to flee and you’re never going to hear of him again. What would have you gained then? A broken heart, a dishonorable reputation, and a black future in which no decent man would want to marry you. I’m not saying any of this to intentionally hurt you but I’m telling you the truth because I love you and I want to protect you. If this guy was a man in any sense he would’ve been here in our house with his parents asking us for your hand. If he loved you in any way, he wouldn’t have allowed you to belittle yourself the way you obviously did.

Layla, I’m really hurt, disappointed, angry, frustrated, confused and other million things at the moment. I don’t know what to do with you. Of course, I won’t tell your mom about this. She doesn’t need to know what her daughter has been doing. For now, give me your mobile and your laptop and you’re not allowed to go out for a month unless I say otherwise.”

All the time he was talking, silent tears were running down my cheeks and burning them like fire. I felt so ashamed and I despised myself. I didn’t know what to say so I just sat there and prayed to God that dad would stop saying all those things but it seemed the more I prayed the more dad spoke. At the begging, he was looking into my eyes and then when I started crying he simply looked away and kept talking as if he’s addressing the wall. My dad has never treated me this way before. He never said anything hurtful to me before. When he was done, he stood to leave and looked down on me in every possible way you could look down on someone. I wished the earth would open up and swallow me. I wished I would turn into dust.

“I’m sorry,” I finally managed to utter, barely audibly. “What good is your sorry now? Tell me what good is your sorry now?” he said. “Dad, wait. Please believe me. He’s a really good guy. He loves me and I love him. We’ll get married and we’ll make each other happy,” I said with a breaking voice. “I don’t see him here, do you?” he said and picked up his keys and went down the stairs. “Tell your mother I might be out late tonight,” he said then slammed the door and left the house. I sat there crying for hours and hours with no one to console me except for our maid who couldn’t do anything but sit on the carpet at the corner of the living room and feel sorry for me. I cried in hope that the tears would wash the shame away but no matter how hard I cried, the shame seemed only to grow bigger and bigger it engulfed me.”

She then started crying again. I could tell she was fighting her tears as she was telling me the story taking deep breaths occasionally and being barely capable of finishing more than a couple of sentences together at once. I stayed silent the whole time not knowing what to say or do. There was no way I could understand what she must have felt. I hated myself. I loathed myself. It is my fault that Layla had to go through that. I felt so helpless sitting on the edge of my bed clutching my mobile in my hand and listening to Layla crying on the other end. I needed to make things right. I had to fix it.

In the middle of everything, I could not help thinking of the irony of fate. It is only soon that we had decided that we wanted to get engaged at the end of this summer and that we would stop seeing each other and do everything the right way. Back when we saw each other almost on daily basis, none of her parents had a clue but now such a minimal mistake could lead to multiple complications.   

“Hush now darling, stop crying. We’ve been through a lot before and I promise you we’ll make it through this too some way or another. I’m going to make it right somehow, trust me. I love you from the bottom of my heart. That is a force not to be taken lightly because for you, I’ll fight the entire world. Your dad will realize that all his assumptions were wrong when he sees me knocking at your door. I’m going to prove him wrong and we’ll live happily ever after just like beauty and the beast, of course you being the beast and I’m the beauty,” I joked. I heard a very faint laugh and it made me smile.

“Listen, don’t worry. I believe that we’re destined to be together and your dad will have to see that too.” “But even if he agreed, he’ll never forgive me,” she said. “I promise you he will. No one can stay mad at his daughter forever not to mention that the moment we bring him a grandchild he’ll forgive and forget like nothing has ever happened.” “Thank you,” she said. “What for?” “For always being my rock and anchor. I feel like I have caused you many troubles in the last few months and made you go through a lot of drama.” I laughed and said, “It’s ok you don’t have to thank me for anything, not now. You have the rest of your life to thank me. Anyhow, I think you should you hang up now just in case someone sees you or your dad comes unannounced. You don’t want to upset him this period. Take care of yourself please and hold that pretty chin of yours up high. Everything’s going to be alright, Ok? I love you.” She said I love you too and we hung up. I sat there and started thinking. I promised her and assured her many times that everything is going to be all right when I myself did not know that for sure.     

A couple of days later, I entered my parents’ room to find my mom doing some paper work as usual. “Mom, have you got a minute?” I asked. “Yeah sure. What’s going on?” “Remember that girl I told you about a long time ago?” “Layla? Of course I do. You’re still talking to her, aren’t you? It’s obvious from your phone bills you know.” I smiled. “Yeah that’s her. Well, this is her mother’s number. I want you to call her and tell her that I want to propose to Layla.”