Category Archives: Layla

I was only seventeen when I had met Dalia for the first time. It seems like a long time ago but still I remember the finest details of that week in Dubai. We were both vacationing there during Al-Hajj holiday of our 2nd year in high school with our families. Fate had arranged for us to stay in the same hotel, Le Meridian Mina Seyahi. Her family and mine were, in addition to a Kuwaiti family, the only Arabs in the hotel that was filled with European tourists.    

Situated in the middle of the lobby was a grand piano on which a British pianist, George, used to play each night at 11. He was very talented and I liked to sit and listen to him whenever I had a chance. On our third night in the hotel, Dalia came, took a seat not too far away from me, and appeared to enjoy the music. I did not know her name then and only recognized her as the pretty girl from the Saudi family who checked in the previous day.          

I do not know what it is about being abroad that makes you do things out of character. I was a shy boy by nature and I had never approached a girl before in my life but a couple of minutes after George had finished, I found myself standing and heading towards where Dalia was sitting.

“Hi,” I said and she lifted her head to lay her beautiful eyes on me. I felt my knees go weak but somehow I managed to hold myself together. She was looking at me curiously. “Excuse my nervousness and excessive sweating but this is the first time I ever said Hi to a girl. Not to mention the fact that I could get slapped on the face any minute now but I figured if I’m to get slapped by someone, it might as well be you!” She had a funny look in her eyes now and I knew that what I just said was not what you would call smooth by any standard. I wished the earth would open up and swallow me. To my surprise, however, she let out a little giggle and I felt myself relax a little bit. “Good. That’s good. I heard that when you make a girl laugh it’s a good thing. Unless that’s a stupid rumor! Please don’t tell me it’s a stupid rumor,” I joked. She laughed and said, “It’s not a rumor. Making a girl laugh is a good thing.” “Thank you! You made me doubt myself there for a minute! Anyhow, my name is Khalid.” She smiled and told me her name was Dalia. I bowed my head and said, “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” She exclaimed, “A gentleman!” “Well, no. I just watched too many movies.” She laughed again.      

We sat there and talked for about an hour before she told me she had to go upstairs to her room before her parents send the search patrol to find her. I stayed there for half an hour after she left replaying the conversation we just had in my head. I had learned that she was ten months older than I was but we were both in the same grade. She told me about her family and herself though she was careful not to tell me too many things contrary to me because I told her everything she asked about and more. We had agreed to meet at the same time and same place next evening if we could.

A week later, we were both checking out of the hotel. My family and I were going back to Jeddah while she and her family were switching hotels. We had a few conversations during that week whenever we had a chance but not many though because we were trying not to alert our parents’ attention to us. We had exchanged emails the night before my departure and promised to keep in touch when we go back to Jeddah. Needless to say, she was the only thing that I thought about on our flight back and the weeks to follow.

Now you can say the rest is history. I added her to my messenger contact list and we got used to hours and hours of online conversation when she got back. There was nothing we did not talk about or could not share with one another. One day a couple of days before our 11th grade finals we exchanged numbers because the internet had been forbidden on both us by our parents during the exams period. We did not talk for hours though on the mobile phone because we did not want to raise suspicion if the bills came higher than normal. I met Dalia for the first time after Dubai when she got back from her summer vacation in Paris a week before the 3rd year of high school started. She had gotten me a Winnie the Pooh holding a small Eiffel Tower and wanted to give it to me in person. We met in Starbucks and stayed there for three hours that constituted our actual first date.  

The following year witnessed the first time we held hands. During the 2nd term, I told her I loved her. She did not say anything. Two nights later, she called me and told me she loved me but that she panicked and did not know what to do when I told her how I felt. Exactly one month later, we kissed for the very first time.    

After we graduated form high school, I applied for medical school while she applied for dentistry. We both were accepted and were very happy. We drew plans for our lives in college. It was getting easier for us to go out together ever since my parents got me my first car right after I received my high school certificate. Dalia was the first one to take a ride in my car, even before my parents or anyone from my family or friends.      

College started and it brought us yet another facilitator to our relationship; Almokafa’at, Rewards. Each month we received a check with the value of 990SR from college for us to spend in whatever we wanted. Of course, both of our monthly rewards were spent on our dates or presents to each other but mainly they were spent on phone bills now each of us carried an extra mobile phone so we do not use our original ones paid for by our parents. Our parents did occasionally wonder where we were wasting our money but they never thought much of it.                  

During the first year of college, our feelings intensified and we started talking about marriage or at least an engagement even though we were still very young. We were in love or so I thought. She was everything to me and never did she make me feel I was anything less than that to her. Then summer came and she was leaving to Paris. On the night of her flight, she called me at 4 a.m. and woke me up. We had only hung up from each other a couple of hours ago after we said our goodnights. I smiled nonetheless and said, “good morning.” “Hey,” she said. “Why are you still awake?” I asked. “I couldn’t sleep.” She remained silent for a couple of minutes then said, “We need to talk.”

“I think we should concentrate on studying the next couple of weeks which means locking ourselves home and not seeing each other,” I told Layla while we were having lunch at Benihana that day after our encounter with my father. “I know. I’ve got so much that I need to catch up on too myself. I really want to get an A this year,” she said. We were both good students. We had gotten A’s on our first year of college but she barely managed to pass with a D on her second year while I got a C on mine. We were determined on doing well this year when it first started and now we were even more so after we promised my father that we would.        

In those weeks prior to the exams, I did not see Layla. Surely enough, we were calling each other every couple of hours to see how much studying we had done and encouraging one another to work a little bit harder. At the end of each night, we would talk for a few minutes then say that whoever wakes up first should wake the other up. 

Her exams were only two weeks long while mine stretched for four. Our exams’ schedules were very different which served to our benefit. There was only one day in which we both had an exam on the same time. On that particular day, she went to college and back to her home with Rana because I could not take her. On her other exams however, it was I who picked her up in the morning and drove her back after she finished.    

She would revise stuff on the way before I drop her off to college. Then I would take my books and papers of whichever subject my upcoming exam was going to be and head to Dunkin Donuts, the branch near college. I would sit there and study until she calls me and says she is done. I would take her to her house then head to my own if I did not have an exam at noon or go back to college if I did.          

Things went smoothly during the whole exams period and we were both very excited about how well we had done. On the last day of my exams, I went out to Friday’s with my friends for lunch and met Layla for dinner at Senses. It was the last time I was going to see her for a couple of months because the next day she was leaving with her family to Egypt where they had an apartment and usually spent their summer vacations there. Her results were out and we were celebrating as well as saying our goodbyes. She had gotten an A on every single subject. I had bought her a Swarovski necklace as a present. “But I didn’t get you anything,” she exclaimed. “It’s ok. This is just a small thing to help keep me in your mind when you’re far away.” “Thank you. Can I wear it now?” “Allow me, please,” I said and put the necklace around her neck. “Perfect,” she said and planted a soft kiss on my cheek. At the end of the night, I told her how much I am going to miss her. Sweet adorable Layla had tears in her eyes as she got into Dania’s car after she hugged me. Dania, who was visiting an uncle of hers near by, had offered to take Layla home after we were done because it was difficult for me to do so at night.          

A week later, my results were posted and I had managed to get all A’s except for a single B. I called Layla immediately and delivered the good news. She was happy for me and I was happy, too. I was happy about everything in my life at the time. Everything was going better than I had dreamed about. Life was as perfect as it could be.

It was in the middle of the summer when my brother, Badr, called me while I was in the gym and said in a very disturbing tone, “Come back now.” He did not respond when I asked him what is going on and only repeated his sentence before he hung up. I went home as quickly as I could to find all of my uncles’ cars parked in front of our house. The minute I stepped foot in the house I sensed something was terribly wrong. As I climbed up the stairs, I recognized the voice of my mother crying out loud coming from my grandmother’s room. I headed there and froze in my place at the sight of the lifeless body of my grandma lying on her bed.     

All of my uncles were in the room. Some were crying audibly and some were fighting back their tears. Mom’s crying was the most heartbreaking one of all. She was shouting all over the place. I was in shock for it was the first time I witness my strong mom in such a state. My brother pulled me out and gave me the details. Grandma had passed away while she was sleeping less than an hour ago. Then I was given many errands to run in order to prepare for the burial, the funeral, etc. I had tears in my eyes and my chest was tightening. Grandma had been sick for a long time and this was not unexpected, yet it did not make it easy. Mom would not stop crying or wailing until it reached a point where one of my aunts who is a doctor had to inject her with a tranquilizer to calm her down.    

The sense of loss and mourning that had engulfed our house after the death of grandma was overwhelming. Needless to say, I called Layla that night to inform her of what had happened. She said she was sorry and all the right things she was supposed to say. She told me she wished she could be there with me during this difficult time but I assured her that I will be fine and that it’s mom I am worried about the most.         

We talked for some time then she said she would keep my family and me in her prayers. I thanked her, told her I loved her and hung up. Grandma was buried in Makkah the next day, which was the first day of Al-Aza, the service. Most of my friends came to pay their respects after Bashar, one of my best friends, called and I told him what had happened. He took the liberty of informing everyone else.  

Almost a week after grandma’s death as I was settling into bed late at night, my mobile phone rang. I looked at its screen thinking it is probably Layla checking on me. It was not Layla calling. Instead, a very familiar name was showing. A name engraved into the back of my mind forever. It belonged to the girl whom I call my first love and my first heartbreak.

After a minute of hesitation, I answered, “Hello?” “Hey, Khalid. It’s Dalia,” she said. “Yeah. I know,” I said not knowing how to proceed. “I just wanted to say that I’m sorry for your loss. May Allah have mercy on your grandmother’s soul,” she said sympathetically. “Thank you, I guess,” was all I managed to say. “I came and paid my respects on the second day. Have Noor told you?” “She did. I thought she was mistaken.” “No, sure you didn’t think I wouldn’t come.” “How did you find out? Did Amro tell you?” I asked in a rather aggressive tone. “Yes,” she replied in what sounded like an apology. “How are you holding up? How’s everything? Oh, I heard you got an A this year. I was glad when I heard that,” she said,       

I do not know what it was that made me respond to her. Was it that Layla was away in Egypt and I needed someone to talk to, especially with everything that was going on and me feeling strangely vulnerable at that late time of night? Was it the fact that I had shared three years of my life with Dalia not too long ago? It had been over a year since I last spoke to her. For whatever reason, I found myself filling her in on most of the important events of the last year. I told her a little bit about Layla but she changed the subject rather quickly and we never got back to it. We talked about many things and shared many stories of our own.    

A couple of hours late into conversation, I suddenly stopped after I had a notion that made me hate myself. There was a stupid moment in which I found myself thinking that I had missed Dalia, missed her voice and missed talking to her. “What’s wrong?” she said. “Can I ask you something? Why did you really call? Don’t tell me to say you’re sorry for my loss because you could’ve done that by sending a message or even saying it in a minute over the phone. There’s more to it. What is this? Why are you talking to me for this many hours after it’s been so long?” I asked, confused. “You’re right. It’s not just because of your grandma. I felt it was an opportunity to call you even though it’s a sad one. I wanted to talk to you for some time now. Can I ask you something?” she said. “Sure,” I replied. After a long pause, she asked me, “Do you believe in second chances?”

We were silent on our way to Aroma Café, both of us lost in deep thoughts. Layla broke the silence first asking, “So you have no idea why your father would want to meet us there?” I told her I did not. “What did he sound like then? Was he angry or not?” “I couldn’t tell. He sounded normal I guess.” “Is that good or bad?” “I don’t know. I’m confused same as you. Let’s just hope for the best,” I said then she surprised me with a question that made me laugh, “How do I look?”  

I glanced at her. Her lip-gloss was almost intact but her eyeliner and mascara were smeared below her eyes. On her right cheek, a visible black line was formed from all the tears. “No comment,” I replied jokingly. She hit me playfully on my arm saying, “Come on. I don’t look that bad.” “You look fine. I was just kidding,” I assured her. “Oh my god! And you were going to let me go into the place looking like this!” she said as she was looking at her reflection in a small mirror she took out of her bag. “Luckily there’s nothing I can’t fix,” she said and took out a couple of cosmetics from the bag, cleaned her face first then applied them. “What about now?” she inquired after she was done. “Beautiful as always,” I said. 

We arrived there around 11:30. The moment we took our seats next to each other Layla said, “I’m getting a little bit scared now. What’s going to happen?” “I honestly don’t know. Let’s just wait for dad.” The waiter approached us but we told him we were waiting for someone. I ordered Orange juice nonetheless. After about forty minutes of shifting uncomfortably in our seats, holding hands, staring blankly at the glass of juice on the table and many questions and speculations regarding what this is all about, finally my father called. “I’m five minutes away. Are you there?” he said. I told him we were. He asked me to wait for him outside and hung up. “Where is he?” she asked. “He’ll be here any minute. I’ll meet him outside. Wait here,” I said and stood up. I left her worrying there and headed to the entrance.       

He walked in a couple of minutes later and said, “I hope I didn’t keep you waiting too long.” “Oh no, you’re actually early,” I said. “Good,” he said and nodded with his head signaling I should lead the way. When we reached the table, Layla stood to greet him. He extended his arm, shook her hand and said, “How are you, dear?” She had a puzzled look in her eyes but she replied, “I’m fine, Ammo.“    

Dad took a seat across the table from us. He lit up a cigarette and smoked it for a while. It was obvious that his mind was drifting away. He finally looked at us and said, “One of the cruelest things to do in this life is forcing two people who love each other to part.”   

He paused for a second before continuing, “I’ve been in love once before your mother. It was a long time ago. Her name was Carla. I had met her on my first day of college back in Lebanon. I was a Sunni Muslim and she was a Marooneya Christian. It is difficult as it is nowadays. Imagine what it was like back then in the midst of the civil war. Sunna, Shi’ah, Maroon, Catholic and Drooz. The whole country was a mess and it wasn’t very acceptable to marry someone of another belief. In addition, my parents wanted me to marry a relative of mine. Carla and I knew we couldn’t be together so I just packed my things and left Lebanon for good. I went to the States for five years before coming to Saudi Arabia. I didn’t intend on staying here but then I met your mother and my whole life plans changed. I fell in love again. Why am I telling you all of this? Can I ask you a couple of questions first? Do you two really love each other?” We looked at each other’s eyes and nodded our heads. “We do, very much,” we said. “Do you plan on staying together and getting married?” he asked. “Inshallah,” we said. 

“In my room, when I raised my hand to slap you again she begged me not to, risking to turn my anger towards her. I saw the look in her eyes, hurt for you. She didn’t want you to get hit. That’s something you can’t overlook. I also appreciate the fact that you didn’t lie to me about what happened in there. Instead, you just said you’re sorry and told me you were in love. In the tone of your voice, there was truth. However, what made me realize that you sincerely cared about each other was seeing you in the front yard before you got into the car. I was watching you from my window. You hugged each other and then you kissed her forehead. I feared that my son whom I’ve raised had become a bad person or that he was getting fooled by one but just seeing you two like that then and now, I must say that my doubts have vanished. I wish you all the happiness of the world.

Of course, that doesn’t mean that I approve of what you did this morning. What you did was greatly wrong but what is done is done. You have to promise me that you’ll never do such a thing again until you’re married. I can understand that you’re young and in love and mistakes happen but that’s what I’m asking of you. You have to promise me.” “We promise,” we said. “That’s good. Needless to say, I won’t be telling your mother nor will I speak to any of your parents. I trust that I have raised a good son who will take care of you, my girl. And I’m sure that you will take care of my son too, wouldn’t you?” Layla blushed and said, ” Of course I will.”   

“I told you about Carla to let you know that I do understand. Heartbreak is one of the worst feelings in life. It took me too long to recover. Sure, I’m thankful for how things worked out in the end but that was an experience I don’t wish upon anyone, let alone my own son and the girl he chose to love. If I had sensed you were only playing around or whatever, my response would have been very different. But now I honestly wish to see you two married and happy together one day.” 

We were both stunned and speechless from everything he had said. We did not know what to say. Layla’s eyes were starting to tear up then. “If those are tears of joy then I’m glad,” dad said. I squeezed her hand under the table.          

Dad lit up another cigarette and ordered a salad for himself. He asked us if we wanted anything but we said no. He then looked at us and said, “Now tell me all about you. How did you two meet? How long have you been together? What are your plans for the future? I especially want to know more about you Layla if you were going to be my daughter in law,” he said and winked at her. She blushed to the point where her cheeks turned red like tomatoes and we laughed about it.  

For a couple of hours we told dad almost everything. He listened to us as we talked and completed each other’s stories. He made us feel comfortable so it was easy for us to open up to him that day. Of course, there are things that we did not tell him about but he learned everything he needed to know about us. “You said you told your mother, did you?” he asked me after he ordered the bill. “I told her about Layla, only the big headlines. Who she is and that I love her and intend to marry her one day,” I said. “That’s good” he said then added,           
“Surely you don’t need me to tell you that you should concentrate on your studies and not let this distract you. You know the finals are only a couple of weeks away. This is another promise you’ll have to make in addition to the previous one. Ok? I want to see some A’s at the end of this year from both of you.” We nodded our heads and promised him.

In front of the entrance to the café dad turned to us and said, “I have an important meeting now that’s why I have to leave but you two don’t go home just yet. It’s 2:30. You didn’t order anything inside. You must be hungry. Here you go.” He took out his wallet and gave me 300 Riyals then looked at Layla and jokingly said, “I’m sorry my son doesn’t know how to treat ladies.” Then he told me to take the money and take Layla somewhere nice. I was lost for words. After everything that had happened today, he was being very kind to me. This was not what I had expected. Layla was speechless too. We barely mumbled “Thank you” to dad. We both kissed him goodbye. And just as he started walking away to get to his car I said, “Dad, wait.” He stopped and I went to him, hugged him and said thank you one more time.

You need to understand that my relationship with my father, at the time, was a long way from perfect and as the years to follow passed by, my relationship with him deteriorated so badly until it reached a point where we would be only yelling at each other if not simply silently ignoring one another. Later in life, we tried to fix everything that was wrong between us. When I think about it now, regardless of how things turned out in the end between Layla and me, that morning will always be one of the very best times I shared with my dad.

The minute I heard my father’s voice calling out for me to open the door, I jumped out of bed in panic. “Layla! Layla! Wake up!” I hissed under my breath patting her back not so gently to wake her up. She lifted her head from the pillow but her eyes were still closed. “What?” she responded, half asleep. “Dad’s outside! Don’t you hear him?” I said. “Khalid, open up the door,” he was calling again. . “Just a minute. I need to get dressed. Wait,” I said trying to make myself sound sleepy but my voice came out shaky and more alert than what I intended for it to sound. Layla jumped out of bed too and now we were both panicking. “What do we do?” she asked. “I don’t know! I don’t know. Do I look like I have a clue?” I almost yelled at her.      

I figured the best thing we can do is try to hide her somewhere. We looked around the room and then I pointed, “The closet!” “Wait. We need to fix up the room first!” she said. I put on my clothes as fast as I could only to find out that I wore the t-shirt inside out with the rush. “Your shirt,” she said but I told her it does not matter. We hid her clothes and her Abaya underneath the bed. “Come on!” dad shouted. “OK!” I shouted back. Layla got into the closet carrying her bag with her and I inspected the room one last time wondering if we had missed anything.         

There was no time for me to think so I just unlocked the door and half-opened it standing behind it. “Sorry. I was asleep,” I said to my dad who was standing impatiently in front of the door. “What do you want?” I asked. “I’ve been waiting here for over ten minutes! Step aside,” he said and pushed away the door and me in the same motion. “Remember last night I came here to photocopy a couple of papers? Turns out I left one of the originals inside the photocopier and forgot to take it with me,” he said.           

All I could think of was how this cannot be! This is ridiculous. No. It is way beyond ridiculous. Out of all the times he photocopied anything using the small multi-purposed machine in my room, he had to forget this stupid paper yesterday! Moreover, he happened to need it or rather remember it this particular day! I could not believe what was happening. My father never forgets to take anything. He is never home before dinner. Why did he have to come back at 10 in the morning for some meaningless paper? I was silently cursing the paper alongside the machine and the company that created it and just about everything while he went to fetch the dreadful paper.        

I started to thank God a million times when I saw that my father had the paper in his hand and was heading to the door. I almost let out a sigh of relief but he suddenly stopped. He was looking at something. I stretched my neck to see what it was. “Shit! I knew we had forgotten something!” Her red sandals were tossed somewhere below the edge of the bed so we could not see them. However, they were right in front of my father’s sight now. He turned to me and asked, “What’s going on?”    

“Nothing. Why would you think that?” It was a stupid thing to say but it was the only thing that came to my mind at the time. “You’re lying,” he said trying to meet my eyes with his. I looked away and stepped out of the room trying to get him away from it. I opened the fridge, took a sip of the water bottle in attempt to hide my nervousness, and said, “I’m not. Now could you please leave my room so I can go back to sleep?” “There’s a woman’s scent in the air. It’s too strong to miss. Who do you have in there with you?” he said accusingly. “No one. You’re only imagining things,” I said and stood leaning on the doorframe because I was not sure I could hold myself standing for much longer. “She’s in the closet, isn’t she? There’s no other place for her to hide,” he said conclusively and headed for it. I realized there was no point of trying to fool him anymore. “She is. I’m sorry,” was all I managed to say. “Let her get dressed and come both of you to my room. We need to talk” he said firmly and walked out of the room.   

I opened the closet and told Layla to come out. She looked at me with questioning eyes so I told her to get dressed and that my father is waiting for us in his room. Her eyes started to tear up a little bit so I hugged her and I assured her everything was going to be alright even though I did not believe that myself. I sat on the edge of the bed while she got dressed and collected her stuff. When she was done, she sat next to me and we both just held each other’s hands in silence. A minute later, I stood up and helped her up because she did not seem capable of standing on her own. We knocked on dad’s door and he said, “Come in.”

He was sitting on the chair of his desk and I noticed that he had loosened up his tie. He nodded for both of us to take a seat in front of him. “Dad, this is Layla,” I barely finished my sentence when he stood up, came to me and slapped me hard right on my face for the very first time in his life. My left cheek was burning up. It was reddening with the sudden rush of blood. I did not know what I felt more, the pain from the slap or the shame for causing it in the first place. I saw him raising his hand again and I thought he was going to slap me a second time so I closed my eyes but then I heard Layla say, “Please don’t hit him.” He looked at her for a second then lowered his hand and started yelling at me,         

“See what you made me do? I didn’t want to do this but you forced me to. Now tell me, what am I supposed to do now? How should I deal with this situation? I never thought I’d have to deal with such a thing, especially with you. I thought I raised you better than this but seems like I did not. Apparently I did something wrong. I thought you knew better, too. Go on; tell me you didn’t do what I think you did in your room. I’m not a fool. How could you allow yourself to do this? I take it this is not the first time you did this with her. Hell, probably she’s not the first girl you bring over. How would I know now?” “She’s the only one,” I mumbled. “Oh excuse me. Only one you say? Well, we should you give you a reward. You bring someone else’s daughter to my house and do god-knows-what with her. Have you got no shame? Have you not thought well of what you were doing? Didn’t you think of the consequences? Are you out of your mind?      

And what about your mother? Do you want me to tell her what I found her precious son doing this morning? She’d flip if she found out. Thank God it was I who saw you, not her. God knows she has enough to worry about, not adding your stupid misdeeds. Honestly, I don’t know what you expect me to do. I’m confused myself.” He was pacing around the room. “I told mom about Layla,” I said, staring at the floor. “I’m sure you didn’t tell her about what you were doing this morning.      

I look at you and I see you’re only a boy; young and foolish. I should force you to go and ask for her hand in marriage. Of course, her parents will reject you because you’re both still young and you can barely support yourself. Then I’d have to sit with them and explain to them why you must get married to each other so soon. It would be like my own worst nightmare coming true for someone else. How would I be able to look them in the eye? I should be proud and happy on your wedding day. I shouldn’t be feeling shame and disgrace like I know I would now if her parents learned the truth. My son had his way with your daughter. There’s no other way to put it. What about this poor girl? I don’t want to expose her and ruin her life because she made a mistake. You should’ve thought of all of this before you brought her into your room. Why on earth didn’t you think of any of that? Why? You piece of shit” He sat down and lit up a cigarette. He remained silent for a few minutes before saying, “Go. Take her to her house and come back so we can talk after I had some time to think.” When I reached the door, I turned and said, “I’m truly sorry. We both are. We weren’t thinking. I just want you to know that we love each other and that we want to be together one day.” My father waved his hand and said without even looking at us, “Just go.”      

In our front yard, I told Layla not to worry then hugged her and kissed her forehead before we got into the car. On the way to her house, Layla would not stop crying. She had been fighting the tears but now she just let them fall unopposed. Her whole body was shaking. I squeezed her hand as tight as I could in attempt to calm her. “Everything’s going to be alright, inshallah. We’ll work this out,” I kept telling her over and over again.      

Less than a minute away from her house, dad called me on my mobile. I answered saying, “We’re almost there. I’ll drop her off and I’ll be back in fifteen minutes or so.” He surprised me by saying, “No. Don’t drop her off. There’s this errand that I have to run. It’ll probably take me an hour. I’ll meet you after I’m finished at Aroma Café. You two just go there and wait for me.” I did not know what to say except, “Ok.” “What did your dad just say?” she asked me after I hung up. “He wants to meet us at Aroma Café,” I replied. Her teary reddened eyes widened up and she asked me why. I told her I had no idea.       

I parked the car in front of an empty construction site near her house. I held her face in between my palms and wiped her tears with my thumbs. “Please stop crying. I can’t stand to see you like this,” I said then put my arms around her and hugged her. “I’m sorry for causing you all this trouble,” she whispered. I broke free for a minute and looked into her eyes. “No. No. Don’t ever say that. Do you hear me? You don’t have to be sorry for anything. I should be apologizing to you. I dragged you into this but Inshallah everything’s going to be alright.” She let out a faint giggle and said, “Do you know that you have said everything’s going to be alright like ten thousand times already?” I laughed and told her that I did not know what else to say, being the foolish little boy that I am. We shared a little laugh then we hugged again. I told her I loved her and she did the same. We held hands and headed to the café.

“One Caramel Macchiato and one Vanilla Frappuccino?” asked Mohammad, the guy who worked at Starbucks, Ice Land branch, the minute he saw us coming in. We had been frequenting this particular Starbucks enough for him to memorize our faces and our usual orders. “Sure,” we said and greeted him. When our orders were ready, we took them and went to my house.        

It had become customary for us to spend our mornings together in my room. We would have loved to alternate between her room and mine but she could not fake sickness often or it would have seemed suspicious. However, things were going as smoothly as we could hope. She had this arrangement with her friend Rana in which Rana would go with Layla to college on Saturday, Monday and Wednesday and Layla would go with Rana on Sunday and Tuesday. What her parents did not know was that on the days Layla was supposed to go with Rana; it was I who picked her up. Her parents never doubted a thing. She would kiss them good morning, go down early and leave them thinking that she is going with Rana. I cannot say we did not feel guilty for fooling her parents the way we did but our desire to be together was more powerful than anything else was.      

Sometimes we would pass by Starbucks or Barnies to get our morning beverages before going back to my house. My whole family would usually be gone by then. The house was always empty except for our maid, Lucy. Lucy had been working for us for over seven years and I did not worry about her presence. I would open up the door and call out for her to close the door of the kitchen on herself where she would be cooking lunch and tell her not to go out for a couple of minutes which she did without asking questions. I would take Layla’s hand and lead her upstairs to my room. Once we were inside, I would lock the door and we would be in our own little haven.       

We did everything you could imagine in those days. We watched movies while sitting on the bed curled up in each other’s arms. Just a couple of days ago we had watched The Incredibles and we laughed until tears fell from our eyes. One morning, she tried out my entire wardrobe and looked rather funny in most of my clothes. The second time she was in my room; she chose her favorite shirt and boxers and took them with her. We flipped through music channels and made fun of all the new singers that seem to pop up every second. We played Monopoly a few times and she won every single time! I tried teaching her Baloot, a famous Saudi cards game, but it was a hopeless case. “Teach me again. Teach me again!” she would say a couple of weeks after my last attempt to let her understand the game and I’d give in and try again but she never got it so I finally gave up! On some rare occasions, we would study if anyone of us had an exam on the same day at noon or on the same week. I would pretend that I fully understood whatever she was blabbering about, nodding my head often as if I knew all about Accounting. She did the same too with me whenever I paced around the room repeating things I had just read in one of my huge Medical books. More than once, we just fell asleep the minute we reached the room.           

In those days, the morning belonged to us. The four hours from 8:30 until 12:30 on each Sunday and Tuesday were the finest hours of each week. They were amazing. We would still go out on other days in which I would take Layla from college and we would go have lunch before I drop her at her house or occasionally we would go out on a Thursday night but in those times, usually a friend of hers, Dania or Rana, or a friend of mine would accompany us. That is why we preferred those mornings together. We were alone and we were free to do whatever we wanted to do. I used to kid around that the only thing left for me to do was to give her a drawer in my closet so she can keep some of her clothes and “female” items in it.   
On the first couple of weeks of our “PMS” or “Perfect Morning Sex” as we jokingly called them, our mobiles would not stop ringing due to friends calling and asking why we had not showed up to college. The next morning we would just say PMS laughingly whenever someone asked why we were absent the day before. After a while, no one bothered to call or ask. Surely, our best friends had a faint idea of what PMS meant.        

We always set the alarm on 12 so we could have time to dress and leave the house before my sister and my brother come back from college and school. I would call out to Lucy and tell her to enter her small room and we would go down the stairs, get into my car, and drive away. Sometimes I took Layla back to her house and sometimes I took her to college. As you can see, the situation could not have been more perfect. It seemed like everything was working to our benefit. We felt we could go on like that forever.     

It was on a Sunday or a Tuesday morning, I cannot remember which, and we were both asleep on my bed when I was awakened by the sound of knocking on the door. I lifted my head from the pillow and saw that Layla was still sleeping peacefully next to me. I figured it was probably Lucy wanting to ask me about what I preferred for Lunch or something like that so I just said, “Lucy I’m asleep. Leave me alone please.” The blood froze in my veins when the knocking got harder and I heard a voice that was not Lucy’s saying, “Khalid, open up. Why is your door locked?” It was my father’s voice.

The story of Layla is fiction in the sense that she is an imaginary character that I created. There isn’t a Layla, nor there ever was.           

Anyhow, most of the events that I’ve written about have, indeed, taken place at some point or another, in the very same sequence or not. They did not necessarily happen to me even though a considerable portion of them did. I could have been involved in a certain event from a distance or learned about another through a friend and felt that such events should be included in the story. Of course, some events were stretched too thin, some were downright true to the smallest detail and some were completely made up. I did change the names of people involved and altered almost everything that has happened though.    

By doing this, no one could be recognized as a certain character. In addition, no one would know which of the events did actually take place, which did not and which were “borrowed” from someone else’s life.

I’ve been told that there are some things which seem unrealistic but I assure you everything has some truth deep within it in a way or another. You have the choice whether to believe that or not.         

I believe that “You write what you know” and so as you may expect, I cannot write that well about things that I did not have the chance to experience yet such as making love and the process of getting married for instance. I have tried my best to write about such things in a believable way after asking others who have experienced them about their views. However, in the end I expressed my own thoughts regarding how they ought to be.

Some have said that “And they lived happily ever after” is the only thing missing. Well, I can assure you that happily ever after do not exist in real life. Think of the story, and your life for that matter, as segments. Some do have happy endings while others don’t. Life is a series of ups and downs and we’re just trying to make it through in the best way we know how. This story is neither a purely happy nor a purely sad one, which is what makes it real.

There are many who might not approve of the things I portray in Layla but I guess that is just the way it is. I do not try to make up stuff just to impress a certain group of people nor do I try to conceal other stuff to avoid upsetting another group. I apologize, however, if I, unintentionally, crossed the line.

The last question is: Why did I choose to name her Layla? Well, I’ve never met a Layla my whole life so this way it could not have any hidden implications within it. In addition, Layla is one of my absolute favorite female names.

I sure hope you enjoy reading Layla as much as I enjoyed writing it. I appreciate all your kind and supportive comments. I know I’m not the best writer out there but I try very hard to get better.

I wish that one day I could manage to get Layla published. My dreams are too big and too wild you say? Well, I’m still hoping.

Thank you all for reading and loving Layla.

[Hanging by a Moment] was still playing from my mobile while its screen kept blinking [Layla is calling] I put my mobile on Silent and threw it on the passenger’s seat. I was not ready to talk to her just yet. I needed to clear my mind for I was still confused. I felt disoriented. I tried thinking of other things such as the Pathology quiz we were having the next day but I could not concentrate on anything. The voice in my head was still asking too many questions. “Probably it’s nothing,” I kept reassuring myself. Maybe I am just making a big deal of it. In the end, it was just a simple Thank You message. In my mind, I knew it was not the message itself that worried me the most, not even the fact that they had talked last night was. It was the things that might follow I was afraid of. I did not want them to have a relationship of any kind. I would not feel comfortable knowing that he could call her anytime he needed to “talk.”          

I took my mobile and looked at its screen. 3 Missed calls and 1 message received. I could not help smiling. Someone else might have not stopped calling and sending messages but she knew better. She knew that I did not like it when people kept on calling. She knew I needed some time alone to figure things out on my own. She also knew that I would call her the minute I find it in me to do so. I turned the volume of the stereo way up high so I could not hear my own thoughts for a while. I kept driving to nowhere in particular.    

When it started getting dark, I came back home. My mom asked me where have I been and why have I not been answering my phone. I apologized and told her I had to stay late in college and that I had forgotten my mobile on Silent. She asked me what is wrong. I knew my mom could read me like an open book and I was never good at concealing the way I feel. I said nothing and asked her if I could take Noor, my sister, out.     

Noor and I went to Gelato, Al-Tahleya branch, which we used to call our “cheer-up place.” We usually went there whenever one of us felt down or upset over something for it offered good Ice Cream and good Mo’assel, hubbly bubbly. The place was rather small but we liked it very much. The setting was nice. We had befriended the manager a long time ago and the waiters knew us well enough by then. We ordered a strawberry milkshake, a plate with five different kinds of ice cream and an apple Mo’assel.

Those who knew me knew about my close relationship with Noor. We kept almost no secrets from each other. We often talked at length about everything that is going on in our lives. She usually was the one offering advice when I was in need while I served as a sympathetic ear whenever she needed one. It is true that she is almost two years younger than I am but she knows about life much more than I do. She understands how relationships work in a way that never fails to amaze me. We were not always this close though. We had a better relationship than most siblings usually have but during the last two years, we grew closer. She was a tremendous help after my first relationship ended rather badly during my second year of college. I was heart-broken and I thought I would never recover. I have no idea what I would have done if she had not been there for me during that difficult period of my life. I owe her more than I could ever repay. I will always be grateful to her. 

“So, what’s wrong?” she asked. I told her about what happened that morning, more or less. She did not ask me what I was doing at Layla’s house. “What should I do?” I pleaded. “Well, I think you should call her the moment we get home and give her a chance to explain things. Don’t make any judgments yet. It doesn’t seem like something you should worry about. Layla loves you. I could tell from the way she looks at you and holds your hand. Even if it wasn’t the first time they talked, I don’t think it meant anything to her. It’s usually hard to ignore the first person you’ve been with. Just ask her to please not talk to him anymore if it bothers you this much and I assure you she would do as you asked. You’re making a big deal out of nothing. I thought you were worried about something more serious. Just talk to her tonight and everything will be ok,” she said.  We stayed for another hour before we left.  

I finally called Layla around midnight. She was still awake with her mobile in her hand or something because she answered even before I heard a single ring in my mine. “Hey,” I said. She said Hey back and we both fell silent. Up until that moment, I had not exactly decided how I am going to discuss the whole thing with her. I had struggled with different scenarios in my mind throughout the day but at the end, I just dialed her number with nothing premeditated to say but “Hey” as I did. “Thank you for putting the alarm on 2 o’clock so I could wake up before Lama comes back home and for folding my clothes too,” she said. “It’s ok. You’re welcome,” I said and we both fell silent again. “Listen, Khalid, I’m sorry.”          

She paused as if to wait for me to say anything but when she saw that I did not respond she continued, “Last night wasn’t the first time Rami called. However, it was the first time I bothered to answer. During the last month he had called me three or four times but I never picked up.” I interrupted her saying, “You should’ve hung up in his face rather than just let it ring.” “Please let me finish. He even sent me a couple of messages, which I deleted without even reading. Anyhow, last night, I think it was around 2 or 3, I woke up to the ringing of my mobile thinking probably it’s you. When I looked at the screen, turned out it was Rami who is calling. His calls were annoying me so I figured I should just answer and ask him to please not to call again. When I said hello, he asked me how I was doing and apologized for calling so late and waking me up. He wanted to make small talk but I cut him off asking him to get to the point why he is calling me. He then told me he was engaged.

Can you believe that? He’s engaged to Halah, the girl I saw him with that day at Java. I used to think I would get upset if such a thing ever happened. The strange thing is that I didn’t. It didn’t stir up any kind of emotions in me. It was like a stranger was telling he is getting married, which I guess in a way is what Rami has become to me. I thought of you and I smiled. I pictured us getting engaged ourselves one day and me calling Rami to tell him the same thing he was telling me then. He gave me the dates for Al-Milka and the wedding day and where they will be held. He asked me if I wanted to attend any. I said, “No, thank you.” I congratulated him and told him I was happy for him, which wasn’t entirely true but I figured what the hell. We talked for a couple of more minutes then he asked me if I had forgiven him. I shrugged and said, “There’s no need for us to bring up that subject ever again.” I congratulated him again and we hung up.

The whole conversation couldn’t have been more than ten minutes. There’s nothing about it that should make you upset. I’m sorry. If I knew you’d leave me to wake up and not find you by my side, I would never have talked to him in the first place.” “Why didn’t you tell me about it in the morning then?” I asked. “Because it was the first time I let you into my house. The first time I let you into my room. I didn’t want to start our day together by mentioning Rami because I thought it might turn you off or upset you. I would have told you later for sure but not when we’re alone in my room. I wouldn’t waste our precious time together on such a small matter.” I apologized for leaving the way I did. I felt rather foolish and embarrassed from myself that moment. We then talked about our lovely morning together and how it was almost perfect if that message had not come.       

“You know what? How about I pretend I’m still sick tomorrow so I can stay home alone again. I promise I would make it up to you.” She was back to her usual playful self, using her seductive voice tone. I could not help smiling and saying, “Well, you know I have a Pathology quiz tomorrow but I’d be more than willing to miss it if you’re going to wear that red dress of yours. Preferably with nothing underneath” I said in the same tone of her voice.

“So, is everything ok between us? I’m looking at the mobile with my cute puppy eyes. I look adorable. Too bad you can’t see me now,” she said. “You know what? I think you might be able to show me those cute puppy eyes of yours. Move your curtain and open up your window.” “No way!” she said giggling. I saw her window slide open and her beautiful face peered out from it. She was wearing the pink PJ I had undressed her from that very same morning. I was standing in front of my car, which I had parked in the empty piece of land opposite her window. I waved to her and she waved back. She was screaming at my ears through the mobile, “You’re crazy! Did you know that? It’s very cold out there! Don’t tell me you’ve been standing there the entire time!” I smiled and said, “Well, No. I’ve been here half an hour before I called you.” She laughed some more at this and said, “I love you.” I told her I loved her too. I stood there while she sat on the edge of her window and we talked until the break of dawn. Then I got into my car and went home to take a shower, change and come back to her house when everyone has left. Four hours later, I was in her room and we had our perfect morning that day.

We were sitting next to each other at Starbucks, Al-Corniche branch, a couple of months ago. At that time, we were only a week short of completing five months together. Her coffee was getting cold as she barely recognized it was even there on the table. She pretended to listen to me but I could tell her mind was somewhere else. She was visibly nervous. It showed in how she kept playing with my fingers in an agitated way rather than the comfortable way I have grown accustomed to and loved. 

She had called me the night before asking me to pick her up from her house the next day around 8:30. “There’s something I need to talk to you about,” she had said. I could not sleep well that night wondering what is so important that she felt she should tell it to me in person rather on the phone. Exactly 8 o’clock, I got up from bed, took a long shower and got dressed. I arrived at her house ten minutes early but she was ready and waiting for me. “Good morning,” she said as she got into the car. She did not say anything else for the rest of the ride to Starbucks except for a mumbled “Nothing” when I asked her, “What’s wrong, dear?” I kept glancing sideways to her while trying to keep my eyes on the road. It was clear she was lost in her own thoughts.        

When we got there, I ordered a Caramel Macchiato for her and a bottle of water for myself. The place was empty to our relief, which meant we could sit without anyone disturbing us. We sat next to each other in one of the stalls. I decided that I would not ask her about what is occupying her mind. I thought it was better if I just kept on talking normally and she would bring it up when she feels comfortable enough.    

I was taking a sip of water when she untangled her fingers from mine. I put the bottle down. She looked up into my eyes and said, “I have a confession to make. You probably wouldn’t like what I’m going to tell you but please don’t get upset over it. It’s something from the past but I feel like you should know it. It’s not going to affect us in anyway. Just please listen to me till the end, ok?” I nodded my head and then she said, “I’ve been in love once before.” For the course of the following three hours, she told me the story of Rami.          

“His name was Rami. We had met in the summer that followed our graduation from high school. Back then, my friends and I were young and wild. We went to many parties to celebrate and have fun. We went out for breakfast, lunch and dinner. We were just very happy that we were done with school and finally going to college. Well, in some of these outings… and in some of those parties… I regret to tell you that there were guys present. Not most of the times, but on occasions, there will be a couple or more if we’re simply going out to some restaurant or nearly a dozen if it was a party at someone’s place. I met him at a surprise birthday party we had arranged for our friend Dania at her house.” I interrupted her asking, “You mean Dania as in the one that came along with us to Friday’s last week?”
“Yes, that’s her. I’ve never been to a mixed party before because I thought the idea of going to some stranger’s house or even to a friend’s house while guys were present was too much for me. I didn’t mind if guys came along in public places. It was fine by me. The other girls went to these parties. I usually refused to go, well, at least until this one. Dania had met this group of guys that she had become good friends with during the last year of school. She even had a crush on one of them called Ahmad. We had gone out with them before so we knew each other. So when it was time to plan Dania’s birthday party, they had to be included. When the night had come, one of us took Dania out to Jamaloky beauty saloon. We had told her it was an early birthday present.

They were due to come back at 10 so we had almost three hours to get the place ready. A few minutes after they had left, we were in front of her house ringing the doorbell. Fifteen minutes later, we were saying goodbye to her parents whom we managed to convince to leave the house empty for us. They were going to Makkah and weren’t coming back until the day after. Around 8, the doorbell rang. I pressed the intercom button and asked, “Who is it?” “It’s us! We have brought all the good stuff” Ahmad replied. We were nine girls inside the house then, adding Dania and Rana, who took Dania out, would bring us to a total of eleven girls that will be present at the party. We didn’t know how many guys were coming though. Ahmad and three of his friends were coming for sure. We had asked them to bring along a couple of more friends, too. When I got down and opened the door, I counted six.

I recognized five of them including Ahmad but the sixth one wasn’t familiar. I welcomed them in and they started loading stuff off the GMC they came in. A large stereo with two big speakers, a bag filled with CDs, some festive decorations we requested, drinks, chips and many other additional things. We had asked them to come in one car because more than one parked in front of the house would look suspicious. We had started decorating the house by then. They came in and started hooking the stereo and helping around with the decorations. We mostly just sat around and gave orders while they did the rest of the work! While they were putting up this big banner with Happy Birthday Dania written on it, I took Ahmad aside and asked him, “Who’s the new guy?” “Who are you talking about?” he looked puzzled. “The one with the long hair! The one wearing a red t-shirt.” “Ah, you mean Rami?” he said.

He continued, “I forgot you’ve never met him before. We’ve been friends for a long time. He just had to leave last year to study in Madinah after his parents got divorced and he went to live with his dad there. He’s back in Jeddah now. He’ll be studying at Azzoz like the rest of us. Don’t worry. He’s a good guy.” I left and went to check on the birthday cake in the fridge. Rana had sent us an SMS by then telling us to be prepared because they would get back home in five minutes. We turned off the lights of the main saloon where the party was going to happen and took our positions. We heard the keys getting into the lock of the door and turning it. Dania stepped in with Rana behind her, closed the door and the moment she turned on the lights, we all screamed “Surprise!”

What a poor girl! She almost fainted! She came and hugged every one of us all teary eyed. We put on the music and the fun begun. We were having a good time and when it was finally midnight, everyone screamed “Cake!” We turned off the lights again and brought out the cake, which had a picture of Dania when she was five years old drawn on the top. It had eighteen lit candles. We demanded, “Wish! Wish! Wish!” She wished something then blew out the candles while we sang Happy Birthday. We turned on the lights and after we were done with the cake, Ahmad said, “Now it’s time for the presents!” We spent an hour as Dania unwrapped her presents taking pictures with each one and the person who had brought it. I had gotten her the red Gucci sunglasses you saw in the pictures of that birthday, if you remember.” I interrupted her again saying, “Oh yeah right! But there weren’t any guys present in the pictures.” I was confused. “Well, we showed you the parents’ version; the one that didn’t include any of the guys. We had to take pictures to show Dania’s parents and ours that we indeed had a birthday party, so we figured we’d take two sets pf pictures; a private one and a parents’ version.” “Ok, continue please,” I said.

“We decided we’d finish the night with a movie. The guys had brought a big collection of DVDs with them and we settled on Road Trip even though some of us had watched it. Everyone went up to the second floor because the big screen TV and DVD player were upstairs in the living room. I hated to leave the saloon in such a chaos and I knew very well that we’d be too tired at the end of the night to do anything so I stayed behind to clean up a little bit. As Rami was climbing up the stairs, he turned around and asked, “Aren’t you coming?” “I’ll just tidy here a little bit and I’ll be up in a minute,” I replied. To my surprise, he came down and offered his help. The saloon was still a mess when we left it but not as bad as it was a couple of minutes earlier. Upstairs, everyone had taken their place in front of the screen that there wasn’t any space vacant on the sofas or chairs. We ended up sitting on the floor not too far from each other. After the movie ended, we all cleaned up the place then it was time for the guys to leave since us girls we’re going to sleep over. Dania hugged each one of them and thanked them for what they’ve done today and for the presents. We all jammed ourselves in Dania’s room. We kissed her, hugged her, said Happy Birthday, said Goodnight and went to sleep.         

A couple of days later, Dania called all giggly and excited saying, “I was just on the phone with Ahmad and guess what? Somebody likes you.” “Ahmad? He’s obviously interested in you, not me,” I said. “No, you silly! Rami likes you. You know, the one with the red shirt,” she informed me. “I remember him but are you sure? Because I wouldn’t be able to tell” “He just asked Ahmad for your phone number but Ahmad said he’ll have to ask you first. What do you think?” “Why not? Let him have my number,” I said. A week later, he called to say Hi.

It became customary for us to go out with Ahmad and Rami. Sometimes the other guys came along too. Rami and I got used to talking to each other. Slowly, the ten minutes calls increased until they became hours. He was very nice to me. It didn’t take me long to like him more. I wanted to talk to him and be around him all the time. One night, he told me he loved me and I told him I loved him, too. We started going out alone. Sometimes we went out with the others but we preferred to go out just the two of us.

We’ve been together for almost a year when I started hearing rumors he was going out with someone else. Of course, I refused to believe anything I heard. He denied it with fierce conviction when I questioned him about it and I believed him. A month after the rumors started, Rana called me and said, “I’m so sorry to tell you this but Rami just parked his car next to mine and went into Java with some girl. He was holding her hand.” “Are you sure it’s him?” I asked, my voice trembling. “Yes I am,” she said. I was on my way home from college when she called so I asked her to stay there and told the driver to go to Java. My eyes were starting to tear up as I stood in front of Java’s entrance but I still refused to believe until I saw him with my own eyes.

I went in with Rana and found them snuggled in a corner in the second floor. I screamed at him. I cursed him. I tore the necklace I was wearing which he had gotten me as a gift on our three months anniversary and threw it at him. I blew up in tears sobbing and shaking as Rana was taking me outside. He tried to come speak to me and I heard him call my name but Rana slapped him when he came close and ordered him to leave us alone. We got into her car. She told my driver to go home and took me to her house.

I loved Rami. I really did. I honestly thought he was the one. He broke my heart into pieces. I was a complete mess for the rest of the year. I’m going to spare you the details. I was so hurt and so confused. I avoided him for a week and called him the next. I told him I loved him in one call and told him I hated him in the next. I knew he was still going out with that girl but I couldn’t keep myself away from him. If not for my friends, I’d have done more dramatic things. I cried and cried and cried. I begged him way too many times to come back to me but he didn’t want to. He didn’t care. He kept telling me he loved me but that the love we shared had faded away. Have you ever heard something as lame as that? What kind of an excuse is that? Faded away? It was never there in his heart in the first place for it to fade away. I almost failed 2nd year because of that bastard.

Anyhow, one day I woke up and just decided that I won’t call him anymore. I’ve had enough. He kept torturing me, I kept torturing myself and it was all for nothing. In the summer, I went with my family to Spain and then to Egypt which helped me wash away some of the memories and pain. I came back refreshed and a lot stronger. I didn’t hear from him ever since, other than that he’s actually still going out with the same girl until now.

I’m sorry I didn’t tell you any of this sooner but I didn’t want you to get the wrong idea, or think that I’m not a good person. I was stupid and I didn’t know any better. I meant to tell you before but I thought I’d wait for the right moment to come. Yesterday I was cleaning my wardrobe and found a blouse he had given me once, which I must’ve forgotten to throw because I got rid of everything he’d ever gotten me a long time ago. That’s why I called you. I needed to get this part of my past over with. I know I told you I hadn’t fallen in love before. I’m sorry for that. I never meant to lie to you. We had just started going out together and I preferred to void this subject. Therefore, by saying I hadn’t, I prevented any further questions about it. I didn’t want you to know I came with such history and baggage. I didn’t want you to feel like I’m still hung up on him or anything. I also wanted to make sure that I have moved on myself. I swear to you, you’re nothing like him. You’re so much better. You don’t have to believe me now. I’ll prove it to you day by day. I love you”   

I remained silent for a couple of minutes because I did not know what to say. She reached for my hand and held it in between hers. She tried to look into my eyes but I kept looking away. I was trying to comprehend everything that I have heard. I had so many questions to ask. I felt like I needed to ask for more details about him and their relationship. I was confused. Then I thought; I know I love her. She knows I love her. I know she loves me. Why should anything else matter? When that realization came, I took a quick look around the place and saw that it was empty except for us. I gazed into her deep hazel eyes. I rested both of my palms on her soft cheeks holding her beautiful face in my hands. “It doesn’t matter. It’s all in the past now. I love you, Layla,” I said. Then I kissed her lips for the very first time.

——————–

I snapped back to reality by the ringing of my own mobile. I was still sitting on the edge of the bed in my underwear clutching her mobile hard in my hand. Its screen was still showing the dreadful message. I took my mobile from the nightstand and saw it was a friend of mine calling, probably wondering why I did not come to college yet. I silenced it and did not bother to answer. I sat frozen looking at the purple-painted wall facing me. I did not know what to think. A million thoughts were running wild inside of my head and were colliding with each other. I felt like I wanted to scream. I bit my lower lip so hard I cut it and tasted blood.

I got up, went to the bathroom, and washed my face. I stared at my reflection in the mirror. I could not tell how I felt. I went back to her room and looked at her peacefully sleeping so unaware of the storm inside of me. “God, she is beautiful,” I could not help thinking. I was surprised by the outward calmness I was portraying. I felt like I was watching myself move around the room but it was not me.

Should I wake her up and ask her about their talk last night? Should I call him and ask him about their talk? Should I just ignore the whole thing and pretend it never happened? Should I scream and shout at her? I needed an explanation I thought. I need to understand before I can judge. But what explanation is there? What reason would there be for them to talk? How long did they talk? Was it ten minutes? Or was it an hour or two? Was it more? What did they talk about? Why did she answer him in the first place? Why was he calling to begin with? Was this the first time they talked? Or wasn’t? What if they were talking on regular basis? What would that mean? Are they getting back together? Where do I fit in the picture? Did she tell him about me? Or did she fail to mention me? Too many questions were on my mind. I did not know where to begin or where to end.

I decided I could not deal with any of this now. I needed to clear my mind first. It was such a task getting dressed. I collected her clothes from the floor, folded them, and put them on the desk. I put the alarm in her mobile on 2 o’clock so she has some time to get dressed before her sister comes home. I also left the message showing on the mobile’s screen and I placed it on the side of the bed that I slept on so when she wakes up, she can know that I had read the message. I inspected the room one last time to make sure I did not leave anything behind. I took one last look at her and fought the urge to kiss her before I leave. It was 1:14 when I was driving away from her house. I could not go to college or home. I did not want to, to be more accurate. I kept driving around Jeddah. The weather was hot but I felt cold inside of my own skin. Just after 2 o’clock, I heard the intro to Lifehouse’s song [Hanging by a Moment] coming from my mobile phone. It was the ring tone I had assigned to her number. I looked at the mobile’s screen. [Layla is calling you] it informed me.

“So, could you come over or do you have to go to college today?” she said, playfully, expecting my answer to be an enthusiastic Yes. I decided to tease her a little bit so I replied, “I don’t know. Let me check my lectures schedule for the day and get back to you.” She yelled at me between her giggles, “Don’t play with me! You’re coming over whether you like it or not!” I said I would be there in 15 minutes.  

Our lectures did not start before 10 in the morning on Sundays so I was sound asleep in my bed when Layla called and woke me up at 8:30. She told me that she had faked sickness in order to stay home from college that day and that she had waited for everyone to leave the house before she called. “We can have the whole house to ourselves most of the day. Well, at least until 2:30 when my sister comes back from school,” she said in a way that did not leave much room for speculations regarding what we were going to be doing that morning.
I went to the bathroom, took a quick shower and got dressed. I thought of passing by a flowers shop to buy her a bouquet of roses or something but the shops were still closed so I settled for passing by Barnies and getting myself an Ice Strawberry and a cup of Mochachino – 1 sugar, extra caramel – for her. Exactly 15 minutes after we hung up, I was parking my car in front of her house. The moment I got out of the car, I heard the door open and saw her standing behind it. I said good morning and entered.           

She stood there smiling somewhat shyly, which made my heart jump out of its place. She was still in her favorite pink PJ. I knew because she had talked about it lengthily to me before. It consisted of a pink tank top with a big smiling cow in the center of it and matching shorts of which a small similar cow to the one on the top was printed on the right corner of it. She looked so adorable. “I brought coffee for you,” I said and hugged her. She thanked me and led me inside. I have never been into her house before but it felt like I did after all the times that she spent describing it to me. I had a virtual picture of the house saved in my head. We spent half an hour taking a tour of the house. She showed me all the rooms except for hers because as she said, “Let’s save the best for last.”   

It was the first one to the left of the stairs on the second floor. It had purple-painted walls, a bed with purple-colored sheets, a couple of nightstands that carried many framed pictures of her and her family and friends, a large desk that has never been used for studying she told me, a big closet and a window covered with white drapes. I knew every single small detail of this room from our late night chats but seeing it was something very different from imagining it. The first thing I noticed was her characteristic sweet scent that filled the entire room. I looked around admiringly trying to carve every little detail into my memory. After a couple of minutes of standing in silence and looking around, she asked. “So, what do you think?”
“I love it. It’s so cute! It’s the same as you have described it to me but even nicer. And the best thing is, It smells of you. I think I could live here forever.” “I know you could,” she said. I turned around to her and put my hands on her waist. I looked into her eyes. The room was silent but in my head, a symphony was playing. “I love you,” I whispered into her ears even though there was no one around but us. “I love you, too,” she whispered back. 

Faster than we could tell, our lips met and we were kissing. I started to lose sense of everything around us. It was just her and me again. There was no one else. There was nothing else. We had decided to ignore the guilt we felt the first time we made love a couple of days ago. Without even speaking about it, we had agreed that if we did not treat it as an existing feeling, it would eventually just go away. We swept it under a mental carpet away from sight. Nothing could stop us now anyway. Our hands were rediscovering each other’s bodies slowly.

Three hours had passed when we finally put on our under wears again and just lied next to each other on bed. She had her head on my chest and it felt like it belonged there. My heart was dancing in joy. I was here, in her house, in her room, next to her. The world outside did not matter to me. She lifted her head and looked into my eyes. “Khalid, promise me you’ll never leave me. Promise me you’ll always love me,” she said in a faint sound. I kissed her forehead. “I promise. I swear I’ll always love you, Layla. Don’t ever doubt that.” She smiled and rested her head again on my chest. A couple of minutes later, her breathing became steadier. She had fallen asleep. I lied there reminiscing of the wonderful time we just had. Everything that has been said and done kept playing over and over in my mind. I stared at her angelic face while she slept peacefully. She was smiling as a baby does. She was unbelievably beautiful. After a while, I fell asleep smiling, too. 

It was just after 1 o’clock when I woke up to the sound of her mobile phone announcing that a new message has been received. She was still asleep but not on my chest. She had moved her head on to the other pillow on the bed. I reached for the mobile and opened the message by mistake. “Thank you for our talk last night sweetie. I really appreciate it. Take care now .” I looked into the message details to see who sent it. It read, Sent by Rami at 1:04pm, Sunday. He was her ex.

We sat in silence next to each other on my bed, not a word spoken. Nothing heard but the faint sound of music coming from the stereo and the rhythmic sounds of our breaths. Shoulder to shoulder I could feel the warmth of her body. Her skin was glowing. Her sweet scent was lingering in the air. It was filling the room, the sheets, the bed cover, the pillows and even me. I reached for her left hand and took it in between both of mine. I caressed it gently with my right thumb trying to install some comfort into her shaken soul at the moment. Her right hand held the white bed sheet up against her chest. Her silky brown hair fell on her back and I wanted to move my fingers through it and stroke it but I did not know if I should.                 

We sat in silence. We were afraid of looking into each other’s eyes. We kept looking around the room inspecting the objects surrounding us. The wooden door locked while the purple bear that served as a key chain, which she had gotten me as a gift a couple of months ago, was dangling below the door handle. The closet, the TV stand, which also bore the stereo that will not stop playing, the book shelves, the desk on top of which lied the bouquet of white lilies I had bought for her that morning before I picked her up from her house. The big window with the curtains slightly opened letting small rays of sunlight into the room and the nightstand with her bra hanging helplessly on its far edge. On the floor, my discarded jeans, my yellow t-shirt, her sky blue blouse and short black skirt were staring at me. I could not see where her bottom underwear was so I guessed it was somewhere within the crumpled bed cover that has been thrown to the floor while we were making love.    

Language is too deficient to describe what had happened between us. It was magical. It was beautiful. It was the most divine experience of my life. We ascended into another world beyond the limited margins of our earthly space. We lost tack of time. We could have been there for minutes, hours or even days. It did not make a difference. Entwined in each other’s bodies I had shown her I loved her. For a few moments then, we were one. Body and soul, we were one.

What we did not anticipate was the enormous amount of guilt that engulfed us not too long after we finished while we were still lying in each other’s arms. It came over like a hurricane that took us by surprise. We broke free. I put on my boxers and she lifted the bed sheet to cover herself.       

We sat in silence. I felt an urge to apologize, to tell her that I was sorry. I yearned to hold her again. I longed to kiss her forehead, her cheeks, her eyelids, the tip of her nose, her ears, her chin, her lips and her entire body all over again. I wanted to put her head on my chest so that she can listen to my heartbeats and hear them pronounce her name. I needed to whisper I Love You into her ears over and over again until it reaches the deepest corner of her being. She must have no doubt about the way I feel about her, about us and about what had happened. It was magical. It was beautiful. It was the most divine experience of my life.

I lifted my head, turned around and held her gaze for a while that seemed like eternity. She was reading my soul through my eyes. She knew every word I wanted to say without me saying it. She understood. I finally said, “Layla…” She put her right index finger on my lips hushing me and letting the bed sheet slide down to her waist. She put her arms around me, brought me closer to her and rested her head on my shoulder. I held her tight as she whispered into my ears, “I know.” I felt her tears falling down on my back and shoulder.