Chapter 2 Adah

Adah

Everyone has a dream, a goal they set for themself and how they turn their lives around. Like everyone, I, too, have a dream. My dream, I always want to make my parents happy. Call me old-fashioned or conservative; others' opinions don't matter to me. What matters is what my parents think about me. They were the reason I was brought into the world; my dad worked his ass off to provide us with everything, and my mother dedicated her life to us.

As others chose to live their lives according to their wants and aspirations, I decided to live my life according to my parents. That decision was mine, and that makes me an independent girl. This was the sole reason they let me do anything in my life, as they know I will never say no to them. Thus, I live my life to the fullest without having to lie to them as they have that trust in me, and similarly, I trust them they will always choose the best for me.

Adah Malik, I've done my graduation last year, and being the eldest of the children, they wanted me to get married. I oblige to their wish as I knew they will choose the best for me like always, and I was glad I let them decide since my soon-to-be fiance is nothing but considerate and caring whoever made sure he didn't invade my personal space even when we were alone.

He worked in a software firm with a promising career, with his own apartment and a car. He never missed our special days and would make sure to take time out of his busy schedule to be with me. He respected my parents as his own and would always seek Dad's permission before meeting me. What more could I ask for? I don't believe in power or money or the fact that money can buy you anything. Money can never buy your loyalty, respect, or love. It can buy worldly things or even buy you fear but eventually, it can't get rid of the loneliness inside you.

Tomorrow was my engagement with Fahad, and no matter how much I requested Dad, he won't budge from his decision to make it a grand affair. I knew he was struggling with the home loan and the monthly expenses, and that was the sole reason I wanted to keep the engagement a simple gathering rather than make it glorious. I sat at the center of our fun-filled living room while two professionals applied henna on my hands and legs. My family, my happiness, my everything was right in front of me, celebrating a new beginning of my life. I couldn't have asked God for more.

I felt guilty, knowing well I was never the one to pray on time or, as a matter of fact, to pray. Something about me that my mom always dislikes, and no matter how much she lectures me, I would end up being the last to pray. My dad always consoled her saying, praying should be a personal choice and should be forced. I knew he would say that to save me from my mother's anger.

I was ecstatic would have been an understatement. I closed my eyes and let out a gratified prayer to God for giving me everything.

When I opened my eyes, I saw my dad talking over the phone, walking out of the living room in haste, and I frowned at his lost state. The rest of the evening went by in a blink, and I never realized that even sitting would exhaust you until I had sat for four hours to get my hands and legs covered with henna design.

I let out a yawn and was about to hit the bed when I heard my mother's shriek. She was calling out for my father in despair.

"Mom!" I said frantically and ran towards the direction of her scream. What I saw made me freeze at my spot. My father was lying unconscious on the kitchen floor, and Mom was trying to wake him up. I sprinted towards them while Jawad called the ambulance.

When the ambulance came, Mom stopped me, "You should stay with your sisters. Jawad will be there with me."

I wanted to argue, but it was not the right time for me to upset Mom when she was in turmoil, and I could only nod in response. When I turned around, I saw my sisters, Ayat and Ashna, sobbing on the couch. They were just teenagers and were petrified seeing Dad on the floor. Being the eldest of four siblings, I, too, was shaken by the event. Just a few hours ago, he was beaming, and now suddenly, he lost his consciousness.

The living room, which was full of laughter in the afternoon, suddenly turned silent, and I sat with my sister pulling them closer to me.

We sat there for God knows how many hours, but the eerie silence in the house was broken when Jawad entered the house, looking exhausted.

"How's Dad?" I asked him the moment I saw him.

He slouched on the nearby chair and closed his eyes in weariness, "He is in ICU."

"What happened to Dad?" Ayat asked.

"Heart attack," he whispered, and I knew he was trying to hold his emotions.

"Ayat, Ashna, go to your room. Dad is fine now," I wanted to talk to Jawad alone about Dad, and with my sisters around, I was sure he would not speak.

Without protesting, they left for their room while I sat beside Jawad, placing my hand on his shoulder in assurance. I, too, was shaken hearing about my father's condition, but I had to stay strong for my siblings. The moment I consoled him, he broke down, holding my hand. He was only 16, and I was amazed to see he didn't cry earlier.

"Addy, he....he is serious. Doctors are talking about an operation," he sobbed hysterically.

"Nothing will happen to Dad," I said, but deep down, I too was scared, thinking what if.

"Promise?" he asked, looking expectantly at his elder sister, i.e., Me.

"I promise I won't let anything happen to Dad," his innocent eyes were dying to hear me say that, and I don't regret making him the promise because that was true. I would do anything for my parents.

Jawad and I stayed like that, holding our hands on the couch for a while. With the exhaustion of the day, we both ended up sleeping in the same posture. It was when Jawad's phone rang that we jerked up from our slumber, and both were still in a daze when he answered the call.

"Mom," he answered groggily.

It was then I recollected last night's events, and I was brought out of my trance when Jawad stood up walking out. I had to call him out to know what Mom told him.

"She had to go out to arrange money for the treatment and wants me to be with Dad," he replied with red eyes.

"You should sleep. I will go to the hospital," I said. Jawad wanted to protest, but I used my elder sister's aura to quieten him.

I quickly made breakfast for my siblings and packing some for my mom; I headed out towards the hospital in a cab. Today's traffic jam was unusual as we were stuck up in the traffic for 20 mins, 20 crucial minutes, and in those 20 mins, mom had been calling me hysterically.

"What the hell happened today?" I said with a raised voice and looked out to review the cause of traffic.

"Rickshaw driver said there was a mass murder near the junction, and they are investigating the crime scene," the cab driver replied, looking through the rear window.

Mass murder! In our city? I was shocked at the piece of the event.

"How?" I could only whisper in panic.

"Gang war, maybe?" he shrugged his shoulders.

"Gang? In our city?" I couldn't stop but ask him. This information was new to me as I always thought our city has the lowest crime rate or doesn't have a mafia.

Hearing my question, the cab driver let out a chuckle and murmured, "They are everywhere; it's just they keep a low profile. This is the first time they were reckless in not covering the scene."

"You talk as if you know them," I had to ask, seeing his confidence when he talked about them.

"I am a cab driver, madam. I've seen things at night when you people ignorantly sleep," he said with a dark tone making me gulp. That was the last I spoke to him as I found him creepy after talking about the mafia.

After paying the fare, I was again immersed in my own problem, and as I took a turn, I heard Mom's hushed voice coming from the corridor.

"Yes, how shameless of them," she was speaking in a whisper, and I could see her shoulder shook slightly. Maybe she was crying too.

"Adah will be devastated," the moment she let out my name, I was surprised; why would I be devastated? I knew it was wrong on my part to eavesdrop on my mother's conversation, but knowing her well, I knew she would never let me know.

Fortunately, the corridor was not crowded, and I could hide near the staircase to listen to her.

"Asad was stressed out after they called demanding money; otherwise, they will break the alliance," Mom asked, and then I heard her whimpers.

But that was not what bothered me. They asked for money, Fahad's parents asked for money. Is that why Dad was stressed out? And the call? Was it on that call they demanded money? Soon I got answers to my questions.

"He was thinking about how to arrange the money. The doctor said the attack was due to stress. I don't know how I will arrange money for his operation now." When Mom said, I could only stare at the opposite wall in shock while my eyes welled up unknowingly, and my tears started falling. But that was not the end of my trauma.

"We are still paying for the home loan; even if I mortgage my jewelry, we are still short of one hundred thousand. I would forever be grateful to you if you can help me arrange the money." The moment Mom said, my breath hitched in my throat, 1 one hundred thousand?

What I didn't expect was the last blow was yet to come.

"By tomorrow, if we don't operate on him then-" Mom couldn't complete her sentence and let out a loud sob. I ran away, I couldn't hear anymore.

My dad was the backbone of the family; in his absence, who will help us? I was stupid not choosing to work when I could have helped Dad financially. At least he wouldn't have been stressed out and ended up being in the hospital. It was because of me he was lying in the hospital. He was doing so much for us, and yet I didn't think to support him in the expenses.

"I am useless," I cried, sitting in the nearby park. Flashes of my dad's face were all I could see sitting on the bench. The passerby gave me a sympathetic look, but that was of least concern for me. My body shook when I tried to muffle my sobs, and then I let out a loud cry. That guilt was eating me from inside and the fear, the fear of what if something happens to Dad.

It was true; I was useless. Because of my marriage to that moron, Dad was doing above and beyond, just for my happiness. I was responsible in a way and led him into this condition.

I looked up at the sky while my tears were trailing down my cheek, and I hiccuped, whispering, "Please, help me." I knew I was an ungrateful person, and somewhere it backfired on me.

"I will never skip the prayer, but please save my dad," I folded my hands in prayer while sobbing hysterically. I was still crying, clutching the tiffin box I got for my mom, when someone called me out.

"Adah? Adah Malik?" I remember that voice. She was popular in college but not for good reasons. Although I never mistreated her but on my mom's warning, I kept a distance from her.

"Nilo," I raised my head and saw her giving me a look. I know I was a mess after my crying fit.

"Oh my God! You remember me?" Yes, she looked shocked. Not her fault, no one approached her in the college, and she was always alone.

"You were not my enemy," I replied with a shrug with my tear-stained face and heavy voice. I lowered my head and wiped my tears, although she had already seen me cry.

She looked intently at me and sat beside me on the bench, "Well, no one talk to me in the college. I was surprised you even know my name." I know she was trying to strike a conversion with me, but my traitorous tears didn't stop falling.

I was speechless; what should answer her? I heard she was an escort and sold her body every night to wealthy clients.

"I...." I was struggling to say something, anything, and licked my chapped lips.

"It's ok. I knew about the rumors about me back then," Nilo replied, flipping her keratin smooth hair but never stopped gazing at my face. It was as if she was trying to read my mind.

"I am sorry, they-" I couldn't even finish when she interjected, "They were true." I gaped at her for a few seconds before she let out a sad smile and replied, "I guess you don't want to sit with me."

"No," she startled, hearing my sudden reply.

"I mean, I am sorry I didn't mean to be rude."

"I am a bit disturbed," I added with a sigh. I don't know why but I felt good knowing someone was hearing me out.

She looked towards the hospital and then me; she seems to understand why I was upset from her expression.

"Any problem?" she said after a while when I didn't say anything.

"What else could be the problem for people like us?" I said with a smile, looking at her.

"Money," she murmured.

We sat there like that for a while, and I stole a glance at her. She sat with me when I needed a shoulder when she could have chosen to walk away. Sensing a stare, she faced me and seeing me lost, she smiled awkwardly, "Is there something on my face?"

I couldn't stop my chuckle and shook my head before replying, "No, it's just that......thank you."Tthis confused her.

Then I added, "I needed to talk to someone. Thank you."

When my mom called me again, I stood up and took her leave, but before I could walk further, she said, "I can help you." I started taking a deep breath. Can she help me? Was she the answer to my prayer just now?