My one-sided Love

Her body couldn't stop trembling no matter how much she tried preparing her mind for the inevitable. What she was going to do would ruin her forever, and she knew she would loath herself till the time she will be alive, but did she regret doing what she was about to do? The answer was crystal clear; no. She was ready to live with disgust and self-hatred than to lose someone special in her life.

John's words were ringing in her mind, stay where you are and don't move an inch, as if her body was at ease to roam around the dangerous mansion she was brought to by John. If not for money, she would never even look at such a place. She knew the bigger the house, the greater are the secrets, and two, she was content and happy with the middle-class life her father had provided his children.

Even in the cold weather of December, she can feel a trail of sweat gliding down her spine, her bare back visible out of the backless top was glittering with sweat beads while she was constantly wiping the sweat from her face with her trembling hands. No matter how much she tried to practice deep breathing, her pounding heart and anxiety refused to calm down. She was on the verge of crying, mainly at her helplessness.

Adah was seated on a single armchair in an unknown room of the mansion when John left her to make the arrangement. She felt disgusted in the sheer black saree and the net blouse that was barely covering her skin. Her glance fell on her reflection on the nearby window glass, and her breathing quickened when instead of her, she saw someone else, someone who looked ready to seduce any men.

She abruptly looked away in shame and was again drowned in terror. The only thought that kept her rooted in her spot was the very reason she was there for. She wipes the sweat beads from her forehead with her good-for-nothing saree while her hand kept trembling in anticipation. Her fear slowly weakened her resolve, and she started wondering if only the wait is killing her; what will she do if it happens?

To divert her mind thinking of the disaster she would be soon walking into, she stood up on her weak legs to breathe in the fresh air. She felt suffocated even though the room was bigger than half of her apartment. Her palpitation worsened her breathing, and she walked out of the room, hoping that free air would bring her breathing to be normal. Not knowing her way out, she followed the direction she could feel the breeze was coming from.

She abruptly stopped walking when she heard a strange voice, and without giving a second thought, she walked towards it. She intently listened to the voice and realized there was more than one voice. In her intrusiveness to find the sound source, she didn't know she was walking deeper into the dungeons.

Her steps halted when she witnessed a partially opened door and peek inside to what was happening. Her breath hitched in her throat when she saw a man was lying on the floor, and the next moment another man hovered over him and slit his throat, saying, "Traitor." Adah let out her held breath in pants, and instead of hiding, she made the mistake of screaming her lungs out.

When she caught the men's attention inside the room, her sense was back, and she ran, hearing their hurried steps. Running for her dear life, she didn't stop or halt in the track; she just ran, forgetting why she was there in the first place. Human instinct won't let you think of secondary thought; it only enables you to believe in survival. Not knowing her way out of that gigantic mansion, she took unknown turns, and finally, she could see the familiar grand staircase she walk-on before.

Her saree was making it difficult for her to run, and as any sane person would do, she got rid of her problem by grabbing it and raising it a little so that her legs were free to run. She was at the threshold when she heard a gunshot, which made her cover her ear, screaming her lungs out. Crossing the main door, she turned around quickly to see if anyone was following her, and when she turned her face back to glance ahead, she bumped into a hard wall.

Any sane person will only think about saving themself and then think about others. But Adah never fit into that category; she was born with a motto, thinking of others before herself. Her teary eyes saw only a pair of deep black iris looking at her with fury while she was a panting mess. When another gunshot was heard, she grabbed his hand and tried to drag him out of the mansion.

"Run," she screamed at him, to which he only looked at her with the same disgust and hatred.

She quickly grabs his hand using both her palms, and before she could take him along with her, she saw the men from whom she was running away approaching them with voracious steps. She moved closer to the man, still clutching his arms with her palms and looking round in fright. Her lips and chin quiver realizing her end was near; her face was covered in her tears and sweat. What will people think when her body would be found in a revealing saree like a cheap escort at a strange place?

What will her family think? This thought was enough to ignite her survival fire, and she let go of the man's arm to run, however to her horror, he seemed to guess her intent and harshly grab her wrist. He didn't run seeing the danger and instead was dragging her along with him towards the end. Out of anger, she bit his forearm with all her energy, a mistake she shouldn't have made.

Apart from the hissing sound, there was no other reaction from him. He didn't even bother to look at her and was glaring at the men surrounding them. The realization hit her when she saw all the men lowering their heads and guns. Was it in respect or fear? She didn't know.

"Who was it?" his cold and heavy voice resonating in the eerie silence. Even Adah stopped struggling on hearing his voice; she could hear her heart pounding in her heart.

"I will not repeat," he said, but his voice was void of any emotions. If Adah had not seen the anger in his eyes a few seconds ago, she would have believed that man was void of emotions from his voice.

Two hulks of men stepped out of the group, and she noticed them visibly tremble with his glare. She was astounded at their behavior towards him, which made her look at the man again in shock. On cue, he also faced her with the same hatred and, without warning, fist her lock harshly with a snarl.

"You know I hate women. How did she enter my mansion?"

Adah winced and closed her eyes when he tightened his hold over her hair. She raised her hands to pry his grip burning her scalp with the force while she prayed inwardly to God to save her from the inevitable.

"Handle her. I don't want a drop of her blood in my mansion," he said, throwing her on the ground with force.

Adah never in her scariest dream thought her life would end brutally. Her only mistake; she crossed a path with someone she shouldn't have, crossed her way with him, Aryan Abdullah.

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?

Adah

The moment she said she can help me, I wanted to run to her and hugged her in gratitude but knowing her identity, I was skeptical, thinking why she would want to help me? I immediately didn't turn around and was biting my lower lip, contemplating whether I should accept her help. On receiving no response from me, Nilo approached me and placed her hand over my shoulder.

"How much do you need?"

I couldn't raise my head and look into her eyes; here I was indirectly insulting her by not graciously accepting her help instead kept mum. When she was about to walk away, I whispered, "Hundred....one hundred thousand."

I saw her staring at nothing in particular, deep in thoughts. Maybe she got offended by my silence, or perhaps she was playing a prank with me. But her silence dissipated my hope of getting money for my dad's treatment; however, she spoke again.

"I don't have that much, but I know someone who can help you." She replied. I was annoyed at her reply; if she didn't have the money, why did she ask how much I wanted and ignited my hope?

"Thank you, but I think I will arrange from someone else," saying that I walked away from her. I know what I did was rude, but it was necessary. To some extent, I can trust her, but how can I trust the person she wants me to meet?

When I attempted to walk again, she held my hand and said, "I know what you are thinking? I would think the same if I was at your place."

My place? I abruptly face her with a questioning look as she seems to understand my unspoken question, "Do you think I started doing it for fun?" "No," she laughed, and I wanted to slap myself for acting mean to her.

"I am sorry," was all that I could say to her.

"It was when my mother was diagnosed with cancer I started doing the job," she said, gesturing the word job flexing her index fingers.

"Unfortunately, she lost the battle, but I still had to take care of my siblings," she replied with a sigh.

"What about your father?" The moment I asked her, her face fell, and I never felt the need to hit myself more than I felt at that time.

"I.." I started to say, but Nilo completed, "am sorry."

"Nobody spoke to me about my family as I never had a friend to share my problems. I don't know where my father is. He left us, and God knows whether he is alive or not."

"Not everyone is lucky to have a father," Nilo replied, but I saw her eyes start to moist.

"Yes," I agreed in a low voice.

"Take my card, and if you decide to take my help, you can call me," I was surprised when she pushed her card in my hand and walked away. When I was about to turn towards the hospital entrance, I saw her getting in a luxurious car.

"At least she didn't leave because I hurt her," I shook my head and went inside. I already decided I will never call her; something inside me told me not to contact her, and I am sure it had nothing to do with her job.

When I met my mom, she gave me her warm smile, but her eyes were twinkling with unshed tears.

"How's Dad doing?" I asked even though I know the answer.

"He is fine. The doctor said he is out of danger," even if I didn't hear her phone call, I know she was lying. Mom never makes eye contact whenever she lies, something which I inherited from her.

"I made breakfast. You might be hungry; you have been busy since last night to care for food," the moment I gave the tiffin box to her, my mom genuinely smiled this time.

Since Dad was in ICU, we were not allowed to enter the ward. However, I peered inside when a nurse went inside. The tears that I was holding so far spilled out, and I placed a hand over my mouth. I walked back, and when my back hit the wall, I slouched on the floor, feeling helpless. My body was shaking as I cried harder, feeling scared and sad at the same time. It was only when my mom hugged me I nuzzled my head into her chest and said, "I am scared, Mom. I can't see Dad in pain."

"You have to be strong Adah, your dad never liked to see you cry. And he will be fine soon. Tomorrow morning they will take him for an operation, and then he will be back," Mom was rubbing my back to console me even though she was afraid. Her rapid heartbeat and trembling hands were enough for me to know. I nodded into her chest and then raised my head.

"I know he will be fine," saying that Mom and I stood up.

"Can you stay here? If they ask anything, call me," I know where Mom was going, but according to her, I didn't know. After giving a longing glance to my Dad through the glass panel on the door, Mom left: without eating.

Without caring for the passersby, I sat on the floor and leaned my head towards the wall. After what felt like hours, Jawad came, and he looked tense. I immediately realized something was up, and from the way he was avoiding looking at me, I was sure it had to do with the money.

"Jawad," I called him to get his attention.

"What is it?" to which came his quick reply, "Nothing."

"Where is Mom?" when I asked, I was met with silence.

"Jawad," the fear in my voice made him punch the nearby wall in frustration.

"She was duped," my heart started pounding in my chest; I refused to accept what that would mean.

"She trusted an employee of the pawnshop and went along with him; however, he hit Mom and ran away with the jewelry."

"She....she was bleeding, yet all she cared about was us," Jawad broke down and was clutching his head in his palms.

"Argh! I am so useless. I can't even help her," he cried like a kid.

By now, I was breathing heavily and had to lean on the wall to support myself. At least with the Mom's jewelry, there was still hope, but with it, that hope was also gone. The only option left for me was to call Nilo. I will be lying if I say I didn't know what would happen once I asked her for help but was there any other option? No.

I pushed myself away from the wall and scoot toward Jawad, who was sitting on the floor, helpless.

"Stay here," this was all I could say at that moment. My throat was clogged, and I felt a heavy burden on my chest. I wanted to run to Dad and, like always, ask him to solve the problems. But this time, it was my turn to solve the problem, a situation that was indirectly created because of me.

Jawad raised his head suddenly, "Where are you going?" He asked, and I know Mom might have asked him to take care of me.

"I promised I will save Dad, right?" This caught his attention, and he immediately wiped his face looking expectantly at me.

"You can?" he asked with a half-smile.

"Yes. Be here and don't tell Mom," I replied, and he frowns at the mention of hiding from Mom. I never hide anything from my parents, which was the first time I did, and it didn't settle well with him.

"I might be late, and if I tell Mom, she will be worried about me and will not take care of her injury," I told the partial truth and hid the fact that I was going to sell myself for a night to get money for Dad's treatment.

When he was convinced, he let me go and reminded me to be careful on the way. What an irony!

As I stepped out of the hospital, I called Nilo; however, she didn't answer the call.

"Please answer the phone," I was holding the phone in a tight grip. To my fear, the call went to her voice mail. I again called and got the same response. My hands trembled, thinking, what if Nilo didn't answer the call? I was still lost in desperation when my phone rang, and a wave of relief washed over my face when I saw it was Nilo's call.

I answered the call in haste, "Hello," my throat was already dry with the strain.

"Who is this?" was her reply, and it was then I noticed she was panting.

"Adah," I replied and had to fist the hem of my dress, realizing what she was busy with, and soon I would also be in her place.

"Adah, did you decide?" By now, her breathing was normal, and I could hear a rustling sound in the background.

"Yes, I want to meet your friend," I gulped down the heavy lump.

"I will send you the address. Dont worry, I will also come with you." Sometimes, a small assurance matters a lot. The fear of meeting a stranger lessened a bit when she assured me she will join me. At least someone I know will be with me instead of going alone.