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Chapter 24-

I walk through the front door, people dressed in black, everywhere gloomy. I had gone to his dad's and consoled the family. Now, it's time to put the dispute aside and do the right thing. I knock a few times on his door but he doesn't reply. Twisting the knob, the door doesn't budge and I bring out the spare key before walking in. I find Omar bottled up with a bottle which is obviously alcohol and a cigarette in his other hand. He puffs out smoke and looks at it with disgust.

"Can you leave? I want to be alone." He murmurs and gulps down the bottle of alcohol. I ignore him and proceed to where he misreably sat, the first two buttons of his black shirt opened and his black tie dangles loosely round his neck.

"Get the f*ck out of here! Leave!" He screams looking at me with sad eyes. He throws the bottle at me, missing me by mere inches. It crashes on the floor, breaking into pieces and the liquid forms puddles. I sigh and go to my feet, I sit next to him and envelope him in my arms. I take the cigarette away from him and place it on the ash tray. "I know how it feels, trust me, I do. It sucks and you feel that if they can't be here with you then you want to follow them and be with them. But we just have to live with it, getting drunk won't bring her back. From Him we came and to Him we return. Let it go Omar, let it go." The first sob breaks and I feel warm liquid on my shirt, damping my skin. He sniffles and let the tears flow. "I'm here. I'm here." I breathe.

I'm not quite sure how long we stayed in that position, his head on my chest and my hands hugging him. But I open my eyes to see both of us on the floor. I get up and go out of the room. I find Adam at the sitting room with sadness in his eyes.

"I saw that you guys were having a private moment and I didn't want to interrupt so I just waited outside." We both gaze at the sky as I think deeply. She was nice and good, it didn't matter if I wasn't her daughter and a middle class woman. She treated me with kindness. Also protective of the ones she loved and bossy. I remember how she made Omar carry me when we got married only by giving him that mother's look. So caring and funny. She helped the less privileged and organised programs, she welcomed us with open arms. All in all, Safiya was a woman with a big heart. May her soul rest in peace and may she be amongst the ones in Jannah. Ameen. My mind shifts from Mum to Aliya, if Omar didn't go date Aliya, then what was he doing there?

"Adam?" I call. He looks at me and I do the same. "Why was Omar there?"

"That's a question you have to ask him yourself but I have one advice for you. He isn't what you think he is, learn to trust him. He's just putting on a mask because he was taught to. Look beyond that shell, there you will see the real him. He's broken, please don't make it worse." With those words, he leaves and closes the door. Shutting the light that peered from it. Somewhat, shutting the light of hope in my heart. I carefully think of his words and find my way back to his room. He's still on the floor, I take off his tie and shoes. Dragging him on the bed and I assure you that it wasn't easy at all. I stare down at every feature of his face, from his messy black hair that shows he ran through it with his fingers multiple times. His creamy white skin where his full bushy eyebrows rest, down to his long dark eyelashes that sweep on his face. To his straight pointed nose and little pink lips looking a bit pale. His Beard roughly shaved, giving him a rough look from the last time I saw him.

His chest rises and drops at every breath and I can see the tattoos that showed on the upper part of his chest. The rest hidden underneath his black shirt. A strand of hair lying of his cheek catches my eye and I reach for it, my fingers gently brushing his cheek to pick the hair. I yelp in shock as his eyes shoots up, taking me by surprise.

"I'm sorry...I...just...I'm..." I hastily stand from the bed heading for the door but his strong cold hand holds mine, sending waves through my body, waves I couldn't understand and didn't want. "Stay."

I sit next to him and clench my knees, distracting myself by looking at my feet.

"Adam had a date with Aliya and I just wanted to help him as a friend. I had known him throughout my life and he has done a lot of things for me which I know I can't pay back. I wanted to do this for him, that's why I went to support him. But he had a couple of things to take care of, that's why I went in first to tell her that he would be there in some minutes. Then you came and-"

"Acted like the concluding bitch I'm." I finish.

Breaking my no swearing or cursing rules... Just this time okay.

He lightly titters. "Yeah."

I sigh and look at him, a guilty look on my face. "I'm sorry I thought wrong of you. I almost messed up the deal and I was being a drama Queen. I admit it. Sorry for not trusting you."

"It's not your fault, I was the one who gave you the reason not to."

I purse my lips together and feel his head on my shoulder, perceiving his vanilla perfumed shampoo and weighing me on my right side. But I chose not to complain.

"When your dad died, was it this miserable?" He asks, now off my shoulder and sitting next to me on his King sized bed.

"It was terrible and I was awfully miserable. Yasmin was always the one to bury herself in books and work. But when dad died, I became a workaholic and tried my best to forget it, to forget him. I had stopped watching his favourite shows and stopped cooking his favorite meal. I stopped doing everything he did, everything that reminded me of him. But the more I wanted to forget, the more I actually thought of him. He was everything to me, I trusted him more than everyone and if possible myself. After being a mess for a long time, I learned to live with it. I stopped trying to forget him and cherished the moments we had together. Think about it, if we forget our loved ones, how would they feel up there knowing that we don't want to remember them? How would we feel when we are gone that the people we once had forget us simply because it hurts and they miss us? His death is a constant reminder that one day, we will all fade from this world, so we need to run while we still have legs, love while we still have hearts and laugh while we still have teeth. Even if she isn't here with us, she will forever be in here." I touch his chest and our eyes meet. "And that's the best place we can keep her."

He takes my hand in his, massaging it gently while our eyes are still locked on the other. He leans forward and places his lips on my forehead. His hot breath fanning against my forhead as he says, "thanks." He pulls away and I turn off the lights before pulling the covers over us.

"Goodnight hippo." He says and I can't help but smile.

"Goodnight jerk."

I missed him.

• • • •

A tap on my shoulder wakes me up, my eyes open to the lights and I sluggishly drag myself up. I yawn and thank Allah for giving me another opportunity to live. I look at Omar as he points to the bathroom. "I'll wait for you to perform wudu." He says and sits on the bed. I perform wudu and stare at my face in the mirror comparing it to the girl on his ribs, I bite my lips in thoughts. I'll have to ask him later about that when the sun pops up. But am I going to continue staying here with him or am I going to leave by sunrise? I internally groan in confusion. A week here, just a week.

"What's taking you so long?"

"Be out in a sec!" I reply and open the door.

I wear a long hijab and wait for him to finish. He comes out not long after I set our prayer mats and stand behind him as he leads the prayer. We pray for our parents and for us all. I wait for Omar to switch off the lights so we can sleep but he doesn't, so I do. I don't hear the ruffles of the bedsheet which indicates that he's still sitting. I turn on the lights and from the corner of his eye, I see the glistening tears dropping on his shorts. It frightens me a little because I know Omar enough to know he doesn't cry, seeing him in tears shows how painful and hurt he is. I lay him and place his head on my chest, cuddling him.

"We just have to live with it and pray. She wouldn't want to see her little boy crying, would she?" I use my fingers to wipe the tears and push back his hair. We stay in thst position and drift into sleep.

The sharp light from the window stings my eyes and I tilt my head to the other side, avoiding the sun's glare. I try to lift myself but a powerful force pushes me back. Looking to my left, an arm lies on the left side of my rib and a head on my chest.

Ams and chest huh?

wait, what?

I rapidly take Omar's arm off me but he puts it back and presses tightly on me. He moves closer, his nose tickling my neck. "Omar get up, you're as heavy as a seal." But he only frowns and opens an eye. "No I'm not."

I roll my eyes and go for a shower and wrap a towel round my chest when I'm done. I pick up my toothbrush and spread toothpaste on it. Omar joins me and together, we brush our teeth. "Calm down general, you aren't in a battle with your teeth." He teases and I punch him hard on the arm.

I sit in front of the mirror and blow-dry my hair, I see Omar staring at me through the mirror, his bangs glue to his forehead showing that he just showered. I take a dry towel from the closet and walk up to him. He gives me a puzzled look but I ignore him and place the towel on his wet hair. I rub his hair and feel the towel gets wet, taking it off his head, I drag him to the chair.

"There's no way you're using that girl's stuff on me." He whines.

"Stop being a jerk and sit!"

"I'm a man, we don't do that." He folds his arms across his chest and stands. I smile at him and place my hand on his cheek. It goes to his ear and before he could take my hand off, I twist it.

"Ow…okay…okay…I'll sit...stop." He says between the cries and abruptly sits on the chair. I smirk in success and he scoffs. I hold a small portion of his hair and blow-dry it. I tease him by holding it near his neck and he yelps as the heat radiates from the hair dryer, leaving a little pinkish shade.

"There's something called pity and you lack it. You're just trying to ruin my beauty."

"Your ugliness is just one of a kind that I can't seem to pull my eyes away." I mock and continue.

We received many guests who came to mourn with us because mother's death. Although Omar smiled and welcomed them, I could still see the sadness in his eyes. I felt terrible because I couldn't stop the tears when they fell and was being a bitch.

Breaking the rule again, last time okay.

A sensitive touch on my palm stiffens me for a second but I relax as his hand travel to mine, locking it with his.

"It's not your fault and I'm fine." He smiles after reading my mind.

"But I wasn't by your side to console you at that moment and I know you aren't fine."

"You're here now, aren't you? And we just have to roll the dice, it's life. Sometimes it sucks but it's just part of the rollercoasters of life.

"But-"

"Shh! He places a finger on my lips and smiles. He brings our locked hands to his lips, placing his soft skin that unexpectedly emits a burning sensation throughout my whole body and unfortunately for my hand, it was flames.

"I'm sorry about Highschool." He says.

"You don't have to, it's in the past and you have apologized. So it's alright."

He turns off the TV and faces me squarely. "I think you deserve an explanation. I really did love you, a lot." He stops, making blood circulation stop for a second. "I had gotten drunk and needed someone to entertain me, that was when I made out with jenny. I had stupidly broke up with you and tagged along with Jenny because she gave me everything I wanted. I was so drunk that I couldn't differentiate between what I wanted and what I needed. When I came to my senses, I regretted it but It was too late and I couldn't say sorry. You see, I was brought up as the heir of a multi-billionaire company and not a kid. Salim raised me to be arrogant, proud and ruthless. To never apologize and plead, and it affected me a lot while growing up. That's what made me not to apologize and to look down on you. Although mum tried to treat me as a little boy, he treated me as a man. Attending meetings after meetings and lessons after lessons, all in the name of 'perfecting me.' Instead of getting water guns, walkie-talkies and other cool stuffs. I got brief cases, perfect tailored suits and big educational and business books. Women came into the picture, so did the tattoos and drinking. Working all night and getting sluts so I could distract myself from the boring life of papers and meetings."

It was all new to me, seeing Omar opening up. I never realized that all this while, he was just putting on a mask, shielding his pains and boredom. He's misjudged by the world but he doesn't care and yeah, I was one. Money isn't happiness, he did love me but never apologized because he was brought up not to. What kind of sick person teaches a kid that? I mean that's indirectly assaulting a child and depriving him of the joy of childhood. The laughter and happiness.

"It sounds awful and I'm sorry. But why do you call your dad by his name and not dad?"

He crooks his lips into a frown and looks away as if putting the name, 'Salim' and 'dad' in the name sentence is an unforgivable sin. "He isn't my dad. Sure he scored the goalpost but that's just who he's, a sperm donor and nothing more. All he cares about is money, his stupid status and reputation. Take Yousuf as an example, he doesn't even care where he's, what's going on with him. He doesn't even care about us, just flashes money and goes!" He huffs, anger, evident in his eyes.

I had forgotten that there was a time when I fell in love with another man. I had forgotten that Yousuf used to be part of my life and to think about it, I can't really say if I was truly in love with him. He was just a memory now, a memory I couldn't understand.

I press his hand and place the other on his cheek, making his eyes look at mine. "Don't say that. Of course he loves you, he's your dad no matter what and you can never replace him. He just shows it differently, try talking to him."

"Why would I? It's not like a give a f*** about him! I don't care, besides, he won't listen."

"And how do you know that? Have you tried? No, so no more excuses." I become aware of my hand on his cheek and the other in his, so I tuck them softly in the pockets of my sweater. "Let's make a deal. I'll make you experience all the fun you missed out as a kid and in return, you be a good Muslim. Deal?" I smile brightly and bring my hand forward for a handshake which he accepts.

"Deal."

"But do you think He'll forgive me? Look at me, I'm a total hot mess."

"Not so hot but there's nothing He can't do and no one He can't forgive."

"Let me go get some iced tea." I stand up to leave but he calls me. "I'm not into that whole mushy sh*t you girls love and all that-"

"Good, the cocky jerk is back! You need a trophy? Can you go back to being sad, it was way better." I lie. He's cocky but better than being so sad and miserable.

"Thanks for everything." He smiles.

"Think of it as a professional courtesy." I smirk and walk off.