"Is everything okay?" Hudaa asked standing by the door.

"Yeah," I replied. She entered the room and sat next to me — on the floor.

"Are you ever going to go home. Not that I hate you staying here, but..." I interjected and spoke. Hudaa is just worried, and I understand.

"I just don't know how. It doesn't feel like home anymore. After my dad passed away, my mum was there to console me and tell me everything will be okay, she was there..."

"It's okay, you can stay as long as you like, but one day you will have to go back. Even if it means you will have to cry, which is totally healthy. Things do get better with time, it hurts a little less," she said and hugged me. I don't know where I'd be and how my state would be, without my best friend by my side. My phone started ringing. I stood up and took my phone that was charging by the bedpost. I look at my lock screen and it's Adil calling me. I answer the call:

"Hey Layla," he said, enthusiastically.

"Hi," I replied.

"Are you coming for the surprise birthday party?" He asked.

"I don't know."

"Oh I thought you were going to take Imad with you," he said. "It's fine I will take him."

"What? No, he has school tomorrow. Mr Ahmed would never allow it. He will get angry," I explained.

"It's just for half an hour than I'll drop him back home. Don't worry."

"If that's case, I will come for the surprise party. I'll meet you guys there," I told him. Imad would get bored the moment he enters that restaurant, probably even get fussy. I am not taking any chances.

"Okay see you there," he said.

"Bye," I said and hang up. Hudaa looked at me, and grinned.

"I have the perfect dress for you," she said and rushed out of the room. Oh no she's planning to give me a make over. She came back holding a beautiful long evening off-white dress, with a small feather like beading on the sleeves.

"I don't need to get dressed up," I told her.

"Layla I am your best friends, if I let you go to that party looking grim. I would live with the guilt my entire life," she said and kept the dress on the bed. "Okay try that on. Let me go get you a matching scarf, shoes and a clutch bag." Hudaa went out the room, a beam of excitement plastered on her face. I went to the bathroom and changed. It didn't feel magical or anything, it just felt different. A beautiful type of different. As I came out of the bathroom, Hudaa looked at me in awe.

"What is it?" I asked her.

" 'Afdal sidiyq li tabdu 'amirat alhrfia," she said. [My best friend looks like a literal princess.] "Now try on this shoes!" She exclaimed, thrilled. Hudaa held up nude three inch heels.

"I am not wearing heels. I can't even walk in them," I told her.

"Oh come on, they are only three inch heels. You can practice, you still have time," she said and kept the heels in front of me. Hudaa designed my scarf, simply. She wanted to do my make up — but I said no. But she's applying mascara and pink lipgloss, it's impossible to win an argument against her.

"I look like I am going for a wedding," I said while looking in the mirror.

"You look beautiful," she told me and smiled. "I have done my job."

"I still think, all this is unnecessary. But thank you," I told her.

"No problem," she said. "Don't forget to smile."

"I won't," I told her. I got out of the apartment and headed for the elevator. Clenching onto my coat. I got a taxi. Well it's 7:00 o'clock — I checked my phone. I got to the restaurant by 7:20 pm. I walk towards the restaurant, still trying to get a hang of walking in heels. I almost tripped three times, before I entered the restaurant. I removed my coat once I got in, looking around like a lost little girl. The place was not decorated, it was peaceful and quiet. Only a few people were in.

"Layla!" A very familiar voice, called out my name. I look towards my right and see Imad running towards me. He hugs me and I hug him back.

"You look very handsome," I told him and pinched his cheeks.

"Thanks," he replied. Adil walked up to me and greeted me.

"You look nice Layla," he said.

"Thank you," I replied. "So when is Mr Ahmed coming?"

"In exactly five minutes, well that's what he texted me a while ago."

"Great. So did Lina deliver the cake?"

"Layla there's something I have been meaning to tell you..."

"Layla Layla, Uncle Ahmed is here!" Imad said.

"How about you go wish him happy birthday," I told him. Imad ran to his uncle, and hugged him. I look at Mr Ahmed and his facial expression suddenly changes — he looks angrier than usual. Not like I didn't expect it... He walks up to Adil and I, glared at Adil.

"This is the emergency? I told you that I didn't want any part of this," he said in a husky tone.

"Ahmed I can explain..." Adil spoke, trying to reason out with him. Why does Mr Ahmed have to act out all the time...

"No I don't need an explanation. Actually I don't need anything from you," he said harshly.

"You honestly don't have to get angry. He was only trying to do something for you," I spoke. Why do I always intervene? But he's being rude. He turned to look at me, his eyebrow arched.

"I don't remember talking to you. And how dumb can you be? I didn't expect this from you. You haven't figured it out yet, there is no surprise party. It's not even my freaking birthday," he said and looked at Adil.

"What?" I asked, confused. "Why would he lie? It doesn't make sense..."

"Because he likes you and hopes you agree to get married to him," Mr Ahmed said. I looked at Adil, and he looked speechless.

"Is it true?" I asked Adil.

"Yes, I had planned to tell you the day we met at the cafe. I just didn't know how. I wanted to get to know you first..." he said and looked at the floor. Trying to gather his words and braveness — unable to look at me. I didn't say anything. I didn't know what to say. So I walked out of the restaurant. I walked, not knowing where I was going.

I don't understand why he would lie. What's wrong with telling the truth? Times like this make really miss my mother. I wish my mother was here, she would know exactly what to do and what to say to make me feel a little less conflicted.

Tears streamed down my cheeks, I didn't wipe them away, nor stop myself from crying. I spilt tender tears. I miss my mum, it's my truth. I don't have my parents with me, it's my reality. And it hurts, it hurts so much. To live knowing, I can't see them again. To live happily, and know they won't be here to witness my joy and live it with me. I sat on a bench. Crying my heart out, face in my hands. In agony, praying all this stops. I am not fine, I am not stoic. I am not even strong enough to stop crying. I started mumbling my heart's truth, mumbling a prayer...

"Layla..." I look up to see Mr Ahmed, standing quietly. I quickly wipe my tears, but it doesn't help, tears continue to stream down my cheeks. My eyes misty, by now my eyes are red and swollen.

"Why did you follow me? I want to be alone. I don't want you to see me like this," I told him while sniffing, and stood up.

"You should go home," he said.

"I am going to be fine. Just-leave-me-alone," I told him and started walking the opposite direction, away from him.

"Why are you so stubborn? I didn't ask for this. My stupid cousin asked me to make sure you get home safely."

"I didn't ask you to be here either!" I stopped walking and turned to look at him, he just gets on my nerves. " You know what Mr Ahmed! Your "stupid" cousin, is more of a gentleman than you will ever be!" I yelled.

"Are you done throwing a tantrum? Can you just go home!"

"It doesn't concern you! Just mind your own business, you are good at that," I told him, walking further away from him. It started drizzling. The air got colder, I started shivering. I hugged myself for warmth. I felt cold tears, run down my cheeks. The rain fall in chaotic drops, the wind carrying them in a wild gyre.

It got harder to walk in heels, so I remove them and carry them. "You're seriously going to walk all the way home?" I turn around and see Mr Ahmed standing by his car, getting wet by the rain.

"What is wrong with you?" I asked him. "What part of leave me alone, don't you understand."

"Get in the car. I'll take you home," he instructed.

"I would rather take a taxi home," I told him.

"You are not going to get a taxi any time soon. But the bus stop is a twenty minute walk from here," he said. I have no other choice... Do I? I thought to myself. I got in the back seat of the car. Mr Ahmed put on the car heater. It felt a bit warmer. As more thoughts whirled through my head, more tears came.

I watched her through the rear-view mirror. She quietly sobbed and quickly covered her mouth with trembling hands. As if her tears were meant to be secret. Layla looks out the window and lays her head on the glass. She looks so broken and fragile.

What's weird is that I want to ask her, 'What's wrong?'. I want her to stop crying.

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