"Hudaa have you seen my phone?" I ask her, while going through the boxes with my stuff in it.

"No I haven't," she replies."Did you check under the bed?"

"Uh..." I bend down and look under the bed. "It's not there."

"What am I going to do? The immigration attorney is going to call me today. Hudaa I am getting deported tomorrow!" I sat down on the floor, giving into my thoughts and fears. What am I going to do? How am I supposed to go to a country that I know not of, and start a new life. How can I forget my life here... This is my home. I was raised here. I miss my parents. Hudaa sat next to me put her arm around me - a half hug.

"It's going to be okay," she said. "You are going to be okay. We will go to his office and we can meet him there." I didn't say anything. It's too late to do anything. Even if we get there, there's a long que. It's hopeless. Tears streamed down my cheeks. "My mother said you can stay with her in Qatar."

"I need to find my phone," I tell her and get up. I go to the bathroom and close the door. Tears raced down my my cheeks, a tightening in my throat lead to short intake of breath. I could not stop myself from crying. I wiped my eyes so much, when I look into the mirror they had already turned red and swollen. I wash my face, and look myself in the mirror. It's my fault. It's my fault that my green-card got denied. I should have stayed in the room with Imad... I should have minded my own business. The attorney told me that he couldn't do much about it, the restraining order that Mr Ahmed issued tarnished my file and reputation.

I looked like some sort of criminal, a pedophile in the eyes of the judge — being a Muslim immigrant is not easy. I explained why the restraining order was issued to me. He didn't believe me when I told him that the boy I looked after was like my son, and staying away from him was difficult as breathing now nor did he believe me when I told him that I could never hurt Imad and ever think of doing so. It didn't matter to him, it didn't change his mind or his views. It is what it is... This feeling would hurt a little less, feeling unfavorable — if my parents were here to hold my hand. The misjudgment wouldn't have mattered if my mother was here to preach her wise words. Ya Allah give me patience. Whatever it is that you plan for me, give patience to my heart.

I wash my face, and take a deep breath in. I can't give up so easily. I get out of the bathroom and see Hudaa sitting on the bed, reeking of sadness like me. "Will you go with me to the immigration attorney's office?"

"Anything for my sister," she replied. She stood up and hugged me. We left her apartment. As Hudaa was locking the door, I waited by the elevator. Already pressed the button. The elevator doors open, and I look up to see... Mr Ahmed? I take a step back, my eyes widen and my heartbeat suddenly rises. As the elevator doors almost closed, he kept his hand, halting the elevator doors to close.

"Layla," he says my name. Without a second thought, I slap him. I couldn't help it. I closed my eyes and looked at the floor. I was embarrassed of my unexpected reaction, though a part of me did not regret it. How dare he even shows his face to me? After all he has done, the pain he inflicted. What is he even doing here and how did he find me? I look at him without concern. He doesn't say anything. He stares at me, his facial expression changes and his jaw is clenched. Mr Ahmed is mad but his eyes show something else, vulnerability.

Hudaa stands next to me, holding my hand. "You don't have to talk to him," she says. "Let's go."

"Layla you need to come with me," he spoke, in an uncharacteristically way.

"She needs to be somehwhere," Hudaa quickly replies.

"Layla Imad needs you." I look at him, and that's all it took for my walls to fall.

"What's wrong? Is he okay? What happened to him?" All this questions I asked Mr Ahmed, and his reply was his silence. That ached my feelings, I didn't know what to think.

"He is in the hospital." My heart stopped.

Alice could not find Layla yesterday. I tried calling her and leaving messages numerous of times, but still there was no answer. I took it upon myself to look for her, I called Jane and asked her about Layla's whereabouts, and she told me to try and look for her at her friend's place. I didn't know what floor her friend stayed at, just the building's facade. So I had to knock on almost every door inquiring about Layla's friend, Hudaa,

When the elevator doors opened, and I saw Layla. For a moment I felt calm, seeing her assured me everything is going to be okay. Then I noticed her eyes, her eyes were somehow red. Like she had been crying. And all I could think about is how much pain I caused to people who deserved none of it. I was surprised when she slapped me — not like I didn't deserve it. Somehow I managed to look past my pride, I am sure my anger in this situation would only make things worse.

Layla agreed to come with to the hospital, her friend came along as well. There was only silence, the whole drive to the hospital. Though in times of sadness and anger, silence is the loudest scream. I elucidated what had happened to Imad to Layla, looking at her face through the rear-view mirror - I only made her worry more. Even though I told her he was okay, she still asked more questions. Like whether he was given he has been taking his allergies medication, or if the doctor has been checking up on him regularly, if they bring soy-foods for him as he is allergic to soy. I did not have an answer to all her questions, I told her it's best if she talked to the doctor herself. Telling her that made her impatient, she instructed me to drive faster.

We reached the hospital after a twenty minute drive. Layla rushed into the room, and ran to Imad — hugged him and kissed him on his forehead. Imad smiled, and started laughing. Everything is going to be alright... Layla's here. I stood from a distant watching them, how they conversed — seeing them together made me feel somehow content. "How are you feeling?" She asked him.

"I promise I have been eating when the nurse brought me my food," he confessed. " I am sorry Layla."

"No don't be sorry, all that matters now is that you are fine. But I am sad to hear that you haven't been eating well, I will have to tell the nurse to bring you more broccoli.'

"Eww blah. No I hate broccoli." He shook his head.

"No more skipping meals?"

"Okay I won't..." He said and hugged Layla. I could not help it but smile. I walk outside the room, I need time to sort out my thoughts.

"Can I talk to you for a minute?" Layla's friend approached me.

"Yes." I reply. She looks worried and nervous about something.

"She's getting deported tomorrow... The restraining order that you issued ruined the chance of her ever renewing her green-card. We were on our way to the immigration attorney. I know stopping her from coming to see Imad would be impossible. As usual Layla puts everyone's happiness first before hers," she explained, almost in tears. She can't leave Imad.

"I'll call my lawyers, don't worry I am going to fix this. I will do everything in my power to make sure she doesn't get deported tomorrow," I try to assure her. Because of my irrational actions, Imad is going to lose the only person who loved him unconditionally after his parents death.

"I just thought I should inform you," she said and walked back into the room. I take out my phone from my jeans pocket, and call my lawyer. There has to be a way to resolve this. There has to be.

A few hours later.

It's almost midnight, and I have been awake the whole night communicating with my lawyers. The lawyers eventually came up with something. A solution that will stop Layla from being deported or at least for her green-card to be reconsidered.

The only problem is that it goes against my principle that I set in my life. How can I ask her to... She would never agree. I really do not want to go along with this, but my lawyers have come up with nothing else until now.

How can I possibly marry Layla?