"Anisa, it's your sister Amal. I am here now." I said and squeezed her hand slightly scared to hurt her even though I know she can't sense my touch. "Please wake up. I need you. I need my sister more than ever. I miss you so much." I held her hand, and didn't let go. Praying. Praying for her to wake up. I looked at her and watched as a tear streamed down her pale face. I wiped it away and kissed her hand knowing that she's fighting to wake up, doing her very best. Because my sister is a fighter.

I walked out the room, and head to the cafeteria. I came to the hospital, straight from the airport. Not only am I jet legged, I am exhausted and famished. I got to the cafeteria, got myself a tuna sandwich and an apple juice. I sat alone, eating. Trying not to reply back the moments with Jamal, the moments he lied to my face and me naively believing him. This was my escape from it all. Visiting my sister, the one person who hasn't betrayed me or hurt me. I couldn't stay in London all alone in a hotel eating the snacks from the fridge. Indulging my sadness, and drowning in my own thoughts that weren't at all productive or bright. I had to escape.

"Amal?" I look up to see Naveed's puzzled face. Naveed in an old friend, well actually Imad's friend. They used to be in the same school, and he would come over at our home frequently. They were pretty close, until a dispute that happened years ago that seemed to pierced their friendship. But we stayed in touch. Until we didn't.

"What are you doing here?" I asked surprised, unintentionally ignoring the white coat he's wearing and the stethoscope around his neck. I chuckled momentarily, once I realized he probably works in the hospital. He smiled, and looked at me.

"I work here Mal," He replied, telling me the obvious, with a hint of satire to his tone. Naveed removed his hand from his white coat pockets and pulled out a chair. "Mind if I join you?" He asked before he sat.

"Sure." I limply smiled. "You, Imad and my sister are the only people who call me Mal."

"I remember the day we assigned you that nickname."

"You do?" I asked, sounding rather surprised.

"Of course. I have a good memory. How do you think I became a doctor."

"Yes sure." I said and chuckled.

"You are here to see Anisa." He stated.

"Yes still asleep." I replied, breaking away from my gaze.

"I am sure she will wake up soon," He said. I looked back at him, happy to hear words of hope.

"Naveed I am sorry for not staying in touch..."

"No no Mal. I don't need any explanation from you. You're here now, and I am here now. Please don't hesitate to ask me for anything." He cut me off and spoke sincerely.

"Thank you." I told him.

"I'll see you around Mal. Duty calls." He stood up and paced towards the exit. He still has the British accent.

When I got back to the room, Aunty Hudaa was sitting besides Anisa and reading out loud the Quran for her. When she saw me, she stood up to hug and greet me. "You should have told me you were coming." She said.

"I didn't want to trouble you aunty," I told her.

"Don't speak like that. You're family Amal, not a stranger." She glances at my suitcase. "You'll be staying with me. No more hotel room service. You need a home cooked meal."

"It's really fine."

"Hmm. If you stay with me, I'll tell you stories about your mother that you probably never knew about." She's bargains well.

"Only for few days." I told her.

"Okay. As long as you are staying with me." I loved it when Aunty Hudaa would talk about Mum, she makes her sound like a saint. She tells her stories vividly and does not miss to describe a detail.

"My goodness you've grown so much. You resemble your mother very much Mashallah. And here we thought just because you got your father's eyes Layla's looks wouldn't show. Clearly we were wrong." I blushed and thanked her. Aunty Hudaa was gracious with her compliments and very transparent. If she saw something of good nature, she would always praise it.

...

"Mal you need help with that?" Naveed walked to my direction and asked.

"With my suitcase?" I replied with a question.

"Yah. It looks heavy." He stated.

"It's not. Looks can be deceiving. Plus don't you have lives to save," I told him.

"I couldn't ignore a damsel in distress." He smiles. "After all these years you managed to retain your wit."

"Wouldn't be Mal without my wit. Some say it's charming and I am not in distress at the moment, if I am you'd be the first one to know Doctor," I replied, uncharacteristically. Conversing with him how we would converse, years ago.

"No you wouldn't." He agrees and smirks. "If my memory serves right, you don't trust Doctors. Hated them. You even ate apples to ensure you'd never have to meet one."

"I am not a fourteen year old girl anymore Naveed." I told him. "I'll see you tomorrow. If not, just know I ate an apple." I told him, while maintaining a serious tone.

"Hah. Truly a dagger to the heart..."

"You should get that treated immediately, before it becomes fatal."

"Do you always to have the last word?" He asked and raised his eyebrow.

"Yes. Goodnight." I replied and walked away.

I waited outside, for Aunty Hudaa. Just because she's the mother of the man who betrayed me doesn't make her at fault of any of this. It occurred to me, that everyone has a will to choose. From right and wrong. And Aunty Hudaa is the sweetest person I know, alongside my mother. I wasn't simply going to ignore that because of my hurt.

We got into her car, and she drove. We made small talk, I was mostly tired and didn't talk much. I listened more than I did talk. Her presence was reassuring, and brought comfort to me. Some sort of peace. I tried to familiarize myself with the streets and the turns she took. Finally we got to her home, she helped with my luggage, even when I insisted I could carry it myself. Aunty Hudaa lives in a modern home, very beautiful and spacious. It has a number of wide windows.

"Welcome home," She said, once she opened the door. "My husband is away for a seminar in Chicago. I have been all alone the last couple of days, I am glad to have company now."

"Thank you for having me." I told her.

"Hah Amal habibty. Why are you thanking me to be in your home. This is your home as well, you are welcome here any time, you seem to have forgotten that." She closed the door and lead me to the guest bed room that was on the ground flow besides the stairs.

"If you need anything, don't hesitate to ask. I might not be your mother, but treat me as you would treat Layla. Okay habibty. You want me to make something for dinner?" I looked around the room, admiring it's interior and how clean it is. And than I looked at Aunty Hudaa, she stood next to me.

"I will let you know aunty." I told her and hugged her.

"Aww." She expressed, once I stopped hugging her.

"And I am not hungry, I had something at the hospital. I am just really tired. It's been a long day for me." I told her.

"Yes of course. Have a goodnight." She said before she closed the door. The first thing I thought of was showering, and that is what I did. Took a warm shower, washed my hair as well and dressed into my pajamas. I got into the bed, made myself comfortable and tried to get some sleep. Nothing worked. I wasn't at peace, nor was I feeling it. My heart was aching, and it didn't matter what I made myself believe. I am hurting, and I don't how to stop it. I got up to pray, it felt like the only reasonable option to do. I prayed. And after I sat making Dua for my family, for my heart, for my mother. And then I started crying. Tears I have tried so hard to conceal just started flowing.

I didn't understand why Jamal would do something like that. And then the my father came back to thought, which wounded me some more. It's not getting any easier. I never imagined he would - maybe the girl he was with was really a bad influence. Yet the fact remained, he still had his free will, the ability to refuse and he didn't. Which hurts me even more when I think how he did what he did knowingly and out of his own will.

The door knob slowly turned, and I quickly wipe my tears. And stood up from from the prayer mat. Only the lamps were switched on, and aunty Hudaa walked in, wearing a fluffy robe and slippers that matched it. She looked at me first and said nothing. She immediately understood. "Do you want me to stay?" She asked in a soft tone. I nodded my head, up and down as I tried to hold back my tears.

Aunty Hudaa kept her glass of water on the dressing table and approached me, hugged me tight until I let go. When I got onto the bed, Aunty Hudaa got on the bed and sat next to me, she stroked my head softly and told me it was going to be alright, repeatedly. Deep down I already knew it, it just felt nice to hear it out loud. Whenever tears would stream down my cheeks she would wipe them away. She started telling me a story about my mother, when she first found out she was pregnant. She talked about how my mother was so excited yet scared that she might not be a good mother.

"I knew she was going to be a good mother, and she was. Layla was simply selfless, her love was unconditional and she was kind. Always put others first. And I see now, that you're just like your mother. Not to mention how strong she was, a fighter and always spoke her mind. And that's how I know Anisa will wake up one day because she's Layla's daughter, that means she's a fighter - just as you are." She spoke soothingly in a low tone, while stroking my head softly. I fall asleep, soon after the story