Healing

23.

I look up at the 20 story building that my father owned. He was on the 18th floor where his office resided, probably yelling at an employee for something they did.

Per usual, I had gone with an all black tux. My hair was done by a stylist and my glasses were replaced with contacts.

I let out a shaky breath as his assistant welcomes me and leads me to an elevator. 

What was it that Allah had said in the Quran?

Verily, with hardship comes ease.

That's right. Even in this situation, there was something good.

Now what was that thing?

Was't this the best time to tell him about Cyra?

I could do this. I was a changed person now.

Or at least trying to be.

I had to hold up my strength in front him.

I could smell his overpriced Hermez cologne before I saw him.

He was sitting in his chair with a single stack of papers in front of him. 

"Sir, your son is here to see you," his assistant announces my presence. It was almost as if he couldn't hear us walking into his office.

His eyes look at me and size up my appearance before a smile appears on his face. "My son." He gets up and wraps his arms around me. "I've been waiting for you. Come sit."

Picking up a folder, he moves to sit on the sofas placed in front of his desk.

"Yes Bapa." I lower my head slightly and sit across from him.

"You're 21  now, right?"

"I'm 22 father," I correct him, keeping my voice as light as possible. As if him not remembering my age didn't matter.

"Well, that's even better. You're of age now. And the one who will be handed this empire that you're grandfather started and I grew. I think it's about time you think about getting married. Here is a list of suitors I think would pair very well with our reputation." He said it casually, as if I didn't have any other choice other than to listen to him. As if the folder that was now sitting in front of me wound't have any affect on me.

Wasn't that how I had acted all these years though?

All I did was listen. And I think I would have even now.

That is, if she hadn't entered my life. But as Allah had it I had a reason.

Now I wasn't just fighting for myself. I would be fighting for her too.

"Actually father, I wanted to talk to you about that as well. I have someone in mind. She's a woman whose religious commitment and character I admire."

"That's perfect Omar. Do I happen to know her parents?" I'm surprised at his support and the unfaltering ease he shows.

"Yes, I think her father did mention it. There last name is Islam," I tell him.

"That doesn't sound like a Malaysian surname. What part are they from?"

"They're not Malay. They're actually from-" I'm cut off by my father.

"I do not accept this then." I look up at him and he looks back at me, his face void of emotions.

"Because we're not from the country?" He nods and then goes on to open the folder he had places in front of me.

"There are photos and other information on 20 perspective matches in here. I suggest you go through them thoroughly." He gets up to go to his desk, as if to dismiss me, but I stop him.

I clamp my hands together behind my back to prevent them from showing any signs of shaking. Or in his eyes, any sign of weakness. "But I don't want to marry any of these women."

"Then I will get more. The prettiest, the most religious. Whatever qualities you want in a women, I will find for you. Just not this girl that you are talking about."

"And what's--what's wrong with her. She makes me the happiest I've been in a very long time." I felt small compared to him. And apparently stuttering here was the wrong thing to do--not the I was able to control it--because he takes this as a chance to raise his voice.

"Son, you will soon realize that what I'm doing for you is for the better. What will the community say about a mixed marriage? What about the image of our family? Do you really want to tarnish everything I've tried my best to maintain for a girl. You will not marry this girl and that is final. I do not want to here anything of her coming out of your mouth again." On any day, you could point out our similarities. I was the spitting image of him. But now, with his face slightly red and his eyes bulging out, we could not have looked any different.

"What if I don't want to listen to you?" I could feel the rage starting to boil inside of me. He didn't want me to marry her because of us being from different ethnicities?

"Don't raise you're voice at me boy."

"I apologize Bapa. But she's the only one I will ever think of marrying. And if you do not allow me to have that pleasure then I promise I will not be married to another," I say firmly.

"And why are you so inclined to marry this woman?"

Why? That was a good question. Being around her gave me a surreal sense of comfort. I felt at home with her, something I hadn't felt in a while.

"She reminds me of ma," I whisper at the realization. He quiets as I utter this statement.

He clears his throat after a while. "Do what you want, but know this. You are not getting the blessing nor the acceptance of your father in any of this. I'll be home in 4 months, on May fourteenth and I'll be staying for a week. My assistant will show you out."

With that he sits in his chair and turns around to face the window, almost as if he was too disgusted to see my face. "Assalamu alaikum Bapa." I wait a few seconds for a response, but I don't get one so I walk out of the office.

Allah, do whatever you see is right for me.

I didn't know the right way to deal with this properly. Was I supposed to go ahead with it? Was I supposed to listen to my father? I lean my head back onto the wall of the elevator as it goes down.

My sanity was still intact, thank Allah. 

But my life had just gotten a hundred times more complicated.

Although there is one thing that I knew. For her, I would do anything.

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A.N can we just admit that I named him very well, 'Omar Malik' just sounds hot yk & I'm talking with the accent not the westernized way (not oh-mar it's عمر & pronounce the ع properly y'all yes we're back in Sunday school rn)

Press star cuz Omar's name is based :)

Also-"Bapa" is used in Malaysia to refer to your father in a very formal context, most don't use this term.

Word count: 1085

Date Posted: 02/24/2022