Father of the Bride

Chapter Two: Dr Debonair

Every girl has a hero
Every girl has a dream. 
A knight in shining armour, 
the epitome of a gentleman.
For her,  there was one and only;her father. 
Her protector. 

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When Amirah stepped in the long empty hallway, her father's cologne lingered in the air; a masculine smell of robust leather, warm amber and Indian patchouli that evoked memories of a rainy mornings when she was a seven or maybe eight. The happier days, when she would climb into her parents bed and snuggle between them breathing in his scent.

Had he gone? She stared into the empty space sadness filling her eyes.

When Amirah turned around there in his stylish grey vest jacket stitched to perfection by bespoke tailors on Saville Row, was her immaculately dressed father. The vest jacket accentuated his athletic lean frame, square shoulders and wide chest. 

On his left arm, he neatly tucked his suit jacket over and in his right hand he held a beautifully composed bouquet of harmonising shades of shades of pink ranging from peach to coral to magenta highlighted with sweet pink and sunny yellow lilies. It was difficult to hate him when normally he held The Lancet in those veiny hands scrutinizing the articles. At six foot two he was a giant compared to her short five foot two height, but she liked that it, it made her feel protected.

Amirah scowled and turned her back on the burst of fresh rainbow flowers. He couldn't soften her up that easily.

"Princess-" He cocked his head to the right and neared her. He'd always call her princess, it was the literal English translation of her name and it made her feel special.

"No dad-" She stepped back trying to fight the wave of yearning that overcame her to hold him and embrace him. She had to make him realise how he disappointed her. Khizar Khan stepped to the side leaning to face his angry daughter. 

Amirah glanced at the dimple on his strong clean shaven square chin-his most dominant feature that suggested his stubbornness and determination-which bought down her defence walls. Amirah spun on her heel and stormed inside the apartment.

"No-it won't work this time." She marched straight through the hallway into the large open plan lounge with windows that looked out at the glistening city like a million stars. The rounded leather sofa was like an arm curving around her and holding her when her dad disappointed her.

Silently, Khizar kneeled in front of his daughter and placed the bouquet of flowers on her lap. She looked up at his square forehead framed with salt and pepper hair and few lines across his forehead. His hair was done smartly; he had some form of oil mixed in to give a short but noticeable wavy form to the black strands.At forty three, age hadn't dulled his features, in fact, he refined with age accentuating his strong jawline, chiseled to perfection.  

"There was an RTC on the A452. Multiple casualties-"

"Dad, stop speaking code!" She pushed the flowers away.

"I'm sorry princess, force of habit." He bit his tongue. "It was an accident and I was the only Orthopedic surgeon in the vicinity. " He explained his predicament in his languid deep voice with conviction.

"How can I compete with a dying person?" She looked around the room swallowing her tears into the back of the eyes, her toes curled under her feet.

"I promise you, princess I was on my way-"

"Yes. Yes. Yes!" She stood to her feet and stepped away. "It's always the hospital or someone else. You have more important things than your daughter." She walked away and gazed out of the window.