A Twist of Fate ✔

Ch. 27

Laila leaned against the wall and watched the family. The man wrapped his arms around his pregnant wife in greeting, then kissed the head of his daughter. The younger boys were still literally attached to him. Like monkeys, they wrapped their bodies around his legs, holding on for dear life. He didn't seem to mind; the smile never seemed to leave his face as he spoke animatedly with Hamida. The family didn't notice Laila. She couldn't tear her eyes away from them, feeling a stab of pain in her chest.

She really wanted that. To have a family. A husband, kids...

A lone tear trickled down her cheek. Surprised, she wiped it away, not realizing how much the scene was affecting her. She promptly turned on her heels and returned inside of the building. She found Deena packing up the things in the office.

"When are you moving?" Laila asked, putting away the files. Her friend decided to leave her unnecessarily luxurious apartment into a more modest and affordable one. 

"Next week. Ugh, I have so much left to pack." Deena handed Laila her purse. "Are you still able to give me a ride home? I should get my car back from the mechanic tomorrow."

"Of course!" Laila smiled reassuringly. She turned off the lights and Deena locked the room. Together, they made their way outside. It was almost dark. "I parked across the street. You can wait for me here."

As Laila walked away, her mind began to wander. She couldn't help but think of Hamza... again. She wondered where he was... how he was. Was he eating? Taking care of himself? Whether he still hated her. Whether he thought of her, half as much as she thought of him.

Whether they ever were going to end up like the family she witnessed. Like the family she always dreamt of having.

Laila was so absorbed in her thoughts and daydreams, she didn't notice the speeding car zeroing in on her. It was quickly approaching where she was crossing the street. Only when the headlights flashed did she turn and freeze. 

The honk stretched out for what seemed like hours, but Laila couldn't move. Her body was bracing itself for impact and the terror that paralyzed her was almost... familiar. Her eyes were glued to the advancing vehicle and the world around her started to spin. 

She couldn't breathe. 

A crash sounded, and she saw rather than felt herself crumble to the ground. Her vision blurred to fogs of grey, like angry storm clouds, and in the distance, she could hear someone calling out her name. The voice brought along a sense of peace amidst the chaos. It was like music to her ears, when everything else around her faded. 

It was him. Finally.

----

Fear is a weak man's best friend. He depends on it. It's always there, lingering by his side, ready to engulf him in a tight smother. Effectively muting out everything else. He could no longer reason because he wasn't in control. 

Hamza wasn't afraid.

He knew what to do. Through the panic bubbling in his chest, threatening to pull him under, Hamza planned. Even as he walked away from the love of his life, who left him for the second time.

Hamza wasn't afraid.

He still felt the sand crunching beneath his toes for days after. Weeks, even. He was almost certain there were still grains stuck between his toes, no matter how often he showered. His lungs felt coated with the salty ocean air, making it slightly harder to breathe for months on end.

Hamza wasn't afraid.

He was in a different city almost every month. Surrounded by unfamiliar faces. He spent his days wandering, exploring new things and places. His nights mostly consisted of praying or reading. He tried to do as much as possible as to not think of her.

Hamza wasn't afraid... not until this moment.

He stepped out of the airport and the typical Orlando heat generously hugged him, welcoming him back home. He had one duffel bag swung over his shoulder, making his way towards a cab. He distractedly gave the driver his address and settled into the back seat, staring out the window.

"Can I use your phone?" Hamza asked, surprising himself.

The grey-haired man smiled in response, passing back a small iPhone. Hamza's fingers shook slightly as he dialed Laila's phone number. He didn't know what he would say to her if she answered. He pressed the phone against his ear, holding his breath as it started to ring.

Hamza was very afraid.

It continued to ring until voicemail picked up. He debated simply hanging up, but before he knew it, he was speaking.

"Assalamu Alaikum, Laila. It's me. I know you don't want to hear from me. I'm back in Orlando. I don't like how we left things and I've been thinking of you-" He abruptly cut himself off. "I'm sorry. I know I can't keep bothering you. I won't, I promise. My phone should be working now so you can call me if something changed. If your decision is still final, then... don't worry about getting back to me. I'll understand." He paused, feeling a knot in his throat. "I wish you the best. Truly."

Hanging up, he handed the phone back to the driver. The old man smiled knowingly at Hamza through the rearview mirror. "Trouble in paradise?"

"It's over." Hamza replied blatantly, running a hair through his hair. It grew out, resting on his shoulders now.

"You still love her, don't you?"

Hamza sighed. "It's over." He repeated.

The rest of the ride was silent. 

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A/N: Welcome Hamza back with a voting star! Thank you for reading so far. ❤