Between Wealth and Worship

Chapter 9 - The unspoken truths

The soft hum of the restaurant filled the air as Hassan and Layla sat across from each other, a rare moment of peace between father and daughter. It wasn't often that Hassan invited any of his children out one-on-one, but tonight, there was a purpose to this dinner.

They were seated at one of Durban's finest establishments, a quiet, dimly lit corner that allowed them the privacy Hassan knew they would need. Layla shifted in her chair, feeling a sense of unease in her father's rare attention. She had grown used to their strained relationship, marked by years of misunderstanding and distance. Yet, there was a softness in Hassan's demeanor tonight that unsettled her.

"How is everything with you, Layla?" Hassan asked, breaking the silence as he sliced through his steak. His voice was calm, but his eyes held a weight that Layla couldn't quite decipher.

Layla looked up from her untouched plate, feigning nonchalance. "Everything's fine," she lied, stirring her fork through the salad. "Just... busy with the business, you know."

Hassan studied her for a moment before nodding. "You've always had ambition. You've done well for yourself. But... I can see that something's bothering you. What's really going on?"

Layla swallowed, her heart quickening. She hadn't planned on being vulnerable tonight, especially not with her father. For years, she had distanced herself from his influence, trying to carve out a life that was hers alone. But now, with her business in Durban crumbling beneath her feet, she couldn't deny the weight pressing down on her.

"It's not... it's not as smooth as I had hoped," Layla admitted, her voice quiet. "The Durban branch—it's struggling. There's been... pushback from certain circles, and business isn't picking up the way I thought it would." She sighed, leaning back in her chair, a sense of defeat creeping into her posture. "I'm trying to save it, but every day it feels like I'm just fighting to stay afloat."

Hassan nodded, taking in her words. He could hear the frustration in her voice, the disappointment she wasn't fully expressing. "Why didn't you say anything earlier? You know I could help."

Layla's eyes flickered with something unreadable—pride, perhaps, or the remnants of years spent trying to prove her independence. "I didn't want help, Baba," she said quietly. "I wanted to do this on my own."

Hassan was silent for a moment, as if weighing her words. He knew all too well the burden of pride, the need to prove something to the world. But there was more to this conversation than her business struggles, more that needed to be said.

He leaned forward slightly, his tone softening. "Layla, there's something I need to tell you."

Layla's breath caught in her throat. There was something in his voice—something serious, something final—that made her heart race. "What is it?"

Hassan took a deep breath, his eyes fixed on the table for a moment before he looked up at her. "I've been ill for some time now," he began slowly. "Cancer. It's... advanced."

Layla froze, the word crashing into her like a wave. Cancer. The one thing she had never imagined touching her father, the man who always seemed larger than life. Her mind struggled to catch up with his words, to make sense of the revelation.

"How long?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Long enough," Hassan admitted, his expression weary. "The doctors say I have about a year left, maybe less. I didn't want to burden the family with it... not yet."

Layla sat back, the weight of his confession pressing down on her chest. She had never seen her father this vulnerable, this fragile. And yet, here he was, telling her something so life-changing, so final, as if it were just another piece of business.

"Why are you telling me this now?" she asked, her voice tight.

"Because you're my daughter," Hassan said simply. "And because I don't know how much time I have left. I want to spend whatever time I do have with my family. All of you."

Layla looked away, her mind racing. She had spent so many years resenting her father, running from the expectations he had placed on her, from the life he had planned out for her. And now, in the face of his mortality, all those years of anger and distance felt insignificant.

She swallowed hard, fighting back the lump in her throat. "I don't know what to say."

"You don't have to say anything," Hassan said gently. "I just wanted you to know."

The silence between them stretched, heavy and full of unspoken words. Layla's heart was a tangled mess of emotions—grief for her father's illness, guilt for the distance she had kept, and a deep, gnawing fear of what would come next.

Finally, she spoke, her voice trembling slightly. "I'm sorry, Baba. About everything."

Hassan's gaze softened. "There's nothing to be sorry for, Layla. We all make our choices. What matters is how we move forward."

Layla nodded, though she wasn't sure how to move forward from this. She had spent so much time building her walls, keeping her family at arm's length, and now... now her father's illness threatened to tear those walls down.

They sat in silence for a few moments, the weight of the conversation settling over them.

Layla looked up, meeting her father's eyes. "What are you going to do now?"

Hassan smiled faintly, though there was a sadness in his eyes. "I'm going to live, Layla. I'm going to spend time with all of you, as much as I can. I've already started putting things in order. Zayd will take over the business when the time comes, but for now... I just want to be with my family."

Layla's heart ached at his words. There was so much she wanted to say, so much she wanted to fix between them, but the weight of years of distance and resentment held her back.

"Tell me about Paris," Hassan said suddenly, his tone gentle but probing. "What really brought you back?"

Layla's breath caught in her throat. She had been dreading this question, knowing it would come eventually. But she wasn't ready to tell him the truth—not yet.

"It was time for a change," she said, her voice carefully measured. "I wanted to come home and start fresh here."

Hassan raised an eyebrow, clearly not convinced. But he didn't push. "Well, I'm glad you're home," he said softly.

Layla nodded, though the truth of her situation hung heavily on her. Paris was behind her, but the consequences of her choices still lingered, and soon enough, they would catch up to her. But for now, she could keep that part of her life hidden.