When the Walls Crumbled

One.

Zara

I rush into the room, tears streaming down my face. I stand beside my ill father and take hold of his cold, almost lifeless hands. I take a couple of deep breaths and control my sobs.

"Papa..." I say, my voice cracking and wavering, "Papa...please be okay...please..."

My father weakly squeezes my hand, and in a raspy whisper asks me to do something I can't imagine ever doing.

"Zara, will you marry Adil? He will keep you happy and care for you dearly. Just trust in me. This is my last wish. I want your life to be secure before I die and feel my time has come to an end."

"Don't speak that way, Papa. I know you're going to be better. You are not going to...to..." I falter, and a couple of tears roll down my cheeks.

"It's inevitable, my beautiful daughter," He says, gently wiping my tears away with his thumb, "I have heard what the doctors say. My heart is weak and will last a week at the most."

"Papa, no..."

"But I can't leave this world in peace without putting you in a secure relationship." Papa slightly squeezes my hand, a sad smile on his lips. "Please, will you marry him?"

"I-I-It's...I'm...Is it okay if I think about it for a bit?"

"Of course, Zara." He kisses my forehead and I give him a small smile.

Bidding him farewell, I exit the room and sit on the chairs in the hallway. I sit silently and think hard. I can't help but think that if my mother or my sister were alive today, I wouldn't have to go through this alone.

A couple of years ago, my family, excluding myself, got into a car accident. A semi crashed into them from the side. My mom was sitting on the side it crashed into, while my father was driving, on the opposite side, my sister in the seat behind him. Mama was killed on impact and my sister, Zalia, fell into a coma. My father was also in a coma. The difference is he woke up.

Papa had a severe heart injury and couldn't  be exposed to stress or any other activity to prevent his heart rate from going up. Except seeing how his wife and daughter had died, it was impossible for him to not feel            grief-stricken and stressed. This caused his condition to worsen to the point where the doctor gave him at most two to three years.

Papa is stubborn, however, and now, on his fourth year he is lying on a hospital bed, still holding on to life. Not for himself, but for me. Because, other than my father, I have no family or relations.

I feel my tears threaten to trickle out, again. I look up, using gravity to my advantage, and will the tears back in. Once I'm sure I won't cry, I look back down, only to be rewarded with hot, swift tears. Covering my face with my hands, I place my head on my knees and attempt to stifle my sobs.

I feel a hand on my back, rubbing in gentle circles. Glancing up, I see a woman in her early fifties looking at me sympathetically. I recognize her as Papa's best friend's wife. The mother of the man my father wants me to marry.

When she sees me look up, she smiles sadly, and pulls me in for a hug.

"It's okay, Zara. Everything will be okay," she says, soothingly, patting my back slowly.

Her kind voice makes me calm down and stop crying. She still hugs me, gently stroking my hair. The gesture reminds me so fondly of Mama. This was how she would console me after a bad day. This thought brings new tears to my eyes, but they don't escape.

Zara: 1 ;Tears: 9 357 963 245

"Do you feel better?" Aunt Safia asks me, pulling back to look at my face.