Falling In Love

by Emma Easter

  He told the driver to drive a little farther away from the house. They stopped near what looked like a farm. It was a land covered with vegetation, the perfect place for the car to be hidden. It was totally dark here, but he could see the mansion clearly.

  “Are you sure all this hiding in the night is not dangerous?” the driver said to him. “You will have to pay me more.”

  Faizan ignored him. This time, he sat in the car and studied the big house. There were about four men standing in front of the house, all armed with guns. Bodyguards.

  He saw another bodyguard come out from behind the house and groaned again. Five. The only thing he could do now was to wait in the car until Zainah’s father came out. Hopefully, the man Khadija had said was called Jibril would come out with him. He would use the element of surprise once both men came out and maybe kidnap both of them.

  He smiled at the rush of adrenaline he felt. It was familiar and exciting and he had missed the feeling. And then he told himself to calm down. He was enjoying this more than he should. This was what he did in his past life. He had vowed not to return to this life again, but unfortunately, his hand had been forced.

  The driver began to grumble again and Faizan promised to double what he had agreed to pay him. The man stopped grumbling, seemingly happy with the new price.

  Twenty minutes later, two middle-aged men walked out of the house and Faizan sat up. He immediately knew it was Karim Keita and his friend, Jibril, the man who had forcefully married Zainah.

  Both men began to walk towards a black SUV near the house, and Faizan sprang into action. Quickly exiting the car, he ran to the men with both guns raised, one pointed at the middle-aged men, the other in the direction of the bodyguards. If any of these bodyguards tried to prevent him from his mission, he would have to shoot, even though he didn’t want to. He prayed silently that the Lord would prevent that from happening.

  He was just a few inches from both men and had his gun trained on them before the bodyguards in front of the house saw him. Suddenly, they surrounded him, their guns pointed at him. This is it, then, he thought to himself. His training at the terrorist group began to take over. “Put down your weapons or your bosses die,” he shouted at the bodyguards.

  Fear was etched on the faces of Karim Keita and his friend. Faizan said to them, “Tell your men to put their guns down. I will not harm either of you if you cooperate. I just want to talk. If any of your men tries anything, however, I will shoot both of you.”

  The one called Jibril told his men to put their guns down. Once they did, he looked again at Faizan and said, “You won’t be able to escape. You know that, right?”

  Faizan said, “I’ll take my chances.”

  “What do you want?” the man asked.

  Faizan looked at Zainah’s father and said, “I am Faizan, Zainah’s fiancé. I came all the way from America to rescue the woman I love. All I want is for both of you to dissolve the marriage and I will take Zainah away peacefully.”

  From the corner of his eye, he saw one of the guards slowly raise his gun. Without turning to directly look at him, he shot the ground beside the man’s feet. The guard jumped and Faizan focused once more on the middle-aged men. “I told you to control your goons. Next time, you will catch a bullet,” he pointed his gun directly at Jibril, “If any of them move.”

  Jibril said to his bodyguards in a shaky voice, “I told you all to stand down.”

  Faizan said, “Now, are you going to do what I asked, or do you want me to carry out my threat?”

  He noticed again another bodyguard slowly raising his gun, and he sighed heavily. This time he had to shoot someone. Should he first shoot Jibril in the leg, or the bodyguard?

  He swung around and shot the guard in the knee. The man screamed and dropped to the ground, moaning in pain.

  He decided not to shoot Jibril. “You and you, bind his wound up now,” he said to the bodyguards on his left. “He’ll live.” It was a shame that he’d had to shoot the man, but he’d had no choice.

  The guards carried the wounded man away while Faizan kept his gun pointed at the older men in front of him. At the same time, he watched the remaining guards from the corner of his eye. Unfortunately, judging from the looks in the guards’ eyes when he had turned to them, the man he had shot might not be the last one he would have to shoot.

  “Maybe I should just shoot you now,” he said to Jibril.

  The man stepped back slightly, turned to Zainah’s father, and said in a shaky voice, “I don’t think your daughter is worth my life. Maybe we should dissolve the marriage now,” he looked at Faizan, “just like he wants.”

  Faizan blinked. He hadn’t thought it would be so easy. There was probably something amiss. He said to Jibril, “Send one of your bodyguards to get Zainah.”

  Jibril nodded at one of his bodyguards and the man hurried away. A few minutes later, the guard came out of the house, pulling Zainah along with him.

  Faizan’s mind flooded with rage. “Stop holding her roughly!” he barked. “You are hurting her. Let her go right now!”

  Her eyes grew round in clear surprise as she looked at him, and then she tore away from the guard and began to run toward him. He held out his hands to her and then realized he had made a fatal mistake. The bodyguard behind him had taken his brief absentmindedness to raise his gun and pull the trigger. The sound of a gunshot pierced the air and he knew he’d been shot.

  He blinked just as Zainah screamed and wrapped her arms around him. And then he realized he felt no pain. Terror gripped him as he looked at Zainah’s face, and then he screamed. Her eyes were shut and her body felt lifeless in his arms. He gnashed his teeth at the bloody gaping hole in her back. The idiot guard had shot Zainah instead of him. He collapsed on the ground still holding her body and gave a deep guttural roar. “You killed her!”

  Her father and Jibril rushed up and crouched down beside him. Her father looked up at the bodyguard and barked, “You idiot! What have you done!” He put his hands on his head. “They killed my daughter.” He whispered, “I killed my daughter.”

  Faizan placed his fingers on her neck and felt a faint pulse. He shook his head and then barked, “We have to take her to the hospital now! She is still alive, but barely.”

  Jibril said to his men, “Carry her into the car now! You… get my driver!”

  Faizan’s body trembled with rage. He felt like shooting all the men here, including Zainah’s father, but he controlled himself. Instead, he prayed urgently, “Lord, please heal her. Let her live.” He stood up, lifting her with him, and elbowed away one of the guards that tried to take her away from him. Jibril’s driver opened the car for him and he gently placed her in the back seat. He sat next to her, cradling her body, his heart pounding.

  Her father sat in front of the car with the driver, groaning and muttering something about never knowing it would end like this.

  Faizan tried to stay calm as they headed to the hospital, but his heart was full of dread. If she died, he would blame himself forever. She would not have been shot if he hadn’t come here to rescue her.

  He couldn’t hold his grief in any longer and said, roared, “Lord, please let her live!” He would not be able to continue to live if she died. He kept checking her pulse as they drove, praying she was still alive.

  They finally got to the hospital, or rather, clinic, and Faizan carried her into the small place. From the look of the place, it didn’t seem like they would have everything needed to treat her. He groaned and committed her to God’s hands again.

  A stretcher was brought and she was quickly rolled away to the theatre to try to save her life. Faizan sat on a bench overseeing the reception area and Karim Keita sat beside him. Faizan turned and glared at the man. There were few people he hated as much as he did this man who had virtually sold his daughter into a marriage she didn’t want to be in. He said with angry loathing, “If she dies, I will kill you!”

  The man looked away from Faizan and put his hand on h
is head. “I should never have given her away to the goat called Jibril, but I felt I had no choice.”

  Faizan looked at him in disdain. This wasn’t a father. This was a monster. He did not deserve Zainah. He wanted to tell the man what he felt about him, but he held his tongue. He had said enough to him already.

  The hours went by slowly. Faizan intermittently paced the hospital floor while Zainah’s father dozed on and off. Faizan continued to pray silently for Zainah to recover. He held on tightly to the hope that God would answer his prayer and refused to entertain the thoughts of death trying to flood his mind.

  Faizan was at the other end of the reception area when a woman, about Karim Keita’s age, entered the clinic and walked up to Zainah’s father. She wore an angry expression on her face. Faizan blinked as Khadija came in after her and went to her father as well. From where he stood, he saw them quarrelling, but he couldn’t quite hear what they were saying.

  Khadija saw him and headed his way. There were tears in her eyes. When she reached him, she said in a tortured voice, “What happened? A messenger from Jibril’s house came to tell us that Zainah had been seriously injured.”

  Faizan told her everything. When he finished, he said, “I’ve been praying for her. The Lord will heal her.”

  Khadija stared angrily at her father. “That wicked man. I will never forgive him if…” she broke down without finishing her sentence.

  “She won’t die!” Faizan said, more for his sake than Khadija’s. “She is strong. Most of all, she loves Jesus. He will heal her.” He said it with as much conviction as he could muster, but in the depths of his heart, he was afraid. Very afraid.

  Khadija said with a voice full of despair, “Your Jesus did not stop her from being forced into a marriage to a stranger or from being shot. Why would he heal her now?”

  Faizan did not know what to say to her. He changed the subject and asked, “Is that your mother?” If it was Zainah’s mother, he wanted to go and greet her and apologize for what had happened.

  “My stepmother,” Khadija said.

  Faizan felt emotionally exhausted. He sank down to the floor and then shot back up when the doctor came into the reception area.

  “Is she okay?” Faizan cried out, walking over to the doctor. Khadija and Zainah’s father also walked over.

  The white-haired doctor looked at Faizan and asked, “Are you her husband?”

  Faizan nodded before he could think about the question.

  “He’s not!” the woman who was Zainah’s stepmother said. “This is her father and I’m her stepmother. How is she? Can we see her now?”

  The doctor looked down and Faizan’s eyes widened in terror. No, Lord! Please! She cannot be dead.

  “Doctor!” Khadija screamed, “Where is my sister? Is she dead?”

  The doctor shook his head. “She isn’t… but she is in a coma. She might not make it to tomorrow morning.”

  Faizan did not know what came over him. He rushed the man and grabbed him by the collar. “That is untrue! She will be fine!” The doctor stared at him sympathetically and Faizan sighed. He let go of the doctor and put his hand on his head. “There has to be something you can do to help her,” he said to the doctor. He briefly glanced at Khadija who was weeping loudly and at Karim whose head was bowed, and then faced the doctor again. “She can’t die. We are supposed to get married soon. Please tell me you can do something for her.”

  “I’m sorry,” the doctor said. “We’ve done everything we can do for her. We can only pray.” He looked at Zainah’s father and stepmother, and then at Khadija. “I suggest you all go and see her now. It might be your last chance to see her alive.” He smiled sadly at them and then beckoned for them to follow him.

  Faizan wanted to grab the man by the collar again and let him know that Zainah would live, but he held himself in check. As he followed the man, fear threatened to suffocate him. Zainah’s family followed. They walked slowly, as if their unhurried steps could delay the inevitable—seeing her, as the doctor said, for the last time.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Faizan’s heart flipped violently as he stepped into the room where Zainah lay. There were so many tubes stuck in her nose and mouth. He went to stand by her bedside and took her hand. She looked so peaceful and yet it felt as though she was not here. He felt like falling to the floor and weeping, but instead he lowered his head and kissed her forehead.

  Her father came into the room with her stepmother and Khadija. He stood on the other side of her bed and looked down at her. “If only I had not given Zainah to Jibril.”

  Faizan felt like yelling at him and telling him to leave Zainah’s bedside, but he had no right to. The man was her father, after all. Still, he could not resist saying, “You and that man did this to her. If she dies, I will hold you both responsible.”

  He glared at her father, but the man did not say anything. His eyes looked haunted and he looked broken.

  Khadija came and stood beside Faizan. She sighed and then looked down at Zainah. “We cannot lose her, Faizan. If your god answers prayers, he needs to answer yours right now. We cannot afford to lose her.”

  Faizan looked down at Zainah and then prayed again for a miracle.

  Zainah’s father and stepmother soon began to argue about something, and Faizan tuned their voices out. He touched Zainah’s hair, and then couldn’t hold back his tears. They fell like torrents down his cheeks. He touched his forehead to hers and then once again asked the Lord to give Zainah a miracle and heal her. He raised his head and looked at her. She looked as lifeless as she had before he prayed. Every hope he’d had that God would have mercy and heal her began to evaporate. He gave a deep sigh of pain. Suddenly, fear gripped him and he couldn’t bear to be in the room anymore. He turned around and fled the room.

  Racing out of the hospital, he went to the parking lot, lifted his face to the sky, and screamed. “Lord, help me. I can’t do this.”

  It was already morning. Anytime now, the doctor would come to tell him that she was dead. He didn’t have the strength to stay in the same room when she passed. By now, the plane that was supposed to take him and Zainah back to the U.S would have left. His heart felt sick with pain. He was stuck here, yet he would be without the woman he loved. He couldn’t go back to his sisters in Rosefield for comfort. His life was simply over.

  He held his head with his hands and felt like tearing his hair out. For a long time, he walked up and down the parking lot, and then he chided himself for staying away from her room. He had to go back into the hospital; to her.

  But he remained where he was. Staying here in the parking lot was a way to postpone the inevitable. If he went back now and was told that she had passed, he would fall to pieces. At least staying here, he could pretend that she was just in the hospital, alive and well.

  He began to pace the parking lot again, his face lifted to the sky. And then he took a deep breath and told himself that he needed to have courage. He strode into the hospital, his heart in his throat. The closer he got to the hospital building, the more afraid he became. He forced himself to enter the building and then ran into Khadija.

  “Faizan!” Khadija exclaimed. “Where have you been? I have been looking for you!”

  His heart began to thud. Shaking his head slowly, he said to her, “Please, Khadija, don’t tell me she’s gone! I don’t want to hear it.”

  Khadija stared at him and then laughed. She suddenly grabbed him and hugged him tightly. “Zainah has woken up. That was why I was looking for you; to tell you that she is awake and she is asking for you.” Khadija hugged him again.

  Faizan’s mouth dropped open and he raced to Zainah’s room. He stopped in front of her door and hesitated, almost afraid that between the time Khadija came to find him and now, her condition would have changed for the worse again. He slowly opened the door and saw Zainah sitting up in her bed, talking to her father.

  Never in his life had he felt happier and more grateful to the Lord than he did righ
t now. He lifted up a quick prayer of thanksgiving and hurried into the room. Her eyes lit up when she saw him and he fell into her arms. He kissed her hair, her cheeks, and her lips. “I am so glad you are alive, Zainah,” he said. He hugged her fiercely, his tears mingling with hers.

  “You came for me, Faizan,” she said, smiling through her tears.

  Zainah’s father touched his arm and Faizan looked up at the man. “I was just asking for Zainah’s forgiveness before you came in,” her father said. “My love of money nearly cost me my daughter’s life.” He looked down at Zainah and said, “When you were shot and I saw you lying on the ground, I knew it was all my fault. I knew I would blame myself for the rest of my life if you died. I’m so sorry, Zainah. Please forgive me.”

  Zainah smiled and nodded. “Because of Christ, I forgive you.” She held out her hand and her father’s eyes widened. He went to her and hugged her tightly.

  Faizan watched them, joy flooding his heart and soul. Her stepmother also went and asked for her forgiveness. They stood talking with her for a few minutes, and then Zainah said, “Can I speak with Faizan alone?”

  Her father and stepmother nodded and told her they would be outside the room. They left and Khadija came and kissed her. “I love you, sister,” she said, running her fingers through Zainah’s hair.

  “I love you too, Khadija.”

  Khadija smiled and then left the room.

  Faizan sat by her on the bed. “How do you feel?” he asked, gently brushing back her hair from her face.

  “My back and chest feel sore, but I am not in too much pain.” She chuckled. “I guess the pain medication the doctors have been pumping into me is working. Before you came, the doctor came here and declared that my being alive was a miracle. He also said that my wound is healing rapidly, and that he doesn’t understand why.” She grinned at Faizan. “Someone has been praying for me.”

  Faizan smiled back at her. “I’ve been begging and bargaining with the Lord since yesterday. I was blaming myself for putting your life in danger. If I had not come, you would not have been shot.”