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Growing up in a Muslim south Asian household I would never dare to step outside of my house without getting my parent's permission. Especially at 4 in the morning. And I would not start now. I run towards my parents' room and barge in, panting. "Baba, Amma I need to go to the hospital to visit my friend. He's really sick. Please. I can't breathe. I have to check up on him." Once I finish the realization hit me that I said the word "he". Today may as well be my death day.
"Huh? What?" My father asks turning on the little desk light. I know that there is a high chance that my parent will say "no" and not allow me to visit Angelo. But I have to see him. I could not just watch him be in pain through a small screen. I am the reason for his pain.
"I know it's late but what if he's dying and it's all my fault? I can never forgive myself. Please, please, please." I beg, tears falling down my face. I know that I would be able to see Angelo tomorrow but my anxiety would not let me sleep due to the constant worrying about his wellbeing.
"Marry a Bengali boy," Amma says and I stare at her dumbfounded.
"What?" I ask not thinking straight because I sent someone to the freaking hospital.
I check my phone for updates and see a text from Chasity. I quickly unlock my phone and read the text, over and over again not believing my eyes.
My love (A GIRL) 💞🥰💕: He's dead. 😱 I'm just joking. I don't know if Angelo is okay. All of his symptoms were of a heart attack so they're doing like a billion tests. Come and visit when you can, don't worry about it. 👹🦶
A heart attack? Oh my Allah, this is worst than I thought. I figured he had a panic attack or dehydration. Tears begin to rapidly fall from my eyes as I look back up at my parents who are staring at me.
"Promise us you will marry a Bengali boy. You can choose who, and we will let you visit this man friend. You know girls like you shouldn't even have close friends of the opposite gender. But if you tell us you will marry a Bengali and not anyone else then we will allow you to go to the hospital with Hamza." Baba tells me, and I breathe a shaky breath.
They're manipulating me. Found me at my lowest and are making me agree to this crazy promise. Unfortunately, it worked. "Fine, fine. I don't care anymore. I'll do whatever. Just let me go." I yell, exhausted with all of this marriage drama. I can't do this anymore. If Angelo dies it's on me.
"Okay good. Now call Hamza and go." Baba says and I run downstairs already texting Hamza to pick me up, an hour ago. I did not want to drive in my sad condition.
I jump into Hamza's car and tell him to drive. Hamza rarely sleeps because he's always studying. Therefore, he's always my designated night-time driver.
"Why are we going to the hospital, are you okay?" He asks not looking at the road but texting his wife. I yank his phone out of his hand and Hamza rolls his eyes.
