Meri Mannat Tu {You Are My Destiny}

0: introduction

"And when the day arrives I'll become the sky and I'll become the sea and the sea will come to kiss me for I am going home. Nothing can stop me now." -Trent Reznor

She collapsed onto her bed, the door clicking closed softly behind her. It had taken hours, but finally her bags were packed: four large suitcases, most of which had been stuffed with countless gifts for her relatives. Her passport, itinerary, and boarding pass were tucked safely into the back pocket of the new Vera Bradley bag she'd been gifted recently by the man who had taken care of her for over half of her life.

"You've been eyeing it for a month now," he teased lightly as she looked up at him in amazement. "Just because you're not my daughter by blood doesn't mean I don't know you inside out."

It was true. Farooq had more than fulfilled his role as her guardian after the death of her parents twelve years ago. Not only had he supported her financially and make sure she'd had everything she needed as she had grown, but he'd made sure that even the tiniest of her silliest wishes were fulfilled. When she was seven and proclaimed that purple was her new favorite color, not pink, she had come home from school to find Farooq asleep on a ladder in her bedroom, the walls freshly painted and a paintbrush hanging from his hand. When she came down with the flu in fifth grade, Farooq worked from home every single day for a week, sitting by her bedside and feeding her Jell-O cubes and bringing her puzzles for them to work on together, anything to make her feel better. Farooq wasn't like the other dads she knew; he took her shopping and let her sit in the front seat of his car even when she wasn't supposed to. He brought a megaphone to her soccer games and ran along the sideline as she played, cheering her on. Their Friday nights consisted of Just Dance marathons and five-scoop ice cream sundaes and movies on the couch. Blood didn't matter to her; it never had, and she didn't know what it meant. All she knew was Farooq, and all the love he had given to her as he raised her, something he had never planned on doing.

A lump grew in her throat as she hugged him tight and wondered how to thank him. He ruffled her hair, blinking back his own tears, and told her to go to sleep. "Tomorrow's a big day," he'd said gently. "You're going to need your rest."

She'd bid him good night and here she was, lying on her bed, clutching her pillow to her chest and wondering how to make the hours until five go by a little bit faster. The thought brought a smile to her face. Twenty four hours more, and she'd be on a plane far, far, away from here. She'd be on a plane, and in between the endless Hindi flicks she'd already seen one too many times and the cramps she'd get in her neck would be the purest of joys—that of flying, thousands of miles up in the air, free of worry, of responsibility; the butterflies in her stomach alluding to the ever dwindling distance between her and the one place she's always held closer than her heart, her own soul...

And that's when, as always, he came to her. His thoughts consumed her for the better part of every day, but it was moments like these—when her train of thought led to him unexpectedly—that she missed him the most. She saw his boundless smile, the slow upturning of his lips, and it sucked the breath from her soul. She felt his cool touch, so real, so close that it stung against the flush that transpired over her body when she thought of him.

Now, with him in her eyes and him in her heart, she rose from the bed and walked to her dressing table. Gently she tugged at the middle compartment of the jewelry box Farooq had given her for her tenth birthday. In between the cushiony blue velvet of the small drawer he lies, or rather, the reminders of him; but she swears now, as she bends closer to the drawer, that she can smell his signature cologne within the small space. Her eye catches his handwriting on a well-worn piece of notebook paper, something she's held to her lips so many times that the blue ink is faded in places. But it's not the letter she's after, not today. She feels around in the compartment until her fingers brush upon a cool object. She picks it up, clenches it in her palm tightly as the memories and sensations of a musky summer night flood her. His soft laughter tickles her ear and she is rejuvenated. She slips on the ring and gazes at it, the manifestation of his touch. Of his starry eyes. Of a promise, whispered in the sultry sweet summer breeze.

"Twenty four hours," she whispers to herself. In less than twenty four hours, she'll be on a plane, destined for the place that she holds closer than her own breaths. Twenty four hours. Only twenty four hours, and she'll be on her way back. Back to her beloved land, where the sun shines forever. Back to where her laughter never stops and her heart brims with joy. Back to where she feels alive.

Back to him.