One Last Night With My Son's Daddy

NAOMI'S POV

“I am fighting myself not to continue loving you. You are from a different world than me. And I have nothing to offer you. You deserve much more.

“I am just a beggar, your escort who is barely surviving on the streets,” I remember the words I used to recite to Salah.

Suddenly I cough blood and I am brought back to my reality hurriedly bringing a tissue to cover my mouth, then my eyes travel to the tissue. I examine the blood stains.

That covered the tissue and few droplets that have escaped and tinted the last letter I am writing Junior. I read the last line before I crumble the letter.

“There are things I need to tell you, my sweet boy. Things I want to make sure you know when I'm no longer here….

I crumple the letter and the tissue together, throwing them into the dustbin of my old, wracked taxi. Then my eyes travel to the side and I look into a side mirror to see my face.

I shake my head in despair.

My heart is failing.

I need a heart transplant. The doctors this morning estimated that I have about two months to live with my current heart.

The estimate would have worked for everyone, but it won't work for me. My heart will not live that long. I can't afford to do anything the doctors asked me to do to keep me alive longer.

I can't afford bed rest. I can't afford a balanced diet. I can't afford any more medications. Nothing.

There is no hope for me. Even if I got a donor willing to give me a new heart for free. I do not have money, or any health insurance to cover paying for a heart transplant, so to me, this means the end.

And today I have finally turned into a bitter woman after hitting rock bottom. I have lost the last most precious thing in my life. The only thing that meant everything to me. TIME.

I turn mt face to my open diary on the passenger seat with my handwritten final wishes. I owe myself to go through at least a few things written in there for the last time.

The topmost final wish is meeting Salah for the first time after five years. That is what has led me here now. Sitting in my car and staring outside.

My eyes travel to a vast lawn in front of me, and beyond a garden surrounded by about twenty trees, stands a private mansion that has stood the test of time.

This one belongs to one of the Mohammed brothers and is used privately by the one and only Salah Said Mohammed.

Salah was born into a successful business empire. The HALIQ group of companies. The multi-billion-dollar companies that have been around for generations.

He is among the current generation of the Mohammed brothers running their group of companies. Salah is among the youngest, rich, and most famous eligible bachelors of our time. He is the heir to the HALIQ enterprises.

He only visits the mansion in front of me for his private affairs. His home is where his entire family resides in the HALIQ field mansion, the biggest house in the Empire state but also the largest residence in the entire country.

If I ever told anyone that I had met Salah in person, dated him for a whole year. And he is the father to my four-year-old son, Junior. No one would dare to believe me.

I am that girl that has never had three meals in a day since I was born nor shopped for new clothes all my life. I have never known a life of luxury or comfort all my life.

It's not that I do not want to have all that for myself. But life has never given me the opportunity to experience what it is like to live a better life.

But even though I know all this, I could not stop loving him five years ago. Every time I saw him, my heart skipped a beat. It's like he was the only thing that gave me hope in my miserable life.

I know I should have never laid my eyes on him. Nor approached him purposely, knowing who he was. And the worst mistake I have done that eats me until today is that I truly loved this man.

Not for his money or his face. I loved him sincerely. I still feel as though I still love him even after five years with no contact.

Salah is the most discreet and serious person in his personal life that I know. He dated me for a whole year, and I was never allowed to talk to anyone about him.

I never even got to meet anyone in his close family or friends. Not even his bodyguards got to see my face for the whole year when I met with him.

Our relationship made me feel insufficient. Like Tina always says It's okay to be poor but being treated like a poor person by the person you love hurts.

Our relationship affected my self-esteem so much. Until today I still feel inadequate. That is why I hate him so much too as much as I love him.

With a deep breath. I dial my son's father's number and wait for him to pick it up. In a time like this where I really need money.

I am not calling him to ask for money but to show him my last sincere love and sincere hate. I haven't dialed this number in over five years.

Ever since he had abandoned me when I was three weeks pregnant. I have debated a million times to call him. Especially when his son asks about him.

But the circumstances of how we parted have not allowed me to make the call. After a few rings, a voice answers my call. “Hello?”

“Salah?” My voice trembles slightly, and I try so much to hide the emotions pouring on me. There is a pause at his end. “Naomi? Is that you?”

I feel tears prick at the corners of my eyes. It hurts so much. “Yes, it's me, Salah. I know it's been a long time, but I want us to meet again. Is it okay to meet at our usual spot?”

My eyes are still glued to his mansion and there is another pause, and then Salah's voice comes back, cold, and distant. “Do you need more money?”

Whoever cursed the rich to think everything is about money did them wrong. Instead of cursing at him. I swallow hard. Allowing him a moment of glory.

There is a long silence on the other end of the line, and I feel my heart sinking. I cannot stand him rejecting me today.

But then, finally, he speaks. “I will be there at our usual time. Do not come expecting money from me.”