This is not a time to get angry over silly stuff. My mom is lying in an hospital bed right now, might be her death bed. Shes been diagnosed with stomach cancer, last stage. Its been two whole months and I still have hard time coping with it. It aches somewhere inside my chest to think she could leave any time now. My only parent will be no more. I wont have anyone to call mom or bitch about small things.

Leah, please. Mom whispered, grabbing my hand lightly. Call her. I need. . . to see her

I took her cellphone and pressed one. Of course shed be number one in her speed dial list, not me,her own daughter.

-Hello, am I speaking to Ms. Sarah?

-"Yes. Leah, is that you? 

Yes, mom wants you to come to the hospital.

I hang up the phone before she could say anything. Itd be great if she doesnt come back in here. I dont want my mom to be in touch with a person like her before she goes to heaven.

Am I selfish for worrying about meeting that person?

Please, dont be r-rude to her when she comes.

I want to ask mom how can she be so sure that Ms. Sarah will come. But I dont want her to struggle anymore. Talking will tire her out.

Two hours passed by. Time flies when you want it to stop. Mom woke twice in the meantime and every time she asked about that woman. Ive been staring at her face since then, cherishing this little amount of time Ive left with her. Why the hell is she taking long? Is she crawling all the way here or what?

I dont understand how can my mom be best friends with such a woman. My mom is progressive, a hard working, honest and wise woman. And that woman is so. . . uncultured, might be imprisoned in her home because I heard she doesnt work or anything. Her husband must be like her who doesnt do anything and beats his wife all the time.

Someone knocks on the door three times. Mom opens her eyes, smiling brightly, well as bright as she could be after all the chemotherapies.

-Assalam- The woman stops mid sentence. Oh hello Leah, Its been so long since I last saw you. The woman starts smiling but her smile fades as soon as she looks behind me,at mom.

She looks like on the verge of tears. I dont know how friendship works because although I have friends but I dont have anyone to call best friend. My mom has a best friend, this woman. They have been friends since mom came to dubai six years ago.

Im gonna get some coffee.

I actually dont like tea or coffee. I just lied to get away from that woman. I come downstairs looking for a cafe or something. I dont think anyone here speaks English. Its not my native language either because Ive been in Russia since I was four. My dad was Italian. He got married to a Russian as soon as he divorced my mom. And took me with him after winning the custody. But he was kind enough to let me visit my mom once a year. Mom, being a journalist travelled a lot. She always says the whole planet is her home.

I kinda grew up like that, no definite place to go back to because dads new wife didnt like me, so I was sent to girls boarding school. Last year dad died, leaving me a small amount to finish my college. Last month I spent some of the money to buy the ticket and the rest of them to get mom a better treatment in this nice hospital. My mom is more important than some stupid education.

I go up, using the elevator as soon as I empty out the soda can. I think Ive given them enough alone time. I want to go inside now.

I see that woman raising her hands, and murmuring something. To my ashtonishment, mom follows her gestures. What the hell is she doing to my mom! Is she doing vodo magic? But I think thats an African thing. I open the door with a bang, but the sound doesnt break their concentration.  My blood boils, watching mom following her lead.

What the hell do you think youre doing to my mom? I scream, not being able to contain the anger anymore.

They still dont stop. The woman looks at her right, then at her left, making my mom doing so with some unseen force. She mustve  hypnotized my mom. 

I look around to find something, anything to hit the woman. Nothing. I dont find anything hard enough to hit her. Only cushions, and fruit basket. The woman now raises her hands and begins chanting something. If anyone hears for the first time, theyd think she might be crying. But I know how she is. Shes trying to make my mom like her. Shes trying to make my mom a terrorist with all the black magic of hers.

As I get ready to strike the woman with the fruit basket, I hear my mom saying, what are you doing, Leah?

Trying to save you. I say, glaring at the woman with all the hate I can muster up at the moment. Shes trying to turn you into a terrorist like her.

Stop it, Leah. My mom looks almost mad. I bet shed have pull my ear if she was as strong as before. Come here. . .

I slowly walk toward her bed, still not breaking the eye contact with that woman. How dare she! Who the f**k she thinks she is.

Well, Im the outsider here, cause its her country. But thats not the point here. I tolerate her just because shes my moms best friend, doesnt mean she has the right to take advantage of her weakness and order her to do anything.

Ill be outside. The woman now gets the hint and decides to leave us alone.

Right, why don't you vanish from our lives too.

Sweetheart, Ive been trying to tell you something since last month. Mom tries to sit up herself. Before she could hurt herself, I press the button below her headboard, the upper half of the bed raises itself making her sit automatically.

I have a request. 

Please don't tell me to get married. Please please please please. . .

Dont worry. Youre too little to get married anyway. Its not that. Mom's smile makes me relieved.

Then what is it?

After my death, I want you to live with Sarah.

A/n: Hey there. Thanks for stopping by. Hope you all liked the prologue. I've been trying to write a book in spiritual genre since last January. But now that I'm sick and lying on a bed, I felt like I should do it so that I don't regret later.

What if I don't get up from sleep tomorrow? Hahah. So here I am. It's 2:30a.m. I just finished the prologue.

Tell me what you liked or disliked about it. 

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