Romeo, save me.

"Yousef, ifhemni.. May9eer inthil 3ala hel 7ala. It's been 2 years. That's more than enough."
There was silence on the other end of the line.
"I mean, you should have known this was going to happen. What kind of girl would I be if I didn't want this?"
"Ya3ni ultimatum?" Replied Yousef.
"Ee."
"Okay, 5ala9."
"5ala9 shinu?"
"Bes 5ala9." he said firmly and hung up.

I sat on my bed. Not knowing what to do or what to say. I stared down at the phone I cupped in both hands.

I formulated a scenario in my head. In a couple of days, my mom will walk into my room to tell me that a suitor has come to ask for my hand in marriage. I would ask who and his name would come from my mother's lips. I would blush and lower my head, while my insides would be raging in excitement. I would begin the chapter of my life that I have longed for since I was a little girl. My dream wedding, my exotic honeymoon, the rest of my life waking up to his beautiful face and falling asleep in his arms. Having children with his eyes and my nose or, his nose and my eyes.

I smiled at the blissful existence that awaited me. It wasn't long before my pessimistic thoughts ruined my day dream.

What if he doesn't show up? Did 5ala9 signify the end of our relationship? After 2 years, am I that insignificant to him? He wouldn't do that to me. Would he? I am a good girlfriend. I am his everything. He said so. He's my everything. If I'm not talking to him, I'm thinking of him. If I'm not thinking of him, I'm worrying about him. Or talking about him or breaking my back helping him with his work load. I will never have those two years back. Wasn't he my soul mate? Maybe, Mr. Right was one of the men I turned down to be with him. He couldn't possibly be this cruel. He will call me tomorrow morning and explain everything. After all, I wasn't at fault to bring it up.

I curl up under my sheets, say the Mu3awathat before I drift into a light constantly interrupted sleep that yielded a horrifying dream, which fortunately I cannot recall.

I open my eyes and admire the streaks of sunlight that the shutters have formed on the ceiling. I remember the events of last night and reach for my phone. No missed calls. No messages.

In my pyjamas, I dragged myself to the dining room. Grabbed the first fatira off the pile and headed back to my room. I played the first season of Sex and the City. Then, came the second. The third and the forth. With the occasional breaks for the bathroom and to check my phone. No missed calls. No messages.

My days dragged on in the same routine. Never parting from my bed for more than half an hour. The only things changing; my pjamas and the series being played. Phonecalls were ignored, messages left unanswered. I only wanted to hear from one person.

The days turned into weeks. And nothing from Yousef.

Until that day, I will always remember that day because as I recall I had made some progress. I was dressed and was planning on having a day of retail therapy. My best friend had come back for winter break from the States and I was begining to feel hopeful again.

I came down the stairs to find my mother sitting in the living room watching a Denzel Washington movie on MBC2.
"9abaa7 il 5air, Mama."
"9abaa7 il 5air 7abeebty. Haa, wain 3ala 5air?"
" Baroo7 shopping wiya Dina."
"Mita redet min Amreeka?"
"Ams il 9ub7."
"Salmeeli 3alaiha wayid oo 7ibeeha 7egi."
"Inshaallah." I said with a smile.

I reached for the keys on the mantel and made my way to the front door.
"Rawan.."
"Hela yumma."
"It3arfeen wa7id isma Yousef il Flani, ma3ach bil jam3a?"
My whole body froze. Tears stung my eyes. My heart was raging. Was this it? Was this the moment I longed for?
"Ee.. Ishfee?" I replied trying to play it cool and hiding my smile.
"5a6ab Sarah bint 7amed, wild 3em ubooch."