The room was dim, filled with the steady beeping of machines and the low hum of the ventilator. Harsh white lights reflected off the pale walls, making everything feel colder than it already was. Jonah lay motionless on the bed, his chest rising and falling unnaturally under the force of the machine. An oxygen mask covered most of his face, fogging slightly with every strained breath he managed to take.
"Sarah… listen to me."
His voice was weak, almost breaking apart, as if each word cost him more strength than he had left.
Sarah leaned closer instantly, gripping his hand tightly, afraid that if she let go, he might slip away. Her eyes were red and swollen, her face drained of color.
"We're listening," she said quickly, trying to stay strong. "Please… say what you need to say."
"Mary is my daughter," he whispered. "You know how much I love her… more than my own life."
Sarah nodded, her throat tightening. She placed her other hand over his, squeezing gently.
"I know," she replied softly. "I believe that with all my heart."
He took a shaky breath, the ventilator responding sharply, as if warning them that time was running out.
"Listen carefully… there's something I never told you," he continued. "I didn't have the chance before. And now… I don't have much time."
His words faded into labored breathing. The machines seemed louder, more aggressive. Seconds stretched into something unbearably heavy.
Time passed, though Sarah couldn't tell how long. She stayed there, unmoving, tears slipping down her cheeks and falling onto the white sheets. She didn't wipe them away. She didn't even notice them.
And then—
The sound changed.
The steady rhythm broke. The long, continuous beep pierced the silence.
Jonah's grip loosened.
Doctors rushed in, voices overlapping, orders being shouted. Nurses moved quickly, adjusting machines, checking monitors. Sarah was gently pulled back, her hands empty now, trembling in the air where his warmth had been moments ago.
Despite everything, the chaos slowly died down.
It was over.
A nurse approached Sarah after a while, her expression soft and careful. She placed a comforting hand over Sarah's cold fingers.
"Everyone has to leave this world one day," the nurse said quietly, trying to soothe her. "Please don't blame yourself."
Sarah stared ahead, barely hearing her.
"If he believed in Jesus," the nurse continued gently, "you'll meet him again in the afterlife."
That made Sarah look up suddenly. She turned her head and met the nurse's eyes, surprised, unsure.
"…Maybe," she whispered after a moment.
She stayed seated as people entered the room and prepared Jonah's body. She watched them take him away, her vision blurred with tears. Memories flooded her mind—voices, laughter, moments she could never return to.
She cried softly, quietly, as if even her grief had run out of strength.
And life moved on.
Years passed—slowly, silently—leaving behind a wound that never truly healed.
------------
5 Years Later
"What?"
"How can you do this to me?"
Mary was dressed as a bride—an elegant white gown, a net veil resting on her styled hair, heavy jewelry glistening under the lights.
She stood alone in a corner, her eyes full of tears. In front of her were her mother, sister, both brothers, and her friend. They were all in the bridal room.
"No… how can you all do this to me?"
Her mother, already dressed and ready, spoke with a heavy heart.
"This is what your father said… just before he passed away."
"We don't know why he said it. But he was very serious. We're sorry we hid this from you for so long. We thought it was for the best."
Tears rolled down Mary's cheeks. Her friend Lia rushed over with a tissue, carefully wiping her tears so her makeup wouldn't be ruined.
Mary looked at her, trying to hold herself together.
"Lia… look at what they're doing to me," she said, heartbroken.
"Would you be able to handle this?" Lia asked softly, looking into her eyes.
"Mary, sometimes life throws things at us that feel completely unfair. We keep asking, 'Why me?' But the truth is—we don't understand God's plan. Maybe this path leads you to something better."
"But how, Lia?" Mary's eyes filled again.
"What does 'better' even mean? Why only me?"
Lia cupped her face gently.
"This was your father's wish, Mary."
"No!" Mary stepped back suddenly.
"My father would never want this for me."
She looked around the room, staring at everyone.
"Someone must've forced him. We all know what kind of people these are—the ones you're marrying me into. I'm sure they pressured my father."
She continued, her voice shaking.
"My father was healthy, always happy. I don't just suspect—I'm sure these people are the reason his health suddenly declined… and his death too."
Fresh tears spilled.
"And now you're telling me he wanted me married to this man? This feels like some twisted game."
Then she looked at them firmly.
"Don't worry. Just watch what I do next."
"Mary, please listen to me—" her mother tried.
"No, Mom," Mary cut her off.
"I've made my decision."
"Mary, at least hear—" Lia began.
"I'll marry him."
Everyone in the room froze, staring at her in shock.
"Are you serious?" one of her brothers asked.
Mary looked at him.
"Yes, Ryan. I've decided."
A strange, unreadable smile appeared on her face.
"Mary, please don't do anything reckless," her mother said quietly.
"If you want all of us to stay happy, don't do something that harms us later."
Mary lowered her gaze.
"Mary…" her mother came closer, gently calling her.
"Promise me. Promise you won't do anything foolish."
The room fell silent.
"I promise," Mary said, hugging her mother.
"Don't worry. You won't have any complaints from me."
Everyone smiled. Mary tried to smile too.
"Shall we go?" her sister asked cheerfully.
"People are waiting… and so is the groom."
"Oh… right," Mary said, starting to walk. Everyone followed.
Her sister and friend held her dress from both sides—it was long and heavy.
They walked through the hall—grand, beautifully decorated, bright lights and cameras everywhere. Some faces looked happy, others tense.
Mary walked forward, step by step. The groom stood ahead—dressed in black, bearded, slightly long hair, undeniably handsome.
She walked confidently, talking to herself in her mind.
"Dad… whatever you told Mom before you died—I don't know if it was true or not. I wasn't there. But I'll find out why this happened. What forced you into this."
"As for the promise… I'm sorry, Mom. I may not be able to keep it."
She reached the stage. Yusuf stood there, watching her. His expression gave nothing away—no happiness, no anger, no sadness.
Yusuf stepped down a few stairs and extended his hand.
Mary looked at him… then at the people staring at her.
"No matter what happens," she thought, "I have to take this step."
She placed her hand in his and stepped onto the stage. Cameras flashed. They stood for a moment, then sat on the sofa.
After more photos, the officiant arrived with the marriage contract.
"Yusuf, do you accept this marriage?"
Yusuf paused briefly, then said,
"I accept."
The question was repeated twice.
"I accept. I accept."
Then the officiant turned to Mary.
"Mary, do you accept this marriage with Yusuf?"
She stayed silent, lost in thought. This step could either destroy her life—or lead her somewhere she never imagined.
But her family wanted this. She had no objection.
May God be kind to her.
May this step turn out to be good.
Amen.
The question was repeated again.
"I accept," Mary replied calmly.
The question was asked twice more.
"I accept. I accept."
Applause filled the hall. Confetti rained down on them.
Mary looked around and saw her family—happy, relieved. She smiled too.
Maybe everything would turn out fine.
But one thought kept echoing in her mind…
She had just married a Muslim man.
☆☆☆☆☆