179 - Hope de Luca

Hope de Luca

The day after we arrived at the palace, amid so many celebrations and farewell feelings for Mahjub's grandfather's departure that we all knew was coming, we slipped away to a pharmacy. I needed to buy a morning-after pill, and even though we had decided to sleep in the same bed, we won't touch each other anymore.

First, because Ramadan has started, and second, because our wedding is approaching, at least that's what my mother and mother-in-law have been saying since they saw us together and realized we were truly a couple.

It's been fifteen days since I arrived in Sudan, and to the family's sorrow, Salim Al-Makki passed away the following week. The mourning period has been heavy here at the palace; I realized how beloved the sheikh was by everyone, not just the family but the entire population of his country.

All the family members have already left, and I decided to stay here. After all, my wedding is in a few days, and I want to get to know my country and its people better. When my parents had to leave with Guilherme's family, they asked me if I wanted to go. But for the first time in a long time, I felt at home.

Something even the Bolshoi couldn't achieve during the many years I spent there, training and becoming the best ballerina in the world. It was a void I felt, and during these days here with Mahjub, I'm feeling much better.

We decided our wedding would be after my father's and Guilherme's elections since he is my godfather and Pietra is the godmother because she is a friend of my fiancé.

“My swan?” I hear Mahjub's voice calling me.

I was in the kitchen with his aunt, preparing our meal; he had gone with his father to take care of something in the city.

“I'm here!” I say lovingly.

I wipe my hands on the napkin and look towards the entrance, expecting his appearance. Naja was laughing, and I saw her lower her head as my fiancé entered the room.

“Let’s go to the office; I need to talk to Pietra. It’s something serious!” he says.

I took off the apron and looked at everyone there, who seemed worried. I take a deep breath and imagine it must be something about the elections happening tomorrow. I knew my parents were at home in Washington, DC, while Pietra was in Miami with my friend's family to follow the election.

Mahjub's expression was serious and worried at the same time. I noticed a different commotion at the entrance of the house; my mother-in-law was crying, and I heard her desperate voice.

“What happened, Mahjub? Tell me what’s going on!” I asked as soon as we passed through the office doors.

“Come here, my love, sit down,” he requests, taking his phone out of his pocket. “Did you watch the news today?”

I found his question odd and shook my head. I planned to talk to my parents after dinner when I would be a bit calmer.

Mahjub sat facing me. I could see how nervous he was to tell me what was happening, which must be something quite serious. I start to hyperventilate; my breathing quickens with all the suspense he was creating.

“My swan…” he says, holding my hand. I could see in his eyes that something serious had happened. Mahjub begins to scratch his beard and looks at me with affection.

“Just tell me already; you’re making me even more anxious. What happened?” I ask impatiently.

I saw him nod in confirmation.

“A plane crash happened…” I cover my mouth with my hands. Panic overwhelms me.

“My parents, my brother?” I ask, terrified.

I search for my phone in my clothes' pockets and remember I left it on the kitchen counter, where I was listening to music while cooking. I think Mahjub notices how nervous I am.

“Nothing happened to your parents or your brother, but I need you to listen to me for a moment!” he says.

But I’m so nervous that I barely registered what he actually said. Something might have happened to my parents and brother...

I feel my man's strong hands restraining me, making me look at him. His almond-shaped eyes are calmer, trying to convey a serenity that will soon be replaced.

“There was a plane crash. We have the best people searching for them. I want you to calm down…”

“Crash? They… by Allah, who?”

He takes a deep breath, and I see him determined to tell me what will probably hurt more than I imagined.

“Guilherme and Gustavo Lira!”

I feel a sickness, as if a hole has opened beneath my feet, dragging me into a dark abyss from which I have no right to escape without permission. I take a deep breath and try to find something to keep me steady in that place, beside my fiancé, who only holds and comforts me.

“We have everyone searching for them. Samir is looking for those responsible; he has already found some leads!” he says, while I cry uncontrollably, clinging to my fiancé's tunic.

“He's my friend, my love…” I murmur, pleading with Allah for my friend's safety.

“Henrique is already using his influence to locate the plane…” Mahjub says and gently lifts my face. “I want you to go to our room and pack our bags. We are leaving!”

He speaks with a commanding voice, leaving no room for my conflicting emotions to interfere with what needs to be done at this moment. I can hear my mother-in-law's voice in the distance and footsteps getting closer to where we were.

I lift my head and look at the door as it opens. My in-laws rush in and go straight to the table, turning on the computer and starting to research while talking to each other.

“Vanessa was very lucky; she decided to stay with Bianca!” my mother-in-law says, sitting beside me.

“My friend still has so much to live for… I can’t imagine they are dead.”

“We need to have faith. Maybe they survived the crash; all the pilots we hired are very skilled!” she says, and I try to share the same hope as my mother-in-law.

“What are my parents looking for over there, Al’umu?” I hear Mahjub ask.

But I notice his attention is on the men speaking so quickly that I can barely understand them, with my thoughts still on my friend and now on Pietra, who must be devastated.

“Pietra is okay; she stayed with Vanessa. They were shopping for some wedding things, and from what I understand, their wedding will be in Miami!” Carolina says.

“I need to go upstairs and pack our things,” I say, letting go of Mahjub’s hand.

He looks at me, still worried, but I stand up beside my mother-in-law, who seemed to need to do the same.

“Let’s go, Hope. They will take care of everything, and we need to organize other things,” she says with a forced smile.

I walk beside her, still shaken by the news that my friend might be dead from the plane crash that was taking him back to the capital. I walk with my mother-in-law through the palace corridors, my thoughts in turmoil, begging that Guilherme is alright and that the rescue teams find him alive.