Love Me, Mikayla

IV

"Dad, I like Ibzan as I have told you. I don't like Barak. Surely not in a way that I would want to marry him and start a life with him. I really don't think that Blo—" Control, Mickey! "Uhm... Barak and I would be like you and Mama — a perfect couple. Barak isn't for me, Dad. We can be friends," only in dreams, "But not husband and wife. So..."

I sigh, closing my eyes for a brief moment and when I open them, I see the smiling face of my father.

Softness is in his pretty eyes and it is always the same way whenever he looks at me. I am his only daughter and he treats me like I am his life and that's the reason, I have never seen him scowling at me. Not even for once. Every time I look at him, I find only love in his eyes. For me.

"So you don't think we should get you married to Barak, right?" He completes it for me, not letting go of that smile.

I nod my head, wishing Dad's next answer only to my liking.

He pats my cheek. "I can't believe you've grown up, Mickey," he says, standing up from the bed. He goes to the closet and brings out a book while I watch him. A large one. I realize it is a photo album.

He comes back to me and opens before me a page where he shows me a picture of me when I was born.

I am in his arms and he is smiling at the camera.

"After three sons, I got you. I cherished you and you know one thing, Mickey," I raise my head from the picture to him as he continues, "I fear letting go of you."

Oh, Daddy.

He puts down the opened album and sits beside me again.

"Just look at you now. From a baby who used to crawl to a school-going girl, you became. You have maturity and femininity. And I have to let go of you," he says while turning the pages aimlessly while I listen to him, finding nothing to object.

"You are a gem, Mickey, my gem. You have no idea how badly I wish to keep you forever with me and never let you go. You have no idea how even the idea of your marriage used to irritate me," his voice lowers itself and though his eyes get filled with tears, he keeps a smile on his face, "I have asked you in my prayers, my lovely daughter."

And here it pierced my heart that I felt my throat clogging up and tears burning my eyes.

My father loves me a lot and words can't describe it. He has raised me with utmost care and many times my brothers were jealous of me.

He has shown me pictures and my mind has captured moments connected to them. Only some. But still, they are bright enough to warm my heart and melt it instantly.

My father has made me known deeply with the word 'love'. I only haven't heard this word but have experienced it. All because of my father. The way he has taken care of me is something that I can never forget. He has set my standards quite high.

Amidst this, putting his love in words would be shameful.

I peer at him while tears threaten to tumble down my eyes. The amount of emotions that his words have held has made my heart heavy inside my chest.

"I just made you cry," he shakes his head, raising his arms to wipe away my tears as they start staining my face.

"And this obsession made me see a husband for you in Barak, my best friend's son," he continues, "I have seen that boy grow up with you since your childhood and have never once found him wrong, even by mistake."

"But Dad, that doesn't mean he can be my partner?"

"Sure, you can be right, but he has proved to be a responsible man by helping you every time your Mama called him, didn't he?"