The rain was pouring worse than in cheap romantic novels, and the only thing that felt was pouring even more were tears rolling down my cheeks in a heavy flow. One hand on the wheel and the other holding my cellphone, I was speeding to say at least, and being completely out of my mind because I hurt the man I loved the most.

The line stopped ringing and I could hear his presence.
„Are you there?“ – I asked but to no response. I wasn’t surprised, I didn’t deserve one. We were the end game. I couldn’t help but wonder what would life be like right now if the cellphone had the passcode.
„Do you hear me?“ – I insisted, tears running down my face.
„Hamza, I’m going to crash this fucking car into the tree full speed and no seatbelt if you don’t respond, and you know I will!“ – I pushed the gas pedal as I speeded through the red light.
„Don’t… I forgive you.“ – I could hear him saying just as the back of my car got hit by another car.
„Shit!“ – I yell as I try to hold the wheel and my body steadily while my car spins.

Pitchblack.
And then nothing.

Literally 2 seconds later I’m in the police car, I can hear the siren. „Yes, red light… Crash… Oh fuck it hurts, wait, no, it’s an ambulance“ – I say to myself realizing that I’m also laying down covered in by something. I don’t see anything very well, it is so reddish and weirdly bright, but I hear the damn German language. I am in pain, somewhere, everywhere?

Boom.
Another two seconds later I’m hearing new voices saying „surgery“, „trauma“; I can’t open my eyes. I try but it feels like I have 20 fat eyelids instead of one on each eye. „What…“

Another two seconds later, I open my eyes and I’m in the ICU room with an anonymous roommate on the other side of the curtain. I can see, I can move. I can also push this yellow button to call someone. A nurse walks in, happy to see me, says all is going to be ok, but I’ve lost a lot of blood and had 2 surgeries; one on my left arm and one on my left leg. I got hit by another car and spun directly into a tree. Careful what you wish for, people, as it might actually happen.

A few hours have passed and I can hear the slow and steady step that sounds familiar.

„I am so sorry I wasn’t here when you woke up. I can’t forgive myself that you had to wake up alone.“ – Hamza said as he sat next to me and held my hand.
„I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done it“ – I said as I started to cry.
„Don’t cry, I am here now and for as long as you need me“ – he said and squeezed my hand a bit stronger, as if everything was going to be fine in a snap of a finger. But both of us have known it was impossible. There is no way that my bones would heal and our hearts too.

I’m sure you’re asking yourself if you’ve unknowingly skipped a chapter. No, you haven’t, but I did skipped 2 years worth of life with Hamza. So let me go back a bit to clear things out for you!

You remember how we planned to move in together? Well, after a few months of me living in „our“ apartment all by myself and Hamza occasionally visiting, he has finally told his wife that he’s unhappy and will be moving out of their apartment. She was angry as hell and has allegedly screamed at him so loudly that it was heard two streets down. Imagine if she’d known why he was moving out and who he was moving in with. But, I won’t lie, I was happy even though I was a home wrecker.

Yeah, judge me if you want, but who knows what you would have done if you were in my shoes. I was moral once, I was religious once, I had decency. But nobody else around was playing along, so I took my fate in my own hands. Or better yet, took it in my hands and gave it over into Hamza’s. He was just amazing. I have found him a job in a restaurant nearby where he was officially a „chef“ now, and even though I had office work hours and he had to work in shifts, we still managed to fuck at least twice a day. He was trying to hit it three times a day, but we settled on two times and one sexy video / photosession from my office or break room a day. He loved it, I loved it. I loved him, we were crazy for one another. We had some misunderstandings at first when he moved in, absolutely, but we have found a common ground.

The „problem“ was my, sometimes, too much of a western mindset and on the other hand his too eastern mindset as well. Even though he prided himself on adjusting me to be obedient and more like him, the truth was we have both changed and turned into better versions of ourselves. Or better yet, we kind of mirrored each other.

And after his divorce came through, he succeeded to have his daughter over on weekends. I have respected his wish to keep „us“ a secret in order to keep the sail as smooth as possible and have on the weekends slept in another room. We were roommates for his family and friends, and I was fine by that. I didn’t think it would be possible or even necessary to be out and proud in front of everyone, especially since we were building a new life and had new friends who, of course, knew that we were more than just roommates. It was good. Even with his child support and alimony, we were earning good money and had a great life.

So I bet you’re not getting what happened if it was all so great?

Well, one mishap. His daughter took his phone to play with while he was preparing a meal for them. She took a couple of selfies and wanted to edit them a bit, entered the photo gallery on his phone and had a whole lot to see.

Needless to say, the news spread like wildfire. His friends and family literally told him he’s the devil, his stupid ex-wife accused him of being a pedophile, his daughter stopped talking to him and eventually he stopped attempting to have her over for the weekends. He got depressed and took it out on me several times, which I endured because I knew how hurt he was. He wasn’t physically aggressive towards me, but he was very rude and often distant. One day I even got back home and found him with a woman in our bed. He wanted me to see it. I didn’t cause a scene, although I was hurting too. A couple of weeks later he apologized and asked for my forgiveness. He told me that he wanted to prove that he was still a man.

Meanwhile, his entire family was talking crazy stuff about us, doing nasty deeds as well. They scratched my car, threw eggs at our apartment door, left countless threat letters and so on. A woman from his family even stopped by my office to tell everyone I was gay, but was immediately kicked out by security.
Note that Hamza was the person who came to Germany first and then helped all of these people to come. But, as I’ve learned in life already, there is no gratitude where there’s bigotry.

All of this took a toll on us. Sex got less energetic or didn’t happen as often as before. Weird moments of silence that sounded louder than his family screaming slur at me. We talked it out and it got much better with time. Almost as good as the old times!

But as I was walking out of the apartment one day, I got pushed down the stairs by someone, kicked and hit countless times while I was on the floor. All I could hear was „shaytan“ (devil). I was honestly thinking this was it, this was how I die; but thankfully a neighbor heard the commotion and chased them away.
Hamza was there for me while I was recovering. Thankfully nothing broken, just badly beaten up. He was truly the most attentive, most gentle person. But, he was very vindictive as a person. For him, it was up to him to defend my „honor“ and he was getting ready to kill, if needed be.

I couldn’t allow this. I knew that his family was just fishing for a way to get him to have a violent outburst, only in order to permanently take away his parental rights and for his ex-wife to be able to finally move to Turkey to her sister (It’s a long and irrelevant story).
So after all what happened to me, my company has offered me a place in another town, to just escape the hell and be safe. I was extremely thankful for that as, in a way, it has also cleared what the right path from there is.

That day I came home and talked to Hamza. I thanked him for everything but also told him that I had lost my feelings for him, that we are just too different and that I actually was feeling like that for a long time now and have in the meantime organized with my company to be moved to another city as soon as possible. I also told him that I would be staying with my best friend from now on and will get the movers to collect my things.

My heart was breaking, but I didn’t want him to have a choice. I didn’t want him to hurt someone and get into trouble for it. I also didn’t want him to even have an option of moving to another city because I knew that the only thing that made him even remotely happy regarding his old life was that her was still physically near his daughter, hoping that one day she would come back to him and finally be able to put their differences to rest.

To my shock, he stayed silent the whole time. I knew that this was his way of „dealing“ with the worst of sorrow. He just stood up, kissed me on the cheek and left the apartment. That exact silence is what happened when his daughter told him she wants nothing to do with him. As soon as he closed the door behind him, I broke down into tears. I felt like my entire world was literally falling apart. I quickly packed a small bag with the essentials and have sat in my car for ten minutes just trying to get my eyes to dry up a bit so I could actually see the road.

As I sat there, I saw a tobacco shop across the street and immediately walked out of the car to buy myself some alcohol. I haven’t had alcohol in a few years, actually ever since I started with Hamza, but that didn’t stop me from drinking immediately as I sat back in my car.

As I drove to god only knows where at that point, the silence was just getting to be too much to handle. The radio was screaming and the heavy rain was hitting the roof, but all I could hear was silence. His straight face and dead eyes were all I could see. He was in my head and I was getting so unsure if I did the right thing. I needed to hear his voice, just one more time, I just needed to hear a word from him to know that he will be ok, that he will not do something stupid. I took my phone out of my pocket and tried to unlock it with my fingerprint, but the damn sensor never worked. After 2 attempts I finally entered the right code and unlocked the phone. Hamza. He was the last person that I’ve called in my list. Oh how I miss you Hamza.
The line was ringing.

The rain was pouring worse than in cheap romantic novels, and the only thing that felt was pouring even more were tears rolling down my cheeks in a heavy flow. One hand on the wheel and the other holding my cellphone, I was speeding to say at least, and being completely out of my mind because I hurt the man I loved the most. But — was it for his own good, or was it just my way out when it got too difficult?

Pitchblack.
And then nothing.

— One year later —

„Are you with your daughter the next weekend?“ – I asked.
„No, she will be on a school trip. Are you coming to over here for work again?“ – He responded.
„Yes, but just on Monday and Tuesday… Otherwise, I’m home for the weekend.“ – I said.
„Would you like to come over on Friday afternoon and spend the weekend with me?“ – He asked.
„I thought you’d never ask!“ – I laughed.
„You know your key is still working, right?“ – He grinned.
„I know. And you know I still have it, right?“ – I chuckled.
„Yes. Unless you lost it during the last three weeks since you last used it?!“ – He asked and added: „But even if you ever lose it, you know my doors will always be unlocked for you to come back.“
„I’ll stop by at the McDrive on my way. Strawberry milkshake?“ – I teased him.
„Just bring your ass over here, there is enough milkshake at home.“ – He said.

———— THE END ————