Page 114 of Sing For Us

“That he what?”

“That he didn’t kill my father.” No words leave Sara’s mouth; she puts her other hand on mine.

We release each other, and she finally starts talking about Emma. “Emma is a nineteen-year-old girl, but Noa killed her father in front of her eyes when she was just a child. He couldn’t find her for years.”

“Why did he want to find her?” My heart is pounding, and I’m sweating like crazy.

Sara takes a deep breath. “He wanted to apologize because he believed she didn’t deserve that. A couple of days ago, he met her in the restaurant she’s going to inherit from her parents.”

I make a confused look, and Sara picks up on that.

“That sounds confusing; let me explain. After her father’s death, her aunt and uncle adopted her. Emma explained to Noa that he saved her from a lifetime of abuse because her dad was a piece of shit who hit her.”

I would have killed him as well.

I’d love to be a mom, but I don’t see that happening anytime soon.

“Oh, dear Lord.” My eyes prickle with tears, and the realization hits me like a tidal wave.

I’ve been wrong. Oh so fucking wrong. When Noa told me that he had killed a dad in front of a little girl, I assumed he was talking about me. I just heard that he killed a dad in front of a girl. That, combined with the fact that I heard his call-off sign, was enough for me to wage this war on him. The cherry on top was him confessing that he prayed the night my baba was killed.

I was so wrong about everything. And I plan on setting things straight once Noa gets back.

“Do you know when he’ll be back?” I feel invigorated, and Sara notices the change in my demeanor.

“He’ll be back in about an hour. Do you want me–”

Huh. Who’s calling me?

I stand up and reach for my phone in my bag.

“Hello. Is this Ms. Osmanovic?”

Isa.

My heart drops.

“Yes, this is she. Has something happened?”

A brief pause follows. “We need you to come to the hospital immediately. There has been a significant change in his condition, and we would like to talk to you in person.”

“Yes.” That’s all I can say. I look over at Sara, and she knows.

“Do you want someone to come with you?” Even though we have had our differences, she is putting them aside and sees that I need support.

But I shake my head.

“No.” I pause. “Do you know when Noa is coming back?”

“He’ll probably be here in about an hour. Do you want me to call him?”

“No. Can I keep you updated?” The hopefulness in my voice can’t be masked, and I don’t want it to. Sara nods and motions for me to go.

“Please go. I’ll be here.” Those three words make the biggest difference, but I’m not sure it’ll bring me peace once I get to the hospital.

***

I race towards the hospital and ignore all the calls coming in. I park my car in the parking lot and run inside. My feet carry me, barely, towards the ICU, and everything looks the same.