How Love

Haifa stared at her mother, her eyes wide with disbelief. "You can't be serious about this. Please, tell me you're joking," she pleaded.

It was a Saturday afternoon, slightly past noon. Haifa sat in her room, engrossed in editing the photos and videos she had captured during a hangout with her friends at Crossroads Maldives the previous day. The place had gained popularity due to its distinctive offerings, such as the Marine Discovery Center showcasing local arts and the elegant event halls with soaring ceilings. For Haifa, an aspiring photographer/ videographer, it was an ideal location.

Haifa had gone to the exquisite location for the sole purpose of trying out her new iPhone. When Apple unveiled the iPhone 12 Pro Max, Haifa was certain that it was the one she desired, as a professional camera was still beyond her financial reach. Haifa had dedicated over a year of her spare time to tutoring grade school children to save up for her coveted iPhone.

Seated on her swivel chair, an elegant pink velvet piece with a golden chrome base, she faced her chic compact desk. Her laptop occupied the desk's surface, and her attention was intently fixed on exploring the new features of the editing program she had been using for years. When they had initially moved into the apartment, Haifa had managed to squeeze in a desk and a chair, despite the limited space. The small quarters already felt crowded with her wardrobe and bed. Even though she could have utilized the living area for her studies or work, Haifa had a preference for having her own dedicated space.

In the midst of preparing to upload her reels to Instagram, her mother, Nasreena, interrupted her. Just hearing the words "needed to talk" from her mother's lips set off alarm bells in Haifa's mind. She knew from experience that these conversations were rarely positive. However, what her mother had to say this time turned out to be even worse than she had anticipated.

Nasreena regarded her with a sympathetic gaze. "Ifa dharifulha, we've had these conversations before," she replied, her tone gentle yet firm. Haifa knew that her mother used the term "dharifulha," which meant son or daughter in Dhivehi, the Maldivian language, to convey a sense of tenderness alongside her firm response.

Mother and daughter shared similar features in terms of appearance. Both possessed smooth, amber-colored skin, deep coal-black eyes, and dark hair. While Haifa boasted rich, vibrant, cascading curls, her mother's hair had thinned and turned gray over time. The effects of her arduous days were etched onto Nasreena's skin, which had become wrinkled and weathered. Many people drew comparisons between Haifa and a younger Nasreena. However, there was a noticeable height difference between them. Haifa stood tall at five feet five inches, a whole five inches taller than her mother, inheriting her father's physique.

Haifa shook her head in stubborn defiance. "I thought it was just a discussion! I didn't realize you were actually considering it." She leaned back in her chair at the dining table, while her mother sat across from her, resting her elbows on the wooden surface.

Her mother let out a deep sigh, her frustration veiled behind a patient demeanor. "You know it wasn't," she responded with a calm resolve. "We waited this long for you to finish your studies."

Nasreena reached out and gently held Haifa's hand, her eyes filled with understanding. "It's not as daunting as you're imagining. You'll adapt," she assured Haifa in a soft tone.

Haifa's gaze bore into the man seated beside her mother, Jalaal, her stepfather. He was a small, gentle man in his fifties, his kindness and soft-spoken nature having endeared him to her mother. He kept his head lowered, allowing mother and daughter to converse without his interference.

Two years had passed since her mother's remarriage. Haifa had been just a toddler when her father passed away. Her mother had shouldered the responsibility of raising her alone, balancing work and home life. Her mother was her pillar of strength.

"Why do we have to leave?" Haifa queried, her frustration evident in her tone. She gestured towards the compact two-room apartment that currently housed them. "We have enough space here."

They had transitioned to the current apartment from their previous one-room abode when her mother remarried. Moving residences was a common occurrence for residents of Male', a result of the scarcity of housing. Male' was the capital island of the Maldives, the smallest republic in Asia, and it housed a significant portion of the population due to its high population density. The majority of Male' residents lived in apartment buildings that were typically ten to fifteen stories tall, constructed on limited land space, and often intended for renting.

"The rent is becoming increasingly burdensome; it's hard to manage. Plus, I believe being closer to our family would be beneficial," her mother empathetically expressed, addressing Haifa's concerns.

Haifa had frequently listened to her mother's stories about their native island, Vavathi, located within the Noonu Atoll in the northern region of the country. The Maldives, renowned as one of the world's most geographically dispersed nations, comprised a series of twenty-six atolls stretched across the expanse of the Indian Ocean. Although the total count of islands exceeded a thousand, merely around 200 of them were inhabited.

As per her mother's accounts, the population on most islands averaged around a thousand, while the more populous ones housed over 5,000 residents. This population distribution posed a significant challenge for the government in extending adequate education and healthcare services to all areas. Consequently, the government had opted to channel its resources primarily toward developing the capital city over the past decades. This policy resulted in the concentration of essential services and resources in Male', while the remaining islands of the country were left in a state of neglect.

Hence, that was the driving force behind her parents' critical decision. Nasreena herself had experienced the repercussions of the limited educational opportunities available in the 1970s in Vavathi. The island's education system only extended up to the sixth-grade level. Due to her own educational limitations, Nasreena had been compelled to work in labor-intensive jobs to singlehandedly provide for Haifa's upbringing.

Haifa let out a frustrated huff. "I haven't seen them or spoken to them in ages," she retorted.

Haifa's aversion towards her relatives on Vavathi was, in her opinion, well-founded. They frequently mocked her and treated her as an outsider. Admittedly, she had played a part in this issue, being notably hesitant to engage in social interactions with them. It wasn't a matter of personal animosity; she simply required time to get to know people and establish a connection. Her longest stay on the island had lasted just one week.

"Besides, I'm about to start working, and we'll have more money then. It won't be a problem."

Haifa had successfully completed a three-year program in Graphics and Multimedia at Mianz International College, one of the esteemed institutions in the city. Her fascination with multimedia had blossomed from a young age, and it had only intensified when her mother granted her a smartphone upon reaching her teenage years.

Nasreena, her mother, inclined her head slightly. "Ifa, dharifulha, I understand that this change is challenging, but please try to comprehend," she implored gently. Her eyes radiated affection for her daughter. "We have a home there, and Jalaal has worked hard to renovate it for our return. The only reason your father and I moved here was so that you could have a better education. At that time, our island lacked a proper school."

Haifa remained resolute, her tone stubborn. "What am I supposed to do on an island, Mamma? Everything and everyone I know is here. This is my life," she insisted, her determination unwavering.

While her mother might still cherish fond memories of her childhood and harbor deep affection for her island, Haifa held no affinity for a mundane existence. She considered herself a contemporary young woman with modern sensibilities. She relished the excitement of the latest trends and was drawn to the fast-paced allure of urban life. Haifa took pleasure in indulging in fast foods, enjoying Netflix, and navigating the lively and bustling city streets.

The conveniences and accessibility that Male' provided were something she relished; Wi-Fi was as essential to her as the air she breathed. Her aspirations lay in securing a position at a well-established graphics company, eager to carve out her own identity and make a name for herself in the industry.

"You'll find opportunities there as well; it's not as undeveloped as you believe. We'll start a new life there," her mother said, offering Haifa an encouraging smile.

"No, I won't leave," Haifa declared defiantly, rising from her seat.

Haifa considered herself a true inhabitant of Male'. In the few instances she had visited the island, she had noted the scarcity of shops, with an even smaller number of restaurants or cafes present. The majority of the island's residents were engaged in employment at nearby resorts, while a minority chose to stay behind. The primary sources of income for the locals stemmed from fishing and the preparation of food-related products.

The most unpleasant memory she retained was of the Indian-styled squat toilets. The initial encounter with this unfamiliar fixture had left her utterly horrified. The idea of using such a facility on a regular basis was completely beyond her comprehension. Just the thought of it made Haifa shudder in distaste.

Her mother arched an eyebrow. "And where do you plan on staying then?" she asked pointedly.

Haifa crossed her arms over her chest and narrowed her eyes at her mother. At over twenty-four years old, she was certainly capable of earning a living and renting a place for herself if she chose to. She could even move in with the few family members who had relocated to Male'. But her mother understood that Haifa couldn't fathom living without her.

As the years passed, Haifa managed to come up with various excuses to avoid visiting her home island. However, on the few occasions when her mother did return there, she left Haifa with family members. Haifa still vividly recalled the ache of longing she felt during those times, the longing that had compelled her to beg her mother to return after just a few days.

The way of life in the Maldives closely resembled that of many South Asian countries, where families commonly resided together under the same roof. While some more modern couples chose to live separately after marriage, it was a rarity to live alone unless under exceptional circumstances.

Haifa yearned to assert her independence, to carve out her own path and life. But she couldn't even begin to fathom being away from her mother. Her mother was her anchor, her reason for living, the very essence of her existence. Haifa might have been many things, but there was one thing she couldn't do – she couldn't let her mother go.

Gazing at her mother, Haifa found herself pondering the life her mother had led. Nasreena had left her own home in pursuit of a better education for Haifa, and within a few years, she had experienced the heartbreak of losing her husband. Nasreena had never entertained the idea of dating or looking at another man after that loss – until Jalaal entered her life.

Jalaal had been a childhood friend who had harbored feelings for her prior to her meeting Haifa's father. At that time, Nasreena didn't share the same sentiments. However, they had reconnected and kindled a romance a few years ago. Haifa found her mother's love story to be endearing and beautiful, and she was grateful that her mother had found happiness again.

"This isn't about Aseel, is it?" Haifa inquired, casting a suspicious glance at her mother.

"Of course not," her mother responded way too fast, smoothing the sleeve of her floral print cotton dress.

Haifa threw her hands up in the air in exasperation. "I knew it! I told you we're fine now. He had a moment of weakness, he apologized, and I've forgiven him," she explained. "People make mistakes, Mamma. We learn from them."

Her mother studied her intently for a moment, and Haifa could feel her scrutinizing gaze. She understood her mother's reasons for closely examining her on-again-off-again boyfriend of the past six months. Haifa had met Aseel through a friend and had fallen head over heels in love with him. In the beginning, Aseel hadn't shown much interest in her, not even bothering to reply to her messages. It had taken a considerable amount of effort to win him over, especially after rumors started circulating about his infidelity.

Haifa had initially dismissed the rumors, but that changed when she stumbled upon explicit messages sent to another number. This led to a painful break between them, which had a negative impact on her studies. However, she managed to retake her exams and achieve better grades. Aseel eventually returned, asking for forgiveness.

"Aseel has changed; he's even talking about finding a decent job," Haifa persisted in trying to convince her mother. Her mother had been skeptical of Aseel from the start. When he initially broke things off instead of owning up to his infidelity and apologizing, her mother had expressed her disapproval. Even when Aseel reentered her life, her mother had repeatedly advised her against giving him a second chance.

"I love him, Mamma. You need to accept that," Haifa retorted, her frustration evident in her tone. "You are being very controlling if you believe taking me away from him would make me forget him. We are meant for each other."

"I've already shared my perspective on Aseel, but the final decision rests with you. Moving to Vavathi is an entirely separate matter," Nasreena said as she rose from her seat, her disapproval now clearly visible on her face. "My decision is final. I won't discuss this any further. We're leaving in two weeks."