Ever since six months ago, when Rafael, or should I now call him Alvaro Marco, was caught, the news of his entrapment was still spoken about till this day. Often times, Jimena wondered and inquired about her father, and I'd always give her the same answer back.

"Papa is busy Jimena, once he is done with work, he will surely come to see you" I'd smile, and coax her thoughts into something else so she didn't ponder too much on the matter.

Of course, she would do that though, when she thought mama wouldn't notice, the way she'd stop drawing, or practise the alphabet, she would sit still, and be completely engorged in something else. Physically, my baby was next to me, but mentally, I knew exactly where her mind was.

My family was more than surprised when they realised what I'd done. I'd told them the entire truth between me and Rafael, failing to mention he was a part of the mafia. The leader of this vicious syndicate. I told them Jimena's story, and considerably, their hearts melted for this tiny human.

Although they seemed to acknowledge everything that transpired during my time in Spain, it didn't mean they weren't angry. Oh they were angry alright! And I deserved it. Marrying without their blessing. Bringing back someone's child. They could have only wondered what went wrong with me.

For the past six months there seemed to have been no repercussion's to my actions, no one to tell me if what I was doing was right or wrong, and the moment my family displayed their contemptment, I couldn't have been more happier. It felt like I was a child again, whom had an adults hand to hold onto when something went wrong, and that at the end of the day, I would get what I deserved. I would be shown the right way. The blame would now be shared among others and make me feel less guilty.

Abu g did not speak to me for an entire month, refusing to even look at me, nevermind sharing a sentence with me. But after I'd mustered enough courage to talk to him and explain my reasoning, the ice around his heart melted away, although much slower than I anticipated, but nonetheless. Throughout these months, I was a child again, in my own house, thriving and slowly slipping back into what was my norm.

Yet still, whenever Jimena was around, my childlike behaviours were reserved for my parents, and since I was her mother, I now adopted the role of my own mother. I'd reflect back on her ingenious parenting and apply the same with Jimena. The grand circle of life.

The awkwardness was still there, but it was better than being non-transparent. Jimena had grown on him the most, as he'd refer to her as his little moon. Or his light. His Jigar. I couldn't have asked Allah for a better turn of events.

"Nana jaan" Jimena would say with her cute voice and giggle everytime dad would reply back with 'my liver'. She'd let out a sweet giggle, knowing all too well how smitten her Nana was with her and the power she held over him.

"Yes my Jigar" he'd reply, picking her up often times and placing kisses across her face. I was glad I'd informed him of Jimena's story. I could tell he'd be a sucker for the way she was brought into this world. No one deserved to go through what Jimena did and prior to that her mother. Everyday her biological mother was in my prayers, for her to rest in peace.

I was sat In a taxi to get back home, and even here I couldn't escape my past. The radio was loud in the deafening silence as it echoed about in the car.

"This week's headline news is coming straight from Spain, Christina Alejandro is here with us at the BBC. Christina, what a pleasure it is to have your here. What can you inform us of today for the supposed suspect Alvaro Marco?" Inquired one of the news anchors.

"Thank you for having me Jemima Smith. Earlier this morning, we reached out to Spain's best criminal interrogator and polygraph examiner, Bruno Suarez for any updates on Alvaro Marco, whom he is currently interrogating. Doctor Suarez reveals the convict, was forcefully taken hostage by the mafia during his teen years, where he spent transporting drugs and weapons, after having asked a series of organised questions regarding the suspects earlier life. During one of his recent interrogations, Marco disclosed how his families life was on the line if he hadn't accepted the recourse which the Mafia offered him. Bruno Suarez has confirmed that all that had been said by the suspect is true and that this should be taken into account when further exploring his trial-"

"A scary world isn't it?" Exclaimed the taxi driver, all of a sudden, glancing at me briefly through the rearview mirror before looking out the window. As much as I wanted to hear whet else there had to be said about Rafael, thankfully, the driver changed the channel.

The skyscrapers in London were like no other. The hustle and bustle of strangers. I looked at anything to divert my thoughts.

I nodded absentmindedly my mind preoccupied elsewhere. In Spain, wondering why I betrayed a mafia leader. If we were to ever meet in another dimension, would he forgive me? Would he decide to kill me? Would he have already forgotten about me?

That was highly unlikely. Mafia members never forget and neither did they forgive. I broke Omertà. An eye for an eye. A tooth for a tooth. I shuddered in fear, visibly shaking my head. Gosh! I'm going to go crazy from my own mind.

He's in prison now Laila! And wouldn't be out for another three and a half years. I'm sure, until then any memories he had of me would be reduced down to a pea. Although, despite all these self assurances, to prevent myself from going insane, I knew. I knew that the moment he walks out of prison a free man, I would be number one on his list.

I remember our first encounter, where he so fiercely seethed how much he does not forgive, nor does he forget. I gulped having recalled that.

Enough about this Laila! You need to move on from the self-depreciating thoughts. But... What would Jimena think if she finds out the truth? How this sorry excuse of a women betrayed her father and kept her from him. Hasn't she already been through enough?

"Mama, don't leave me alone" cried my daughter, as she latched onto me tightly, not wanting to go to the nursery. Her tears broke away at my heart, but this was important. Motioning for the teacher to wait a few minutes, she smiled back in understanding, patiently waiting by the entrance.

"Jimena, baby, have I ever not come for you?" I asked, trying to get her to calm down. She wasn't happy and instead tightened her hold. Securing her backpack around my shoulder, I stood with her in my arms, her legs automatically curling around my waist. "Shh" I soothed further, kissing away her tears. I didn't waste the moment she quietened down, a plan slowly forming in my head.

"Jimena, come on baby, mummy needs to go school. Can you be a good girl until I come back?" I soothed, shushing down her cries whilst simultaneously rubbing her back. Her cute sniffles played against my ears, as she seemed to be contemplating her reply.

Slowly, but surely, she nodded her head, wiping away her tears with her chubby hands before pecking my cheek.

"Si mama!" She exclaimed dejectedly, wanting to be let down. This was another thing I wanted to stay constant in Jimena's life. Her language. Of course I wouldn't speak it myself, so I made sure to enroll her in a primary school where the majority of the pupils were Spanish speaking. As well as this, I'd make sure to put cartoons on for her in Spanish and Urdu.

The more languages, the better. It was always my wish, but it seems that came true. My daughter is the reason for such a blessing.

After having dropped her off at nursery, with the promise of making her favourite dish when she gets back, I peacefully went to University. There I was bombarded with information on anatomy and the different systems in the body.

Once the lecture ended, I went back to my house. It was only a two hour lecture, so I had enough time to make Jimena's food and be able to pick her up.

Whilst I was mixing the tomatoes and the remaining ingredients in the pan, Ammi g came into the kitchen, standing next to me. I glanced at her briefly before checking whether the food was too spicy. Thankfully it wasn't. It was a slow process to get Jimena used to asian spice.

"Laila" she began, going to sit on the island. Her tone demanded for me to accompany her. Turning down the heat from under the sauce, I nervously looked at her. What could she want to discuss.

"How have you been, my daughter" a look of longing was in her eyes, like I was here with her physically, but mentally we were miles away. I hummed, not knowing what to say.

"I've been good, mama" I replied, finding it weird calling her mama when I've been so used to Jimena calling me that. She shook her head, beckoning me over with her arms. A pout formed on my lips, as I hugged her.

Tears lined my vision, but I refused to let them show.

"You know you can tell me anything, right?"

"Yes mama" I nodded and if possible, pushed my head further in her chest. This was my home. That same scent of vanilla and zest that I loved and grew up with.

We let each other go, but not before mama gave me a look of pride which excelled my heart and thrilled my mind. "You are the best mother Jimena could ask for, dear. So be proud, and his angels are shielding you, so have no worries, my jaan" my face leaned against her hand. These were affirmations I needed to hear. Now I no longer felt alone.

I had my family with me.

Although, when cracks presented themselves into my heart, I allowed all the sadness and longing to seep in and take precedence. Sometimes I missed Rafael. The final few days we'd spent in each other's company, despite how busy he was, were memories I held to this day. His comforting hugs. His protectiveness. His love for the ones dear to him. Him accepting Islam into his heart.

But now, he was in prison. Because of me. I couldn't let this sadness prevail my heart once again, but I also couldn't rid this guilt. That I'd made his life miserable. That everyday I filled Jimena with lies, and one day, she would end up hating how absent her father was in her life. God forbid, she was mature enough to cognise she did not want to see him.

We stepped away from each other's embrace. My mama going back to her knitting in the other room, and me going back to the past. And how I wish the future was extracted from a fairytale. Where everyone lived a happily ever after.

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