Ebony and Omar: The Unwanted Parting

Trigger warning: separation anxiety



The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across their tiny Echo Park apartment as Ebony stretched out on their worn leather couch, her hand resting on the slight swell of her belly. Omar sat cross-legged on the floor beside her, his sketchbook balanced on his knee.

"What about Jade for a girl?" Ebony traced circles on her stomach. "It reminds me of the jungle back home."

Omar looked up from his drawing. "I like it. Better than your suggestion of naming the baby after your favorite chemical compound."

"Hey, Phosphorus is a perfectly good name." Ebony kicked his shoulder playfully. "My abuela would've loved it."

"Your grandmother named you Ebony because of the trees in Belize. That's beautiful. Phosphorus sounds like a rejected superhero."

The sound of car horns filtered through their open window, a typical LA symphony. Ebony shifted, her face tightening.

"What's wrong?" Omar set down his sketchbook.

"The immigration office called again today." Ebony's voice cracked. "They're saying there's an issue with my work permit renewal. Something about missing documentation from when my family first moved here."

Omar took her hand, his thumb brushing over her knuckles. "We'll figure it out. I promise."

"But what if we can't? What if-" She squeezed his fingers. "The baby's due in five months, and I can't even be sure I'll still be allowed to work by then."

"Remember what you told me when I was ready to give up on my art?" Omar pressed his lips to her palm. "You said we make our own path."

"That was different. You were just scared of disappointing your parents."

"And you're scared now. But we've got this." Omar reached for the small notebook they'd been using to track baby names. "Look at all we've planned already. Our little Jade or Xavier or-"

"Still not naming them Phosphorus?"

"Not a chance." Omar's smile softened as Ebony laughed, the worry lines around her eyes easing. "Tell me about the jungle again. Where you grew up."

Ebony's eyes lit up. "Belize? It was like nothing here in LA. The air was thick and sweet, and you could hear the howler monkeys every morning." She closed her eyes. "I used to climb this massive tree behind our house. Abuela would yell at me to come down, but I'd stay up there for hours, watching the birds."

"That's the world I want our baby to know." Omar's hand joined hers on her belly. "Even if we're here in LA, surrounded by concrete and traffic."

"You'll draw it for them?" 

"Every day. And you'll tell them about the jaguars and the stories your grandmother passed down."

Ebony pulled him closer, pressing her forehead against his. "I love you, you know that?"

"Even when I veto your terrible baby names?"

"Especially then."

The hostess led them to a cozy booth at Mercado, their favorite Mexican restaurant in Silver Lake. Ebony slid onto the leather seat, inhaling the aroma of fresh tortillas and grilled meat that filled the air.

"Remember the first time we came here?" Omar unfolded his napkin. "You ordered the spiciest thing on the menu just to prove you could handle it."

"And drank a gallon of horchata." Ebony's phone buzzed against the table. Unknown number. She hesitated, then answered. "Hello?"

"Ms. Martinez? This is Officer Thompson from USCIS."

Ebony's chest tightened. "It's Martinez-Williams. I'm married." She gripped the edge of the table.

"There's been a situation with your work permit." The officer's voice crackled through the speaker. "Due to a clerical error in processing your original documentation, we've had to revoke your current authorization. This puts you in violation of your visa terms."

The restaurant noise faded to a distant hum. "What do you mean, revoked?"

"You're currently subject to deportation proceedings. You'll receive official notice-"

Ebony's phone slipped from her fingers, clattering onto her untouched plate of chips and salsa. Omar reached across the table.

"Eb? What's wrong?"

"They're deporting me." The words came out in a whisper. "My permit- they say it was never valid. A clerical error."

"That's impossible." Omar moved to her side of the booth, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. "There has to be a mistake."

"The baby." Ebony pressed her hands against her stomach. "Omar, what about the baby?"

"We need to call a lawyer." Omar's voice remained steady, but his hands shook as he pulled out his phone. "Right now. Tonight."

"I can't-" Ebony's breath came in short gasps. "I can't go back. Not now. Not like this."

The waiter approached their table with a pitcher of water. Omar waved him away.

"Let's get out of here." Omar helped Ebony to her feet. She swayed, and he steadied her. "We'll figure this out."

Outside, the evening air had turned cold. Ebony hugged herself, staring at the string lights that hung between the buildings on Sunset Boulevard. Just hours ago, they'd been discussing nursery colors and baby names. Now…

"I thought we were past this." Tears rolled down her cheeks. "I thought we were safe."

Omar pulled her close, his chin resting on top of her head. "We're not giving up. Not without a fight."

But as they stood there on the sidewalk, the reality of their situation settled over them like a heavy fog. Their carefully laid plans, their shared dreams of raising their child together in LA - all of it hung by a thread.

The next morning, Omar paced their living room while Ebony spread documents across their coffee table. Birth certificates, visa paperwork, tax returns - a paper trail of their life together that now felt like it was crumbling.

"The lawyer can see us Friday." Omar's fingers drummed against his phone. "That's three days away."

"Three days." Ebony's hand trembled as she sorted through immigration forms. Her stomach churned - morning sickness, stress, or both. "What if they come before then?"

"They won't." Omar dropped onto the couch beside her, but his eyes darted to the window at every passing car. "We'll figure this out."

The week crawled by in a haze of phone calls and photocopies. Ebony's supervisor at the environmental firm promised letters of support, but his voice held doubt. The university where she'd studied claimed her records were archived, unavailable for weeks.

"Please," Omar begged the clerk at the county office. "We need these marriage documents certified today." 

"Processing time is ten business days."

"My wife is pregnant. She could be deported-"

"Sir, there's a procedure."

Ebony's phone lit up with another unknown number. She jumped, dropping the stack of papers she held. Omar rushed to her side, gathering the scattered documents.

"Don't answer," he said. "Not without the lawyer present."

That night, Ebony woke gasping from a nightmare. Omar held her as she sobbed into his chest.

"I can't do this." Her voice cracked. "I can't leave. I can't raise our baby alone."

"You won't have to." Omar stroked her back, but his own fears pressed against his chest like a weight. "We'll appeal. We'll fight."

Days blurred together. Their apartment became a fortress. Omar worked from home, refusing to leave Ebony alone. Take-out containers piled up. Neither could stomach proper meals.

During their lawyer consultation, Ebony's hands wouldn't stop shaking. The baby kicked - a flutter that usually brought joy, now mixed with dread.

"Given the circumstances," the lawyer shuffled through their paperwork, "and your pregnancy, we might have grounds for humanitarian consideration. But these cases are complex. Time-consuming."

"Time?" Omar's voice rose. "That's the one thing we don't have."

Ebony pressed her palms against her eyes, fighting another wave of tears. The lawyer's office spun. Her throat closed up.

"I need air." She pushed away from the desk, stumbling toward the door. Omar caught her arm.

"Let me come with-"

"Please." She pulled away. "Just... give me a minute."

In the hallway, Ebony leaned against the wall. Their future had never felt so uncertain. Through the door, she heard Omar's muffled voice, still fighting, still trying to protect her. But some battles couldn't be won with determination alone.

The doorbell rang at 8:47 PM. Omar and Ebony froze on their couch, the TV's glow casting shadows across their faces. Three sharp knocks followed.

"Immigration and Customs Enforcement. Open the door."

The words punched through their apartment like bullets. Ebony's hand flew to her belly. Omar's pulse thundered in his ears.

"No." Ebony's voice came out as a whisper. "No, no, no."

More knocks. "We have a warrant. Open the door now."

Omar grabbed Ebony's hand, squeezing it. "Call the lawyer. Right now."

The door hinges creaked as two agents in dark uniforms stepped inside. Their badges caught the light. Behind them, two more officers positioned themselves in the hallway.

"Ebony Williams?" The lead agent held up a document. "We have orders to take you into custody pending deportation proceedings."

Omar stepped in front of her, arms spread. "She's pregnant. Please. We have a lawyer working on our case."

"Sir, step aside." The second agent moved forward, hand resting on his belt. "This is a legal order. We need Ms. Williams to come with us."

"You can't do this." Omar's voice cracked. "We're married. We have rights-"

"Your marriage status will be considered during proceedings." The agent's tone remained flat, practiced. "But right now, she needs to comply."

Ebony's phone slipped from her trembling fingers, clattering to the floor. Her eyes met Omar's - wide, terrified, brimming with tears. The baby kicked, as if sensing her fear.

"Please." Omar turned back to the agents. "Give us time to contact our lawyer. She has a doctor's appointment tomorrow. She needs prenatal care-"

"Medical care will be provided at the detention facility." The lead agent stepped closer. "Ms. Williams, gather any essential items. We need to leave now."

Omar's chest constricted. Every heartbeat felt like it might shatter his ribs. He reached for Ebony's hand again, but an agent moved between them.

"Don't touch her." Omar's voice rose. "Just let me-"

"Sir, if you interfere, we'll have to restrain you." The agent's hand shifted to his cuffs. "Don't make this harder than it needs to be."

Ebony pressed her palm against Omar's back - one last touch. "I love you," she whispered.

The agents flanked her, leading her toward the door. Omar stood frozen, his protection useless against the machinery of law. Their eyes locked one final time, both understanding that everything they'd built together balanced on the edge of a knife.

Omar's legs turned to stone as he watched the agents guide Ebony toward their front door. His throat closed up, each breath a battle against the scream building in his chest. He clenched his fists, knuckles numb with the effort to keep from charging after them.

Ebony twisted in their grip. "Wait. Please." Her voice broke. "Just one moment."

The lead agent paused, his expression softening for a fraction of a second. He gave a short nod.

Omar crossed the distance between them in two steps. Ebony's face crumpled as she reached for him, her fingers digging into his shirt.

"I'll fight." The words spilled from her lips. "I promise you, I'll fight for us, for our baby-"

"I know." Omar's voice rasped. He pressed his forehead against hers, breathing in the coconut scent of her hair. "I'll get you back. Whatever it takes. I'll call every lawyer in the city. I'll-"

But the uncertainty of his own words hit him like a physical blow. His promises felt hollow against the cold reality of government paperwork and legal proceedings.

Ebony pulled him closer, her lips finding his. The kiss tasted of salt and desperation, of morning coffee and shared dreams. Her fingers trembled against his jaw. Omar poured everything he couldn't say into that contact - his love, his fear, his rage at the unfairness of it all. 

Time stretched and compressed around them. Each heartbeat lasted an eternity. Each breath contained a lifetime of memories - their first date, their wedding day, the moment they learned about the baby. 

When they broke apart, Ebony's eyes shone with tears she refused to let fall. "Find me," she whispered.

The agents stepped forward, their presence shattering the moment. Omar's arms fell empty to his sides as they led her away. The door clicked shut behind them with the finality of a coffin lid.