Touching the Sky: The Story of Jeddah Tower and a Father’s Dream

It was never just about height.

When the first sketches of the Jeddah Tower appeared on a dusty boardroom table in Saudi Arabia, the world raised an eyebrow. A kilometer into the sky? They scoffed. But for the people of Jeddah, and for one man named Faisal, this tower was more than steel and ambition — it was hope wrapped in glass.

Faisal was a taxi driver in the city. For over 20 years, he had driven tourists past the Red Sea, past the bustling Corniche, and now — past the rising skeleton of what promised to be the tallest building in the world. Each morning, he slowed down just a bit as he passed the construction site, letting his eyes linger upward.

His daughter, Aaliyah, often rode beside him, her schoolbag hugged to her chest and curiosity in her eyes.
“Baba,” she would ask, “will that tower really touch the clouds?”

Faisal would smile. “Maybe even higher, beti.”

The Jeddah Tower, once called the Kingdom Tower, was envisioned to rise beyond 1,000 meters. Taller than Dubai’s Burj Khalifa. Taller than any other man-made structure in history. Not to boast, not to break records alone, but to signal something deeper — that the future had a place in the Arab world, and that the Arab world still had a future.

Construction began in 2011, with global headlines touting it as the project that would redefine skylines. But then came challenges: economic shifts, labor shortages, the pandemic. Work slowed. For years, it felt like the dream had paused in midair.

But not for Faisal.

Even when the cranes stood still, he’d point at the tower-in-progress and say to Aaliyah, “One day, you will walk in that building. Maybe even design one like it.”

Aaliyah listened. Quietly. Deeply.

She studied hard. Harder than most. Mathematics, physics, engineering. By 2023, she was accepted into one of Saudi Arabia’s top universities — Civil Engineering. The same year, the world heard new whispers: “Jeddah Tower construction has resumed.”

Faisal couldn’t hide his joy. He printed the headline, folded it carefully, and placed it in his wallet. Next to a photo of Aaliyah on her first day of school.

She didn’t disappoint. By 2024, Aaliyah secured a student internship at the Jeddah Tower construction site.

That morning, when she wore her helmet and walked under the shadow of rising steel, she looked up and whispered, “Baba, we’re here.”

Each beam, each glass panel that slid into place — it felt personal. For Aaliyah, it wasn’t just architecture. It was legacy.

The tower itself was a marvel. Designed with 252 floors, it boasted climate-resistant materials, an observation deck nearly a mile high, a mosque on one of the topmost floors — the highest in the world. Engineers accounted for wind pressure, desert heat, and future technologies. It wasn’t just a building. It was the promise of what humans could dream and do.

In mid-2025, as the final spire was prepared, the media buzzed with excitement. Journalists, architects, tourists — everyone prepared for the grand unveiling.

But for Faisal, the unveiling came quietly.

Aaliyah invited him to visit the tower before the official ceremony. Together, they rode the elevator — it took less than 90 seconds to reach the sky. As the doors opened, Faisal stepped into a floor above the clouds.

The Red Sea shimmered in the distance. The city below looked like a miniature model. The sky — not so far anymore.

Faisal’s eyes watered. Not because of the height, but because of the journey.

He turned to his daughter, now a young woman in a white hard hat, clipboard in hand.
“You built this,” he whispered.

“No, Baba,” she smiled. “You did. One ride at a time. One prayer at a time.”

Down below, people lined up for the first official tours. Cameras flashed. Flags waved. But in that quiet moment above the world, only two people stood — a father who believed, and a daughter who proved him right.

The Jeddah Tower stood tall. But nothing stood taller than the pride in Faisal’s heart.

And in that moment, they both knew — some buildings touch the sky. But some dreams go even higher.