Maama sighed again for the hundredth time, her head resting on the pillow. The night was eerily quiet, too late for her to be awake, and quite dark, very dark to be precise. She had never imagined that her daughter had gone through so much. She had only assumed that she had only be abused but never knew that the scars run deeper than Zeenah had made them appear.
If she had only known earlier, then she wouldn't have pushed the idea of getting married for the second time towards her daughter. She had assumed she was helping her heal by doing that, assumed that marrying again would restore Zeenah's confidence. But she has been wrong, now she had understood why Zeenah was insisting that the wedding shouldn't hold.
Maybe they should let her heal on her own. Wouldn't that be better? Maama thou
