EPISODE THREE: NIGHT OF SILENT TEARS
966 Words
Back to Ayat and Bint.
Ayat paused his story and glanced at Bint. She seemed to had lost in thought, her gaze distant. He called her name, and she shuddered slightly. When she finally raised her head, her eyes welled up with unshed tears.
He was surprised. Although, the story he was telling was emotional, wasn't she the one who had asked him to share it? What had made her this sad?
"Why are you crying, Bint? Should I stop?"
She quickly wiped her face with the edge of her hijab. "No, no, please don't stop. I'm interested. Keep going."
Ayat took a pen from the desk, gripping it tightly. He tapped its bottom against the table distractedly.
"I don't think I can continue anymore."
Bint's face filled with concern. "Why? I'm sorry. I just got really mad at your dad. How could he do that? It's so unfair."
Ayat chuckled at her words. "Unfair? Everything is unfair, Bint. The world itself is unfair. And you know I told you not to judge until you've heard everything. Just let me finish, okay?"
She nodded quickly. "Okay. Then what happened when your mom left your dad's house that night?" she asked eagerly.
Ayat leaned forward, his voice steady as he continued.
---
Zaynab Returned Home
Zaynab left Youssef's house in anguish. The physical pain from her injured toe was nothing compared to the deep wound his words had inflicted on her heart. Each step she took felt heavier than the last.
As she approached her family's mud house, her heart pounded. What if her father was awake? What if her mother had already discovered her absence? Panic surged through her, but she forced herself to move forward.
Reaching the door, she pressed her palm against the wooden frame and pushed gently. It didn't budge. Locked.
Her stomach twisted with dread.
Had her father locked the door, assuming she was safely asleep inside?
She pushed again, hoping to slip in unnoticed. But then, footsteps approaching. Heavy and deliberate, moving toward the entrance.
The door creaked open.
Her father stood before her, his face dark with fury. In his right hand, he held a horsewhip.
Zaynab trembled.
She was doomed.
"Where are you coming from?" His voice was low but sharp.
She swallowed hard, taking a small step back.
"Enter," he commanded.
Zaynab hesitated. She knew what awaited her inside.
Her father's eyes flashed. "I said enter! Are you deaf?"
Her pulse raced, but she dared not disobey. If she stayed outside any longer, the neighbors might wake up and gather, turning this into a public disgrace.
Slowly, she stepped inside.
Her hands clenched into fists, her gaze fixed on the floor. She had to come up with an excuse fast.
"Where are you coming from at this hour?" her father demanded again. "When I saw you earlier, I knew you were lying. I let you go just to see what you were up to."
"I... I went to borrow some books from Titi," she lied, her voice barely above a whisper.
Her father let out a sharp, bitter laugh. He turned to lock the door, then faced her again.
"You must think I'm a fool. Do you really believe I'll fall for that nonsense?"
Before she could respond, the whip lashed against her arm. Pain shot through her body.
"Baba, please! I'm sorry!" she cried.
He didn't stop. The whip struck her again, her back, her legs, her shoulders.
She ran to the door, trying to escape, but he yanked her back.
The commotion jolted her mother awake.
The woman rushed out of her room, her heart pounding. She gasped at the sight before her. Her daughter trembling, her husband towering over her, the whip raised high.
Zaynab's mother panicked. What had her daughter done to deserve such a brutal beating? She had to stop this before her husband seriously injured the girl.
"Stop! She's sick!" she cried out desperately.
Her father froze, sweat dripping down his forehead. He lowered the whip but didn't let go of it.
"She's sick?" he repeated, glaring at his wife. "And you? You were lying in bed, clueless that your daughter wasn't in her room? What kind of mother are you?"
The woman flinched at his words. She turned to Zaynab, her expression shifting from shock to anger.
"She was asleep when I checked on her earlier," she defended herself.
Her father scoffed. "Well, she wasn't there. She sneaked out. And now she's lying to my face about some foolish books!"
Zaynab's mother's disappointment was obvious. She turned to her daughter, her voice sharp.
"Amunibuni ẹran ibiye. Where did you go, Zaynab? Why did you sneak out in the middle of the night? Do you realize what you've done?"
Zaynab said nothing.
What could she say?
Telling the truth would be the same as signing her own death warrant. Her father might actually kill her. Worse, her mother could be thrown out of the house for raising a "disgraceful" daughter.
Her father adjusted his trousers, exhaling harshly. He snapped his fingers at her in frustration.
"God saved you tonight," he muttered. "I won't waste more words on you. If you want to ruin your life, go ahead. When you suffer tomorrow, don't say I didn't warn you. You are not my only child."
With that, he stormed off into his room.
Her mother lingered for a moment, shaking her head in disappointment before retreating to her own room, leaving Zaynab alone.
She collapsed onto the floor, curling into herself, tears streaming down her face.
Her body ached, but the pain in her heart was far worse.
Her father had said she wasn't his only child.
Did that mean he had already given up on her?
The thought made her cry even harder.
- Writer
