Between Lines

...

I cautiously pivoted to my right and on my knees, my movements deliberate, to avoid a creaking sound. The anticipation coursed through my veins as I rose to my knees, my heart pounding in my chest. The door before me beckoned, its secrets hidden behind its wooden facade. With trembling hands, I reached out and slowly grasped the doorknob. As the door opened, a sliver of light spilled into the dimly lit corridor, casting eerie shadows on the worn flooring beneath my feet all the way to the narrow corridor. The air was thick with anticipation, each moment pregnant with the possibility of discovery. I picked my head out, a little mindful of the creaking wood floor beneath me.

My room was situated the first from the stairs on the right side of the corridor, granting me a limited but advantageous vantage point for a view to the living room. Although I couldn't observe the entirety of the scene, I could still catch glimpses of the activities unfolding outside. Regrettably, all I could perceive was the image of my father, his gaze fixed on the world beyond the windowpane. Alas, there was no trace of Hadad to be found. I instinctively retreated, allowing the door to swing back just enough to grant me a slender opening. Through this narrow gap, I strained to capture every syllable of their voice, eager to immerse myself in the cadence and timbre that resonated from within.

His voice, filled with a mixture of sorrow and determination, betrayed the weight of his words. "If only circumstances were different and if only I hadn't made that promise to your daughter, I would have told you everything, but..." He paused for reasons I couldn't tell.

"But now, I need time to think," my father uttered, his voice heavy with contemplation. I obediently shut my eyes, feeling a surge of anxiety coursing through my veins. My teeth gently sank into my lower lip, a reflexive gesture that betrayed my inner turmoil.

The heavy footsteps followed, and the front door opened and shut. I knew Hadad had left the house on that note. I remained rooted to the spot, my heart pounding in my chest. The air was thick with anticipation as the sound of hurried footsteps echoed through the hallway, growing louder with each passing second. Before I could fully comprehend the impending storm, the door to my room swung open with a force that sent me sprawling backward. In a desperate bid to escape the wrath that awaited me, I instinctively recoiled, my body instinctively retreating across the cold, unforgiving floor. The room seemed to shrink around me as I sought refuge from the tempest that was my father's fury.

"You are a disgrace," he uttered with a venomous hiss, his words sliced through the air, laden with contempt and disdain. His hands, like vices, clamped onto my trembling arms, their grip unyielding. In one swift, brutal motion, he hauled me up from the ground, my body protesting against the force. As he shook me with a ferocity that matched the storm raging within him, I could feel the weight of his disappointment bearing down upon me, suffocating my spirit. What were you doing with that stranger?" he was barking.

"Stop it! Stop!" I heard my mother's voice. She pleaded, her voice trembling with a mix of fear and frustration, but my eyes remained closed.

With a sudden burst of strength, he relinquished his grip on me, allowing me to stumble backwards. He then forcefully blew a fierce slap on my cheek, sending an intense wave of pain through my body. Overwhelmed by the impact, I found myself helplessly plummeting to the unforgiving ground below.

"You do not let her out of this room." With a voice that carried the weight of authority, he barked at my mother, who rushed to aid me, his words echoing through the room. "I will find a way to fix this," he said. His footsteps echoed through the room as he departed, leaving me to ponder the weight of his words. I raised my gaze to meet my mother's sorrowful eyes, brimming with a profound sense of helplessness. It was as if her very gaze conveyed the heartbreaking truth that she, too, was powerless in the face of our predicament.

***

For seven long days, an eerie silence hung heavy in the air, enveloping the once vibrant bond between my father and me. The absence of conversation, once a steady stream that flowed effortlessly between us, now left a void that seemed impossible to bridge. Each passing moment only served to deepen the chasm that had formed, as if an invisible wall had been erected, separating our worlds.

My mother being the mediator between me and the outside world, I was locked in my room, and I had no idea what was going on. My mother would come into my room with breakfast, lunch, and dinner, in addition to the town's gossip. The only person I was allowed to see other than my mother was my younger brother, who does nothing but smile every time we lock gazes, while he played in my room under my care. The week felt like years without seeing Hadad, and being the man, he respected my father’s wish that he didn’t even attempt to meet me.

As she entered my room, carrying a tray laden with dinner, her eyes were filled with a mix of excitement and a tint of sadness. "You simply won't believe what Isabella said to me," she exclaimed, her voice tinged with a hint of intrigue. I could sense that something extraordinary had transpired, something that had left her both astonished and captivated. As I watched my mother approach, a glimmer of hope flickered within me. Her voice carried a lilt of excitement, as if she held a secret that would bring joy to our lives. Yet, as her words spilled forth, a dissonance emerged between her tone and the expression etched upon her face. It was as if her countenance betrayed the very message she sought to convey.

“What?” A hushed sigh escaped my lips, afraid to disturb the tranquilly that enveloped the room. Gently, I lowered my brother's weary head onto the soft expanse of the bed, carefully easing it away from the comforting cradle of my own lap. The weight of the moment settled upon my shoulders as I watched him rest, his features relaxed in slumber. The flickering lantern cast a sombre glow, its feeble light barely illuminating the corners of my room. Suspended from the walls, it seemed to hang there like a silent observer, casting long shadows that danced and swayed with the gentle breeze.

“Tiffiny is meant to be married this Sunday." A warm smile graced her lips as she delicately set the plate she held onto the table. As I turned to look at her, the news had my eyes widening in awe.

"To the Mathews?" I asked, my voice filled with curiosity and a hint of excitement. A smile played on my lips as a gasp of delight escaped me. Her response was immediate, nodding frantically as she pulled me into her warm embrace.

"Oh, mother," I whispered, my voice barely audible as I tried to contain the overwhelming surge of emotions that threatened to spill over. My heart, burdened with a weight I could hardly bear, ached with a mixture of sorrow, longing, and a deep sense of connection. As I found solace in her warm embrace, I inhaled the sweet scent that enveloped her, savouring the moment. "I can't help but imagine how incredibly happy she would be."

"Now," she whispered, her delicate fingers gently gripping my arms as she locked her gaze with mine. As I gazed into her eyes, a sense of confusion washed over me. They were watery, shimmering like tiny pools of emotion. I couldn't help but wonder what had caused such a reaction. Was it sadness? Or perhaps something entirely different? Her eyes held a story, one that I longed to unravel. "You really must eat," she gently insisted, her delicate fingers brushing aside the strands of hair that had fallen onto my abdomen. I made my way around the table, taking in the sight of the delectable meal that awaited me.

"Are you okay?" I asked, my voice filled with genuine worry. My question approached her with a hint of hesitation in my voice.

"You would normally ask me about that man," she said, her voice tinged with curiosity as she avoided mine, fixated on something beyond the glass pane.

"I couldn't help but notice a tinge of sadness in your eyes today," I replied, my curiosity piqued. "Although I do enjoy inquiring about him, I cannot overlook the undeniable melancholy that seems to be weighing on your heart."

"Well," she said, her voice trailing off as she took a moment to collect herself. I furrowed my brow, my curiosity piqued, and I lifted my gaze to meet hers. Our eyes locked, and I found myself captivated by the vibrant emerald green that stared back at me as she slowly opened her eyes. With a heavy sigh, she shook her head in disbelief. The weight of the situation seemed to hang in the air as she rose from her chair, her movements slow and deliberate. Her eyes were fixed on the bed where Henery lay, his face etched with exhaustion. Without a word, she made her way towards him, her steps filled with a mix of determination and concern. Her fingers delicately caressed his breezy brown curly hair, reminiscent of my father's own look. A soft smile graced her lips as she gazed down at him with an abundance of affection.

"Mother, do I have something to be worried about?" I mustered up the courage to ask her the question that had been lingering in my mind. As the words escaped my lips, she slowly turned her head to the left, her gaze centred in my direction. She approached me with a graceful stride. Her delicate hand reached out, gently brushing against the tip of my long hair, which cascaded down and rested on my belly. A warm smile graced her lips, filling the air with a sense of tenderness. Her delicate fingers glided across my cheek with care. I couldn't help but lean into her hand, savouring the warmth and tenderness it offered. Our eyes locked, creating an unbreakable connection that seemed to transcend time and space.

"You are the spitting image of mine," she said, her voice laced with a hint of admiration. A smile graced her face, her pink lips delicately concealing her teeth. "You have my eyes and my hair," she whispered, her voice barely audible in the dimly lit room. The words mounted in the silence,heavy with a mixture of awe and tenderness. Her gaze, filled with an abundance of emotions, met mine, searching for a reflection of herself.

"But there is one thing." I breathed a smile, looking into her eyes, and she nodded as she bit her lower lip.

"Indeed, your aunt's smile," she said, her voice filled with a hint of nostalgia. I gently reached out and brushed away a few stray strands of hair that had fallen across her face, my fingers lingering for a moment longer than necessary. As I looked into her eyes, I couldn't help but feel a sense of connection, as if we were sharing an unspoken understanding.

"Talk to me, mother," I pleaded, my voice filled with desperation. The room was quiet, and the air was thick with unspoken words. I could see the hesitation in her eyes and the weight of her own emotions holding her back. But I couldn't bear the silence any longer. I needed her to open up.

"Quite the contrary," she said, her voice filled with conviction. With a graceful movement, she rose from her seat and retrieved the chair she had been sitting on. She carefully positioned it in front of me, as if inviting me to join her in a more intimate conversation. "I want to know what exactly happened between you and that man," she asked, her voice filled with curiosity and a hint of concern. The weight of her question hung heavy in the air, causing a brief moment of hesitation in me.

"Hadad!" I whispered his name. The mere mention of his name carries a weight of longing and affection. With a gentle sigh, I closed my eyes, allowing my mind to wander into the realm of memories and thoughts, where he occupied a prominent place. It was a moment that held immense power—a single utterance that could transport me to a realm where everything else faded away. All I yearned for was to be enveloped in a world where only he and I existed. The mere mention of his name or the memory of our first kiss had the ability to make everything else vanish, as if it were just him and me against the world.

"Do you really love him?" She asked me. She gazed at me intently, her eyes filled with curiosity. I could feel her anticipation hanging in the air as she awaited my answer. With a deep breath, I slowly opened my eyes, meeting her gaze. The weight of her question settled upon me, and I prepared myself to provide a response. That was the first time she ever asked me calmly. I couldn't help but feel a sense of strangeness as she suddenly showed a willingness to listen, but despite the oddity of the situation, nothing could compare to the sheer joy that welled up within me whenever I had the opportunity to talk about him or lend an ear to gossip about him.

"Never has he ever disrespected me." I seldom shook my head. "If that's what you want to ask," I explained to her.

"Yet that wasn't my question," she said, her voice trailing off slightly at the end.

I spoke with a hint of longing in my voice, my eyes gazing into the distance as I revealed my deepest emotions. "I can sense his presence, you know," I whispered, my words carrying a weight that went beyond mere sound. "It's as if his words are not just meant for my ears but for the very depths of my soul." There was a certain intensity in my expression, a flicker of recognition that hinted at a profound connection. "From the moment I laid eyes on him," I continued, my voice filled with vulnerability and like I'd lost control over the way I was speaking, as if I wasn’t talking with my mother. I was shamelessly confessing everything. "I knew deep within my being that I belonged to him," I declared, my voice firm and resolute. "For he is the one who holds the key to my heart, and I will guard that love with all that I am." I shook my head, getting back to myself. "I'm not certain if you felt this way upon meeting my father were the same as mine, but I must confess that my love for him transcends the limitations of language. It goes beyond what mere words can convey. I love him enough to die for him, enough to kill for him," I completed my sentence. I can't say why, but her tears began to flow, tracing a path down her cheeks. She turned away, hastily wiping them away, her throat tightening with a heavy swallow.

"Love is one thing," she said softly, her gaze locked with mine. Her eyes, deep pools of emotion, held a hint of fragility. With a motherly concern etched across her face, she gently posed the question, "Are you absolutely certain about what married life truly entails?"

"I am more than sure if it is with him," I replied, my gaze fixed on her watery eyes. "But, why are you asking me now?"

"I heard everything he said when he talked with your father," she replied, her voice filled with a hint of mischief. I couldn't help but smile at her confession.

"He is an honest man, a man of his word," I said proudly.

"I understand that much," she said, her voice filled with a hint of amusement. Our voices were hushed, barely above a whisper, since we were sharing a secret and we didn't want to disturb little Henery, who was peacefully asleep in my room. Yet, even in the quietude, I could detect a tinge of sadness in her voice. "Besides," she nodded. Her voice carried a hint of contemplation as she continued her thought, her words drifting through the air like whispers in a gentle breeze. "I went looking for him," she said, and I couldn't help but hold my breath, my eyes widening in shock as I gazed at her. "I got my questions answered and saw what he had in hand for you," she said. She pressed her lips together, a gesture that seemed to convey both uncertainty and indifference. As she shrugged, I couldn't help but feel a flicker of curiosity ignite within me.

"Oh, mother," I whispered, my voice filled with a mix of awe. I kneeled before her, my body positioned right under her legs, seeking solace and support. Leaning gently on her knees, I yearned for the comfort only a mother's presence could provide. "Are you saying you like him for me?" I asked, and my voice filled with excitement, to which she nodded. "Oh," I said, shaking my head in disbelief at what was going on then. "Oh, mother, you..." I lost control of my tears, and she started wiping my cheeks with her hands. "You have no idea how happy I am that I feel like my heart is about to shatter into the tiniest pieces," I sobbed as my cheeks were cupped between her palms and she kissed my forehead.

"Now," she whispered, her voice barely audible as she gently grasped my shoulders. The intensity in her eyes captivated me, and her touch sent shivers down my spine. Her breath came out in a deep, heavy inhale, as if she were trying to gather her thoughts. She reached out and gently took hold of my hands, intertwining her fingers with mine. "In that case," she said, her voice filled with determination as she sat up straight, her gaze locked with mine. There was a glimmer of pride in her eyes, as if she had just made a decision that she was confident in. "I simply cannot bear this situation any longer," she exclaimed. "I cannot let your faith be like mine." A faint smile played on her lips as she met my gaze.

What do you mean?" I asked, my voice tinged with a sense of wonder. I couldn't help but notice the nervousness in her gaze as I asked, my eyes dancing with curiosity.

"Your father has someone else in mind for you."

My heart sank as I heard those words, spoken with a hint of concern. The weight of my father's expectations had always loomed over my mother and me, but now it seemed he had taken matters into his own hands. I looked into her eyes, searching for any sign that she might be joking, but found only sincerity. "Someone else?" I asked, to which she nodded sadly. "No way." I snatched my hands out of hers and sat back on the chair as I shook my head. "You have to talk to him," I suggested.

"You know your father," she said. She nodded slowly, her hand delicately resting on the vibrant purple mantuwa that hugged her slender figure. The fabric seemed to shimmer under the soft glow of the candlelight. She cleared her throat, a subtle sign of nervousness. She clenched her teeth and muttered, "That man, he's as stubborn as an ox."

Tears streamed down my face as I whispered to my mother. My voice choked with despair. "I will die, mother," I confessed, my words barely audible amidst the sobs that wracked my body. "I will for sure..."

"Wait, wait," she pleaded, her voice filled with urgency as her delicate fingers stretched out towards mine. Without hesitation, I grasped her hand firmly. "What makes you think I went to see Hadad for?" she asked. I shifted my gaze downward, feeling a sudden wave of unease wash over me. "Tomorrow by this time, when the sun sets," she began, her voice filled with a sense of excitement. Her eyes sparkled with a mixture of excitement and mystery, as if she held a secret that was about to be unveiled. Her voice trembled with a mix of excitement and nervousness as she spoke, "I want you to wait for me until I come get you. It will be my deepest desire to be the one who marries you off to Hadad." Startled, my eyes were wide open at the sound of her speech. My dry lips instinctively gasped for air, barely making a sound.