Chapter one - The proposal
The first time my father told me I was getting married, I laughed.
Not because it was funny.
I laughed because I thought he was joking.
I was sitting on the floor of my mother’s room, folding clothes while she sorted through a pile of freshly washed hijabs.
“Your father wants to see you,” Mama said.
I looked up. “Why?”
She avoided my eyes.
“Just go.”
Something in her voice made my smile disappear.
I found my father sitting alone in the living room. His prayer beads were wrapped around his fingers, but he wasn’t counting them.
He looked at me for a long moment.
“Sit down, Aisha.”
I sat.
He cleared his throat.
“There is a family that has come to ask for your hand in marriage.”
For a few seconds, I said nothing.
Then I laughed.
My father didn’t.
The smile slowly disappeared from my face.
“You’re serious?”
“Yes.”
“But Baba…” I shook my head. “I don’t even know him.”
“You will know him after marriage.”
I stared at him.
“Who is he?”
“His name is Rayyan.”
“Rayyan what?”
“Rayyan Ibrahim.”
The name meant nothing to me.
I folded my arms.
“No.”
My father’s eyebrows tightened.
“You haven’t even met him.”
“I don’t need to.”
“You do.”
“No, Baba.”
His voice became firm.
“Aisha.”
I knew that tone.
It was the tone that ended arguments before they started.
But this time, I couldn’t stay quiet.
“I have plans.”
“What plans?”
“I want to work. I want to build something for myself. I want to continue my studies. I want to—”
“Marriage does not stop you from doing those things.”
“Sometimes it does.”
He stared at me.
I lowered my voice.
“I don’t want to marry a stranger.”
My father sighed.
“He is not a bad man.”
“That is what everyone says before a woman discovers the truth.”
Silence filled the room.
Then my father said something that made my heart stop.
“You knew this day would come.”
I frowned.
“What do you mean?”
He looked away.
“Your mother and I have already discussed this.”
My chest tightened.
“Mama knew?”
“Yes.”
I stood up immediately.
“I need to speak to her.”
“Aisha.”
I didn’t wait.
I ran to my mother’s room.
She was still folding clothes.
“Mama!”
She looked up.
“You knew?”
She said nothing.
“You knew they were coming to ask for my hand?”
Her eyes filled with tears.
That frightened me more than anything my father had said.
“Mama, why are you crying?”
She reached for my hand.
“Because there are some things a mother wishes she could protect her daughter from forever.”
I stared at her.
“What things?”
She squeezed my fingers.
“Just meet him.”
“I don’t want to.”
“Please.”
“Why?”
She looked toward the door to make sure nobody was listening.
Then she whispered,
“Because if you refuse this marriage, you may put yourself in danger.”
My heart began pounding.
“What are you talking about?”
Before she could answer, someone knocked on the door.
Three slow knocks.
My mother suddenly went pale.
I turned toward the door.
“Who is it?”
No answer.
Then my father’s voice came from outside.
“Aisha, come out.”
I looked back at Mama.
She was trembling.
And for the first time in my life, I saw fear in my mother’s eyes.
Not fear for herself.
Fear for me.
I opened the door.
My father was standing there.
Behind him stood a man I had never seen before.
Tall.
Well dressed.
Expressionless.
His eyes met mine.
And something inside me went cold.
“This,” my father said, “is Rayyan.”
Rayyan looked at me for several seconds.
Then he said the words that would haunt me for years.
“I know you don’t want to marry me.”
I swallowed.
“Then why are you here?”
His eyes moved briefly toward my mother.
“Because your mother asked me to come.”
My mother’s face turned white.
And I knew immediately—
There was something they weren’t telling me.
