CHAPTER 19 — The Night the Storm Chose Its Side
1096 Words
Aisha drifted in and out of sleep, her breaths shallow and uneven. The pain kept pulling her back awake, but exhaustion kept dragging her under again like waves on a dark ocean.
Kamal sat on the wooden chair, elbows on his knees, eyes locked on her like a silent guard dog.
Every time she winced in her sleep, his jaw tightened.
Every time she shifted, he leaned forward to make sure she wasn’t hurting.
Every time her breath hitched, his heart squeezed.
It wasn’t love yet —
it was something deeper.
Something protective.
Instinctual.
Raw.
He had never seen anyone look so small and so strong at the same time.
Her fingers twitched suddenly, grasping weakly at the blanket.
“Aisha?” he whispered.
She didn’t wake.
But she murmured something under her breath — something soft and broken.
“Don’t hit me… please…”
Kamal’s heart twisted painfully.
He didn’t even realize he had stood up until he found himself kneeling beside the bed.
He wanted to take her pain.
He wanted to tear down every wall that had bruised her.
He wanted to snatch the belt from her father’s hand and break it into dust.
He gently brushed her hair away from her face.
“You’re safe,” he whispered.
“You’re safe now. I swear it.”
She quieted.
He sat back, his chest aching.
⸻
MEANWHILE — OUTSIDE, HER FATHER WAS A STORM WITHOUT A HOME
Aisha’s father drove like a madman through the night streets, tires screeching around corners, headlights slicing through the darkness.
With every turn, he muttered angrily:
“That girl thinks she can shame me?”
“She thinks she’s grown?”
“She thinks she can run?”
His hands gripped the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles went white.
He knew exactly where he was going.
The boy’s street.
The boy who always walked too close to his daughter.
The boy whose name made Aisha smile without permission.
The boy she refused to stop seeing.
He hissed sharply.
“He is the one influencing her. He is the reason she has mouth.”
He sped up.
The street grew narrower.
Quieter.
Thicker with shadows.
He stopped in front of Kamal’s house, breathing heavily.
The gate was locked. The lights off.
He cursed.
Then he noticed something —
A neighbor’s wooden stool outside.
A small group of boys at the corner whispering.
A motion — a shadow — near the junction.
He wasn’t sure where she was. But he knew one thing:
He wouldn’t rest until he found her.
⸻
BACK IN THE AUNT’S HOUSE
Aisha finally opened her eyes again.
The room was dark except for the dim orange glow spilling in through the window. Kamal was still in the chair, leaning forward, hands clasped, eyes watching her with a softness that made her chest tighten.
“You’re awake,” he said quietly.
Aisha nodded, blinking slowly. “How long have I been sleeping?”
“About an hour.”
Her eyes widened slightly. “And… you didn’t sleep?”
He shook his head. “I wasn’t tired.”
He was lying.
He was tired — exhausted, even — but he wasn’t going to leave her vulnerable.
She shifted a little and winced. Her back screamed.
He stood up instantly. “Careful.”
Aisha bit her lip. “It’s very painful.”
“I know,” he murmured. “Let me get the ointment.”
When he returned, he hesitated.
“Aisha… can I touch your back? I don’t want to hurt you.”
Her face flushed slightly. It was embarrassing, vulnerable, intimate — but she nodded.
“Yes… please.”
She turned slightly.
Kamal moved gently, applying the ointment with careful strokes, avoiding the open welts. Aisha hissed softly, but she didn’t pull away.
“You’re shaking,” he whispered.
“I’m scared he’ll come for me,” she admitted.
Kamal paused.
Then his voice dropped — deeper, firmer, colder.
“Let him come.”
Aisha looked at him, startled.
He set the ointment aside and sat beside her on the bed — close, but not too close.
“Aisha, I need you to hear me,” he said, his tone shifting.
“You didn’t do anything wrong tonight. You didn’t sin. You didn’t fail. You didn’t disrespect anyone.”
Her eyes filled with tears.
“He hurt you. That’s not discipline. That’s abuse.”
She swallowed hard.
“And if he tries it again…”
Kamal’s voice tightened.
“…he’ll answer to me.”
Aisha felt warmth crawl up her spine — not romantic warmth, but warmth of being defended.
Of being seen.
Of having someone in her corner.
She wiped her cheeks. “Why are you doing all this?”
Kamal breathed in deeply, eyes locked on hers.
“Because you deserve better,” he said softly.
“Because you shouldn’t suffer alone.”
His voice lowered even more.
“And because I care about you more than I’ve been brave enough to say.”
Aisha’s breath caught.
The room felt smaller.
Softer.
Warmer.
Like the air itself was holding its breath.
“You… care about me?” she whispered.
Kamal nodded once, slow and certain.
“Since the first day you looked at me like I wasn’t invisible.”
He wasn’t smiling.
He wasn’t joking.
He wasn’t flirting.
He was confessing.
Aisha blinked tears back. “Kamal… I don’t know what to say.”
“You don’t have to say anything tonight,” he whispered.
“Just… rest.”
She nodded slowly.
Kamal reached for her hand again.
Their fingers intertwined.
Aisha rested her head lightly on the pillow.
Her breathing finally steadied.
And for the first time in years…
She fell asleep without fear.
⸻
BUT PEACE NEVER STAYS QUIET FOR LONG
Kamal’s aunt stood by the window in the sitting room, peeking through the curtain.
She saw the headlights slowing near her gate.
She frowned.
“This man has come,” she muttered.
The car door slammed.
A figure stepped out — heavy, angry, pacing with violence.
Aisha’s father.
Her aunt’s eyes hardened.
She went to the hallway silently and whispered:
“Kamal.”
He looked up instantly. “Aunty?”
“He is outside.”
Kamal stood so fast the chair scraped the floor.
His heart slammed into his ribs.
His blood turned hot.
His vision sharpened like glass.
Aisha slept on, unaware.
Kamal moved toward the door.
His aunt grabbed his arm.
“Kamal — wait.”
“No,” he whispered. “I’ve waited long enough.”
- Writer
