CHAPTER 18 — The Night Her Father Lost Control
1291 Words
Aisha didn’t know how long she sat there with her fingers wrapped around Kamal’s.
Time felt soft — like it finally stopped punching her for once.
Kamal watched her closely, like he was memorizing every flinch, every breath, every wince of pain.
Not out of pity.
But out of something far more powerful.
He cared.
Deeply.
Dangerously.
In a way that scared Aisha because she wasn’t sure she deserved it.
Kamal’s aunt returned with a tray — warm rice, soft stew, cold water, and a clean towel.
“Eat small,” she said. “Your body is in shock.”
Aisha nodded and tried to lift the spoon, but her hand trembled so badly the rice almost fell off. She quickly lowered it again, embarrassed.
Kamal noticed instantly.
“Give it to me,” he said softly.
Aisha’s eyes widened. “No, no… I can do it—”
“You’ve done enough today,” he replied, voice gentle but firm.
“Let me help.”
She hesitated… then let the spoon go.
Kamal lifted a small spoonful and blew on it lightly before offering it to her.
Aisha’s heart thumped hard.
This wasn’t romantic.
This wasn’t flirtation.
This was care.
Real care.
The kind she had never experienced consistently from anyone.
She opened her mouth slowly, and he fed her carefully, watching to make sure she wasn’t in pain.
Her hands fidgeted on her lap, unsure what to do.
She felt shy.
Vulnerable.
Safe.
His aunt watched the scene quietly from a distance, her eyes softening. She didn’t interrupt. She didn’t laugh. She didn’t pity Aisha.
She simply understood.
When Aisha finished, Kamal handed her a glass of water. She drank slowly, calming her heartbeat. When she whispered “thank you,” he almost broke into a smile — the first real one since he saw the bruise on her face.
But before the moment could settle, the older woman cleared her throat.
“Kamal,” she said, “help her to the guest room. She needs to rest.”
He nodded and rose to his feet, then offered Aisha his hand.
She took it, slowly.
When she stood, her back screamed in pain and she almost fell. Kamal caught her instantly, one arm around her waist, the other steadying her bag.
“Easy,” he whispered. “I’ve got you.”
Aisha blinked hard against the burning in her eyes. “It hurts…”
“I know,” he said, voice thick. “Lean on me.”
She did.
He guided her down the hallway — a small corridor with soft yellow bulbs and framed photos on the wall. Aisha leaned against him, her cheek slightly brushing his shoulder, her breathing shallow.
They reached the guest room.
It was simple but warm — a clean bed, fresh sheets, a small table, a window with blue curtains.
Kamal helped her sit gently on the edge of the bed.
Aisha winced softly.
“You okay?” he asked.
“No,” she whispered honestly. “But… I’m better than I was.”
Kamal exhaled slowly, relief washing over his face.
“I’m staying here,” he said quietly.
Aisha’s head snapped up. “No— Kamal, you don’t have to—”
“I’m staying,” he repeated. “On the chair. I’m not leaving you alone tonight.”
Her lips parted, stunned.
Nobody had ever stayed for her.
Not through the pain.
Not through the fear.
Not through the night.
Kamal pulled a wooden chair to the side of the bed.
She watched him, unsure how to respond.
“I don’t want to disturb you,” she whispered.
“You’re not disturbing me,” he said. “You’re the reason I’m here.”
Aisha felt something warm and frightening in her chest.
Before she could respond, his aunt called him from the sitting room.
“I’ll be back,” Kamal said, squeezing her hand lightly before leaving.
The moment he stepped out, the room grew quiet.
Aisha finally allowed herself to lie down, slowly, sideways, so her back didn’t touch the mattress directly. The pillow smelled clean. The blanket felt soft. It felt strange — like her body didn’t know how to react to comfort.
Her eyes fluttered shut.
But outside this tiny peace bubble, the world was preparing to explode.
⸻
SAME NIGHT — ACROSS TOWN
Aisha’s father woke up with a dry mouth and a pounding headache. The house was quiet. Too quiet. He rubbed his temples, grumbling as he stood.
“Aisha!” he shouted. “Bring water!”
Silence.
He frowned.
“AISHA!”
Nothing.
Annoyed, he walked toward her room and shoved the door open.
Empty.
No bag.
No shoes.
No Aisha.
His blood ran cold.
He stormed into the passage. “Aisha! This is not the time for games!”
No answer.
He walked around the house, heart pounding like a drum.
Panic began to rise inside him — ugly, shaky, unfamiliar.
Not because he feared for her safety.
But because the thought of losing control terrified him.
“She better not try me tonight,” he muttered.
He checked the gate.
Unlocked.
His eyes widened.
“She left?”
His voice trembled — with rage, not worry.
He stormed back into the house, breathing heavily.
“That useless girl! She left my house?! Without my permission?!”
His chest rose and fell rapidly.
His face twisted into something dark and dangerous.
She had never run before.
Never disobeyed to the point of escaping.
Never dared.
This wasn’t boldness.
This wasn’t rebellion.
This was a wound.
A deep, quiet wound he had inflicted himself.
He tried calling her line.
Switched off.
He cursed loudly and threw the phone to the floor.
“Where will she go? Who will take her? Who—”
Suddenly, a name flashed in his mind.
Kamal.
His eyes narrowed.
His jaw clenched.
Anger boiled like something demonic.
“If she’s with that boy, I’ll show them—”
He grabbed his keys.
He wasn’t thinking.
He wasn’t breathing properly.
He wasn’t in control.
And he wasn’t planning to talk.
He was planning to take her back — by force.
⸻
BACK AT THE AUNT’S HOUSE
Aisha’s breathing had finally slowed.
Her eyes were half-closed.
The pain was manageable with the ointment Kamal’s aunt applied.
But the moment Kamal stepped back into the room, she sat up slightly.
“You’re okay?” he asked.
She nodded.
“Do you want anything?”
She shook her head.
But then her voice softened—
“Kamal… thank you.”
He swallowed hard and sat on the chair beside the bed.
“Aisha,” he whispered, “I know you don’t feel safe right now. I know you’re tired. I know you’ve been carrying everything alone for too long.”
She blinked tears away.
“But tonight…” he leaned closer, eyes warm and intense, “you’re not carrying anything alone. I’m here. My aunt is here. And no one — absolutely no one — is taking you back to that house.”
Aisha’s lip trembled. “What if he comes looking for me?”
Kamal held her gaze.
“Let him come,” he said quietly. “This time… he won’t touch you.”
Something in his voice was different.
Stronger.
Sharper.
Like he wasn’t just a boy anymore — he was something else entirely.
A protector.
Aisha felt her heartbeat slow, her fear ease, and her shoulders finally drop.
For the first time in years…
She wasn’t alone.
She closed her eyes.
Kamal stayed awake, watching over her.
He didn’t blink much.
He didn’t move.
He didn’t look away.
Because somewhere deep inside him, he knew:
Tonight was only the beginning.
- Writer
