CHAPTER 16 — Aisha’s Breaking Point 2
1200 Words
Aisha tried to stand, but her legs betrayed her. Her knees wobbled like they were made of thread, and she had to grab the wall just to keep from sliding back to the floor.
Her cheek still stung. Her back throbbed with every breath. She touched her face gently and winced — the skin felt hot and swollen. Her uniform was torn at the shoulder; dust and tears stained the front.
She knew what this meant.
If she stayed…
If she dared sleep in this house tonight…
She wasn’t sure she’d wake up tomorrow.
The realization wasn’t loud.
It wasn’t dramatic.
It didn’t scream.
It just… settled.
Quietly.
Like the truth that had been waiting inside her all along.
She walked to her room slowly, forcing her legs to cooperate. Every movement felt like dragging herself through broken glass, but she pushed through. When she reached her tiny room, she shut the door softly — the only softness she had felt all night.
Her hands trembled as she locked it.
Click.
The sound felt like breathing for the first time.
She pressed her forehead to the door and let out a shaky exhale — half cry, half relief, half something she couldn’t name.
Aisha grabbed her school bag from under the bed. It wasn’t even a real travel bag, just a faded pink backpack with one broken zipper. She sat on the bed and started packing the few things she owned:
Two tops.
One old jean.
Her school uniform.
Toothbrush.
A small jar of Vaseline.
Her phone charger.
Her notes.
Then she paused.
Her fingers landed on the small framed photo tucked inside her notebook — her mother holding her at age four. Her mother smiling like the world wasn’t breaking her. Her mother standing in the sun, skin glowing, eyes bright.
Aisha’s throat tightened.
Her father always said she was just like her mother — but he didn’t mean it like a compliment. Still, Aisha couldn’t deny the truth.
She missed her.
She missed someone who could no longer return.
She slipped the photo into her bag.
Her breath hitched.
This was real now.
She zipped up the bag with shaky fingers and looked around the room — the cracked mirror, the mattress with its torn edges, the tiny window that barely let in sunlight.
This had been her prison for so long…
But it was about to stop being her home entirely.
She grabbed the doorknob and hesitated.
Her body was shaking again — not from pain this time, but from fear.
What if she couldn’t survive outside?
What if she ran and things got worse?
What if Kamal didn’t want her to come?
What if he was busy?
What if he rejected her?
What if she ended up with nowhere to sleep?
But then she remembered the slap.
The belt.
The insults.
The way he looked at her like she was filth.
She would rather sleep outside on bare ground than sleep another night under this roof.
Aisha took a breath, unlocked the door, and stepped into the passage.
The house was quiet now — too quiet. Like it was watching her. Testing her. Daring her.
The lights were off in the sitting room, shadows stretching across the floor. Her father was either asleep or pretending to be drunk enough to ignore her existence.
Perfect.
She tiptoed to the front door and gently turned the latch.
Click.
The sound felt loud enough to wake the whole street.
She froze.
Silence.
No movement.
No voice calling her name.
Good.
She slipped outside and closed the door carefully behind her.
The night air hit her like cold water — sharp, refreshing, terrifying.
The breeze brushed the bruises on her back, making her wince. But she welcomed the pain.
This was freedom.
Raw.
Cold.
Uncertain.
But real.
The compound was dark, the only light coming from the distant yellow streetlamp flickering at the end of the road. Dogs barked somewhere far away. The sky was a deep, heavy blue sprinkled with a few stubborn stars.
Aisha clutched her bag tighter and stepped out of the gate.
For the first time in years, she was outside after 7 p.m.
For the first time ever, she wasn’t going back home.
She hurried down the road, her steps fast and shaky. Every sound made her heart jump — a passing motorcycle, a man coughing in the distance, a car door slamming.
She kept her head down and walked faster.
When she reached the main road, she hesitated. Her phone screen had cracks running through the middle, and the brightness was low because the battery was dying — 12%. She swallowed hard and dialed the only number she trusted.
Kamal.
The phone rang once.
Twice.
Three times—
“Hello?” His voice was soft… then sharpened when he heard her breathing. “Aisha? What’s wrong? Talk to me.”
She burst into tears.
She didn’t want to.
She had promised herself she wouldn’t cry anymore.
But the moment she heard his voice, her chest cracked open.
“Kamal… I—I left the house.”
“What? Where are you right now?”
Her voice shook. “The junction… near the big mango tree.”
“I’m coming. Stay there. Don’t move. I’m coming right now.”
The line cut.
Aisha hugged herself, shivering even though the night wasn’t cold. She stood by the tree, hiding behind its thick trunk whenever people passed.
Five minutes felt like an hour.
Her back hurt.
Her cheek throbbed.
Her legs were shaking.
What if he didn’t come?
What if something happened to him on the way?
What if her father woke up and came looking for her?
Her heart wouldn’t rest.
Then — headlights.
A bike slowed down in front of her.
Kamal jumped off before the guy even stopped fully. He ran to her, eyes wide with panic.
“Aisha—” he breathed, stopping right in front of her.
The moment he saw her face — the slap mark, the swollen cheek, the trembling — something inside him broke.
“Aisha… who did this to you?”
His voice wasn’t angry.
It was shattered.
Her mouth opened — but no words came out. Just tears.
Kamal didn’t wait.
He stepped close, lifted a hand slowly, and touched her cheek with the gentlest fingertip, like she was glass.
“Aisha… what happened?”
She whispered, “He beat me.”
Kamal closed his eyes. His jaw tightened. His breath shook.
“Aisha, your father did this?”
More tears. She nodded.
And Kamal… he didn’t say sorry.
He didn’t lecture her.
He didn’t ask unnecessary questions.
He held her.
Not like a boyfriend.
Not like a friend.
But like someone who had just found a person drowning and wasn’t about to let them sink again.
Aisha cried into his chest, her body shaking, her fingers gripping his shirt desperately. Kamal wrapped both arms around her and held her tighter, stroking the back of her head gently.
“You’re safe now,” he whispered. “I promise you… you’re safe.”
She didn’t believe him completely.
But for the first time that night… she wanted to.
- Writer
