A knock on the door made her stand up from the bed while he remained still, watching her closely. His gaze silently commanded her to open the door, and she obeyed, fearing what he might do if she didn’t.
Her sister-in-law stood in front of her.
“Halima, Amma bula rahi hai,” she said, peeking into the room. Her eyes fell to the mat on the floor near the bed.
(Halima, mother is calling you.)
Halima turned back, hesitating, but stepped aside. Her sister-in-law cast her brother a knowing look before leaving. For a moment, Raza froze, his jaw tight with irritation.
“If you plan to stay here after today, you’ll be sleeping in the bed. Now put that mat back in its place,” he said flatly.
Halima’s innocent eyes met his briefly before she bent down, picking up the mat and placing it aside.
“I’m going out,” she informed him in a small voice before stepping out, her heart heavy.
Raza lay back down, closing his eyes, uninterested. After all, the Walima function (reception) wasn’t until the evening.
I walked out of the room, feeling every step grow heavier as I neared my aunt’s room. My heart was racing in my chest. What am I supposed to do? Raza Bha–Noo...My husband told me things about marriage. He didn’t explain it fully, but I understood enough.
I can’t help but think back to when the women were talking and laughing.
“Aaj toh isko achhe se saja do, behen. Waise mard ko kya farak padta hai, saji ho ya na ho, kaam toh ek hi karna hai,” an older woman had said, and they all burst into laughter.
(Today, make sure she’s all dressed up. Though, it doesn’t matter to men if we are or not; they’ll do what work they have to do.)
Rafia blushed, clearly understanding the what the women's were talking about. But why didn’t I get it? How could I be so clueless?
My biggest mistake was asking, “What work?”
Another woman, dressed in a bright red sari, laughed. “Arey, chori ko nahi pata kya hoga uske saath aaj raat?”
(She doesn’t know what’s going to happen to her tonight?)
They looked at me like I was an innocent child. Their words stung, but I couldn’t fully understand why. They called my mother over, and I felt my whole world shift.
“Halima,” my mother said, her voice stern, “You have to understand one thing. Tomorrow is your wedding night, and whatever he does, don’t resist. Don’t say no. If he touches you, let him. If he undresses you, don’t fight back. This is what women do for their husbands. If you satisfy him, he will love you. You will have to serve him after this. Cook for him, clean for him, do everything. Rafia will teach you if you don’t know how.”
I blink away the memory, trying to steady my nerves. I don’t want to think about it anymore. I don’t want to remember those words which that women's told me after that, but they keep echoing in my mind.
As I entered the room, my aunt gave me a stern look. She wasn’t looking like the loving Badi Amma I had always known.
“Darwaze mein kadi lagaao aur baitho mere bagal mein,” she ordered.
(Lock the door and sit beside me.)
I did as she said, the unease in my chest growing.
“Take off your veil,” she commanded.
I froze for a second but did as I was told, trembling. She put her hand on my chest, pressing against the side of my breasts. I jumped, startled by her sudden roughness, but she grabbed my wrist, forcing me to sit still.
“Badi Amma...” I whimpered, wincing as she pressed harder, the pain shooting through my body. She withdrew her hand, looking at me with cold eyes.
“Nothing happened, did it?” she said sharply. “Hasn’t your mother taught you anything? I don’t have to worry about Rafia and Ahmed; they’re already in love. But what about you?”
“What do you mean, Aunt ?” I asked, tears welling up in my eyes.
“He hasn’t touched you. He went for Namaz this morning. Men don’t leave their wives untouched on the first night. What did you do? Push him away?”
Her words hit me like a slap. How could she accuse me of that? This was my Badi Amma, the woman who had always loved me. But now, she spoke like my mother—only worse.
“I didn’t do anything. He told me to sleep on the mat... and he said I should go back home. He wants me to continue my studies, and after some years, we could... be together.”
Her hand flew across my face before I could finish. I stumbled, falling to the floor in shock.
“How dare you think you can leave this house?” she screamed, yanking me up by my hair. “You’re married to my son. I’m your mother-in-law now, not your aunt. Don’t bring more shame to this family. Do you know how many people are talking about the fact that he went to the mosque this morning?”
Tears blurred my vision as I looked up at her, the woman who once wiped away my tears now striking me with such cruelty.
“You will do everything it takes to make him happy,” she said, her voice filled with venom. “He’s your husband. It’s your duty to satisfy him.”
I stared at her, disbelief crashing over me like a wave. My aunt—my Badi Amma—was gone, replaced by this cold, ruthless woman.
“Understood?” she barked.
I nodded weakly, my body trembling as I stood and walked to the door, every part of me breaking inside. Just before I left, her voice echoed once more.
"Jaa kar Naha,Laal joda acche se pehen aur Raat tak Raza ke Nazdeek rehna aur ek aur baat sun le,agar tune hum dono ki baatein kisi se bhi kahi,tho tujhe rafia bhi nhi bacha paayegi aur mai uske saath aur bura karungi"
(Take a bath, wear red dress properly, and stay close to Raza till tonight. And one more thing, if you tell anyone about this conversation, not even Rafia will be able to save you and i will do worst with her.)
I wanted to scream at her, to fight back, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t risk Rafia being punished for my sake. She’s the only one who understands me.
I walked back to the room I shared with Raza, feeling like a prisoner trapped in an endless web. Yesterday, I was a 17-year-old girl. Today, I am a wife, a daughter-in-law, a sister-in-law.
How could my parents do this to me? They didn’t prepare me for this life. I don’t know how to cook, how to run a household. Why didn’t they teach me? Why?
As I passed by Rafia’s room, I saw her surrounded by her friends, laughing and getting ready for the evening. My friends would be in school right now, playing, living their carefree lives while mine was crumbling around me.
I entered the room I shared with Raza and collapsed on the floor. The emptiness of the room felt like the weight of my future. I cried until I couldn’t anymore, my chest heaving as I fought to breathe.
After taking a bath, I carefully dried myself, my body trembling as the cool air brushed against my skin.I tried to make myself look like the perfect bride.
I stood in front of the mirror, staring at the reflection of a girl who no longer felt like herself. My heart felt heavy, the weight of expectations pressing down on me.
I picked up the red zari dress, the intricate gold embroidery catching the light. It was beautiful—too beautiful for how broken I felt inside. I slipped into the dress, its soft fabric clinging to my skin, but I felt no comfort in it. The dress symbolized something I wasn’t ready for, something I still couldn’t understand.
As I fastened the clasps of the delicate jewelry around my neck, I felt each piece weighing me down, like chains binding me to a role I hadn’t chosen. The earrings, heavy and ornate, tugged at my ears as I hooked them on.
The bangles on my wrists jangled softly, their sound a constant reminder of the life I was now trapped in.
I stood in front of the dressing table, looking at the kohl bottle with trembling hands. Picking it up, I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself.
Slowly, I applied it to one eye, the black line accentuating the dark circles forming from sleepless nights and tearful mornings.
I stared at my reflection, trying to see the girl everyone wanted me to be—the perfect wife, the obedient daughter-in-law, the poised young woman. But all I saw was fear.With one eye done, I paused, my heart racing, thoughts swirling in my mind. Was this really my life now? A life where I was expected to please someone, to lose myself for the sake of my husband's happiness? I didn’t know how to fulfill the duties expected of me. How could I?
Suddenly, a loud knock broke the silence, jolting me from my thoughts. I placed the kohl back down on the singardan(dressing table) , my hands shaking slightly. The unfinished kohl still sat in the corner of my other eye, but I had no time to fix it.
I walked towards the door, each step feeling heavier than the last, and opened it. Standing there was Raza, his eyes blazing with anger.
"Why was the door locked?" he demanded, his voice sharp and full of irritation.
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