Wrong Suffered At Hands (Chapter Fifteen)

15.

 

When Afiyah attempted to drag the table, it wasn't as heavy as she had anticipated; instead, the table's timber legs produced an unpleasant noise against the rug layered floor.

"Do not pull it; it might be heavy." Soraya insisted, and she simply shrugged and placed the table in front of the visitors.

"Is she carrying a child?"

The plain question sucked all the blood from her face. She glanced at her mother-in-law, who inherently stared back at her, her face frowning.

“Are you not expecting yet?” When the woman pressed her hand against Afiyah's stomach, she tensed; the roughness of those enormous hands contrasted with the tenderness of her belly.

"I'm not sure." She retreated a step.

"It's all fine..." The elderly woman got to her feet to approach Afiyah who kept pacing backwards, "Let me check, let me at least check. I have expertise determining the genders of unborn fetuses in the womb and am highly skilled at determining whether someone is currently pregnant."

The elderly woman's toothy grin faded away as she placed her palm briefly on Afiyah's belly. "Are you having any problems...?" she said, straightening up.

Afiyah cleared her throat, looking down and displaying signals that she genuinely detested the things the woman had done.

"I can give you advice. Meet me some day and I'll reveal details about It." the woman said with a leer.

"I don't require anything right now." Afiyah grinned, a sort of grin that caused the elderly woman to pick up the pace and sit where she was seated before.

She turned to face Soraya, who had a fixed expression on her face and her hands clasped over her canes as she peered over her spectacles. The intense gaze caused Afiyah to examine her attire to see if she was dressed appropriately.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"The public is inquiring."  They were having lunch that day, when she overheard Soraya mention.

“It’s been only two months.” She spoke tensely while barely nibbling on a piece of flatbread to prevent any noise from being made.

"The week after my wedding, I found out I was pregnant. I don't want others to believe that there is a problem with you, therefore her inquiries felt like a dagger in the chest. Or, does any problem exist?"

Afiyah stared at her, unable to speak.

"Are you sterile, young lady?"

“Is it counted as a sin to delay having children?" she said with a wry grin, "What if I decide not to have children straight away? Considering my age-"

"When you're married, age is irrelevant. When a girl gets married, she ceases to be a child. People have children when they are still quite young. By next month, I want you to be expecting."

Afiyah choked as a piece of bread lodged in her throat. She downed the water in a fit of fright.

"You've got me?"

She nodded, wiping the back of her hand across her mouth.

 

 

 

Afiyah recognized that her mother-in-law was truly a demanding woman with expectations that needed to be met. She insisted on getting up early, had strict rules about when to eat breakfast, lunch, and supper, detested wearing tight or short clothing, and reprimanded Afiyah in front of the throng if her scarf ever fell off of her head.

 

Khizar and Affan were tangled together, and Afiyah was trapped in the middle. She was unsure of what to do initially because she was afraid Khizar might occasionally use blackmail against her and aside from that, she was too conscience and uncomfortable to consider of Affan as a husband with physical relationship. She never considered becoming pregnant, nor did she participate in romantic activity with her husband. After two months, people began to inquire about the "Blessing."

She had grown tired of her relatives stopping over to inquire about her pregnancy. When will the newborn arrive? When will the wonderful news be announced?

To avoid Affan from hearing her sobs, she would lock herself in the bathroom and bite her hand whilst she wept.

After being married, Afiyah had no idea what kind of life she would lead.

 

 

 

It was a lovely morning, and the sun formed long shadows on the kitchen's marbled floor whilst she observed the milk simmer in the sauce pan. She recalled the uneasiness that occurred early that morning when Affan inadvertently brushed her hands against hers while laughing at something she remarked. They shy away as if they had touched something scorching, which made Afiyah chuckle. She found it unbelievable that after three months of marriage, they haven't even touched one another.

“Is it the meat you’re boiling?”

She gazed upon Soraya standing by the door frame, leaning against her canes, “I’m looking after for tea and it’s been thirty minutes. Next time, I'll brew tea for myself rather than waiting for you to get up and hurl a cup of tea at me."

Rather of showing any unpleasant facial gestures, Afiyah beamed at her, saying, "It'll just take a minute and what would you like have with tea?"

"A slice of bread." Soraya deadpanned at her.

"It'll be there in an instant for you." She grinned and shifted her attention back to the milk, which was now boiling, to add the black tea.

She considered how well the day had gone so far, how calm and collected she had been throughout the day, how she had managed to escape all of the hardships and traumas, and how the burden on her shoulders had seemed only light.

 

She was all delighted as she approached the front gate to open it and thought it may be her father, Hareem, or perhaps Sameer by himself. But when she saw Khizar and her aunt waiting at the entrance, her smiles from earlier in the day disappeared in the muck. She nearly cursed at herself for even attempting to unlock the gates. Her anxiety began to rise; she found it quite challenging to focus on the duties she had been performing for the visitors.

When she sat in front of Khizar with the other individuals, she experienced the sensation of being confined to a wall while observing the open window to flee outdoors.

Nervous, she fumbled with her hands.

She immediately regretted the moment she spotted Khizar leaning his chin against his phone as she unintentionally caught his gaze. His eyes were fixed intently on hers with a leering look on his face.

When she sensed her throat completely dry due to the growing feelings of dread and anxiety, she snatched her gaze and gulped.

When he wouldn't stop giving her indications regarding the images, she rose to her feet and left for her kitchen and headed outside towards the backyard. She attempted to calm herself by stroking her arms up and down as her shaky breaths rushed out one after another like the explosion of a volcano.

 

 

 

The moment Affan entered the room that evening; she was struck by how upset and enraged he seemed, his eyes appeared blood red. 

 "Let's do it tonight before people start calling me barren." He began to gradually unhook each of his buttons.

When Affan walked up to her, she backed away from her spot on the bed. He leaned over at her, their faces inches apart where Afiyah started to panic, “The lights, turn them off.” She stumbled terribly.

In the darkened room, she could still make out the silhouette of his bulked-up figure even after he had switched out the lights. When he neared her, she gritted her teeth till the agony subsided.

"Please slow down when I urge you to." Before granting him his wish, she had begged him to do so.

Her progressive disintegration was caused by suffering; she felt like her legs were being torn in half as a result of the ache between them. She grasped anything that slipped into her hands: the bed cover, the pillow or maybe his shoulders. She recalls tasting her blood on the tip of her tongue after biting her lips so hard to relieve the discomfort that she almost cried a howl of misery.

When she burst into tears, Affan's apologies were ineffective. It seemed impure and unpleasant to her, she was uneasy with a heavy weight pressing above her, and she couldn't help but muffle her cries as she waited for the sun to dawn.

 

 

 

 

She had looked in the mirror at herself in the morning, expecting to see a change in her physical traits that may suggest she was no longer a maiden, naive she was. She was foolish to not appear in front of her mother-in-law the entire day because when she did, she felt embarrassed of all the inappropriate things his son had performed with her. She mentally recited Khizar's comments that she was no longer a maiden and that the time had come for her to stop being called a virgin.

She felt awakened and vibrant, like a plant that had just begun to grow. Before she knew it, the ritual was happening two or three times a week, and she started to feel increasingly self-conscious about how she looked in front of her mother-in-law.

 

She cringed when the loud crash assaulted her ears; it sounded tremendous, like a train slamming into the windshield. She quickly ran to Soraya’s room where she found her resting on her bed. She glanced at Afiyah with wrath etched all over her face. Afiyah glanced at the disheveled sight; the tray, mugs, and plates, together with the food, were all shattered and lying on the floor.

"Ami Jan, what is this?" To calm the elderly woman's ire, she spoke in a pleasant manner. When she reached out to gather up the shattered fragments, her finger got a cut.

“That’s what you deserve for serving me cold meal.”

Afiyah didn't dare look up as she scooped up the remaining debris while clenching her palm into a fist to prevent the bleeding.

"Don't fret, I'll heat up the food for you and deliver it right away."

“I don’t want anything from you, you disrespectful lady.” The yell raged against her insides; dealing with an irate and cranky mother-in-law had become ordinary by this point.

The aging woman's health was endangering her life as she became weaker day by day. She was contracting several illnesses at once, which made it difficult for her to walk.

"I'm going to feed you myself." Her courtesy never wavered.

 

That nightfall, Affan arrived later than expected because, according to him, he had business to complete at the office. Despite his tardiness, Afiyah waited at the door for him. When Affan arrived home, the initial thing she did was taking off his coat and offer him a glass of water.

"Thank you and I have something for you." The moment Affan drew something out of his coat's pocket; she understood why the item of clothing had felt heavier that night.

"This caught my attention, and I just purchased it for you.  I hope it is of assistance to you."

She took a quick look at the box in those sturdy hands; the wrapping made it look vast and brand-new. She carefully took the box and, with somewhat trembling hands, she began to unwrap it. She wasn't immediately aware that the object in her grip was a brand-new cell phone.

“You like it? You're familiar with using a phone, right?"

Afiyah couldn't believe she was truly beaming. "Yes, I love it, and yes, I can deal with it."

"Have you ever owned a phone before?"

Her smile faltered slightly as she struggled to form an answer, "No, never. However, I know how this thing works."

"That's great, but keep in mind that my mother doesn't tolerate mobile phones or casual use of the device. Be aware.” He smiled as he walked into the restroom to change his attire.

Incredulous, Afiyah snorted and murmured, "Indeed." She threw the phone on the bed before heading to the kitchen to heat the dinner for Affan.