Breaking Her Walls

░Ten░

SOPHIA

"Can you help me with these?" I ask in a loud, commanding voice.

The man shakes his head, a stubborn expression on his face. I want to knock him out with one perfected kick.

Instead, my lips draw back in a snarl.

All they want is money and I don't have cash on me. Guess I'll have to use my supernatural strength, lift up the two giant suitcases and lay them on the scanners.

If the thirteen-hour flight wasn't enough to tire the life out of me, this really is going to kill me.

With my teeth gritted, I complete my mission and after putting the bags back on the trolley, I give the same person a dirty look as if to say, see I don't need your freaking help.

He looks away.

I draw in a deep breath as I step out of the security check and into the humid air. Although, it's December it's still too hot.

Even summers aren't that hot in China.

Oh. It feels good to discriminate Pakistan again.

I press down on the trolley handle and continue walking.

"Sophia!"

I barely get the time to register the voice before I'm enveloped into a bone-crushing hug.

From the sweet scent, I know it's my mother.

I let go of the handle and wrap my arms tightly around her slightly chubby body.

"I missed you so much, Soph!" she cries out.

I don't say anything. I'm too used to being mean to people and pretending to not care about them.

...

"Mama, no." I state with my arms crossed over my chest.

She looks at me, her brows knitted and a worried expression on her face.

"Tell me you aren't 'liberal' or 'feminist'." she air quotes. "Come on, Sophia. I raised you better than that. You need to get married. It's essential."

I make a choking sound in the back of throat. It's somewhere in between a gag and surprise. How does my Mom even know about these things?

"Lord, Mama, no. It's not like that. I just . . . don't like anyone." I try to put the correct words together.

It's not exactly a lie. In fact, come to think of it, it's the truth. But even if I did like someone, I wouldn't really be up for something as big as marriage.

All the worry fades away from her face and she claps. She. Claps.

"Perfect. You'll like Abdallah."

Suddenly, the image of him flashes before my eyes. Lanky. Pimpled face.

I push the images away. Eww!

"Mama, I can't even. I remember him from our childhood." I say, propping my head against the wall.

She shoots me a look. "If you won't marry him, you can marry one of your cousins."

Cousin.

No no no.

I swallow. "Fine, I'll go meet him. But don't blackmail me again, Mama. You know it doesn't work on me."

A lie.

Another lie.

I feel like my life is a bundle of lies. Entwined together so messily that I can't ever find the truth that's hidden too far beneath.

...

I most definitely don't believe in the saying, 'dress to impress'. I am more of a 'dress to suppress' kind of girl.

Suppressing someone's expectations, desires and letting them know that I'm not another pawn of the society.

So, that's exactly what I do while 'getting ready' for my meeting with Abdallah. I got out of the bed and just washing my face and brushing my teeth, I'm ready to go.

My Hollister sweatshirt is rumpled from sleeping in it, my sweatpants way too big and my lollipop flip-flops complete the astounding look.

I debate on whether to let my unruly, messy hair be free. But I take pity on the poor guy and tie my hair up into a bun. And it's not cute.

My dark circles are evident more so than usual due to watching Netflix the whole night long.

I quickly apply some chap-stick, put it into my backpack and stride out of the room for a new adventure.