Her Unwanted Husband

I2I

"Those who show patience, firmness and self -control; who are true(in word and deed); who worship devoutly; who spend (in the way of God); and who pray for forgiveness in the early hours of the morning."

- (3:17)

—

MARIA

I manage not to fall by clasping the edge of the sofa. What is he doing here? Why has he decided to show up now of all times?

"Emad." I mutter weakly.

Nonetheless, he stops conversing with his mother and his head turns my way. God, he is the same but somehow so different.

He doesn't look like my childhood bestie anymore. Instead, he looks like everyone else out there. People who try to fit in.

Perfect chocolate brown hair. Perfect face. Perfect body. And perfect clothes.

I look into his eyes. God, the way he's looking at me. Like I'm something filthy. Something to be disgusted about.

All this just because I don't try to fit in.

I swallow the lump forming in my throat. I won't let him hurt me. I won't let anyone hurt me.

I grit my teeth and blink away the tears forming in my eyes. I'll cry later when I'm alone. Just not here, not in front of everyone.

"Emad, do you remember Maria?" His mother asks, oblivious to the tide of sentiments rising within me.

I watch his eyes go wide and he grimaces.

"You're Maria? What the hell are you wearing?"

No. He shouldn't have said that. I start tapping my feet against the wooden flooring to control the emotions forming in my throat and threatening to fall from my eyes.

My lip trembles, but I manage to keep my voice steady. "We meet after five years and that's the first question you ask me?”

"Of course. I bloody can’t stand the sight of you. Why are you hiding yourself in loose clothing? You're such a coward, Maria."

Yes. I am a coward. And I hate talking to people. I have no self-confidence. But so what? At least I'm trying. What is he doing? He's just fitting in.

I want to say all of this to his face. But I can't. He wouldn't understand. He's just like the rest of them.

But it hurts. It hurts so freaking much. I was awaiting his arrival for years. I thought he would take my side and stand up for me like he did when we were younger.

However, he’s not the same anymore. Heck, even his accent has thickened, on the verge of completely being British.

Now I have to do it all on my own. I have to stand up for myself. And keep my walls up at all times otherwise I will be hurt beyond repair.

I have distanced myself from all of my family and friends. I have stopped caring about them so that they don't have the upper hand and thus the power to hurt me.

Why'd I think that he'd be any different?

I'm breaking. He has torn me into pieces. Once again I'm on level one. I tried so hard this past month to be a little confident. And I faced everyone and their disgusted eyes. Now, I've been put there again.

Alas, there is no one to take care of me beside Allah (God). I should've known better. I shouldn't have thought that a person will help me escape reality.

There is no escape. I have to live in reality. With no physical support.