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Sara’s heart was still racing from the short walk back from Mikaal’s house. She could still hear his voice in her head, light and warm, telling her to take care. She had almost believed—just for a moment—that life could be normal again.
But then she froze.
Her uncle stood just a few steps away, blocking the narrow street like a shadow that had swallowed all the light.
Moments ago, he had been smiling at the neighbor, but now his expression had changed into something hard and cold. His lips pressed into a thin line, his eyes narrowing like sharp knives.
Sara felt her body lock. Her breath caught in her throat.
“Where were you?” he asked in a low, dangerous voice.
Before she could answer, his hand shot out, gripping her hair so hard she gasped in pain.
“Uncle, please—” she tried to speak, but his fingers tightened, yanking her forward. Her head burned from the pull, her tears stinging as they filled her eyes.
“You think I don’t see? You think I’m blind?” His voice was laced with rage as he dragged her down the street. Neighbors peeked through half-open windows, then quickly pulled back, pretending they had seen nothing.
Her feet stumbled over the rough ground. Every pull of her hair sent a jolt of pain through her scalp. She bit her lip to stop from crying out, but a small sob escaped anyway.
When they reached the house, he shoved the door open with his shoulder and dragged her inside. The air felt heavy, thick with silence and fear.
Her mother was sitting in the small living room, mending a piece of torn cloth. She looked up—and the needle fell from her hands.
“Leave her!” her mother’s voice trembled as she stood.
But her uncle ignored her. With one final, cruel tug, he threw Sara onto the worn sofa. She landed with a thud, clutching her scalp.
“What’s wrong with you? She’s just a child!” her mother shouted, stepping between them.
His face twisted in anger as he glared at her. “A child? This child has been walking around with boys. Smiling. Talking.” His words dripped with disgust.
“That’s a lie!” Sara’s mother’s voice cracked, but her hands shook as she held them out protectively.
“Don’t test me, sister,” he warned, his tone cold and final. “You live in my house. You eat my food. Don’t forget your place.”
Sara could see the way her mother’s eyes dimmed, the way her shoulders sank as his words sliced through her dignity. It was the same look Sara had seen a hundred times before—a silent surrender, because in this house, power was never in their hands.
Her uncle stepped closer to her mother, lowering his voice but not his cruelty. “If you want to stay here, you’ll control her. No more college. No more friends. And tomorrow…”
He looked at Sara now, his gaze heavy, his mouth curling into a cruel smirk.
“…tomorrow is her wedding. With Romi.”
The room spun around her.
Her breath stopped.
She felt her stomach twist so painfully it was hard to breathe.
“No…” Sara’s voice was barely a whisper. “No, please…”
Her mother stepped forward, her hands trembling. “You can’t do this—she’s only—”
“I can, and I will,” he cut her off sharply. “I’ve already decided. She’s not stepping out of this house again unless it’s to go to her husband.”
Tears burned down Sara’s cheeks. Her mother’s lips trembled as if she wanted to fight, but the fear in her eyes told Sara the truth—she couldn’t win. Not against him.
Her uncle’s voice was the last thing Sara heard before she ran to her small room and locked the door.
“Get her ready. Tomorrow she becomes Romi’s wife.”
Sara leaned against the door, her knees shaking, her breath coming in short, desperate gasps. The walls of her room felt smaller than ever. She wanted to scream, to run, to disappear—but all she could do was sit there, clutching her aching scalp, and cry into the darkness.
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