Five

Sometimes I can't help but laugh at my family. Are they really so helpless that they can't control their nonsense assumptions? Is it that difficult to think before speaking? It's like that line we learned in school: 'Think before you speak.' Didn't they get the memo? Especially my sister and my father's sister—they have a knack for sticking their noses into everyone's business. Literally, they have a talent for testing a person's patience level.

I sensed a new commotion in the house. My intuition said they were cooking up a new scheme again, and I wasn't wrong. I smiled a little inside, knowing this would happen after Muazam rejected the idea of marriage between us. Aunt Reha would feel uneasy about not turning her made-up plans into reality. These ladies really eat their brains for lunch, I smirked to myself. There's no one who understands me better than I understand myself, so it's always me for me. I relaxed my shoulders into a calming gesture.

And just as I thought, it turned out exactly as expected, but in a really ridiculous way that I hadn't anticipated. One evening, my sister came to me, sensing my mood and thinking it was the right time to talk. She asked about random things, but I felt something was off in the way she spoke. It seemed like she was just making room for her senseless conversation.

And suddenly, out of nowhere, she started talking about Umais, Muazam's older brother. She was just praising him, saying how he's doing well and has a good nature, or something like that. To be fair, Umais really does have a good nature; he's the sweet talker of the family and shows respect to everyone, she said. "What do you think?" she asked. I looked at her and raised my eyebrow suspiciously, staying silent. "You people really make me speechless sometimes," I thought to myself.

Just as I opened my mouth to say something, and I knew it would come out harsh, she interrupted me. "I'm just asking, it's just a general question. I don't have any other intentions, don't overreact," she said and rolled off the sofa, leaving me there as if I was the one overthinking and she just wanted to have a normal talk with her beloved sister. "As if I don't know what you're trying to do here," I thought, squeezing my eyes in frustration.

My sister has this hidden talent I call "slow poison brainwash." She gradually brings people to her side, and she's a master at gaining trust and support. That's why I struggle to stand up for myself, at least until she's married.

For several days, they kept conspiring until they were ready to make their plan official. In the meantime, they convinced Umais. He was already eager to get married since he was getting older, and his own biological parents weren't taking any steps to arrange his marriage. So, he tried to take matters into his own hands. He involved Aunt Reha in the marriage discussion because he knew there needed to be someone constantly reminding his parents, especially his father. Aunt Reha was the best option for convincing people—or irritating them with her constant talk—and Umais knew she could handle this smoothly.

While he was already in the middle of things, my sister got into Umais's mind about me. We all know that when you're planning something, and someone comes up with an idea that works in your favor, you take it without thinking twice. That's exactly what Umais did. He agreed with my sister and Aunt Reha. Just like they did to me, they praised me in front of him, made future plans involving us, and completely brainwashed him. On top of that, he was taking everything lightly.

Didn't he realize he was being manipulated by them?

He should have shut them down. I'm like his little sister, the one who dreams of being his younger brother's wife-to-be. But instead, he took his chances and didn't argue about anything. He even told my sister to ask me directly what I thought about him.

My sister had a hunch that I knew something was going on related to me, but this time, I had strong nerves—I wasn't going to go easy on them. What's done is done. In the middle of the night, she came to my bed to ask my opinion about Umais. At first, I told her it was impossible, so she shouldn't try her luck here. Then she tried another method to trap me.

Everyone knows that I'm passionate about my studies. The only thing in my life that I love as much as anything else is my education. I've planned so much for my studies—I'm a multitasker with a lot on my plate for the future, from pursuing my master's to eventually earning a PhD.

She used the strategy of attacking me where I was weakest. "Meherjan?" I looked back while sitting on the bed, not knowing what was coming. My sister called my name to get my attention and sat across from me.

"Did you think about what I asked you?" she began.

"About Umais, right?" I replied.

She nodded, "Aham."

I inhaled deeply, repeating myself, "Did you forget what my answer was?"

She rolled her eyes, clearly annoyed, but then relaxed herself and calmly said, "You know he lives abroad, right? If you become his wife, he'll take you there too. The good thing about this is that he wants you to continue your studies there. Isn't this exactly what you've been wanting? It's coming to you without any struggle. You probably shouldn't miss this chance—at least your future goals would come true."

She looked into my eyes hopefully, but I just stayed silent, frozen by her words.

She made me dream. After that, she said a lot, but I didn't listen. I was lost in my thoughts, and my mind began playing games with me. I was there, yet not really present. For some reason, I wanted to become selfish, to do something just for myself.

She left me in a really unwanted position where I didn't know what to choose—my career, which would become brighter if I accepted Umais' proposal, or the one-sided love that I never wanted but still fell into. I felt more helpless than ever.

I cried hard, thinking about what I should do? Which decision is good for me? Should I really consider being someone's wife while I'm still stuck on my feelings for Muazam? Thousands of questions ran through my mind, and I didn't have a single answer. I felt more alone that night than I ever had before. Normally, I preferred sleeping alone and enjoyed my own company, but tonight, something had me afraid.

I sobbed into my pillow, pressing my face deeper into it, desperate for no one to hear even my broken breaths. I cried until my body started to shake uncontrollably. I didn't know what to do or why I was crying so much. It felt like I had lost something precious or was about to lose it. I clenched the pillow tightly, my wrists straining as I pressed my face harder into the fabric, trying to muffle my voice out of frustration and sadness.

I felt helpless, and without thinking twice, I went to the washroom to make wudhu. I continued crying silently, overwhelmed by emotion. I began with the intention to perform wudhu for the sake of God, a silent intention made in my heart. I opened the tap and put my hands under the water, feeling an instant relief from the cold. I washed both hands up to the wrists three times, including between the fingers.

Next, I put water on my face three times, with tears still falling and my breath heavy. I rinsed my mouth three times and inhaled water into my nostrils with my right hand. I washed both arms from the fingertips up to the elbows three times, then wiped over my entire head once with the same wet hands, from front to back. I also wiped my ears in the same manner.

As the wudhu water flowed over me, I began to feel at ease. Lastly, I washed both feet up to the ankles three times.

My heart pounded in my chest as if it would burst out if I didn't calm myself soon. I took heavy breaths, but it felt like there was no oxygen, as if I were drowning in deep water, struggling to resurface. My legs grew numb, and it felt like the water's depth was pulling me in, making me lose consciousness. The suffocation tightened its grip as my swollen eyes, tired from continuous crying, began to close. I felt dizzy, and then there was nothing—just darkness. my lungs burned for air. Everything felt like it was happening in slow motion, and for a moment, I thought I couldn't make it. Suddenly, I caught myself, eyes wide open, as if I were underwater, swallowing oxygen bubbles that rushed up through my nostrils. Gasping for breath, I frantically inhaled the fresh air, my chest heaving as I filled my lungs. The world around me spun, and I realized this wasn't real—I was in sujood, sitting on the prayer mat, drenched in sweat and breathless.

In our religion, we're taught to perform Salah from the age of seven, and as we grow, it becomes a strict obligation, no matter what. But that night, for the first time since I was seven, I performed Salah with my heart truly in it—not out of routine, but in a desperate search to find God, to ask Him for help, to plead for His mercy on me.

I wanted to stand for Salah, but I had no strength left after hours of crying. My energy was drained, and my knees were trembling. I feared that if I stood up, I might collapse. It was almost 4 AM, the time for Fajr prayer, but the Adhan hadn't been called yet. I couldn't wait any longer to pray, so I gathered all my willpower and stood up. Tears were still streaming down my face, soaking into my hijab as I covered myself. Just as I stood, the cleric began the call to prayer.

I had already made the intention to perform Salah for the sake of God . As I stood for Salah, my body trembled, not just from exhaustion but from the weight of everything pressing down on me. The room spun, my vision blurred by tears, and as I went into Sujood, it felt like the earth itself was holding me, grounding me.