Lashirah_Hash

They called it blasphemy.
A sin against God.
A disgrace against blood.

The news headlines twisted her name like a curse.
Muslim Girl Marries Two Brothers in Secret Ceremony.
Father Disowns Daughter Over Immoral Union.
Religious Extremists and Feminists Clash in Street Protests.

But none of them knew the truth.

Not the journalists who stalked her outside the courthouse.
Not the clerics who spat fire from the pulpit.
Not the activists who used her face for posters, never asking if she even agreed with them.

They didn’t know about the long nights with one brother’s rage burning her skin—and the other’s cold touch wrapping around her heart like barbed wire.

They didn’t know how it started—not with love, but with survival.

They didn’t know that once, she believed in God more than anything.
And now?

Now, she stood in front of a grave with no name.
Black veil pulled tight.
A Qur’an in her hand.
Two wedding rings on her finger.

Behind her, they stood—her husbands.
One with blood on his hands.
The other with secrets behind his eyes.

She would never be the same girl again.
But she was still alive.
Still burning.

And if the world wanted a monster?

She would give them on

BETWEEN GOD AND THE MONSTERS

The sun hadn't risen, but Aaliyah was already dressed in white.

She stood outside her parents' gate, Silas on one side, Lucien on the other, their presence quiet but firm — like shadows refusing to disappear.

Her hands trembled. Her body felt like a battleground between faith, shame, and a heart that was slowly learning to beat again.

"No," Silas said gently. "You won't."

Lucien didn't speak. His jaw clenched. But when she reached for the bell, he placed his hand over hers. "If they try to hurt you—"

Her father opened the door with a Qur'an in his hand.

Her mother stood behind him, eyes already narrowed, mouth pressed into an unspoken curse.

"Aaliyah Zahra El-Hassan," her father said slowly. "What have you come to disgrace today?"

Then, just as her knees wanted to fold beneath her, she stepped inside.

Her father's eyes snapped to them. "Who are they? Why are they inside my house?"

"They're the fathers," Aaliyah said simply.

The room fell into suffocating silence.

"Fathers?" her mother echoed. "What do you mean fathers?"

Her father's voice rose. "Are you mad, girl?! Do you think you're in a nightclub?"

"No," she said. "I think I'm standing in a house that has never made room for mercy."

It came fast — from her mother — a stinging, wordless pain across her cheek.

Lucien stepped forward, fury flashing in his eyes, but Silas stopped him with a single shake of the head.

"I'm pregnant," Aaliyah said, steadying her breath. "And I don't know which of them is the father. But I know I'm keeping the child."

Her mother gasped. Her father's lips curled in disgust.

The word split her open like a blade.

She looked at the man who raised her. "I learned silence from you. Obedience from her. And shame from this house. But this baby… this baby has already taught me courage."

Lucien stepped forward now. "Sir—"

"I'll take responsibility," Lucien said, standing tall. "No matter what."

"I will too," Silas added. "We both will."

"Both?" her mother shrieked. "You filthy animals want to share her like some Western trash?"

Aaliyah's voice cracked, low and trembling. "I wanted to die yesterday."

"I had the pills in my hand. And if they hadn't come, I would've done it."

She looked at them all — her blood, her guilt, her God — and said,

"I don't care if you bless me or not. I don't need your forgiveness. I'm not asking for your understanding. I am only here so I don't carry the shame of running."

And Aaliyah — for the first time — walked out of her childhood home…

But as a woman who had chosen her own war.

The House Of Silence