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

Morning broke like a warning. Pale. Quiet. Too still.

Lucien stood outside the cabin, shirtless, smoke curling from his lips as he watched the mist rise from the grass. His body bore fresh bruises—some from the chaos, others from memory. The shattered glass in his mind never stopped cutting.

Inside, Aaliyah stirred, waking slowly to the sound of Silas humming something soft near the old sink. It was the first time she had seen him look at peace since the kidnapping.

"Lucien didn't sleep again, did he?" she asked gently.

Silas didn't turn. "He hasn't. He just sits out there… like he's watching for ghosts."

She stepped into the open doorway, her voice barely louder than the wind. "He has every reason to. So do you."

Silas's eyes dropped. "He told me about the brothel last night. About his mother. About the screaming."

"He saw her once… curled up in a crimson dress. Her face wasn't her own anymore. Just painted pain. He was twelve."

A long silence passed between them.

He looked at her. "He doesn't need saving. He needs to be seen. And you… you do that better than anyone."

Later that evening, Lucien came inside.

He didn't speak at first, but when he did, his voice was hollow and low.

"She wasn't dead when I left. My mother. She was just... empty. And no one came for her. Not even me."

Aaliyah stood up and walked to him. She didn't say a word. She just placed his hand over her belly.

"She would have forgiven you," she said softly. "But this child will never have to."

Lucien's breath caught. His eyes met hers. There was no lust in them now. Only a kind of reverent grief.

And then Silas joined them, placing his hand over Lucien's. A quiet trinity formed around the life they had risked everything to protect.

For the first time, they weren't running from something.

What Monsters Leave Behind