A Price for a Girl

Days passed.

Noor remained drowned in housework, moving silently from one chore to another like an invisible maid in a home that never felt like hers.

One evening, as the sun dipped low and the house smelled of dust and freshly cooked daal, a guest arrived. His name was Amir Khan—a 35-year-old businessman with more wealth than morals. He wasn't a family friend, just an acquaintance of Noor's aunt's husband

Noor, like always, had been ordered to bring tea. She entered the drawing room quietly, dressed in green cotton shalwar kameez, black hijab and head bowed, tray balanced in her hands. Her movements were humble.

Amir watched her longer than necessary.

And when Noor left, quietly slipping out of the room like a shadow, he turned to her aunt with a sly smile.

"Who is she?" he asked, sipping the tea slowly.

"My niece," the aunt replied, already sensing something in his tone.

"She's beautiful… untouched. I want to marry her," Amir said bluntly, setting the cup down with a sharp clink. "If you let this happen, I'll make sure you're well compensated. Money won't be a problem."

That was all it took.

Noor's aunt didn't even think. The hunger in her eyes was instant.

"Of course, why not? We'd be honored," she smiled falsely. "Just let us know the date-"

"Tomorrow," Amir interrupted smoothly. "The nikkah will happen tomorrow. No delays. And once it's done, I'll transfer the money."

Amir left shortly after, satisfied. And Noor's aunt began planning.

Later that day — around 7PM…

Noor was carrying a cup of tea for Ayesha, minding her own business like always. As she neared Ayesha's room, her footsteps slowed. She could hear voices.

She didn't mean to eavesdrop, but the words hit her like a slap.

"…We'll just dress her up tomorrow and tell her it's some small event," her aunt was saying. "She's too obedient to question us."

Ayesha giggled softly, "And once the nikah is done, Amir uncle will pay you, right?"

"Of course," her aunt chuckled darkly. "He promised a lot. That girl's finally going to be useful to me."

Noor's hands trembled. The tray rattled slightly, but she didn't care. Her eyes burned with disbelief.

Nikah? Tomorrow? With Amir?

She stepped back, heart pounding, throat dry. She couldn't breathe.

She had no idea her life was being auctioned off behind closed doors.

She took a deep breath, straightened her dupatta, and pushed the door open.

"Ayesha, here's your tea," she said softly, stepping into the room as if she hadn't just overheard her own fate being sealed.

Ayesha turned around, surprised for a moment—but Noor's calm expression gave nothing away. Just that same quiet, submissive Noor.

"Thanks," Ayesha said, casually taking the cup. Her aunt was still seated beside her, flipping through her phone.

Noor turned to leave but her aunt's voice stopped her.

"Noor!"

Noor looked back, masking her rage with a perfect poker face."Yes?"

Her aunt smiled sweetly—too sweet to be real."Tomorrow, you'll be getting ready for an event. It's important, so wear something nice. I'll leave the dress in your room."

Noor blinked, pretending to be confused. "What kind of event?"

"Just a small family gathering," her aunt lied. "Nothing big. But you'll look beautiful, I'm sure of it."

"Okay." Noor nodded.

The next morning arrived too quickly, and with it, a beautiful box Noor wished she'd never opened.

Inside it was a deep red frock, stunningly embroidered, glimmering under the morning light. It looked like something out of a royal wedding—long, flowy, and unfairly beautiful. Alongside it, a golden hijab shimmered like sunshine on water.

Noor's aunt smiled as she handed it to her.

"Wear this for the event tonight," she said "You'll look breathtaking."

Event? What event? Oh right—the event where she'd be married off to a man old enough to be her uncle.

She changed into it slowly, robotically. It was… beautiful. 

She looked into the mirror. And suddenly… her vision blurred.

The tears came fast, unstoppable.

"How can this be happening to me?" she whispered. "How could my own aunt do this?"

Her knees hit the prayer mat as she fell into sajda, her voice shaking with sobs.

"Ya Allah… save me. Don't let them force me into this. I have no one but You…"

And then, like a whisper in her soul… she knew what she had to do.

Noor rose from her prayer, wiped her tears, and reached for her black abaya. She put it on over the red dress and wrapped a plain black hijab. Finally, she covered her face with a niqab.

She walked to her small closet and pulled out a small pouch—her secret savings. Not much, but maybe enough to get far, far away.

Her room, which doubled as a store room, had one blessing—a back door. Half broken, rusted, and mostly ignored. But it still opened.

She slipped out.

The air hit her face like freedom. Her heart pounded in her ears.