Maryam's POV

Twenty-four hours have passed since I last ate. Starvation is my protest, my resistance against my mothers decision of making me quit my studies. As a brown girl, it's one of the few tools I have.

I sit on the floor, doors closed, lost in thought. The memory of my mother's words still pierces my soul.

"I sent you to Delhi for studies, not to ruin our family's reputation," she said, her voice laced with venom.

I recall the desperation in my voice as I tried to reason with her. "Ammi, it's fake. I wasn't involved with anyone. It's all a misunderstanding."

But she wouldn't listen.

"Girl, don't make a fool of me," she snapped. "There's no smoke without fire."

Her eyes gleamed with anger, and I saw the trust I thought we shared shatter.

Now, hunger gnaws at my belly, but the pain in my heart is worse. Her words echo, a constant reminder of her doubt.

She had taken my phone, her words cutting deep.

"I know you'll call that boy and try to run away from the house, disrespecting our entire family," she says, her tone dripping with accusation.

Her words shatter my heart into a million pieces.

Why are girls never trusted? Why are our lives revolving around the whims of others, yet our autonomy constantly questioned?

I silently plead to God, seeking answers. All I want is an opportunity to prove myself, to save my dignity, to escape the shackles of dowry.

I said nothing to her . The pain of her words is suffocating, leaving me speechless for hours. I need time to digest the venom she's spewed.

The door creaks open, and Ammi enters, her expression stern.

"Haven't you stopped crying?" she demands, anger lacing her voice.

I wipe away tears, my heart still reeling.

"Stop it and go take a shower," she orders. "Take care of yourself. Ahmed and his family are coming tomorrow for your rishta."

My world shatters. Ahmed - the man who's haunted me since I was 16. Ahmed- womenizer.Ahmed-10 years older than me.His leering gaze still sends shivers down my spine.

"I won't marry him," I declare, my voice trembling.

Her face remains impassive. "I'm not asking for your permission. I'm informing you."

My desperation grows. "Ammi, why are you doing this to me? Why?It seems like I am a burden to you."

Her response cuts deep. "Yes, you are a burden. Daughters are burdens. We should get rid of them as soon as possible."

I feel a stinging slap from her words.

"I don't want to be treated like a burden," I assert, my voice firming. "I won't marry him. It's final."

"Think of how good Ahmed is," Mom persists, her voice laced with desperation. "He's not demanding a hefty dowry. He'll settle for less, much less."

Her words sting.

"You must marry before this rumor spreads," she presses on, her tone condescending. "After that, no one will marry you."

Tears stream down my face as I plead, "Ammi, I haven't done anything wrong. Why can't you understand it's a fake rumor?"

She raises her voice, "Maryam, stop..."

Just as she's about to continue, Baba intervenes, his calm demeanor a balm to my frazzled emotions.

"Farida," he says gently, "I trust my daughter. No matter what people say, I'll always believe her. She's a good daughter."

His eyes shine with concern, and for a moment, I feel seen, heard.

"Let's not rush into anything," Baba continues.

"Please, don't interfere," Ammi snaps at Baba, her voice venomous. "Have you done anything right in your life?"

Baba's calm demeanor falters, his eyes clouding with hurt.

"You never cared about us," Ammi continues, her voice venomous. "You never earned enough, leaving us to suffer in poverty. I don't want that for my daughters. Ahmed earns well, he owns a pharmacy."

I interrupt, my tone firm. "Unlicensed."

Ammi's eyes blaze with anger. "At least he earns more in a month than your Baba earns in a year."

I stand my ground. "I don't care about money. I'm not like you."

Ammi's expression twists in bitterness. "You'll care when you suffer for basic needs. Look at me. Do you know how hard it is to survive, not live?"

My words spill out, fueled by emotion. "Baba earns enough, but it's never enough for a greedy person like you."

Ammi's hand cracks across my face, the slap stinging.

"Don't talk back to me," she growls.

"Farida,think about Maryam's feelings.She dont wanna get marry.She wants to study.She even passed her prelimnary exam,please let her study." Baba interviens.

"I don't care about anyone's feelings anymore." Ammi says, her voice icy with anger. "I've given her enough time, and what did she give me in return? Taunts from people."Ammi's words cut deep, and she storms out of the room.

Baba's gentle touch on my shoulder offers comfort. "I'll talk to her," he says, and follows Ammi.

I sink to the floor, tears welling up.

Rumi enters with a plate of food, her face lined with concern,She sits on the floor beside me. "You know Ammi, Maryam. She doesn't care if you eat or not." Her words ring true - Ammi has always been strict.

I shake my head, but Rumi persists. "You haven't eaten all day. Please, for my sake."

Tears well up. "I never thought my own mother wouldn't trust me."

Rumi's eyes overflow with sympathy. "Maryam, Anaya wants to talk to you."

She hands me her phone. I dial Anaya's number and share everything.

"I'm adding Rayan to the call," Anaya says.

"Why?" I ask,nervous.

"I think you should talk to him. I've already told him about Samar."

Anxiety washes over me.How would he react after knowing about Samar.

"Hello," Rayan says, his voice soothing.

Tears stream down my face like a waterfall.

"Maryam, say something," Anaya urges.

"Maryam, talk to me," Rayan's voice whispers through the phone.

"Rayan," I call out, my voice cracking.

"Maryam, why didn't you tell me anything?" he asks, concern lacing his tone.

I recall our cherished moments together. "We were close enough to share our problems, weren't we?"

I break down, tears streaming. "She's getting me married... She stopped me from studying."

Rayan's voice shakes. "What? How can she do this?"

"You should convince her," he urges.

"I tried, Rayan. It won't work," I say, desperation creeping in.

"I'll help you," Rayan insists. "I'll come."

"No, Rayan. Your arrival would cause more problems," I warn.

The line falls silent for a moment before Rayan speaks.

"Okay, but promise me you'll tell me if you need my help."

"I will," I assure him.

The door slams open, and Ammi storms in, her face stern. She marches towards us, snatching the phone from my hand.

"Rumi, I didn't expect this from you," Ammi's voice thunders.

"How could you give her the phone?" she accuses, eyes blazing.

Rumi stands up to Ammi, tears welling in her eyes. "Ammi, why are you doing this to Maryam? I believe her; she hasn't done anything wrong."

Ammi's expression darkens. "You're taking her side against me?"

Rumi's voice trembles but remains firm. "I'm taking the side of truth, Ammi."

"Please, Ammi, let Maryam fulfill her dreams. She's so close," Rumi begs, tears streaming down her face.

Ammi's expression remains resolute. "I want to relieve myself of her responsibility. Ahmed will decide whether Maryam should prepare for civil services or not."

I feel a surge of desperation, knowing Ahmed's conservative and patriarchal nature. "Ammi, I understand you want to marry me off, but I have one plea: marry me to anyone, anywhere in the world, except Ahmed."

My voice cracks, clinging to my last shred of dignity.

Rumi's eyes fill with sorrow, witnessing my desperation.

Ammi's gaze lingers, unmoved.

"Ammi, I'm your daughter. Please don't treat me like a stranger," I plead, grasping her hands. "This is my only wish for my life. I won't marry Ahmed. Please understand."

Rumi amd I look each other in hope.

Ammi's expression transforms, her eyes warming.

"Okay, It's your only wish; I'll fulfill it. I'll search for a suitable match."

Overwhelmed, I thank her.

I know finding the right rishta won't be easy. It'll take time,I think to myself. Time I'll use to convince Ammi to support my dreams, my true aspirations.

...........

With bold strokes, I cover the canvas in deep black, the easiest part of Arabic calligraphy. Rumi and Baba make me do this part a lot,they take advantage of me.

Rumi pours glue into a platter beside me. "Who's Rayan?" she asks, curiosity sparkling in her brown eyes.

"A friend," I reply, flashes of Rayan's charming smile flickering in my mind.

Rumi's gaze lingers. "Or boyfriend?"

I blush, hesitating. "He likes me."

As twilight descends, Rumi switches on the rooftop lights. Our haven, where she teaches Arabic calligraphy, transforms into a warm sanctuary.

With the glue's pungent scent surrounding us, I share everything: Rayan, Alia, Suhana and, most painfully, Samar. Rumi listens attentively, her expression a mix of empathy and concern.

Rumi smiles mischievously, her eyes sparkling. "Your life looks like a captivating novel. Its funny,how you always loved books with shocking plot twists.And now you are experiencing them in your life."

I sigh, frustration etched on my face. "It's not amusing, Rumi. My life's a chaotic mess."

Rumi's expression turns serene, her hands deftly finishing the Ayatul Kursi calligraphy. The intricate Arabic script shines against the black canvas.

"Trust in Allah, Maryam. Everything will unfold beautifully,just like this painting." she assures, her voice soothing," This ayatul kursi,Maryam,it reminds us Allah's throne encompasses everything.His protection and power surrounds us.You have faith in him,He will protect you."

The rooftop's warm lighting illuminates her calm face, contrasting with my turmoil.How can she be so mature even being younger than me.

She is so calm,her wisdon and composure always astonish me.
It seems like I am her younger sister,seeking guidance from her.

Just then, Ammi appears from the stairs.

"Beautiful, Rumi," Ammi says, admiring the painting.

"Thanks, Ammi," Rumi replies.

"I also helped,I painted the whole background." I add.

"Okay, Maryam. You did a good job too," Ammi smiles.

Rumi rolls her eyes. "You just did the easiest job. How desperate you are for taking credit."

"It's the hardest part, isn't it, Ammi?" I say.

"Maryam is right," Ammi agrees, holding my hand.

"Some people are coming tomorrow for your rishta," Ammi announces. "They're rich, family-oriented. We've found a great match in such a short time."

My breath catches in my throat. Only two days, and Ammi already found a suitor.

"Do wear your best clothes, Maryam. They should like you," Ammi insists.

Rumi intervenes, "Ammi, may I have my phone? I need to research calligraphy online."

"I'll return it later."She replies.Ammi has also taken Rumi's phone so I can not contact anyone,not even Anaya.

Ammi exits, leaving us in disappointed silence.

I meet Rumi's gaze, sharing frustration.

"Believe in Allah." Rumi tells me.

..............

Rumi enters in the room, her tone urgent. "Maryam, they'll arrive in 20 minutes. I know you'd rather walk on fire than get ready, but please hurry. Ammi's furious you're not prepared."

I sigh, feeling resigned. "It's like I'm dressing for my funeral."

Rumi ignores my frustration, busily selecting clothes and accessories from the almirah. "I'll make tea. Be ready in 15 minutes."

She exits, leaving me alone. I lock the door and reluctantly don my cream-colored suit, adorned with intricate zari work.

I look myself in mirror,

Pretty.

I am looking pretty.

I wear kajal and lip balm as its the only make up i know.

I also wear some bangles.

Regret

Regret

Regret

How can I do this instead of studying for my mains.

I look down in dissapoinment.

Rumi calls for me from the entrance of room,she hands me tea tray and fixes my dupatta.

With the heavy steps,I walk to the hall.Without looking anyone I put the tea on table,I lift my eyes to look and I see Samar,a hint of smile on his face.A pang of shock hits me and I spill the hot tea on to my fingers.

Samar is here.

At my house.

For wedding proposal.

He is wearing a black shirt with black pants.His sleeves rolled up showing of his veiny hands.He has fair skin tone and black color is enhancing it.He is wearing a watch that is shining like silver.

Panic sets in...

I need to tell ammi to stop this.I have to do something.How dare samar show up at my house taking a wedding proposal.

"Maryam sit" Ammi ask me. I am unable to process my surrounding.

I walk away

Away

Into my room.

"Maryam, what's this behavior?" Ammi asks, entering in my room.

"Why is he here?" I ask, tears streaming down my face.

"He's here for your wedding proposal," Ammi explains.

"Incredible!" I exclaim. "He's a stalker! Tell him to leave!"

Ammi refuses, "I won't tell him to leave."

"Faris informed me - he is a son of a big businessman," Ammi boasts. "Consider yourself fortunate. Out of all girls, he chose you."

I recoil, outraged. "How can you be so greedy?"

Ammi's eyes flash. "I can be greedy when I've compromised my whole life due to financial struggles."

Our voices escalate, a painful standoff.

She walks away.

I collapse onto my bed, surrendering to tears. Half an hour passes in anguish.

My room's gate creaks open. Rumi enters, concern etched on her face. She sits beside me, handing me an elegant phone.

"He gave this to you," she says softly.

The phone's sleek design and luxury brand logo hint at its hefty price tag - lakhs.

I unlock it, stunned. It has my photo on wallpaper.

"I took it because we need a phone," Rumi explains, her voice hushed. "Keep it secret from Ammi."

Curiosity gets the better of me. "What else did he say?"

Rumi hesitates before revealing, "He said I have pretty eyes like you"

" Dog." I mutter.

"Baba showed him our rooftop calligraphy gellary.Ammi mentioned about  arabic paiting that you helped paint yesterday" She stops and then says," He bought it."

Indignation ignites. "How could you sell it to him? "

" Because of Ammi." Rumi says.

" You should have costed him a large money." I say

" No I didnt.Because he said he deserves a discount as he is going to be my brother in law."She replies.

My head hurts.How much trouble this person will cause me.

Rumi's expression mirrors my concern.

"Now what?" she asks.

I slump against the headboard, lost in thought.

Suddenly, the phone buzzes. Rumi's eyes widen.

"It's a notification... from 'Your Husband'," she reads.

Anger boils in me. Samar's audacity knows no bounds.

He saved his number in this phone as MY HUSBAND.

"He is already married to you in his head."  Rumi smiles.

"And I am already divorced from him- before marriage- in my head." I reply taking phone from her hands.