Aileen woke up to the sound of the alarm she’d set for Fajr. Her eyes flew open at the shrill scream that echoed through the room. Surrounded by the inky darkness, her heart pounded. Even though she knew there was no one there, that Jeremy was locked up in prison and could not harm her, she couldn’t control the panic-inducing anxiety that overcame her when she woke in a dark room. 

He’s not here, she told herself as she trembled, her eyes seeing shadows and shapes that weren’t really there. You’re safe. Despite the assurances to herself and knowing she had nothing to fear, she didn’t stop trembling until she’d switched on her bedside lamp and she could clearly convince herself that she was alone. 

Every night, falling asleep was difficult. She’d tried to keep the light on, but she was unable to sleep without darkness. But in the darkness, she saw things that weren’t there and usually ended up in a fitful sleep with plenty of nightmares about that night and a possible repeat where she was never saved. 

Aileen pushed off her blankets and swung her legs over the side of the bed. Pushing all thoughts of Jeremy away, she trudged to the bathroom to make wûdhû. When she stepped out a few minutes later, after freshening up and performing the ablution for prayer, she retrieved the two-piece prayer garment Janân had gifted her, a skirt with a long khimâr, and put it on over her nightgown. 

She picked up the prayer rug she’d left at the foot of the bed after praying ’Ishâ the night before. The last time Dr. Zakarîyâ had dropped groceries at her door, he had also included a gift bag that held a translation of the Qur‘ân, a prayer rug, and instructions on which direction to face for prayer. She set the rug down for prayer and picked up her prauer guide from where she kept it on the nightstand. She had began to gradually need it less, but she hadn’t reached the point that she could pray completely on her own just yet. Janân had helped her memorize Sûrah al-Fâtihah, but she was still working on memorizing several of the supplications in the prayer. 

She opened the prayer book and started her prayer. Several minutes later, after ending the two-unit prayer with the tasleem, she closed the book and pulled herself to her feet. She returned the book to her nightstand, folded the rug and placed it at the foot of her bed again, and then sat down on her bed, removing the translation of the Qur‘ân from the nightstand drawer to read. 

After several pages of reading, she saved her place with the attached ribbon, closed the book, and returned it to the drawer. Rising, she removed her prayer dress, folded it, and returned it to her closet. Then she started to prepare for her day as she always did. 

She showered, changed into fresh clothes, and left the bedroom. She went to the bookshelf that Dr. Zakarîyâ had set up in the den while she was recovering in the hospital. She found the book she’d been studying before the incident had occurred as well as her notebook. The cup of writing utensils she’d kept on the table was on the top shelf. 

She gathered the book, notebook, and cup and took them to the kitchen, flicking on the lights as she entered. Following her usual routine, she made herself a mug of coffee and then sat down at the table, opening both the book and notebook. 

As usual, she worked until dawn broke and the sun began to rise. Then she bookmarked her place, closed the book and notebook, and went to the kitchen window to watch the arrival of the new day. 

Maybe today will go better, she thought hopefully. Today I’ll find something promising. Allâh will help me find my way. 

She left the window and turned her attention to making a quick breakfast before she left the apartment to begin her day of job-searching. After eating scrambled eggs with bread and cheese as well as having another mug of coffee, she washed the dishes, returned the books and writing utensils to the bookshelf, and went to her room to get ready. 

She exited the apartment fully dressed with a heavy coat over her ’abâyah and carrying her bag several minutes later. Since it was still early—barely past sunrise—there was no one about as she passed through the hall, went down the stairs, and then exited the building. As she stepped into the frigid air of the early morning, she looked around her at the snow-covered scenery before she set off at an easy pace. 

The new day, combined with the fresh air and the beauty of the snow gave her a bright outlook on the day, ahead. She hadn’t come near success so far, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t. I just have to pray and hope, she told herself. It will work out. 

It had to. Janân’s suggestion could not be considered. It had been about a week since that conversation and Aileen had yet to forget it. Worse still, she was no closer to becoming independent of Dr. Zakarîyâ. Even though, she couldn’t think of Janân’s suggestion. It probably would have been ideal for another woman, but for Aileen who had lived through Jeremy’s cruelty and abuse, the very thought of marriage—attaching herself to a man permanently—almost gave her a panic attack. 

I can’t do it, she thought with a shudder that had nothing to do with the chill in the air. I can’t trust another man. And marriage will be much harder to escape. I have to find another way. 

With supplications seeking God’s help on her tongue and hope in her heart, she started the usual visits to any businesses in the area she hadn’t visited. Her first visit was to a bookstore that turned out to be fully staffed with little likelihood of needing new employees in the near future. She left with disappointment but determinedly held onto her hope that there were other places to visit. The hardware store she visited next wanted an employee with more experience who wouldn’t require the training she would if she was hired. A clothing store was looking for a new manager and her lack of schooling immediately disqualified her. 

By nine o’clock, she had visited five separate places. Only one had given her an official interview and none of them, including the one she’d interviewed at, had given her promising news. It was a repeat of every other day she’d gone searching for a job. 

Who am I fooling? she thought desolately as she trudged down the icy sidewalk with no particular direction in mind. pp

When she found herself in front of the park gates, she passed through until she reached a bench and sat down. Since it was still morning and a week day, the park was mostly empty except for a few mothers with young children. It suited Aileen perfectly. A smaller crowd meant less stares and she could sulk in peace. 

“Are you alright?” a familiar masculine voice said. “You look like you’re having a bad day.”

She jerked her head up and stared into Dr. Zakarîyâ’s familiar face with surprise. She hadn’t seen him when she’d first arrived, so she hadn’t been expecting his presence. But what shocked her the most was that he was actually speaking to her. 

Dr. Zakarîyâ had mostly kept his distance since he’d given her the apartment. With the exception of when she’d been admitted after Jeremy’s break-in and attack, that hadn’t changed. She glimpsed him from time to time from afar, but he never approached to speak with her. She couldn’t understand why he’d decided to speak to her now and it worried her. 

“Assalâmu ’alaykum,” he said, not appearing to be disturbed by her stare. 

Aileen hadn’t learned how to pronounce the full greeting or its reply nor could she recall it, but Janân had taught her an alternative that was easy enough to remember and say. “Salâm.”

She was gratified when he didn’t give her an odd look or correct her. Instead, he continued on the same subject. “What’s bothering you, Ms. Byrne?”

She looked away from him. What will he do if I tell him I can’t get a job? That isn’t going to assure him he’ll get his place back. “Nothing you can help with.”

“How do you know that?” he asked, his tone kind. “You haven’t told me anything. Maybe I can help.”

She looked back at him. Maybe it isn’t right to hide this from him. He’s expecting me to find a job and move out, after all. “I don’t think I’m going to be able to find a job.”

To his credit, he didn’t react with the annoyance or frustration she thought he might. He regarded with surprise, his expression becoming thoughtful. “Why do you think that? Of course it’s not easy to find a job, but—”

“I didn’t graduate high school,” she interrupted whatever inspiring words he was going to try to say to falsely motivate her. “And I don’t have experience of any kind to commend me.” She smiled bitterly. “Except for the things Jeremy expected me to do.” 

She didn’t dare look at him to see his reaction. She had no idea what he was probably thinking about her revelation. More importantly, she wasn’t sure what he’d do now that he knew she might not even be able to get herself a job. He was probably regretting so freely offering her use of his place. 

“Every place I’ve been to that’s looking for employees wants someone educated, someone with experience, or both,” she continued, staring into her lap so she wouldn’t have to look at him. “That’s not me.”

When he finally spoke, his tone retained that gentle kindness that kept her at ease. “Why didn’t you graduate high school?”

Guilt pressed down at her. Of course he’d ask. She should have finished high school. But once Jeremy had her under his spell and living with him, it had seemed unnecessary. Jeremy had made her feel it was unnecessary. 

“You don’t need to go to school if you don’t want to,” his voice echoed in her brain. “I’ll take care of you. You can stay home and do what you want instead.” Since she’d hated school anyway, she’d taken him up on the offer. 

Of course the supposedly generous offer to stay home soon turned to a mandate that resulted in punishment if she disobeyed, and doing whatever she wanted actually meant doing what he wanted. But by the time she realized life with him was completely different than promised, it was too late for her. 

I was so stupid, she thought to herself. He tricked me and manipulated me from the very beginning. 

“Ms. Byrne,” Dr. Zakarîyâ’s voice cut into her thoughts, reminding her that he was waiting for an answer. 

She clasped her hands and squeezed. “I was sixteen when I met him. I hated school and he made me feel like I didn’t have to go.” A bitter laugh escaped her but she tamped it down. “What did I need school for if he was going to take care of me? So being the stupid kid I was, I stopped.”

“How old was he?” Dr. Zakarîyâ asked. 

She shrugged. “He’d already graduated college so I guess about twenty-two or twenty-three.”

She heard a hiss of breath escape her companion, but she still didn’t look up at him. “He took advantage of your inexperience and age,” he finally said, his voice tinged with anger. “It’s not really your fault. Teenagers are easily led astray, you know.”

She shrugged, finally looking up at him. There was no judgement or censure in his gaze. It was kind and understanding. “It doesn’t matter if it wasn’t my fault though,” she whispered. “It doesn’t help my situation, does it? I can’t live in your apartment forever, can I?” She looked down, squeezing her hands together again. “You’ve been so helpful and generous, and I appreciate everything you’ve done, but there’s a limit, isn’t there? And I don’t know where I’ll be once we reach that limit.”

He was silent for so long she thought he might have left, but when she glanced up, he still stood there, a thoughtful expression on his face. He nodded toward the other side of the bench. “May I sit for a moment?”

He has more to say, Aileen realized with dread. She tried to hide her feelings of concern behind a forced smile, nodding her acceptance. 

Dr. Zakarîyâ seated himself on the far end of the other side of the bench, leaving a large gap between them. “I have a solution that will benefit both of us.” He studied her with the same penetrating gaze she’d faced in the hospital; a gaze that seemed to look through her and see the vulnerabilities she tried to keep hidden. “But you might not like it.”

Her heart pounded and she clasped her hands hard so he wouldn’t notice the tremble of fear. She nodded slowly for him to go on. 

 “Let’s get married.”

No! The pounding of her heart skyrocketed. For a few moments, she couldn’t breathe and felt lightheaded. But she pulled herself back from the precipice of fainting, determined not to make herself so vulnerable to him, to faint right in front of him. 

She jumped up and away from him, staring down at him while taking deep breaths to calm herself. “You can’t be serious.”

A flicker of amusement lit in his eyes, but he didn’t smile. “On the contrary, I’m very serious.”

“You’re insane,” she said. “I barely know you.”

This time he did smile, slightly. “I’ve been told that a time or two.” He cocked his head to the side. “If all that bothers you about this is that you don’t know me, that can easily be changed, don’t you think? You can get to know me.”

But it wasn’t, and they both knew it. 

“Why?” she finally asked. “Why do you want to marry me?”

“It’s a practical solution that can solve our problems,” he said calmly. “And I think we’re compatible.” His smile was kind as he looked up at her. “I don’t know how you feel about me, but I like you. You need a more permanent support system and I need to marry soon. If we get married, you’ll have a permanent residence, you won’t need to worry about a job, and you can go back to school and think about getting a job later if you want.”

It was obvious that she’d probably be benefiting more from the proposed union than Dr. Zakarîyâ—at least financially. But financial security wasn’t enough to undo everything she’d experienced at Jeremy’s hands. The very thought of getting married to Dr. Zakarîyâ, regardless of the kindness and compassion she had received on more than one occasion, was terrifying. She couldn’t possibly live in the same space as another man. 

She shook her head, taking a step back. “It won’t work.”

“I’m not him, you know,” Dr. Zakarîyâ said gently. “I know you don’t know me well, but you should be able to tell that I’m nothing like him.”

Of course she knew. He’d gone above and beyond what was expected of him without ever trying to take advantage of her or the situation. He’d been nothing but honorable and good. But it didn’t matter. She was too terrified to take the risk of trusting him that much. 

“I can’t,” she whispered, avoiding his eyes. She tried to keep the tremble out of her voice. “I appreciate what you’re offering, but I can’t.”

“I understand.”

When she dared to look at him, he didn’t look upset or annoyed that she’d turned down what was probably a really good offer from one of the best men she knew. There was only compassion and understanding in his eyes. That made it worse. If he’d been angry or annoyed, or if he’d tried to push her, it would have been easy to dismiss it; to convince herself she’d made the right decision. But the fact that he understood and wasn’t pressing her made her uncertain; made her wonder if she was letting her fear control her choices. 

She took another step back away from the bench and his confusing presence. “I have to go.”

He slowly nodded. “If you change your mind, you can find me here.”

She didn’t reply. Instead, she turned and walked off without a word. She wouldn’t change her mind. Marriage was a risk she couldn’t take.