When I Found You

Chapter 26

Life in her household had settled into a cruel pattern. The only time they looked like a couple was when people were around. Behind closed doors, she was invisible, unwanted.
Six months into this marriage, Zaynab felt drained of the faith she once carried in herself. He wouldn't accept her, and yet he wouldn't let her go.
She had tried everything. She prayed, she cooked, she dressed up, she softened her tone, she forgave, she even laughed at jokes that weren't funny. She tried patience, persuasion, silence, kindness — every "trick in the book." But nothing worked. Bello believed she didn't deserve his care, simply because she had married him. He refused her food. He had never touched her. He came home late or not at all — sometimes disappearing for two, three days.
Patience, she told herself, was not a marriage vow. She had married a man, a human being. For Allah's sake, she could not go on like this. Tonight, she would try one last time.
It was the weekend. She cooked for him herself, while the maids helped with chores before retreating to their quarters. The house was quiet by the time she finished.
She showered, changed into a delicate lingerie set, and sat on the couch in the living room, waiting. Her heart pounded with equal parts hope and fear.
Then she heard it — his car honking at the gate. She quickly threw on a full-length hijab and ran to the door to welcome him.
But when she opened it, her world tilted.
Bello stood there with a woman. A woman she recognized instantly.
Jadwa. The girl from Prague.
"Hey, Jay, welcome," Jadwa smirked as if mocking her, brushing past without a second glance.
"Welcome home, B," Zaynab whispered.
He nodded casually. "Hope kinyi girki, because my favorite cousin is here. At least she'll have dinner with us."
Her throat tightened. She nodded, biting back the fury clawing inside her. As if cooking was all she was good for.
But what cut deeper was Jadwa's behavior. Why pretend not to know her? Why smirk like a rival instead of a guest?
The sound of laughter filled the sitting room as the cousins enjoyed themselves. Zaynab set the table in silence, her ears burning with each carefree giggle.
"The table is set," she called softly.
Bello rose. Jadwa extended her hand, and he helped her up. The intimacy of the gesture stung, but Zaynab swallowed it, smoothing her face.
She led them to the table, served the food with steady hands. The cousins continued their private jokes until Jadwa wrinkled her nose.
"This is bland. I need more salt."
Zaynab knew it wasn't true. It was just an excuse to insult her. Still, she stood, went to the kitchen... and froze.
Through the crack of the door, she saw Jadwa kissing her husband. In her own home.
Her vision blurred. She slammed the kitchen door hard enough to make them jump apart. Tears slipped out before she wiped them with trembling fingers. She grabbed the salt and returned to the table as though nothing happened.
An awkward silence fell. She drank her juice, excused herself, and curled on the couch, dizzy and drained.
When she stood to go upstairs, her knees buckled. Bello rushed forward, catching her before she hit the floor.
Her body sagged against him, but her mind screamed sarcasm: Here's Prince Charming, saving his Cinderella.
He carried her upstairs, tucked her into bed. Before her vision dimmed, she thought she saw a shadow in the doorway — a figure smiling smugly. Then blackness swallowed her.
Spiked
She awoke hours later, groggy, her mouth dry. It was past midnight. A heavy suspicion churned in her gut.
Jadwa spiked my drink.
Dragging herself out of bed, she wrapped a veil over her body and went downstairs. The dining table still bore the remnants of dinner. She cleared it, washed the dishes with shaking hands, but the feeling of dread only grew stronger.
On her way back upstairs, she heard it.
A moan.
Her heart dropped. She told herself to ignore it, but the sound grew louder, unmistakable. Not from her room. From the master bedroom.
Her pulse thundered. She yanked the door open.
And there it was.
Bello. With Jadwa. Tangled in sheets, lips on lips, betraying everything sacred.
Her soul shattered.
Before either of them could speak, she stormed forward, grabbed Jadwa by the hair, and dragged her out of the bed.
"You don't belong here," she hissed, pulling her out of the house without caring that it was midnight. "Be responsible for what happens to you."
She slammed the door shut, locked it, and walked back inside with tears blazing down her cheeks.
In her room, Bello had the audacity to sit on her bed.
"Leave," she said, voice trembling.
"Zee, please, I'm sorry."
"I said get out, Bello!" she yelled.
"Babe, listen to me—"
"Since you won't leave, I will."
She snatched her prayer mat, a hijab, and her phone, stormed to the guest room, and locked the door behind her. There, she broke down.
She cried until her chest hurt, then prayed nawafil, whispering every tear into her Creator's hands. This too was a test. She clung to that truth until sleep carried her away.
Withdrawal
By 6:45 a.m., she was awake again. She cleaned the house, prepared breakfast for her so-called husband, and retreated to the guest room. She showered, ate alone, spoke with her family, read Qur'an, and binge-watched Netflix to fill the silence.
Every day after, she hid from him. She cooked, she cleaned, she prayed, she withdrew. She fulfilled her responsibilities without giving him a single piece of her heart.
One Friday, she decided to visit her in-laws. She cooked lunch, packed it, and drove over.
There, she was smothered with love and attention. The kind she longed for. The kind Bello never gave.
While helping her mother-in-law prepare lunch, she was asked to call her husband. Reluctantly, she dialed. He didn't pick.
"Did you call him?" Mama asked.
"Yes, Mama. He didn't answer."
She smiled gently. "Okay."
After Isha, the family gathered at the dining table. Light laughter filled the room until a familiar voice interrupted.
"Salam, fam."
Bello.
He side-hugged his mother, knuckle-bumped his father, and walked straight to Zaynab.
"Hey, sweet wifey." He kissed her cheek, smiling as though nothing had happened.
She froze. Shameless. Pretending.
She excused herself, unable to stand the charade. Later, while clearing the table, she headed upstairs to collect her things. But halfway down the staircase, he stopped her.
He caged her against the wall, his gaze burning into hers.
"What are you trying to prove?" she asked softly, bitterness dripping from every word.
"Nothing. I'm just... sorry for everything these past months."
She laughed, a hollow sound. "Oh, really?"
"Hope you didn't tell Mama," he whispered urgently.
Her eyes hardened. "Is this all you care about? That Mama might find out?"
"Please, Zee—" He leaned closer, trying to capture her lips.
She shoved him away.
"Don't you ever come near me again, Bello!"
She bolted downstairs, masking her trembling hands with an excuse about Amani being unwell. His parents tried to insist he drive her, but she refused.
She drove herself home, alone. And when she entered her house, she moved her things back into her room.
This time, there would be no turning back.

Here we go the excuse of her husband deserves to be punished,how can you drug your wife just to make out with your cousin.What would you do if you were in Zaynab's shoe?,lets know in the comments.

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