FATIMA (YOU series #2)

Chapter 10

              What a plot twist you were.

- Unknown

Fatima

I was stuck. I replayed our conversation, searching for any potential red flags. 

If mama likes him, then It should be fine, right? Aunty Amina likes me, so she'll ensure he's nice to me, right?

The answers to these questions were nowhere to be found in my head. Marriage isn't what I want. It's my father's wish. 

I didn't want to give him the satisfaction of doing as he commanded. He didn't deserve my obedience. But did I even have any options?

I did have options, but they all had the least desirable outcomes. Should I meet some other options before deciding? 

"I haven't met the other options, though," I told him. 

He had been sitting there patiently waiting for me to deliberate. 

"Trust me when I say you don't want to," he replies.

"What do you mean?" I ask.

"Your other option is a married abuser," he answers. 

His face showed no ounce of amusement. He wasn't lying.

My father wanted to marry me off to an abuser. I'm surprised he only found one horrible guy. I thought the lineup would be filled with variants of him.

 My father's attempt to give me to an abuser isn't shocking, but it still hurts. It just solidified the hatred he had for me. 

My eyes blurred as I fought back the tears.

"Do you need a minute," he asks.

"Yes. Thank you," I say and leave the parlour.

I run towards the stairs to get to my room, passing mama in the hallways where she said she'd be. 

Getting to my room, I drop to the floor and bury my head in my hands. I broke into loud sobs.

I felt myself being enveloped in a hug.

"Mama, what do I do?" I ask, hugging my mother. 

I knew she had been listening to our conversation.

"Fatima, please don't let this break you," she responds. 

"He hates me that much," I yell. 

"Look at me, Fatima. I promise you don't have to face him again if you go through with it. Ibrahim will always hold onto his word. I know the woman who raised him. He is a reflection of her good heart," she says, looking into my eyes. 

My mother never lied to me. 

"You'll finally be happy. You have to allow him to help you," she adds. 

Her expression showed how serious she was. 

"Please. Do this for yourself and your mother, Fatima," she says, wiping my tears.

I nodded slowly. 

"That's it. Let's wipe these tears away and focus on the positives. You'll be away from him, and I'll finally be able to leave. We can both have a nice fresh start," she tells me. 

She grabbed some tissue and gently dabbed it onto my face. 

"It's a good thing you didn't wear mascara," she jokes, and I laugh. 

"Deep breaths. " Go back and tell him your answer," she urges, and I head back. 

"Are you okay?" he asks as I sit.