Finding Salaam After Talaq

Chapter 13: Calm Before the Storm

As the abuse in my marriage escalated, my world began to shrink. I withdrew from friends and family, creating a smaller and more confined existence for myself. It was a painful process, one that I hadn't chosen willingly, but it felt like my only option.

Gone were the days of laughter and camaraderie with my friends. The vibrant social life I had once enjoyed became a distant memory. I had become skilled at making excuses for my absence from gatherings and outings. I would blame work, fatigue, or even a sudden illness to avoid having to explain the truth.

The truth was that I was living a double life – one that appeared normal to the outside world, and another that was a never-ending nightmare behind closed doors. I couldn't bear the thought of my friends seeing the bruises or sensing the fear that lingered in my eyes. So, I isolated myself.

Even my family, the people I should have been able to turn to for support, became distant figures in my life. Ahmed's manipulation and control had driven a wedge between us, making it almost impossible for me to confide in them.

My aunt, Auntie Mairo, who had always been like a second mother to me, noticed the change in my behavior. She would ask if everything was okay, if there was something I wanted to talk about, but I would deflect her concerns with a forced smile and reassurances that all was well.

I couldn't bear to let her down, to admit that the picture-perfect marriage I had entered into had turned into a nightmare. The shame was paralyzing, and I felt like a failure as a daughter and niece.

My world became confined to the four walls of our apartment. I would spend my days in a state of constant anxiety, waiting for Ahmed to return from work, never knowing what mood he would be in. The fear of his anger hung over me like a dark cloud, and I lived on edge, tiptoeing around him to avoid setting him off.

As the days turned into weeks, I found solace in my journey towards freedom. I attended counseling sessions, joined support groups, and surrounded myself with friends who understood and uplifted me. Yet, one secret weighed heavily on my heart - I had discovered that I was pregnant with Salamah.

The news of my pregnancy filled me with a mix of emotions. On one hand, I felt joy at the prospect of becoming a mother again, and my heart swelled with love for the tiny life growing inside me. On the other hand, fear gnawed at me, knowing that Ahmed's reaction to the news could be unpredictable, given his volatile behavior.

For a while, I kept my pregnancy hidden, hoping to find the right time to share the news with Ahmed. But as the days passed, I couldn't help but feel an overwhelming sense of protection for my unborn child. I knew I had to be cautious and ensure the safety of the life growing within me.

One fateful evening, as tensions rose during an argument with Ahmed, I felt a surge of fear. His eyes bore into mine, filled with anger and frustration, and I could see the familiar signs of a potential outburst. It was then that I found the courage to speak up, "Ahmed, please, you must protect our child."

His reaction was chilling. His face contorted with rage, and his hands clenched into fists. "What child?" he spat, his voice tinged with hysteria. "You're lying, trying to manipulate me!"

My heart sank, but I refused to back down. "I am not lying, Ahmed. I am carrying our child, and I will not let anything happen to them."

For a moment, it seemed like Ahmed might explode, but then he seemed to regain some semblance of control. His expression twisted into a mix of anger and disbelief. "You're trying to trap me!" he accused.

"No, Ahmed, that's not true," I pleaded. "This child is a blessing, and I want us to build a better life for them. Please, let us try to be the parents our child deserves."