A walk on thorns

Chapter 14| To Fire!

Anisha's POV

Flashback
18th May 2019
4:23 pm

He hit me for the twentieth time this year. I couldn’t take it anymore; I felt as if I were losing pieces of myself with each strike. My life had unraveled into chaos, and I felt trapped in a prison I’d never signed up for. I didn’t know where to turn. If I had a suitable waliy, it would have been different. But my waliy was the Senate President, too important to even remember I existed. Honored with his title, he’d never once seen me in person, not on the wedding day, not since. I doubted he even remembered my name.

Mama crossed my mind, but I didn’t dare call her. I knew she’d worry and blame me for complaining so soon. She had made it clear before the wedding. I remembered her saying, “Any complaints within the first decade are invalid.” She would never listen now, not after just a year.

Desperate, I dialed Aunt Haseena’s number, praying she’d understand and let me speak. My hands were trembling, and I dialed the wrong number.

“Hello, Assalamu alaikum, Anisha, my daughter. How are you?” she answered. My heart raced painfully.

“Good evening, Aunt Haseena,” I managed, but my voice broke immediately.

“Anisha! Lafiya? What’s going on with you? I hope everything is fine.” Her voice was concerned. I couldn’t hold back anymore and started to cry.

“Aunt Haseena, please listen to me. I’m full, I’m completely worn out.”

“Full? Tired of what?” Her tone turned sharply critical. “Anisha, you’re scaring me. Just say it!”

“Aunt Haseena, it’s Mukhtar. He’s abusing me… he beats me almost every day. I don’t even know why. There’s never a moment of peace with him. He just… he hates me, Aunt Haseena. Today, he kicked me in the belly so hard, I saw blood!” I sobbed, feeling the weight of my anguish pour out.

Aunt Haseena sighed harshly. “Mtssww, Anisha wai, what kind of woman are you? Didn’t we prepare you for marriage? Didn’t we explain exactly how men are and how they need to be respected?” Her voice was icy and dismissive. “This has to be your fault, Anisha. You can’t just go there, misbehave, and expect a man to tolerate that. He’s only showing a sign of responsibility.”

I felt my heart shatter. “I swear, Aunt Haseena, I’m trying my best. He’s the one who never gave me a chance! There’s no love, no care, no affection, nothing…”

“Love? Affection?” she cut in, scoffing. “Anisha, have you lost your senses? Did you let all those foolish movies and romantic tales fill your head with nonsense?” She laughed bitterly. “You really thought you’d have some fairytale marriage? I thought you had better sense than that!”

“Aunt Haseena,” I pleaded, “this is the twentieth time he’s hit me this year. And over the smallest things. Today, he beat me because he couldn’t find the spoon he wanted on the table. There were other spoons, everything was in place, but I just couldn’t guess which spoon he wanted. How am I supposed to know his mind?”

“You’d know if you observed him properly!” she retorted, her tone laced with irritation. “This man is your husband, not a stranger! You live with him, not me! Shouldn’t you have figured him out by now?” She sighed with disdain. “Men are like children, Anisha; you have to study them and adapt. And as for the hitting, who are you to think you’re above it? It happens in every marriage, Anisha. Every single one. Stop listening to bitter women and start behaving properly.”

“Aunt Haseena, I don’t know what to do…” My voice broke again, helplessness weighing on me.

She ignored my plea, her tone turning even colder. “Anisha, I’ve been married to a soldier since I was sixteen. I was young, inexperienced, and I managed. No one coddled me with fairytales about love and care. There is no amount of beating you could tell me about that would shock me. This is the reality of marriage. If you’re ready to be patient, good. But if you insist on acting like this, well, there’s a place on the street waiting for you. I’ve said my piece.”