A walk on thorns

Chapter 15| Bad Encounter!

Anisha's POV

“Jalila?” I murmured, disbelief twisting my voice.

“Of course, Anisha,” she replied, her tone exasperated, rolling her eyes as she adjusted the veil of her abaya with practiced precision. “How long must I keep drilling this into you? For four years now, the solution to your problems has been staring you right in the face, but you’ve chosen to ignore it, clinging stubbornly to some fantasy of self-sacrifice.”

Her words cut deeply, and yet, they forced me to confront a raw truth. Jalila’s gaze turned colder as she continued, her words like knives, precise and merciless. “Your sister, she’s the type who won’t tolerate an ounce of disrespect. Unlike you, who welcomes it daily under the guise of ‘protecting your marriage.’ Wallahi, if I were in her position, I would’ve done far more than she has. Haba! Are you daft?”

“Jalila, what do you want me to do?” My voice wavered as I admitted my fear. “Sabrina is here for three whole months, and Mukhtar… Mukhtar is always simmering with anger, even without reason. But now, now he has a real excuse to retaliate.” I could hear the desperation in my words, feel the panic surging in my veins.

“A real excuse?” she sneered, her disdain unmistakable. “You call this a ‘real excuse’ because, for once, he’s experienced a fraction of what he’s put you through for the last five years? And here you are, already justifying it! No wonder you two were made for each other, you’re both insufferable.” Her face contorted in disgust as she dismissed me, her attention wandering as if I were a nuisance.

“Jalila… what if he divorces me?” The question escaped me in a whisper, heavy with dread.

“Then you go home. Is that the end of the world?” she replied bluntly, her indifference startling.

I hesitated, searching for a way to make her feel exactly what she just make me feel. the tension between us is suffocating. “How is your husband, Jalila?” I asked, desperate to stab her even if not deep. But she refused comply.

She barely acknowledged my question. “Anisha, there’s only one solution to your problem. And I’ve told you countless times, charm him!”

My heart tightened in rejection. “Jalila, I can’t,” I replied, the words tumbling out in a near-plea. “I can’t resort to shirk as a solution. There must be another way, something else that doesn’t involve,”

“For the last time, Anisha,” she interrupted, her voice cutting through my protest, “this is not shirk. These are products crafted by women, professionals trained to help repair marriages like yours. They’re not made by sorcerers or charlatans; they’re tools, nothing more. And I, as luck would have it, am from the very source, the headquarters, where everything is genuine. And yet, here you are, pushing away the only thing that might end this misery.”

Silence fell heavy between us. It was an agonizing pause, my heart and mind locked in a fierce battle. The weight of my hesitation pressed down on me, leaving me caught between shame and desperate hope.

“Are you… are you certain, Jalila?” I whispered at last, the words barely audible. This was the closest I’d come to agreeing with her in all these years, and even now, doubt clawed at me.

“Yes, Anisha,” she replied, her tone softening as she sensed my capitulation. “You have to trust me, just this once. I promise you, it’s not shirk. It’s perfectly harmless.”

I took a slow breath, steadying myself. “Fine,” I conceded, my voice frail yet resolute. “I’ll give it a try.” Jalila let out a triumphant, unguarded laugh, leaping from her seat to wrap her arms around me. Her embrace was so tight that I gasped, wincing as pain shot through me.