Love isn't strong enough to keep us together

The story

As quietly as she could, she opened the balcony door. Her body was tense and her breath shallow. The harsh screeching noise made her flinch.  Listening closely if someone had woken up, she slowly continued closing the door.

Footsteps sounded outside her door. She froze. If somebody saw her sneak in, she was in deep trouble. When the footsteps died out and she heard a door close, she relaxed. She exhaled softly as she pulled the curtains closed.

“Where have you been?”

Once again she froze to the spot. She had to imagine the fact that her father had heard her come in. Turning around slowly, she peered around the dark room. She sincerely hoped that the harsh voice was an illusion.

The darkness prevented her from seeing anything. She knew where each of her furniture was by heart, but she couldn’t see it. And nothing was moving and her door was closed. Only the soft light from the moon behind the curtains shone at her feet.

“I ask again, where have you been?” It wasn’t an illusion. As her father spoke he turned on her bedside lamp. The glaring light made it hard for her to see him. All she could see was him sitting on her bed with his arms folded. Her eyes adjusted quickly and what she saw gave her goosebumps. Her dad didn’t look happy.

Forcing herself to meet his grey eyes, she took the three steps it took to get to him. She had cleaned and put away the clutter earlier that day and now she was happy she had been forced to do it. “I was meeting with Dennis”, she said. She was amazed by the fact that her voice didn’t waver. Her father was a terrifying man when he was angry.

Her dad observed her without retorting. Feeling his eyes on her, she felt ill at ease. Even if she knew he had nothing to complain about. Before she left Dennis’ house, she had made sure that her veil correctly and that her sweater covered her arms. “You know you don’t have permission to see that boy”, he finally said. 

With a heavy sigh, she crossed her arms. They had been over that more then twice before. “You have no right to tell me who to date. I’m a legal adult now, dad.”

“Are you having sex?” He completely ignored her. Nothing new there, he had never listened before. “You can’t. Not until you are married. To a Muslim. Is he a Muslim?”

“Dad…” she let her arms fall back down. Heaviness pressed at her chest. “We are in love.”

“Shari, that doesn’t matter. You are a Muslim woman, and you are not allowed to have sex before you are married. The Koran...”

“Is there to guide you and tell you how to live a correct life. You should bow to prophet Mohammed and worship the right God. You should marry someone that is also a Muslim as to not endanger the way we believe and prevent from being lured away from the true religion. I know dad”, she finished. That speech was one she heard at least once a week. “And as a Muslim woman I’m not allowed to marry a non-Muslim.”

As she talked, she went up to her wardrobe and pulled out her nightgown. Laying it down on the bed next to her father, she sat down on the chair next to her make-up table. They were both quiet as she pulled her veil of. She knew her father hated the veil she, her sister and her mother wore. Even if it was part of their religion, he thought it a waste to hide such beautiful hair.

“Mom married you even thought you weren’t a Muslim”, she mumbled as she pulled the pins out of her hair. The thick mass of brown curls tumbled down and hung against her back. She heard her father sigh next to her.

He reached his arm out and put his hand on her shoulder. “I converted before we got married, Shari”, he said softly. They both knew she already knew that. “I loved your mother too much to let her go. And I haven’t had to sacrifice very much. Just pork…”