Tangled Hearts

Chains of Tradition

Inaya stared at the ceiling of her room, the moonlight casting long, silvery shadows across the walls. Her mind was racing, filled with questions she had no answers to. The promise she made to Layla echoed in her ears, reminding her of the battle she had yet to fight. But where was she supposed to start?

The weight of tradition and her parents' expectations pressed down on her, chaining her to a future that felt as cold and distant as the stars outside her window. She had always known that this day would come—a day when her parents would decide her fate without her consent—but she never imagined it would be like this. The thought of marrying a man whose name she didn’t even know made her stomach churn with anxiety.

The next morning, Inaya awoke with a sense of dread, the heaviness in her chest refusing to dissipate. She dressed mechanically, her hands trembling slightly as she tied her scarf. The house was quiet, but the silence only amplified the unease within her.

As she descended the stairs, she found her parents already seated at the dining table. Her mother, as usual, was serving breakfast to Farhan, who sat with a self-satisfied smirk on his face. The sight of him made Inaya’s heart sink further. He had always been the golden child, the one who could do no wrong in their parents' eyes. Unlike Inaya, who was constantly reminded of her obligations, Farhan was free to live his life as he pleased.

“Inaya, sit down and eat,” her mother said curtly, barely glancing at her as she continued to fuss over Farhan’s plate.

Inaya sat down quietly, her appetite completely gone. The smell of freshly made parathas filled the air, but she could only focus on the tension that hung between her and her parents. She needed to ask them about the engagement, but the words stuck in her throat.

As she forced herself to nibble on a piece of bread, Farhan shot her a smug look. “So, I hear you’re getting engaged soon, Inaya. Finally going to settle down and be a good little housewife, huh?”

Inaya’s hands clenched under the table, but she kept her expression neutral. Farhan had always found ways to belittle her, to remind her that in their parents' eyes, she would never measure up to him. It was a game he had perfected over the years, and she had grown weary of playing along.

“Yes,” she replied quietly, her voice betraying none of the turmoil within her. “Apparently, that’s the plan.”

Their father, who had been silently reading the newspaper, finally looked up. His stern gaze met Inaya’s, and she felt a chill run down her spine. “You should be grateful, Inaya,” he said in a tone that brooked no argument. “We’ve found a good match for you. A respectable family, well-off, and with strong ties to the community. It’s time you took your responsibilities seriously.”

Inaya swallowed hard, forcing herself to meet his gaze. “But... I don’t even know his name, Abba. Don’t you think I should know something about the man I’m supposed to marry?”

Her mother’s head snapped up, her eyes narrowing in disapproval. “What more do you need to know? We’ve chosen well for you, as we always have. You don’t need to worry about anything. Just focus on being a good daughter and preparing for the wedding.”

The finality in her mother’s voice made Inaya’s heart sink. She knew there was no room for discussion, no place for her doubts or concerns. Her parents had made up their minds, and in their world, that was the end of it. But Layla’s words echoed in her mind, urging her to push back, to demand more.

Taking a deep breath, Inaya spoke again, this time with a little more strength. “But shouldn’t I at least meet him before we’re engaged? Shouldn’t I have a say in this?”

Her father’s expression hardened, and she could see the displeasure in his eyes. “Inaya, you are not a child anymore. This is not a decision for you to make. We have always done what is best for you. Do not question our judgment.”