echoes of defiance (Rewriting)

chapter 12t

"Hana! Where is she?" My father's voice thundered from the living room, vibrating through the walls. My heart dropped. I could hear my mother, her tone filled with concern, asking, "What happened?"

“Call her!” His command came sharp and full of anger. The tension was so thick I could almost feel it pressing against my door. I stayed frozen in place, my pulse racing as I strained to hear every word.

“Yallabai, calm down. What’s going on?” my mom pleaded, her voice laced with worry.

But my father was far too angry to be pacified. “Call her, I said!”

Seconds later, a knock came at my door, soft but insistent. “I know you can hear me. You better come out. He’s furious. What did you do?” It was my mother, her voice low but urgent.

Taking a deep breath, I slowly opened the door and made my way to the living room. Every step felt heavy, as if I were walking through quicksand, knowing I was about to face something I couldn’t escape.

I stood by the couch, my legs trembling as I met my father’s gaze. His face was stormy, eyes blazing with unspoken fury.

"For how long has this been going on?" His voice cut through the silence like a knife. "Did you choose Korea because he was there?"

“No, never!” I blurted out, desperate to explain. “Daddy, *wallahi*, it’s only been three months since this started. I didn’t even know he was there, I swear!”

His eyes narrowed, disbelief etched into his features as I spoke. I felt trapped, cornered, so I switched to Kanuri, hoping my mother tongue would better convey the sincerity of my words. "*Wallahi, shi nyaa lo siyo ngila ngalaa ngimi mbehe yeeri ciye. Amma ngimi goro nyaa wa*."

(“I swear, he wants to meet my family and talk about everything with his dad. That’s what we were discussing. I’m not ready.”)

My father’s face twisted with disappointment and anger. His voice grew cold, almost icy. “You’re not ready for marriage,” he said, “but you’re holding hands with a boy on the street.”

My heart thudded loudly in my chest as he continued, his words cutting deeper than I expected. “The mystery surrounding that family is not something I want for you. As a security officer, I didn’t investigate them because they haven’t hurt anyone, but that’s not a life I want for my daughter. Break up with him immediately.”

“Daddy, please…” My voice cracked as tears pooled in my eyes. I couldn’t bear to lose Zain like this, not without a chance to explain. “Give him a chance. He’s willing to answer everything.” Tears slid down my cheeks, my mother still watching silently, her expression unreadable, the disappointment heavy in her gaze.

But my father was unyielding. His tone turned final, resolute, as he spoke in Kanuri. "*Farhana ngami ngaye so kúríya ngalge, ngami ngawo boro ngaɗe.*" (“I won’t let you get yourself into something even I don’t understand.”)

With that, he turned and marched upstairs, leaving me standing there, shattered. My mother followed him without saying a word, without even looking back at me.

My chest ached as I tried to pull myself together. I forced my feet to move and stumbled back to my room, where I closed the door behind me, sinking down onto the bed in a daze. My phone lit up beside me—10 missed calls from Zain.

As another call came in, I picked it up silently, pressing the phone to my ear without saying a word. I didn’t need to say anything; he seemed to know what was happening without me explaining.

“*Baby, everything will be fine,*” Zain’s voice came through the line, soothing and steady, yet I could hear the worry in his tone. “Don’t worry, okay? Just… don’t leave me, please. I promise you have nothing to fear. We’re not the bad people everyone thinks we are.”

I closed my eyes, letting his words wash over me, but the weight of my father’s anger still loomed in the back of my mind.

“I’ll meet your dad tomorrow,” Zain continued, his voice filled with determination. “I’ll talk to him before my father returns from Morocco. I love you. Don’t give up on us. Please.”

His voice, though confident, carried an undertone of pleading that broke my heart. I didn’t know what to say, didn’t know if I could promise anything. But as I lay there in the quiet, his words still echoing in my ears, I knew one thing—I wasn’t ready to give up either.