Bewitched

21

MUMTAZ

I sat there with my head down, staring at the floor as my father's voice boomed through the room. His words felt like a hammer pounding relentlessly on my heart. I knew this was coming, but hearing him actually say it out loud made the weight of my decision settle uncomfortably in my chest.

"How could you play such a cruel joke on us, Mumtaz? On Muntassir? On me?" my father asked, his voice laced with disappointment. "You agreed to this marriage, and now you want to throw it all away? Do you understand what this means? What this does to us?"

Ridwan sat next to him, his arms crossed, shaking his head in that disapproving way he always did when I messed up. He hadn't said much since I dropped the bombshell about calling off the engagement, but his silence spoke volumes. I could tell he was furious, maybe even more so than my father.

"Ridwan, tell her," my father continued, as though enlisting my brother would change my mind.

"Baba, maybe we should all take a breath and calm down," Fuhad tried to interject, but my father wouldn't hear it.

"Calm down?" my father repeated, his eyes wild with frustration. "She played with all of us! We've already started preparations, sent word out to the family. Everyone knows about the engagement, and now she tells me she wants to end it. Just like that?"

I could feel the heat of the room pressing down on me. My chest was tight, and my hands fidgeted in my lap. I couldn't take it anymore. I had to speak, had to defend myself. "What's so wrong with me wanting to live my life on my own terms, daddy? Why is it such a crime that I want to follow my dreams?" I said, my voice breaking the heavy silence. "This marriage would have made you all happy, not me."

Ridwan, who had been quiet until now, leaned forward, his jaw tight. "That's not the problem, Mumtaz. The problem is how you went about it. Do you realize how many people are involved in this? Our fathers had meetings, discussed terms, everyone in the community knows about the engagement. And Muntassir—he thought you wanted this. He was happy, Mumtaz. You led him to believe this was what you wanted."

I shook my head, feeling the sting of guilt, but also anger bubbling beneath the surface. "I'm not responsible for what Muntassir believes or doesn't believe, Ridwan. It's not my job to make sure he's happy."

Fuhad, always the peacemaker, spoke softly from the corner. "Mumtaz, when you said yes to the engagement, you did take on that responsibility. You told him you wanted to marry him."

I scoffed, feeling cornered. "I did what I had to do at the time. I'm sorry if things didn't turn out the way you all expected, but I have my whole life ahead of me. I can always find someone I truly want to marry."

The room went silent for a beat, and my father, who had been pacing in frustration, stopped in front of me, his eyes heavy with disappointment. "Is it so wrong for a father to want his daughter around him ?" His voice softened, and I felt a pang of guilt. "Ever since you went off to boarding school in England, you hardly ever came home. During your breaks, you preferred to spend time with your friends rather than come home. I've given in to all your demands over the years, Mumtaz. All of them. But this time, I won't. You're not going back to Milan."

His words hit me like a slap. "That's not fair!" I cried, standing up now, the room closing in on me. "You can't just—block me from living my life, daddy. You're being unreasonable. You're hindering my dreams!"

The silence after my outburst was thick. For a second, I thought he might soften, that maybe he would see my side of things. But then, my mother's voice cut through the air, calm yet full of disappointment. "I'm so disappointed in you, Mumtaz. This isn't the daughter I raised."