Written in the Stars (Rewriting)

Chapter 7

Farah took a deep breath, her hands trembling slightly as she made her way to the study, where her husband, was likely to be. The house was eerily quiet now, the echoes of the evening’s conversation still ringing in her ears. She had to do this—she couldn’t let Ayesha’s life be decided without a fight. But the fear that gnawed at her insides was real, so much so that her feet felt like they were dragging with every step. She had never felt so alone, so helpless.

When she reached the door to his study, she hesitated. Her fingers curled around the doorknob, but she found herself unable to turn it. Her mind raced with every possibility of what he might say, how he might react. She had never spoken to him about something like this before, not with such urgency, not with the kind of desperation that filled her heart now.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, she opened the door and stepped inside.

Ashraf was sitting behind his desk, scribbling something on a piece of paper, his glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. His expression was one of deep concentration, and for a moment, Farah wondered if he even noticed her presence. She swallowed hard, forcing herself to speak.

"Ashraf," she began, her voice barely above a whisper. "We need to talk about Ayesha."

He looked up at her, a flicker of irritation crossing his face. He had always been a man of few words, but the coldness in his gaze felt sharper tonight, like a distant, unapproachable wall. "About what?" he asked flatly, already returning his attention to the papers in front of him.

Farah hesitated, gathering her thoughts. "About the marriage proposal," she said, her voice trembling now. "I can’t let them marry her off to Ashal. She’s not ready. She’s just a child."

Ashraf didn’t even glance at her as he responded, his tone dismissive. "Farah, you’re overreacting. The boy is fine. We’ve known him for years. He’s a good match for Ayesha."

She felt a sharp pang in her chest, but she pushed on. "You don’t understand. Ayesha doesn’t want this. She doesn’t want to marry him. She needs time—time to grow, to live her life. I won’t stand by and let her be forced into this." Her voice wavered, but she couldn’t stop now. "She deserves better."

Ashraf sighed, a long, deep breath that seemed to come from his very core. He set down his pen and finally looked at her, his eyes hard. "Farah, I don’t care what she wants. You know the family expects this. And I’m not going to let your sister’s daughter ruin everything we’ve worked for. Ayesha is a good match for Ashal, and if you think otherwise, you’re being naive." His words were cold, like ice cutting through her.

Farah's heart sank, and she felt a lump rise in her throat. "You can’t say that. She’s not some bargaining chip, ashraf. She’s my daughter! You should care about what she wants, about what’s best for her."

His face hardened, his jaw clenched. "You’re making this harder than it needs to be, Farah," he snapped. "This is how things are done. Ayesha will marry Ashal and that’s the end of it." He leaned back in his chair, his hands folded in front of him, as if the matter were already settled.

Farah’s hands shook with frustration, and she felt a searing pain in her chest. How could he be so cold? So indifferent? He was willing to sacrifice their daughter’s happiness for the sake of pride and family obligation. She had always known he was a man of pride, but this—this was something else entirely.

"I thought you cared about her," she whispered, her voice thick with hurt. "But now... now you don’t even see Ayesha as your own."

He looked at her, his gaze narrowing slightly. "She is my daughter-in-law-to-be, not my daughter. And I will make sure this marriage happens. If you can’t accept that, then maybe you should rethink your position in this family."

Farah’s breath caught in her throat. She felt as though the ground had been ripped from beneath her. His words were a knife to her heart, a cold and brutal truth she hadn’t wanted to face. He didn’t consider Ayesha his daughter. He didn’t care about her happiness, her future—he cared about his reputation, about his pride.

The weight of his words crushed her, and for a moment, she was unable to speak. Tears filled her eyes, but she quickly wiped them away, not wanting to show him any more weakness.

"I can’t do this, please" she said quietly, her voice barely audible. "I won’t let you destroy her life."

He stared at her for a long moment, his expression hardening further. "Then leave," he said coldly. "If you can’t accept my decision, there’s nothing more to discuss."

Farah stood there for a moment, feeling the full weight of his indifference pressing down on her. She had thought, hoped even, that he would stand by her, that he would understand. But he had proven her wrong. He was just as lost in his own pride as everyone else.

With a heavy heart, Farah walked back to her room in a daze, the echo of Ashraf’s words haunting her every step. Ayesha is not my daughter. She is my daughter-in-law, his voice repeated relentlessly in her mind, each word a stab to her already bruised heart. The thought of it—Ayesha, her beloved daughter, being reduced to a mere pawn in Ashraf's scheme—felt like a betrayal of everything she had ever believed in.

As she reached the door to her room, her hand trembled as she opened it. She closed the door behind her quietly, the weight of the conversation still crushing her chest. The room was dim, the silence overwhelming, and as she stood there, the memories of the past began to flood her thoughts.

----