The Perks of Having a Nikah (A Muslim Love Story) *BACK 2023*

27.

Dedicated to WiseLemon, the adorable and absolutely amazing ukhti that I've come to know in the past months. And although we haven't really spoken lately, just know I miss and appreciate you. Love you fisabeelillaah, albi.

❝It is both a blessing

And a curse
To feel everything
So very deeply.❞

Alia

After my Sunday appointment with Zane, I head home feeling beyond tired and all I can think about is the amazing nap I'm about to have as soon as my body becomes one with my oh so very comfortable bed. I turn the keys in the lock, hoping and praying that I'm going to be the only one who's home.

I wasn't a fan of my own house, but I learned a long time ago that a house was a house, no matter how cold or dark it looked. As long as I had shelter and a bed to rest on. The outside was a pale blue and the lawn was messy from years of not mowing or keeping it proper. I'm honestly ashamed to bring anyone over, and that's precisely why for the past eight to nine years, I've always been the one to go to friend's houses, but never the other way around.

I open the door to find the deadbeat person I have to unfortunately call my father sitting on the couch with a beer in his hand, watching television. The man who, outside, acts like he's holier than thou, but inside, at home, with his true colors, is the spawn of Satan. The man who has no shame in putting his hands on a female. The man who drove my beloved mother to commit suicide.

I try to close the door quietly, but to no avail, he catches me. "Alia, come here."

I let out a low groan and walk slowly to where he's sitting. "What?"

"What? Is that how you greet your father?"

I can't help but scoff at this guy in front of me. He's a real comedian, this one. "Alright sorry, let me say it in a better manner. Can I help you?"

"You are one rude girl. You better watch yourself while you're at it. I'm warning you." He snarls and points at me with the hand that is holding his liquor.

"I'm going upstairs. I really don't have time for this."

"Don't you walk away from me. Did I say I was done talking to you?" He puts his drink down and grabs on to my hand.

"Ow, stop it, you're hurting me!" I try to pry his meaty hand away with all of my might, but I'm too weak to actually do anything.

"Who's the guy you went to see, Alia?"

I can't help but pause as his grip gets a bit tighter on my wrist. I can feel the color drain from my face. "What?"

"You heard what I said, and I'm not going to repeat myself!"

"I don't know what you're talking about." I keep my expression blank and look at him straight in his dark eyes, hoping I'm not giving away the fear raking throughout my body right now.

"The hell you don't!" He got up from his seat and struck me across my face. "How do I look to the community with my daughter committing zina (fornication) and prancing around with different guys? You better get yourself together, or I'll help you, and that's a promise. Now get out of my face. You disgust me, you disgrace."

I take the slap without budging and walk away, going upstairs. I can't stand him, but I'm stuck here, living with the man that everyone thinks is a saint and righteous, believing, God-fearing brother. If only they knew the truth. Tears stream down my face, but not because of the slap, or because of him. I cry for my mother. I cry because she left me here with this monster. I cry because I miss her. And I cry because I feel lonely and helpless.