ROUHI

seven

The robbers were put in jail but little charges were pressed for attempted rape. Saaqib couldn't do anything about it.

He had noticed Hafsa's behaviour all too unnaturally, always stealing peeks to see what and how she was doing. It had been weeks since they had properly spoken - that one night Hafsa gave up everything - except for the occasional "excuse me" or "sorry" while passing each other. If Saaqib had become a stranger to Hafsa, he didn't know what Hafsa became to him. She performed all her duties as the ideal obedient and kind wife she was, but she didn't acknowledge him at all. She neither said a word, nor looked up at him during meals or any other time of the day, always kept her gaze lowered. She would even sleep lying on her right side the whole night so Saaqib couldn't see her. Her silence, which he had been wishing for a while ago, was monstrously torturous. He didn't like it at all. He wanted her to speak more than just an apology. He didn't understand though, why it mattered. She had stopped bothering him about fixing himself. Why wasn't he happy?

There was a void in his home, between Hafsa and himself, and he hated it. He didn't know what to do either, he could never make up for what he let happen to his wife. He had thanked Maryam Khala's sons. If they hadn't been there, Hafsa would have been raped, and, as much as he tried not to remind himself about it, killed. He felt gratitude after a long time, and it brought him relief somehow.

It was with the anger of beating himself up for being so selfish and careless that he had went to the market place one Saturday evening. He was sipping on raw tea alone. He couldn't stand the guilt he felt around Hafsa anymore.

He had only finished his first biscuit when he saw three awfully familiar men, approaching him. Saaqib's eyes widened and a storm got raised inside. "Haramis, who let you out?!" Everybody heard him and paused their actions to stare. Saaqib was going to say more but one of the three men started hitting him first, holding him by the collar.

"You're the irresponsible husband of the female we raped that day, ain't you? You're the one who so bravely filed a report against us for that, ne? Let's see how courageous you are today, call a real fight. You don't deserve to live anyway." He laughed. "Who leaves his wife alone at night that way in this neighbourhood, huh?"

By this time all three of them were beating Saaqib, but he was fighting back too. It was still one against three though, nobody around dared to interfere.

"Thought you could hide and make us face punishment, eh? Turns out, I'm the nephew of the minister here. The police ain't the most loyal people."

Saaqib already had bruises on his right cheek and arms. They attempted to rape me, Saaqib. Flashbacks of Hafsa's report about the incident kept him going. They attempted to rape me. He was defending himself with all his might and also trying to knock out at least one of the men. He tried imagining what Hafsa had told him. They slapped me. Pushed me.

Saaqib punched one in the ribs and he backed off. One held my mouth shut to keep me from yelling.

He kneed one in the stomach. One climbed on top of me and-and groped me everywhere inappropriate.

He grabbed one's head and slammed it against a fruit basket. The last one... he was filming it. Saaqib remembered how briskly Hafsa had nodded her head; that sole head motion meant a lot. He was filming it.

Saaqib yelled out and pushed one down so his head banged against a rock and started bleeding nearly immediately.

Saaqib had only turned around to fight the remaining two when he felt a sharp pain shoot through his abdomen. He was stabbed with a little knife. "Your wife looks delicious, you know?" The man sniggered, enraging Saaqib when he clearly had the upper hand now, and ruthlessly took the weapon out. He was going to stab again when Maryam Khala's sons joined the fight and beat the men up, Saaqib crouching down in severe pain. He deserved it, he felt. He deserved the pain a thousand times worse.