"We've been through this before. You know it's my right."
Asiya held on to the bedpost for support and lowered herself slowly down to a sitting position. "I know," she said quietly. "It doesn't really matter what I think, so you may as well go ahead."
Her husband said nothing, but stood above her, his arms crossed over his chest, looking down intensely, anxiously. She lowered her eyes, hating his not so subtle pressuring, knowing he expected a full and "civil" answer to his request. She closed her eyes.
"Yes, you have my permission," she heard herself say. Her world officially crashed.
Abdul-Sharif was now on her level, holding her. "You know I love you, Asiya, I always will. I just need more than you're able to give me right now... You'll see, she'll be able to help with the girls, and you can have more time alone with them. It'll be good for both of us."
She was crying now, without sound, as he kissed her face, her neck and still, as he gently made love to her.
"I think you'll like her," he said as he lay next to her afterwards. "Firdousi and you have a lot in common."
At that precise instance her unspoken rage at Abdul-Sharif for choosing a bride before even bothering to ask her "permission" was surpassed only by her determination never to be anything more than passably civil to this "woman" who would soon be part of their lives.
YOU ARE READING
The Two Wives of Abdul-Sharif
Short StoryAbdul-Sharif was determined to take a second wife, despite the pain this was causing his wife Asiya, and his deep love for her. Will Asiya be able to forgive him? Will she be able to adjust to the new situation? Will his new wife, Firdousi, be abl...
