By 11 PM, Aamna closed up at work, changed into her casual clothes, and hailed a tricycle home. She arrived at a tiny cement house that looked like an abandoned building.
"Assalamu Alaikum," she greeted as she entered.
Her mother, busy fixing a mosquito net, barely acknowledged her. “So what?”
Her father responded begrudgingly from his room.
In the kitchen, Aamna found her food left uncovered, as usual. She picked it up without complaint and sat to eat.
"Welcome back, Aamna," said their neighbor, Maman Zeenat.
"Thank you," Aamna replied politely.
She entered her room, where her younger sister, Zuhra, lay on the bed, chatting on her phone.
"You’re still up, chatting with your fiancé?" Aamna teased.
Zuhra giggled. “Love is sweet! Adam is killing me with his sweet words.”
Aamna smiled. “I’m happy for you. At least you found love. Mama and Baba hate me just because I haven’t brought home a husband.”
Tears welled in her eyes. “Why me, Zuhra? What have I done wrong?”
Zuhra hugged her. “Don’t worry, Aunty Aamna. Your time will come.”
From the other room, their mother shouted, “Aamna, you ungrateful girl! All the men we introduced you to, you rejected! Who do you think you are?”
Their father added, “If I see fit, I’ll marry you off by force!”
Aamna clenched her jaw, vowing that she would only marry for love, no matter what.
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