After Hasan left, Anisa sank to the floor of her living room, her mind reeling. That was just an accident the day Yugh saved me... Who even took that photo? The violation of the moment, captured and weaponized, felt almost as painful as the confrontation. 😵💫
Her spiraling thoughts were interrupted by her phone. Seeing "Dad" on the screen, she answered.
"Hello, Dad. What's the matter, calling so late?" she asked, noticing it was nearly 9:00 PM. 🧐
"Hello, daughter. Hasan's mother came to our house a few weeks ago to set the date. I meant to tell you, but with your sister's wedding, it slipped my mind," her father explained, his tone businesslike.
"Oh, is that why you called? What date did they set?" she asked, carefully keeping her voice neutral. 🫠
"Well, they had proposed the 20th of April. But I told them to move it to the 16th," he stated.
"Why, Dad? Why did you make it even sooner?" Anisa asked, a knot of anxiety tightening in her stomach. 😮💨
"Why are you asking like that, daughter? The sooner you two are married, the better, isn't it?" His voice was firm, leaving no room for question.
"No, it's just... we need time to prepare, that's all," she offered weakly, unable to voice her swirling doubts after the evening's events. 🫤
"That's no problem. Once the church ceremony is done and the rings are exchanged, that's what matters. We'll handle the preparations. Don't trouble yourself with it," he declared, his words meant to be reassuring but feeling more like a sentence.
"Alright, Dad. Whatever you think is best," Anisa conceded, the fight draining out of her.
"Daughter, we're not trying to do anything bad for you. It's hard for a woman to be alone. Different men will come, trying to take advantage. You saw that yourself recently. We're doing all this for your own good." 🤩
The implication was a hammer blow. He knew about the photo. Hasan had shown him. Her father's sudden urgency, his unilateral decision to rush the wedding, it all clicked into a horrifying picture. Her protest wasn't just about haste; in his eyes, it was confirmation of a need to control her, to "save" her from herself.
After exchanging a few more mundane details, the call ended. Anisa remained on the floor, staring into the uncertain abyss of her future. Her gaze fell on her left wrist, still red and tender from Hasan's grip. 📍
"Will Hasan and I ever truly live together in happiness and love?" she wondered aloud, the physical mark on her skin a stark, painful symbol of the gilded chains being fastened around her life with terrifying speed. 😔