The sound of Maarya's daughter filled the room — tiny giggles, the pitter-patter of little feet on marble. I bent down, scooping her up into my arms, her soft curls brushing against my cheek.
“Annii!” she squealed, gripping my dupatta.
Her laughter was the only sound that could soften the walls of this house. For a few moments, with her tiny arms around me, I could almost forget Nargis’s sharp eyes and Baba’s silence.
Maarya smiled at me from across the room, exhaustion plain on her face. “She’s been running wild all morning. You spoil her, Hiba.”
“Of course I do,” I said, kissing my niece’s cheek. “Someone has to"
Maarya laughed, but it didn’t reach her eyes. I noticed the faint shadows beneath them, the weariness of a woman carrying more than her share. Her husband was kind enough, but I could tell marriage hadn’t been the escape she once thought it would be.
“Sometimes I think you’re the lucky one,” she murmured suddenly. “Still in Baba’s house. No in-laws to answer to. No children to chase.”
I gave her a small smile, though inside, her words twisted like a knife. Lucky? To live under Nargis’s scrutiny, to tiptoe around Baba’s silence, to feel like a ghost in my own home? If this was luck, then what did misfortune look like?
Imran burst into the room then, his hair tousled, eyes half shut. “Didn’t anyone think to wake me up? I’ve got school, you know.”
“You should learn to wake yourself,” Maarya chided, though there was no bite in her voice.
I set my niece down and straightened my dupatta. “Breakfast is already made. Hurry before Nargis notices you’re late.”
He groaned, muttering something under his breath as he shuffled off toward the kitchen.
Maarya leaned closer, lowering her voice. “She’s been hinting again.”
I didn’t need to ask who. Nargis. Always Nargis.
“Hinting what?” I asked anyway, though dread already curled in my stomach.
“That you’re old enough now. That Baba should start thinking of your future.”
My fingers stilled on the edge of my sleeve. I looked at maarya, her words sinking into me like stones dropped into water.
Old enough. Future. I knew exactly what that meant.
Marriage.
I turned my face toward the window, the sunlight blinding for a moment. My heart ached with a quiet rebellion, a voice inside me whispering of dreams I hadn’t yet dared to speak aloud — dreams of leaving, of studying, of building a life for myself far away from these walls.
But for now, I said nothing. Because in this house, dreams were fragile things. And Nargis was always ready to crush them.
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