"The one thing most needed in this world, that drifts around until we die, is affection. And when I couldn't have it, I promised myself that if I ever have a daughter, I will give it all to her — that's how I made peace with this reality."
She was a girl in her 20s — the daughter of a struggling woman who had seen the worst of life. Her mother never got to live her own childhood, because she was forced to become a mother too soon. She fought hard for her children while surrounded by ominous people and toxic societal beliefs.
Her main concern was her son — she was proud of him. She gave him all her love, the kind she never gave herself. But that same love wasn't given to her daughter,simply because she was a daughter. That was her only mistake.
Rayyah, her daughter, was strong and optimistic — a trait she inherited from her mother. She learned how to survive the worst, and now she was trying to help both herself and her mother break free from those wrong societal concepts. She rarely cried, because she believed crying was a weakness.
The mindset she was trying to fight was this: let a daughter live.
Living doesn't just mean breathing — it means feeling alive. She was given food to eat and her favorite clothes to wear, but that wasn't all she needed. She needed to be seen, to be valued, to be a reason for pride.
She wanted her mother to see she wasn't her weakness. But things began to spiral when the frustration grew, and the behaviors around her refused to change.
Chapter 1:
As Rayyah stepped out of her room, she saw her mother in the lounge kissing her brother on the forehead, smiling at him, hugging him while talking gently. And in that moment, something in her sank. This... this was what she had needed all along.
It choked her . She smiled faintly and whispered to herself, "Is this how jealousy feels like?"
Then, breaking the moment with a playful tone, she said, "You never do this to me, Mom" sounding like a tease, though it quietly came from a place that hurt.
Her mother laughed, pulling a face, and said mockingly, " You've really been through so much, haven't you?"
Rayyah smiled with her just enough to hide what she felt, though it made her feel even worse inside now. She rushed to her diary to write it all down — her only escape from the chaos of emotions. She always feared someone might sneak a look and mistake her for some dramatic little chick, which she knew she wasn't and absolutely wasn't.
"How should I tell you what that feels like? It's strange. I can't stop it anymore, and the urge to be loved by you is growing. I can't help it. Sometimes I feel like I'm the one lacking something. Maybe that's why I don't have what I want. Then why don't you tell me what I'm missing?"
She stopped writing. "Yeah... I should ask her. Maybe I'm not doing something right," she said, stood up, tore the page from her diary, went to the kitchen, burned it, and threw the ashes in the trash.
"Mommy! Where are you?" Rayyah called out, moving from the kitchen into the lounge and then into the next room.
"So here you are!" she said, spotting her mother on the phone.
"Look at this one, it looks so luxurious," her mother murmured, showing something on her screen.
"Mom," Rayyah said softly.
No response.
"Mom!" she repeated, a little louder.
"Hmm, yes?"
Rayyah hesitated, then spoke. "I don't know… but I don't agree with the way you treat me. Did I do something wrong? I feel like… you don't love me the way you love Waaz. I try so—"
Her mother cut her off. "Stop being dramatic. I love you both equally. Now go and make me a cup of tea."
Rayyah stood there for a second, her heart heavy, before turning silently toward the kitchen.
Even though she had expected that answer… deep down, she had still hoped for something more.
Later, at the dining table, a lovely meal had been prepared by her mother. Rayyah's father and brother Waaz sat on one side, while she and her mother sat on the other. There had never been a dinner in their house without conversation. Something was always up for discussion.
"Girls these days have gone crazier than guys," her father declared suddenly.
The moment Rayyah heard that, she looked up sharply. "Why? What does that mean?"
"Someone at my shop told me today that his daughter ran away with a boy from her school. She completely ruined her father's reputation."
"Whose daughter?!" her mother asked, stunned.
"That advertisement guy."
"The one whose son was a drug addict, right?" Rayyah added.
"Hmm. That guy really has bad luck. The drug addiction one was relatively fine compared to this," her father replied.
"What the..." Rayyah muttered under her breath. Then louder, she said, "Relatively fine?"
She wasn't defending the girl's actions but the way they brushed off the son's crime, yet crucified the daughter for hers. Both were wrong. Both were destructive. But somehow, the blame always weighed heavier on the girl.
She took her last bite of food, but it tasted bitter now.
"This is so messed up literally. Relatively fine?. What was even he trying to say. Ohh mine… why am being so involved in it. I should write it to let it go" laying straight in her bed, sat and pick up her diary and which has no more paper left as all get burn away after being written. Rayyah folded the diary and started to write over the carboard cover of it.
"Such a gray moment.
Both were wrong, but the way Father spoke ,he only blamed the girl. I don't ever remember him mentioning that guy's son with the same disgust. But… why did it shatter me from the inside?
Why, Rayyah?"**
She suddenly stopped writing. "No!" she whispered under her breath.
"Oh no, it can't be that way..." she picked up the pen again, her hand slightly shaking.
"Is he also...? Does he also think the same? Like society that a daughter is a..."
"NO!"
Rayyah couldn't finish the thought.
She tore the cardboard paper harshly in a sudden burst of emotion.
Now it was clear why her heart had been so heavy all along. It wasn't just about that conversation. It was fear. The fear that maybe… just maybe… her father, too, saw daughters the same way society did like a less. Without another word, she crumpled the pieces and threw them into the dustbin beside her cupboard.
A silence followed…
The next morning, she was getting ready for university. She looked like a wilted flower, picked up her bag, and stepped out of her room. In the kitchen, she saw her mother cooking breakfast for her. Even though she was already running late, she still sat at the table and ate it—forcing each bite down without saying a word, then left.
While she was on the bus, she noticed some girls walking to college under the harsh sun. A thought lingered in her mind:
"I think about my mother's love for me how she makes me breakfast, buys me clothes. My father has given me this comfort. And yet I keep thinking they don't love me. I'm bad… I should ignore those thoughts."
When she reached college, Rayyah saw her friends walking toward her with concern and surprise.
"Hey! What happened to you, huh?" Mayla asked, and Shayla and Yasmin quickly joined in.
"Yeah, you look pale. Didn't you have breakfast? Did somebody bother you?" they fired questions one after another.
Already frustrated, Rayyah softly raised her voice.
"No! I just couldn't sleep well. Never mind, let's go," she said, placing her hands over their shoulders.
While in class, Rayyah had no focus on the lecture. Her pen moved across the corner of her notebook page, writing quietly:
"The problem is me. Maybe I'm just thinking too much. What happened last time was just a discussion. Maybe I was hurt, and that's why I felt it so deeply… Still, it would've been better if they had chosen kinder words to describe the situation. I have everything. I should be grateful."
"Rayyah! …Rayyah!!" Her name was called multiple times before she snapped out of her thoughts.
"Oh ma'am! Yes?"
"Are you even here?" her English literature professor asked, pointing at her with a mix of concern and sternness.
"Ye… yes…"
"What are you writing?"
"Umm… just random doodles… I'm so sorry."
The whole class turned their eyes toward her. A wave of awkwardness washed over her, but she straightened her back, forcing a gentle smile and holding her composure. She apologized, but her professor's expression remained unsatisfied , concerned.
The hour passed, and as the lecture ended, everyone began packing up.
Then, Professor Inaya Soraya approached Rayyah's desk. The moment Rayyah met her deep, intent gaze, she froze for a second.
"Visit my office. There's something I'd like to know, Ray," the professor said.
"Sure thing, profe—" she swallowed softly, "—professor" Rayyah replied.
The professor gave a small nod, signaling agreement, and walked away. Rayyah let out a quiet breath through her nose, then glanced at her friends, who were staring at her with wide eyes.
"Really? Why are you guys always so surprised and eager to know things… like, seriously?" she said, half-amused, half-annoyed.
Mayla crossed her arms. "You tell us, Ray. What is it? You've been different these past few weeks."
"Mayla, it's… just me vs. me," Rayyah replied, slinging her bag over her shoulder. "I've been overly emotional, I think. That's all." She stood up, packing her things as her friends' eyes stayed locked on her face.
A short silence hung in the air.
Rayyah broke it with a light tone. "I'm hungry. Let's go now."
Without another word, they all followed her out of the class.
While they were having lunch, Rayyah's mind was elsewhere ..busy crafting a made-up story to distract her professor from the real reason she had been lost in thought during the lecture.
"I'll just say, 'I was tired, ma'am.' Then she'll ask, 'Why?' What will I say then? Hmm… maybe, 'I couldn't sleep.' But then she'll ask why, and I can't say, 'I was just mad at my parents' assumptions and perceptions.' No way, Rayyah, we are not saying that. Think of something else… Yeah, I… wait….why can't I think of anything? Oh! I'll say I had a headache. Why? Because of extreme screen time. Yes, that sounds fair. I wi—"
Her train of thought was cut short when Mayla suddenly slapped her back, laughing at one of Yasmin's jokes. Rayyah instinctively joined in, pretending she'd been listening all along. Moments later, she found herself laughing louder, realizing she didn't even know what the joke was.The whole group erupted, sharing the best twenty minutes of their day by cracking jokes, making fun of someone's muddy, half-torn shoes, and bursting into laughter when Shayla nearly fell off her chair.
When Rayyah laughed, her eyes squinted and her mouth opened wide, showing her pearly white teeth. Her dimples appeared, soft and deep, like a baby who had just discovered the joy of laughter.
It was finally time to meet the professor.
Rayyah was now less nervous. She stood up from the table, smiled at her friends, and began walking toward the faculty offices. The English department was on the third floor of Alexandria University's main building. She went alone, scanning the nameplates on the cabin doors until…voilà….there it was: Professor Inaya Soraya.
The name itself lowkey fascinated Rayyah. A respected position. A good rank.
She dusted off her dress, adjusted her hijab, put on a gentle smile, and knocked.A voice came instantly, soft and firm: "Yes, come in."
Rayyah stepped inside. "Um… good afternoon, ma'am."
"Yeah, Rayyah Elara ..come in, sit..," replied a woman in her thirties with an elegance that turned heads. She had a faintly sarcastic smile, bright eyes, and arched brows …the beauty of ancient Egyptian queens seen in sculptures. She wore pastel colors that matched her aesthetic.
She sat across from Rayyah, blank-eyed but attentive. Rayyah tried to hold eye contact, but her nerves returned in full force.
"So, Ray," Inaya Soraya began, "what are you up to?"
"Um… I just had my favorite lunch," Rayyah said with a small smile.
"Great. Now tell me what's wrong? What's bothering you?"
"Ma'am, it's…"
Inaya cut in, pointing an index finger at her. "No lies, Ray."
Rayyah exhaled, then met her professor's gaze.
"Ma'am… sometimes..actually, most of the time I think I'm not worthy. Or that I'm less good than my brother. I hope you won't think I'm being dramatic, but I feel this a lot. Then I remind myself they're still keeping me, taking care of me… and maybe I'm just being absurd. That's it."
Inaya tilted her head slightly, as if to say, Hmm, I'm listening. She interlaced her fingers and leaned forward.
"You feel unimportant, right?"
Oh no. Why does this feel like a therapy session? Rayyah thought, suddenly feeling exposed.
"No… um… it's not like that. I'm just saying I feel… too much."
"No," Inaya said firmly, leaning back in her chair. "You're not wrong. Nothing is 'too much,' especially when it bothers you enough that you're not giving proper attention to your favorite subject."
"If I'm being honest…" Rayyah looked down. "I think… daughters aren't much appreciated, or—"
"Loved," Inaya interrupted.
Rayyah looked up slightly.
"Or loved," Inaya continued, meeting her eyes. "That's true, Ray."
Rayyah straightened. "Then what should I do? Can't it be changed?"
Before Inaya could answer, an urgent meeting call came through …clearly unplanned. Rayyah stood up, giving her space, already feeling this conversation might never continue.
But just as she reached the door, Inaya called out,
"Dear Ray! You will have the power to change it someday."
She smiled. Rayyah smiled back and left.
On her way out of the university, she kept replaying her professor's words until she suddenly bumped into someone.
He was neatly dressed ,T-shirt and pants that fit perfectly, which was rare these days (and thankfully not striped). Black hair, sharp, almost siren-like eyes—one of a kind.
"Excuse me! You should pay attention while walking," he said, looking at her with slightly annoyed eyes.
"My apology! But it was clearly an accident why act like I stabbed you?" Rayyah shot back, turning away toward her van.
As she walked toward the buses, she glanced back for one last view of the university… only to see the same young man still looking at her from afar, his eyes narrowed.
A shiver ran through her, goosebumps rising on her arms. She made a face of mild disgust and walked away.
The city blurred past her window, voices on the bus fading into the hum of the engine. Somewhere in between her professor's words and that stranger's stare, a strange thought rooted itself in her mind.
Something was about to change.
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