"Never leave any situation without saying everything you wish to say, so that you do not burn from within."
— Dostoevsky
When a girl sees her ex-fiancé sitting happily beside his bride, with eyes brimming with love for the woman he left her for, most glances in such a moment would be filled with jealousy, sorrow, or even hatred toward the bride.
But hers… her gaze was full of joy, relief, and peace.
Yes, she was happy. Not for that vile cousin of hers, her ex-fiancé—
but happy because she was finally freed from his engagement after seven long years.
"Sulwan!"
She turned to the voice that called her name; it was her aunt, her face marked with sorrow and pity.
She wanted to tell her that she didn't care about her son and felt no sorrow for being abandoned by him. But what her aunt shouted next shook her unexpectedly.
Her aunt said, consoling her with sadness:
"Sulwan, I know what my son did was wrong, but don't be sad. I heard that Amer spoke to your father about a close friend of his who asked for your hand-his best friend and the brother of his bride. Your father agreed... perhaps he is your destiny."
What?!
The bastard! The bastard! The bastard! Should I get rid of him only to be thrown at his best friend?!
No-no... I will never allow that!
........
Two days passed since her male cousin's wedding, yet no one mentioned that expected groom to her.
On the fourth day, her mother told her that her father wished to speak with her. She immediately suspected it was about Amer's friend.
And as she feared, she was right.
Her father said firmly:
"Someone has proposed to you, and I accepted. Get ready to meet him."
Silence stretched for minutes until she broke it with words she knew would ignite her father's anger:
"But I don't agree… I don't even want to meet him if I'm only going to refuse."
The words had barely left her lips when her father's furious voice thundered:
"I said you will marry him! He is a good man, from a respectable family. Will you defy me?!"
She shut her eyes against his shouting.
Damn you, Amer. Damn you! How I wish to see you burn to death before my eyes!
Gathering her courage, she spoke again, her voice trembling but determined:
"Father, I endured being engaged to Amer for years because you told me he was best for me. And now you want me to marry his friend? Father, believe me… if you do this to me, it will kill me!"
Her father replied coldly, without care:
"Amer ended his engagement to you and moved on with his life. Nothing stops you from marrying his friend, a man of high morals."
High morals?! As if it were a fact.
Could any friend of that bastard possibly have morals?
She burst out, unable to contain herself:
"Father, I will never agree to marry that bastard's friend!"
The words had barely escaped before a slap landed across her face, knocking her to the ground. Her father roared:
"Amer had every right to leave you! Is this how you speak about your cousin, the man who was meant to be your husband? You have one hour, Sulwan, to get ready…"
Then he stormed out.
She stared at his retreating back, her chest burning with rage and helplessness.
"You've left me no choice, Father… no choice at all."
…
Now here she was, sitting before the man they called her "future husband."
She looked him over. Handsome enough, not ugly. She learned he had graduated in Translation—just like that wretch Amer. They had studied together.
What a pity. If he hadn't been Amer's friend, she might have accepted him. He seemed decent, with nothing outwardly wrong about him.
But the meeting ended, and she returned to her room, where she made a phone call…
…
Two months later…
She slipped quietly out of her house in the dark of night, letting freedom guide her steps as she ran. Her mind raced with one thought: if they discovered her escape before she reached safety, she might have to recite the shahada before they slaughtered her.
No. She shook her head fiercely. They mustn't know, not until she was far beyond their reach. She would leave the country on the first flight to Dubai.
She stopped before a black car, jumped inside, breathless:
"Go! Drive!"
The car sped away.
…
Outside the international airport…
"Thank you, Ghada, for helping me. You're the best!" she cried, hugging her cousin tightly.
But Ghada replied seriously:
"I've helped you and will continue to help, though I don't agree with what you're doing. If they catch you, they'll kill you. If they don't, you'll be exiled from your family forever."
Sulwan scoffed, defiant:
"To hell with them! They control me like a puppet on strings. Seven years engaged against my will, only for him to throw me aside for another, then push me into his friend's arms! And when I object, my dear father slaps me! They left me no other choice. They forced me to run."
Ghada sighed, then nodded:
"Fine. I've arranged everything. My friend is waiting for you; she'll take you to her place."
With a final farewell, Sulwan entered the airport and boarded the plane that would fly her toward her dreams—toward freedom.
…
The next day, her family discovered her escape. They gathered before the computer, where she had left a disk and a note with only two words:
"Goodbye. Damn you all."
They pressed play.
Her voice filled the room, light, mocking:
"Hello, dear cousin. By now you know I've gone. I'm sure you, my brother, and the rest of the men are plotting how to find me and kill me.
(Here her tone broke, heavy with bitterness, before she continued.)
Do you remember, Amer, years ago, the night before our engagement? I came to your room and begged you to tell my father the truth—that I saw you only as a brother, that we were like siblings. But you cut me off, said you weren't my brother, and the engagement would happen. No one listened. I surrendered to your decision.
Later, when my exam results allowed me into the Faculty of Science, my dream, my father refused to let me attend university. My brother did nothing. I came to you in tears, asking for help. You could have persuaded him; as my fiancé, he would have listened. But instead, you sided with him: 'What use is a degree for a girl who will never work?' My heart broke that day.
Seven years passed, then suddenly you ended the engagement, saying you'd fallen in love with your friend's sister—a beautiful, educated girl you saw as your dream wife. While I was thrilled to be free of you at last, I also felt crushed, abandoned without a thought.
Then, when the family all blessed your marriage, no one spared a thought for me. I heard the whispers: Why did her cousin break it off after so many years?
But my joy in being free outweighed my pain. Still, you shocked me again—you and the others, deciding I should marry your friend, your bride's brother, a man I'd never even seen! Wasn't that enough? How much more should I have endured before breaking free?
Would I die if you found me after my escape? No. I was already dying, watching my dreams vanish one by one.
So, cousin… even if you search for me, even if you long to punish me, know this: I was dead long before I left.
And one last thing… Amer, I hate you with every fiber of my soul."
The recording ended.
Silence smothered the room.
Her brother, 'Az, felt the weight of guilt; he had never stood for her, always repeating: Father knows best. He whispered inwardly: Could Father really want her dead? No… impossible.
Then he asked aloud, carefully:
"Father, will you truly kill Sulwan when we find her?"
Her father's reply was harsh, devoid of remorse:
"Of course. That foolish girl has disgraced us with her scandal. People will not forget this shame for years. The only punishment for her is death."
Az's fists clenched in fury. Had none of them listened? Did they not understand that she only fled because they crushed her?
He turned to Amer, who sat silent, lost in thought. His voice cut sharp:
"And you, Amer? Do you believe she should die?"
Amer looked up, a small smile on his lips, and said:
"Do you think we'll find Sulwan so easily? She never made a move without thinking it through. I'm certain she's planned this escape to perfection. We won't see her again—unless she chooses to appear."
Silence fell once more. Each of them knew the truth: Sulwan had
always been clever, sharp, impossible to corner.
Perhaps they would never find her.
And deep inside, though they wouldn't say it aloud, most of them hoped they never would.