My mother burst the door open and said, her voice heavy with anger, "Enough of this pampering, Rana. You must do your utmost to marry Ziad. Your future is already ruined, and he is your only remaining hope."
I looked at her with eyes filled with fear and sorrow and said quietly, "I'm ready."
I walked out to the family living room. Ziad was sitting beside me—I was nothing but a body without a soul. The only question echoing in my mind was: Who am I? Was everything I had lived through an illusion or reality? How had my future and my dreams been destroyed, only for me to end up marrying and becoming nothing more than a piece of furniture in a house, my role reduced to cooking and cleaning? Deep inside me lived the spirit of a fighter, a woman who was never meant for an ordinary life.
Amid the storm of thoughts pulling me in every direction, my only hope was that Malik would appear and take me away. I had finally understood that this life was not mine—but I had understood too late. At last, the moment came when Ziad would place the engagement ring on my finger. In an atmosphere filled with music, singing, and flowers thrown by the guests, the instant he held my hand, the electricity went out.
My heart began to race—I was certain it was Malik.
Everyone turned on their phone flashlights, and my brother went to check the power. He found that it had gone out due to the overload of appliances, restored it, and the engagement celebration continued. I waited impatiently for the night to end so I could retreat to my room—perhaps Malik would come to visit me. I made myself a promise: if he came, I would go with him without hesitation. Yes, I loved him—madly—and I regretted ever listening to Malika.
I could no longer live among my family; I felt like a stranger in their midst. When the celebration finally ended, I went to my room and sat before the mirror, whispering, "Where are you, Malik?" But I called out to him in vain. Malik was gone forever, and I had no choice but to continue my life… and accept my fate.
The next morning, Ziad and his mother came to take me shopping for furniture. I went with them like an empty shell. We moved from shop to shop, store to store, and I gave no opinion at all. His mother chose everything—and she deliberately picked the cheapest options. When we finished and returned home, she said, "There's no need to wait long for the wedding. The house is ready, and the furniture will arrive the day after tomorrow. Why don't we hold the marriage contract this Saturday?"
Ziad replied, "That's a great idea. Do you agree?"
Before I could answer, my mother spoke for me: "Yes, we agree."
From that moment, the wedding preparations began. One of my future mother-in-law's conditions was that the wedding be small, since her nephew had recently passed away. I agreed without protest. I was like a doll—they dressed me as they pleased and planned my life as they wished.
The days passed quickly, and Friday arrived. The family gathered in our home for the final preparations, while I was on the verge of madness from how much I missed Malik. I could barely breathe anymore. It no longer mattered whether Malik was real or imagined, whether he was good or evil. All that mattered was to fall into his arms, to forget everything that had happened in his absence, and to tell him all that frightened me. I was living entirely in my own illusion.
My mother entered, carrying my wedding dress. It was a simple white dress, cheap-looking—my mother-in-law always made sure to choose the least expensive things. She placed it on the bed, sat beside me, and said softly, "Listen, Rana. I, too, was once a girl with dreams and ambitions. I looked at life with passion and wanted to do so much. But when what happened… happened, I had to fight to survive. I chose your father, I had you, and I lived an ordinary life. And more than anything, I accepted that life.
I don't know what you went through, or what you saw in that prison. Perhaps I haven't been the best mother… but I am certain that marrying Ziad will protect you. Your future is with him. Forget everything that has passed, and accept your life."
I looked at her and said, "What happened? Why don't you want me to know the whole story? I'm dying, Mother—truly dying. I need to know the truth."
She replied firmly, "The only truth is that I am your mother, and tomorrow you will be a bride—the most beautiful bride." Then she left, leaving me alone, drowning in confusion, my questions multiplying instead of fading.
I remained seated, staring at the wedding dress, unconvinced by the life awaiting me. Eventually, I drifted into sleep and saw a dream: a prison cell… behind the bars stood a figure whose features I could not distinguish, surrounded by thick smoke. I woke up in terror to the voices of my cousins saying, "Today is your day, bride!"
They gave me no time to think about the dream. They dressed me and began preparing me for the wedding. Evening came, and guests started arriving until the house was overflowing with people. I felt suffocated by their voices, their stares, their questions about the days I had spent in prison—and their comments about how lucky I was that Ziad still chose to marry me despite everything.
I wanted to scream at the top of my lungs: Stop this farce! I wanted to run… but I was too weak, too afraid. I surrendered.
The wedding ended. I took my bag and got into Ziad's car. When we arrived at the house, he was drunk—his eyes burning with desire. The moment we entered the apartment, he grabbed me by the waist and pulled me close.
And suddenly…