****Flashback****
The sweet Zina I knew was gone, replaced by this broken shell. And I'd helped shatter her. Why must life be so cruel?
"Zina, I'm sorry," I pleaded, but she wasn't having it.
"I am no child, Omar!"
Her words sliced deep. She was right - and it was long past time I started treating her as an equal.
However, none of this was my fault. The blame lay squarely with her brother.
I watched as Mohammed gazed helplessly at Zina, her words pouring out like a torrent as she released all the sorrow and hurt she'd bottled up for so long. The pain was etched plainly on his face, and yet still he refused to tell her the truth.
Did he think protecting her was more important than giving her the agency to make her own choices? Or was he simply too afraid of how she might react when she learned what we knew? Whatever his reasons, keeping her in the dark was doing more harm than good at this point.
