The days seemed to stretch longer now, each one both an echo of the past and a promise of the future. Rehema had not yet fully embraced the change in herself, but she felt it—a slow, steady transformation that was growing inside her, something she had never anticipated.
She spent her days caring for her son, teaching him how to reach for the toys hanging from his crib, smiling when he giggled and cooed. But it wasn't just motherhood that was teaching her strength. It was the small victories, the moments when she could sit in the quiet of her room, breathe deeply, and know that she wasn't simply surviving anymore. She was becoming.
That morning, the sun rose as usual, but Rehema had a sense of clarity she hadn't had before. She looked in the mirror as she brushed her hair, seeing a woman she hardly recognized, one who no longer needed validation from anyone else, not even from Ali. She was tired of waiting for someone else to give her permission to live her life.
Just then, the front door creaked open, and Ali stepped inside, his face weary, his clothes disheveled. It was early—too early for him to be home after the usual long nights of neglect. Rehema didn't turn to look at him. Instead, she continued brushing her hair, letting the silence fill the space between them.
Ali didn't speak at first, but she could feel his gaze on her, heavy and searching. Finally, he cleared his throat. "You're still angry."
Rehema paused, her hand frozen mid-brush. She looked at him in the mirror, her reflection as calm as she could muster. "I'm not angry, Ali. I'm just… tired."
His eyes flickered with something—guilt, maybe—but he didn't say anything else. He stood there for a long time, his hands jammed into his pockets, as though he couldn't decide if he should leave or try to bridge the gap that had grown between them.
"You never gave me a chance," Ali said after a moment, his voice low, almost pleading. "You've been so focused on what I did wrong that you haven't seen that I'm trying. I'm still trying."
Rehema turned around to face him, her chest tight. "You keep saying that. But trying isn't enough anymore, Ali. I've been living my life as your wife, trying to make things work while you've been absent. And now I'm learning to live for myself. You have to understand that. I can't keep waiting for you to change."
There was a long silence as Ali processed her words. Rehema's heart ached seeing him this way, but there was something liberating in the truth she was speaking. She didn't need his permission to live. She didn't need to wait for him to change.
Ali took a step forward, his voice tight with emotion. "So, what does that mean for us? Are you leaving?"
Rehema shook her head slowly. "No. I'm not leaving. But I'm not staying to sacrifice myself for a marriage that only exists in the past. We both need to change, Ali. I'm changing, and I hope you can do the same. But if you don't, I'll still be okay. I'll still live my life."
For a moment, Ali just stood there, looking at her with a mixture of disbelief and pain. Then, as if defeated, he sighed and dropped his gaze. "I don't know how to fix this."
Rehema took a deep breath, feeling the weight of her words settle in her chest. "I don't know how either, Ali. But I've learned that it's not your responsibility to fix me. I'm the one who has to fix myself. And you have to fix yourself, too, if you want us to have any chance at all."
She walked past him, her footsteps steady. There was a finality to it, but also a quiet strength that was starting to become a part of her. She had taken the first step toward her own independence, and though the road ahead was uncertain, she knew she was on the right path.
---
Later that afternoon, Rashida called again, her voice a soothing balm to the rawness Rehema felt.
"How's it going, my dear?"
Rehema sat on the couch, her son playing contentedly on the floor. She smiled, the ache in her chest softened by her aunt's voice. "It's hard, Aunt. But… it's also freeing. I told Ali I wasn't waiting for him anymore. I'm not going to live my life on hold for someone who isn't there for me. Not anymore."
Rashida was silent for a moment. "And how do you feel about that? You've taken the first step toward your own happiness. You've made a choice for yourself, and that's something to be proud of."
Rehema looked down at her son, his innocent eyes meeting hers. "I feel… scared. But I also feel more alive than I have in a long time."
"Good," Rashida said firmly. "You have to remember, Rehema, your worth doesn't come from anyone else. Not from Ali, not from anyone. It comes from within you. And that's a lesson no one can take from you."
Rehema closed her eyes, absorbing her aunt's wisdom. It wasn't easy to live by those words, but they were the truth. And truth, as painful as it was, was what she needed now.
---
That evening, Ali came home earlier than usual. Rehema had prepared a simple meal, and the house, despite its imperfections, felt more like home than it had in a long time. Ali sat down across from her, his posture tense, but there was something different about him—a small sign that he wasn't giving up just yet.
"Are we ever going to get back to how things were?" Ali asked quietly, his voice rough with uncertainty.
Rehema took a slow breath, her heart heavy but her mind clear. "I don't know, Ali. But I do know that I'm learning to love myself. And if we're going to make this work, that's something you have to do too. I can't keep giving and giving while you take. We both need to change, but not for the other person. We need to change for ourselves."
Ali looked at her, his eyes softening slightly, though the walls he had built around himself were still there. But Rehema knew, deep down, that change wasn't going to happen overnight. It was going to take time. And whether or not Ali was willing to take that journey with her, Rehema was finally at peace with the fact that she didn't have to wait for him anymore. She had her own path to walk.
---
"You don't have to wait for someone else to change in order to start living your life. The strength to move forward, to grow, and to love yourself—truly love yourself—comes from within. And once you realize that, nothing can stop you."