Rehema stood by the window, her eyes fixed on the horizon as the sun dipped below the skyline. Her hand rested on her swollen belly, and the rhythmic kicks of her unborn child served as a cruel reminder of the life she was bringing into this fractured world.
The bedroom door creaked open. Ali emerged, dressed in fresh clothes, his phone in hand. He didn't even glance in her direction.
"You're going out again?" Rehema asked softly, breaking the silence.
Ali paused, adjusting his watch. "Yes."
Her voice hardened. "Where, Ali? Don't I deserve an answer?"
He sighed, exasperated. "Why do you keep asking questions you know I won't answer?"
Rehema turned to face him, her arms crossed over her chest. "Because I'm desperate to understand. Desperate to figure out where this marriage went so wrong."
Ali scoffed. "Maybe it's because you've changed. You're not the woman I married, Rehema. You're always nagging, always complaining."
Rehema's laugh was bitter, cutting through the tension. "Changed? Of course, I've changed! Marriage changes people, Ali. Pregnancy changes people. But you… you've stayed the same. Immature, selfish, and completely blind to the damage you're causing."
Ali's expression darkened. "If I'm so awful, why don't you leave? Why stay here and make both of us miserable?"
Rehema's voice broke, the weight of his words crushing her. "Because I believe in marriage, Ali. I believe in fighting for the vows we took. But it feels like I'm fighting alone."
Ali shook his head. "Maybe you should stop fighting, then. Maybe you should accept that some things just don't work."
Rehema stared at him, her heart splintering. "So that's it? You're giving up on us?"
"I'm not giving up," he replied, slipping on his shoes. "I'm just being realistic."
Without another word, he walked out the door, leaving Rehema standing there, her tears falling silently.
Later that evening, there was a knock at the door. Rehema opened it to find her mother-in-law standing there, a stern look on her face.
"Good evening, Mama," Rehema greeted, stepping aside to let her in.
Her mother-in-law didn't waste time. "I heard you've been giving Ali a hard time again. What's wrong with you, Rehema? A good wife doesn't burden her husband with unnecessary drama."
Rehema's jaw tightened. "Mama, with all due respect, this isn't about drama. Ali is—"
"Don't you dare speak ill of my son," her mother-in-law interrupted. "If there are problems in this house, it's because you're not doing your duty as a wife."
Rehema's voice wavered. "Mama, I'm trying. But it feels like no matter what I do, it's never enough."
Her mother-in-law waved her hand dismissively. "Excuses. When I was your age, I had four children and still managed to keep my husband happy. Maybe if you put in half the effort, Ali wouldn't feel the need to spend so much time away."
The words hit Rehema like a slap, but this time, she didn't crumble. Instead, she took a deep breath, her voice steady.
"With all due respect, Mama, this is my marriage, not yours. And I will handle it in my own way. Ali may be your son, but he is my husband, and I won't let anyone—family or not—blame me for his choices."
Her mother-in-law's eyes widened, shocked by the defiance. "You're getting bold, Rehema. Be careful, or you'll find yourself alone."
Rehema held her gaze, her heart pounding. "If being alone means finding peace, then so be it."
Her mother-in-law huffed, grabbing her purse. "Suit yourself. But don't come crying to me when you lose everything."
As the door slammed shut, Rehema sank onto the couch, her hands trembling. For the first time, she felt a flicker of something she hadn't felt in months—self-respect.
Later That Night
The house was silent again, the weight of the day pressing down on Rehema like a heavy blanket. She sat in the dimly lit living room, her thoughts racing.
Her phone buzzed. It was a message from Aunt Laila.
Aunt Laila: How are you holding up, my dear?
Rehema hesitated before typing back. It's hard, Auntie. But I think I'm starting to see things clearly. I need to focus on myself—for me and the baby.
The reply was swift.
Aunt Laila: That's my girl. Remember, you can't pour from an empty cup. Take care of yourself first, and everything else will fall into place.
---
"Sometimes, the bravest thing you can do is prioritize yourself in a world that demands your sacrifice."