(Continued - Page 3)

"I have made a promise to myself that I will never let Lawal see me cry again," I thought, even as I wiped away the tears that fell as I remembered the past. I realized that my own stubbornness and refusal to listen to my parents, siblings, and loved ones—who all warned me about this marriage—is what led me to this misery. I cannot blame anyone else for ruining my life; I blame myself. I gained nothing from that "blind love," and it has brought me nothing but grief.
"What kind of terrible habit is this? What has been done to you now that you come and cry inside the house? Is your mischief acting up again? Wallahi, this time, I am ready for any one of your relatives who dares to point a finger at me; no one has the right to disrespect me."
I watched him as he walked into the kitchen. I wiped my eyes; I didn't feel like engaging with him. I was tired of following his lead every morning. I lay down on the long sofa and put on my earpieces to listen to the Quran, hoping to find peace and mercy in my heart, for I felt that my illness could flare up at any moment.
He returned to the living room, talking, but I couldn't hear him because of what was in my ears. Slowly, I pulled one earpiece out, looking at him with the eyes he used to call "oily eyes" when we were in love—the eyes he said gave him peace.
"Where is my breakfast? I want to go out," he said with an air of authority, as if he had bought and provided everything, only to find nothing there.
"Hmm," I let out a sigh, looking at him. "We finished it," I said plainly, trying to put my earpiece back in. His voice stopped me. "What do you mean you finished it? I didn't even eat yesterday—neither lunch nor dinner—in this house. Now, out of pure spite, you and your children have eaten everything."
Here we go again, I thought. "I didn't think you needed food in your house, because any husband who needs it goes out, finds it, and brings it home to be cooked. But I haven't seen that in you. And this food you're complaining about? The people you claim you are 'above'—the ones you say you don't want to be disrespected by—they are the ones who provided it. So, you see, you wouldn't even be eating it anyway."
"It's not today you started insulting me, Zainab. It's not today you started showing that your relatives are the ones carrying your burden. And I never told anyone to do anything for my children; let them live as I live. It is your lack of discretion that has ruined my reputation among them. That was what they pointed out to me from the start of wanting to marry you. I refused to understand the warnings about the dangers of marrying a woman from a wealthy family, but destiny has already preceded desire. This marriage is DESTINY."
Sitting there, I felt dizzy. Lawal? Lawal is calling our marriage a 'marriage of destiny'? Him? Oh, my God. I was seeing him in a blur because of the tears filling my eyes. But since he had hurt me, I would hurt him back. He had been throwing insults at me for a long time, but today I would show him what a real insult meant.
"My marriage is beyond you calling it 'destiny,' Lawal. If I haven't called your marriage a 'marriage of destiny,' you have no right to call me that. What benefit have I gained in your marriage besides the children between us? Outside of that, there is nothing. You are the one who, because of my marriage, acquired the house we live in, the car you ride, and even the clothes you wear, Lawal!" I moved closer to him, staring into his eyes. "Even the food you eat, you get because of me. I am far above you calling me a 'marriage of destiny'."
I finished, hitting my chest. I felt like choking Lawal until he stopped breathing. I hated him more than you, the readers, could imagine.
In a fit of rage, his eyes reddened, and he started pointing at me with a trembling hand. "Wallahi, Zainab, watch your tongue. You know there are only two divorce vows left between us."
I hissed. "And so what? Is someone holding you back from using them? Do whatever your heart desires regarding me, Lawal."
Furious, he turned and stormed out of the room, slamming the door so hard it sounded like it would break. I collapsed onto the sofa, clutching my head, which was throbbing as if someone were hammering nails into it. I searched for my medicine, stumbling, and collapsed in the middle of the living room, gasping. I began calling on the name of God. "Oh Allah, bring me relief! Oh Allah, forgive me! I repent, I repent! Oh Lord, do what is best for me. My children, Allah, bring me help—if only for the sake of my children..." I broke down, sobbing, burying my face in the carpet like a little girl.

Analytical Commentary

• The Breakdown of the Marriage: The dialogue here shows a marriage that has reached a "point of no return." The transition from the sweet, romanticized memories of their past to the bitter, transactional reality of their present (where the wife provides the house, food, and clothes) is a common, painful theme in Zafafa literature.
• Economic Inequality as a Weapon: The crux of their fight is money and status. Lawal suffers from "Ego Fragility"—he feels small because his wife provides for the family, so he lashes out by insulting her and threatening divorce to assert a power he no longer truly holds.
• The "Destiny" Defense: Lawal using the word Kaddara (destiny/fate) is a classic way for an abuser to absolve himself of responsibility. By calling it "destiny," he pretends he had no choice in being this way, which Zainab masterfully calls out as an insult to her own agency.
• Zainab's Internal Conflict: The physical symptom of her "headache" and her reliance on medication suggests that this marriage is literally making her sick. Her prayers show a woman who is trapped—not just by the husband, but by her own past choices and the societal expectations of being a “good wife.”