By | Anum Khan
She was just like any other girl child, full of dreams and hopes. She believed that when she would grow up, her life would be filled with happiness. But little did Nairah know, destiny had planned a heart rending twist in her life.
“When I grow up, I’ll enjoy life to its fullest. I’ll be happy. I’ll be free,” she would often whisper to herself, staring at the stars outside her window.
She was only nine — young enough to dream, too young to understand what life had already planned for her.
The mother’s silence, amidst the chaos that engulfed her immediate family, was deafening.
Her mother sat quietly on the edge of the bed, her hands resting on her swollen belly. She was expecting, but her eyes carried no glow, no excitement — only shadows.
The girl had once seen her mother laugh freely, cooking in the kitchen, humming soft tunes. But now, silence had replaced her laughter.
That evening, she overheard the whispers.
“He has married again,” a relative said.
Her mother closed her eyes, a tear sliding down her cheek, but her lips remained still. Not a scream. Not a word. Only silence. The silence of a woman who had just witnessed her world fall apart.
How she accepted another woman in her husband’s life — no one knew. How she kept breathing when her soul was breaking — only Allah knew.
The home was not the same anymore.
Her father, who once came home every night, now arrived only three days a week. The family dinners, once filled with laughter, turned into lifeless meals. He sat on his phone, his voice softened only for the other lady.
The girl watched quietly. She remembered how her father used to help her with schoolwork, how he would ask about her day. Now, she only heard him laughing in another room — not with her mother, not with her.
Her mother stared at the door every night, waiting. Sometimes she whispered to herself, blaming her own existence.
A Child’s Loneliness
The girl held her pillow tight at night. She was afraid. Afraid that her mother, too, would leave her.
“Mama… you won’t leave me too, right?” she asked once, her voice trembling.
Her mother forced a smile, wiping her tears quickly.
“No, my child. I will never leave you.”
But the girl could see the storm inside her mother’s eyes. She could hear the cracks in her voice.
The Poison in the Air
The other woman knew she had broken into a family. Yet, she laughed. She mingled with their relatives, slowly making her place. And then came whispers of darker things — spells, charms, black magic — things the girl did not understand, but felt in the air like poison.
Her father drifted further away. Her mother sank deeper into depression.
And the little girl — she was left between two broken souls, learning too early what pain really means.
At fourteen, she stood by the window one night, looking at the dark sky. Tears blurred her vision.
“Why me? Why my home? Why my mother?” she whispered.
She thought of ending it all. To slip into silence, to escape the cruelty of a world where love was replaced by betrayal, where prayers were lost to black magic, where a child’s innocence was stolen too soon.
But that night, she held on. Her heart broke, but she lived.
Not because life was kind — but because she still hoped, somewhere deep inside, that Allah would rewrite her fate.
You can disintegrate the family tree, you can take hold of a spouse, you can even silence a woman’s tears. But you can never erase the cries of a child who loses her childhood to pain.
In the end, Nairah finally understood what real life truly is. It was not the fairy tale she once imagined, but a cruel lesson filled with pain and loss. And in her silent tears, she discovered the true meaning of a deprived life — living each day with a broken heart, yet pretending to survive.
Note: This write-up is a fiction feature
