Stumbled across the beginning of an old piece, I miss writing. Enjoy.
I walked into the room and leaned against the door. He was sitting on the bed, his face in his hands. I almost felt sorry for him, I wanted to go and comfort him, but I struggled to remind myself that I was the one who had been wronged. I didn’t struggle long. Soon I could feel the anger rising again.
“She’s pregnant.” I managed to say, almost spitting out the words.
“Tell me something I don’t know.” he shot back
“How could you? What kind of person are you?” I waited for him to respond, but he didn’t. “I hope you’re not thinking of bringing her into our flat?”
He looked up at me, finally. “And what if I am? Wouldn’t it be the proper thing to do by her and our culture, and religion?”
I was shocked. Just when I though he couldn’t surprise me more. “Muslim men aren’t supposed to cheat! And in our culture we treat our women with respect!” I shot back.
“And Muslim women don't live with men they're not married to!" He yelled back. "I might just have to treat her with respect since she’s carrying my child!” He got up and walked to the window, then turned round and looked at me “What do you want me to do?”
My mouth was hanging open; I had to remind myself to shut it. Words couldn’t describe the emotions that were flowing though me and changing direction rapidly, like waves in a storm. “You bastard”, the words came out before I could stop myself “How can you think this way? Who are you?”
“Good Muslim women don’t raise their voices at their fiances!” He said under his breath.
“You’re not my husband yet!” I turned around and stormed out of the room. I could hear him calling after me Safiya come back, ina so ki, I love you. But his words even angered me more. I ran out of the house and slammed the door.