I woke up a few minutes before six—not because I'm energetic, but because sleep never found its way to my eyes. The room was dark, the air suffocating… like a tightly sealed box trapping all my secrets inside.
I wore the abaya as my father had requested, and adjusted my headscarf the same way my mother used to every morning, as if I were heading to a prayer she didn't believe in.
In the kitchen, voices were low. Everyone moved quickly, like they were in some kind of military drill.
Should I help in the kitchen?
Should I offer assistance?
Before I got lost in my thoughts, my mother's voice cut through them like a blade.
Lamia: "She's awake—Sherry, get yourself together and start preparing breakfast. Show your father what you can do."
I froze when I saw the amount of fruits and vegetables laid out on the table—how many dishes was I supposed to make?
Lamia: "Hurry up, girl… leave the kitchen, Mounia. Sherry knows exactly what she's doing."
Her sharp voice reminded me of every time she beat me to make me a better cook. Every scar on my body, each a silent witness to her obsession with turning me into the perfect daughter.
Even her gaze made the Shady within me curl up in fear, wishing to escape, to disappear into the safety of a locked room.
But not everything we wish for comes true...
I started preparing the breakfast table all on my own. Even the housemaids didn't offer help. For two full hours, I pushed through—baking cakes and cookies, slicing fruits and vegetables, arranging plates, cheeses, and bread.
It was exhausting, but the result was perfect.
And that alone allowed a smile to bloom on my face, a faint light to return to my tired features.
I sat in the corner like an abandoned piece of furniture. Suddenly, a strange silence took over, as if someone had walked in carrying something heavy with them...
I slowly lifted my eyes—and saw him.
Amir.
Tall. Broad-shouldered. His features resembled my father's, but harsher—like time had only carved tension into his face, not age.
He walked like he owned the ground he stepped on, his gaze not seeking answers, but issuing judgment.
He stood in front of me for a few seconds, his eyes locked on mine, searching for something buried deep. He didn't smile. He didn't blink.
He simply asked:
Amir: "Is that Sherry?"
Sabir (my father): "Yeah. My daughter. She arrived yesterday. From now on, she's part of this house."
He laughed—short and mocking—and without looking at me, said:
Amir: "Girls in our house don't sit in corners... they learn how to stand tall."
Then he turned to me suddenly, his gaze cutting through me:
Amir: "Stand up. Stand like a human being."
I hesitated, but my body moved without my consent.
I stood.
His eyes scanned me, from my eyes to my feet, passing through my trembling hands.
He didn't say a word—
But said everything.
Amir: "If you're going to live here, learn to be silent… but not weak. And respect the customs of this house."
Then he walked away, just as he had come—without waiting for a response.
At that moment, I didn't know if he was warning me… threatening me… or seeing something in me I couldn't even see in myself.
But one thing was certain—
I had met someone I could never ignore—
Not with love, and not with fear.
He sat at the head of the table with a presence that screamed authority.
So this is the man who'll kill me first if he ever finds out my secret…
Get ready, Shady—the butcher is sharpening his knife.
Then my stepmother's voice interrupted:
Farida: "Forgive her, Amir. She's still young, didn't have anyone to teach her. Doesn't know that women stand and wait until the men finish eating."
"Forgive her ignorance, son."
My father replied with a terrifying tone:
Sabir: "If she doesn't learn to respect herself, I'll smash her skull until she does.
Mounia, teach the girl how things work in this house. One more mistake, and I'll bury her alive."
Mounia (my aunt), nervously: "As you wish, brother."
Amid this tense atmosphere, the devil himself spoke with chilling calm:
Amir: "Make sure she understands… mixing with the boys is forbidden in this house."
Then he shot a warning look at my male cousins—one I couldn't quite decipher.
He stood up to leave, and none of the other men dared remain at the table after him—
As if continuing breakfast after Amir had left was a sin.
Damn the rules of this house.
Damn the men of this house.
Damn my mother.
And damn whatever's coming next...
I sat down again in the corner, but this time I wasn't the same as I was just minutes ago.
Something inside me had broken… or perhaps awakened.
Amir's voice, my father's glare, my mother's silence, my aunt's submission, the rules of this house...
They were all like a slap that awakened me to one undeniable truth:
"There is no place for me here."
Shady screamed inside my chest, begged, pounded on the walls of my heart, pleading for a way out,
And I tried to look composed, while in truth, I was drowning.
Now I realized that the three of us — Sherry, Shady, and the real "me" —
We have to survive… at any cost.
Before leaving the kitchen, I glanced at the mirror hanging near the door,
And for the first time, the reflection staring back at me didn't look like me.
There was someone new looking back — with eyes that didn't fear… but waited.
Waited for the right moment to revolt.