"Just get ready in 20 minutes, you piece of shit!"

He shouted at me and slammed the door behind him, leaving me alone in the dark.

The room echoed with silence as I slid down to the floor, my back against the cold wall, tears rolling down my cheeks. I could barely breathe between the sobs and the soft sound of my own sniffing.

Right beside me, on the edge of the bed, lay a dress.
A revealing, expensive-looking outfit-something I would never wear. Something that stood completely against who I am.

I don't wear such clothes.
I never have.

And what kind of husband... no, what kind of man asks his own wife to wear something like this-not out of love, not for her happiness, but for someone else. For some twisted deal. Some selfish gain.

I let out a broken laugh through my tears.
What could I possibly expect from a man who can sell his own wife just to win a deal?
What kind of relationship is this? What kind of marriage?

My heart aches with every breath.
And yet here I am, still sitting here...
Still crying...
Still breaking.

Oh-
I didn't even introduce myself, did I?
How silly of me.

Hi.
I'm Dua.
Dua Kamil.

Yes, I'm married.
And my husband-well, he's a husband by name only.
In truth... he's a storm I was never prepared for.

Haider Kamil.
That's his name.

When we got married, he was someone else entirely. Gentle. Calm. Respectful. Or at least... that's what he let me believe. Slowly, like poison in sweet water, he began to show his true colors. Not all at once-but in pieces. In silent anger, in cruel words, in cold silence. And now... in complete madness.

I sit here now, in this dark room that once felt like a part of my home.
Tonight, it feels like a prison cell.

Tears stain my cheeks, and the only sound I hear is my own breathing-shaky, broken. The light from the hallway barely touches the hem of the dress lying on the bed beside me.

It's a dress I would never wear.
Revealing. Bold. Loud.
Everything I am not.

Why would he ask me to wear this?
Why would a husband ever want this for his wife?

And then it hits me again, like a slap to the face.
Because he no longer sees me as his wife.
He sees me as a pawn.
Something to be used.
A piece of flesh to show off, to offer up-maybe even to sell-for the sake of his filthy deals.

And they say marriage is sacred.

I laugh bitterly through my tears.
What a joke.

My heart, once full of dreams and silent duas whispered into the night sky, now feels bruised and hollow. My soul aches in places no one can see.

But let me start from the beginning, shall I?

Because maybe before you judge me...
Before you think I'm just another weak woman crying in a dark room-
You should hear my story.

The story of Dua Kamil.

A woman who once believed in love.
A girl who once believed her nikah was her nijat.
And now... a soul trying to survive the man who was supposed to protect her.

So stay.
Listen.
Because the world only sees the bride.
No one sees the bruises under the bangles.

DUA

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Stay tuned... a new story is on the way......