Mansha’s POV:
It was like wedding bells were going off everywhere. There was a certain thrill in the air, and everyone was giving light to it. More then once I had heard how thrilled people were at finally seeing me about to get married.
I was forced to go shopping almost everyday. I couldn’t have enough dresses or shoes, and as if that wasn’t bad enough, mom made me get lingerie. Four different pairs to be exact. What was more embarrassing was pretending to want to buy them. I get that Khizer has me on the edge these days, but that does not mean I’ll ever willfully get naked with him.
Thankfully, I enjoyed jewelry shopping more. It was more down my lane. Time flew by and before I knew it, I was back on my legs again, no thanks to having to walk all through shopping malls over and over until I just grew immune to the pain.
Khizer made me get a pain killer injection yesterday, so I was more than prepared for work today. I left the house before mom could open her mouth to stop me. It was about time I took matters into my own hand.
What I didn’t expect though, was getting fired the moment I stepped into the firm. I just stare at my boss as he tells me two of my clients have already left me, and the other two are being given another lawyer. I’m now only left with Raheel, the girl I almost lost my life fighting for, and Ahmed. The firm no longer wants anything to do with Raheel’s case, so they dropped her and the lawyer who keeps messing with the mayors son.
I wasn’t heart broken as I cleared out my office. And that was what was scary. I felt absolutely nothing. I knew I’d find a place somewhere else, with another firm, my record would definitely see to that. The problem was, I didn’t want to find another firm. These last few weeks had been a time where everyone but me was in control of my life, and now I wanted to do everything without fear of having something to lose. Not even my life.
I don’t know how well Khizer’s secret ‘bodyguards’ function, but it’s about damn time I found out. Dropping my stuff into the trunk, I round back and get behind the steering wheel, showing every single person in my life the middle finger simply because I wanted to, my need to get Raheel the rights she deserved stronger than ever.
×———×
The law is shitty. Not shitty enough to not hide a poor girl and her family from a dangerous convict, but shitty enough to do a poor job at it. The house is a shithole, located right in front of a garbage dump, the paint on the interior walls peeling and rotting, and cockroaches strolling around as if in a park.
Raheel has bags under her eyes, and her skin is sunken and pale from lack of sunlight, but she still looks elegant and beautiful, the beauty spot on her upper lip giving her a certain charm as always. She’s surprised to see me, but happy.
But when she speaks, there’s no hope in her voice, or eyes as a matter of fact. Her parents look just as ill as her, and her little sister is silent as she sits in a corner and just stares at me, even when I smile and wave at her.
“Don’t mind her. She’s feeling a bit down these days.” Raheel says apologetically.
“Aren’t we all?” Her father says. “We’re all tired of staying in this hell hole.”
Her mother grunts. “It’s no better then our own home, then why the fuck are you being so picky?”
“At least it was our own.” Her father snaps.
“Mama, baba, not now!” Raheel says sharply. “Mansha is here after so long, be kind.”
Her father’s eyes trail over to me, calculating and shrewd. “Last I remember, she ditched us at your last hearing and disappeared of the face of the earth, and now look what happened.” He chortles. “We’re just another case in a bunch of unsolved red file cases.”
“You’re not, we have another hearing coming in seven weeks, and I have-”
“We don’t care what you have. It’s too late. The government has forgotten about us, so has the media.” Her mother cuts in.
“The media?” Her father let’s out another menacing laugh. “You mean those foolish girls sitting in their bedroom and tweeting about how unfair things are for Raheel? Well sure, yes, they forgot about us. They weren’t the ones who got raped in front of a bunch of sleeping children.”
Raheel flinches, and my hands ball into fists. “Mr. Salman-” I begin.
“What?” He shouts, and the girl sitting in the corner curls further into herself. “Do you know how long it has been since we last breathed fresh air? Saw green and yellow- ate proper food? No of course not. And why would you care? You’re getting paid, regardless of when our hearing is.”
“Father-” Raheel begins.
“Shut up! We’re here because of you in the first place!” He screams, before rounding back to me. “She got raped, and we wanted justice for her. Compensation, money, for all our troubles. But instead you tried to get him into jail and look where that got us! Here, screaming fucks at each other every other minute, one daughter walking around shamelessly even though she’s no longer a virgin, and another who still is, but is ruined because YOU decided to get the media and court involved!”
His eyes are wide and an angry red, the sound of his quick breath the only thing filling the silence. Raheel is close to tears, her long nails puncturing the skin of her palm as she holds back tears. I slowly get up.
What can I do for a person who’s own parents no longer want to support her?
The only correct answer is fight for her.
“I know you’re frustrated, but trust me when I say this. Give up, stop fighting, block out the media. No problem. But then the moment you step out of this house, and go back to your own, he’ll be there, waiting for you.” I stare into her father’s dark gaze, years of seeing man like him making me immune to their fake masculinity. Screaming at woman is the only manly thing they can do. Well, other then beating them up. “Then he’ll make you watch as he rapes your eldest daughter, again, until she can’t scream anymore, until your wife can’t cry anymore. Then he’ll move on to your little girl. How old is she? Seven? It doesn’t matter to him. No, he’s raped a two year old, have you forgotten?” I bang the table between us with my fist, the impact as loud as his screaming voice. But I do not raise my mine. “He’ll rape her until she’s closer to death then you are, and he won’t stop until you’re begging him to leave your daughters alone. He’ll leave them alone alright, only to move on to your wife.”
“Stop!” Raheel’s mother shouts, tears flowing down her cheeks. “Please, don’t do this.” I stare at her reddened cheeks, then at Raheel, who’s staring at me beseechingly. I don’t even dare look at her sister. Instead, I turn back to her stone faced father.
“I’ll drop your case today if you want, but if you think he’ll pay you for it, you’re wrong. The only price people like him know is blood.” I get up. “Maybe at the end, he’ll kill everyone but you, and shower you with the money you wanted, just for fun.”
Her father gets up as well, slowly, his eyes not leaving mine. “What makes you think he’ll ever go go jail?”
I raise my chin. “I’ll make sure he does.”
×——–×
You know your life is fucked when you’re shopping for a wedding dress and the man selling them wear them themselves and pose for you.
Khizer is laughing his head off, and his grandma is pinching him half heartedly, begging him to get serious.
It’s been two days since I visited Raheel and her family, and even though they agreed to continue with the case, they’re just as hopeless as I am. It’s us against a group of lions with pockets full of money and stomachs full of power. It’s the feeling of living without a backbone.
I’ve told no one, very obviously, and it doesn’t help that I have this feeling that I’m being watched. The only problem is, I don’t know if it’s Khizer’s bodyguard, or the fucking mayors son. Maybe both.
“I’m sorry, granny, but I’m pretty sure Mansha can make do without these displays.” Khizer says between chuckles.
“Can she?” Mom says laughingly. “It doesn’t seem so from her face.” Everyone turns to look at me, and I realize I’m probably not wearing the most pleasant of expressions.
Doesn’t matter though. I never am. “This is ridiculous, with or without male models.”
Khizer’s ‘granny’ stares at me, and I realize she yet has to meet the real, unpleasant and angry me. Well too bad for her, I’m not exactly in the mood for a big reveal.
“Mansha!” Mom chides in a sugar coated voice. She looks at my grandma-in-law apologetically. “Sorry, she’s been in a bad mood lately. Must be the wedding nerves.”
The grandma in question let’s out a sympathetic laugh. “Oh! We’ve all had those haven’t we?”
Mom laughs as well. “Tell me about it!” The chat turns back to dresses and the aura mom wants to surround us in, but I’m not listening.
My eyes are on my surroundings, as my anxiety deepens and the hair at the back of my neck shoot up. Someone is watching me, and Khizer is tapping his phone like a madman, his left foot tapping the stone floor as he types away.
Something is wrong.