

### MEN OF MY LAND

### P. S. Nevis

### Copyright 2017 P. S. Nevis

### Smashwords Edition

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###  Prologue

Everything went quiet. I felt like I had been set free and I was flying. I was weightless and there was no pain. It was peaceful and calm. It was bright, and there was a nice breeze like it was a perfect summer day.

I was on top of a mountain, and there was nothing but peace. As I looked down into the canyon, I saw him falling to the bottom. I was looking at him without pity. The scene was happening in slow motion, but the joy of that moment was eternal for me. I was totally at peace. I left myself in the hands of the cooling breeze. There was a nice aroma that attracted me like a memory from childhood. I was trying to recognise the smell. It was cinnamon. It reminded me of my playful days in the basement, and I wished I could go back there and have one more chance to live my life and rebuild everything I destroyed.

I started to cry and I heard somebody else crying but I couldn't see anyone around me. The atmosphere started getting darker and darker, and the sound of crying was getting stronger and stronger. I suddenly felt as though my head was underwater. I couldn't breathe. I tried to take a breath and suddenly air came into my body.

### Chapter One

Spring is late this year and I feel the winter deep in my bones. It is mid-April and snowing like it will never end. The snowflakes are like white blossoms in my hand, but they disappear in a second, leaving me with memories of my childhood during the winters in Herat. I remember trying to catch snowflakes in the courtyard of our home then running to place them on the branches of the bare pomegranate tree to look like blossoms before they melted away. I can still hear my mom's voice calling me. "Nazgol, come back inside right away! I do not want you to catch cold just before the Nowruz."

It was the middle of March 1985. I was nine years old and counting the days to the New Year that was only a few days away. Thinking about the New Year celebrations was heartwarming. In fact, that was the only thing which brought some life to us in those dark days. Afghanistan was in the middle of the war with the Soviets. The entire city was on alert and the heavy atmosphere of war was very obvious in people's daily life.

That evening, while we were eating dinner, we could hear the usual gun fire and explosions. Suddenly, we heard a huge explosion very close by and the entire building shook like there had been an earthquake. My father shouted, "Run to the basement!" We ran downstairs as quickly as we could. Fortunately, the building stopped shaking. After a while, everything went silent. My father opened the basement door and carefully went out to the courtyard. He came back a few minutes later and told us it was safe to go upstairs, but to be careful because all the windows were broken and there were shards of glass were all over the house.

My father went to the street to see what had happened. We could hear the sirens of the ambulances in the distance. I was crying and my mom was in shock. We started cleaning up the house and removing the shards which were everywhere. I accidentally stepped on a sharp piece, cutting my foot. It bled quite badly and was very painful. My mom cleaned it and covered it with a dry cloth. Afterwards I limped around like an invalid for a few days.

My father covered the windows with plastic bags to block the frigid air. Despite having a heating system, the house was very cold and we suffered for a few days until the windows were fixed. We started the New Year in a cold house with broken windows.

After that incident, my father decided to build a bomb shelter deep in the basement.

Little did I know that one day this refuge would become my tomb.

A year later, I had already forgotten about what had happened the previous year. Despite the war situation, I was feeling cheerful. I went to bed every night dreaming about spring with its beautiful colours and the dress my father had promised to buy me for the New Year celebrations.

Even though I was a girl, my father loved me very much because I was his only child. As the only child, I was allowed to ask for a special gift for the New Year. I usually asked for an item of clothing or shoes or a book, but that year I specifically asked my father to buy me a long red dress.

I used to get my present early so I could wear it for the New Year's Day gatherings when we visited our relatives and neighbours.

The night before New Year's Day, I could not sleep at all. I was so excited to see what he had bought me, but I was disappointed when he gave me my present in the morning. He bought me a plain dark green dress with a long green scarf. When I complained, he got angry with me and said, "You are growing up. You are not a child anymore to wear a red or pink or orange dress. You need to dress like a young lady! You cannot dress like a doll anymore. You should look reasonable in front of friends and neighbours."

On New Year's Day, the city was calm for once and everybody was happy to celebrate in peace. That day, not only did I feel tired but also very sad. When we went to pay our visits to relatives and friends, everybody interpreted my sadness as being youthful shyness and gave compliments to my parents. They said, "She is a real lady now, not only growing tall but also behaving very maturely!" I could see the victory in my father's eyes every time he looked at me. But the scarf was a problem, I was not used to wearing one and could not keep it on my head. It kept slipping down. Each time it slipped, I got an eye signal from my mom to pull it up. Even when it was on properly, my long black curly hair and little ringlets flowed out from underneath. I played with them and looked down at the colourful carpet, sadly dreaming about the red dress.

This was not the only thing that made me sad that year. I was going to a school that I loved because I could play with other girls and because I was my teacher's favourite. She used to tell me, "Nazgol, you are very bright. You can become a good doctor one day."

When I got the good results of my final exams that year, like every year, I ran all the way to my father's spice shop to give him the good news and get a treat from him for doing so well. He looked at the paper and smiled. "This is great Nazgol. It means you have learned enough and you don't need to go to school next year. You can help me and your mom with the business in the spice storage."

I was shocked. It was like the walls were crashing in on me. I felt dizzy for a few moments and it took me a while before I complained. "But, Father, I love to go to school. I don't want to stop now. It is very important because I want to become a doctor. I can help you and Mom with the business while I go to school. I can help you all this summer and all the afternoons after school next year."

"Nobody wants a woman doctor. Besides, the city is too dangerous, and I don't feel it is safe to send you to school. You will be safer and more useful in the storage, and anyway, you are not a kid anymore. You should not be playing, singing and dancing with your friends. Your mom and I need help and we cannot afford to hire someone else. It is a shame that you are not a boy to help me in the shop. I really need someone here. The good thing is you don't need to go to war, and at least you can be useful in the storage as you know how to count and write, and I won't need to do that anymore."

I ran back home, crying all the way. I ran into the basement without answering my mom, crying myself to sleep. When I woke up, it was pitch black and I remembered what had happened. I was very angry and for the next few days, I cried most of the time. I remember asking my mom why she had not brought a sister or a brother home for me so they could help my father instead of me. She hesitated for a moment and said I had an older sister, but sadly, she died of meningitis when she was just one year old. I was born two years later. She said when I was three years old, the war started and my father was sent to battle. I could vaguely remember when my father was away. We were living with my grandparents at the time.

Unfortunately, a few years later, he was badly injured. My mom said he could not have any more children due to the injury.

I stopped crying. My tears were all gone as were my childhood days. The basement, which was the spice storage, became my new refuge. I do not remember much about the next few years since the days seemed to merge into one and were passing by so quickly. Each day was much the same. I was helping my mom with housekeeping or working in the storage, and even the thoughts and excitement of my New Year's presents had faded.

I can still smell the strong aroma of the spices after all these years. I used to sit down there all day, unpacking the spices from the big gunny sacks and packing them into small parcels while the radio was on in the background. Sometimes I could hear children laughing and playing in the street, but all I could see was the few rays of sun that found their way into the basement dancing with the fine specks of spices that floated in the air.

We always had the radio on to listen to music and also in case there was an announcement about a possible attack. We used to take refuge in the bomb shelter as soon as we heard an alert message on the radio and when we could hear the airplanes flying overhead in the Herat sky. We were really lucky. Other than that one incident, we managed to escape any further damage, but many civilians lost their houses and lives during those attacks.

I distinctly remember the exact time of the announcement that the war with Soviets had ended, as it coincided with an adolescent event for me.

It was a cold winter day in 1989 and I was thirteen year old. My mom woke me for morning prayer as usual. It took me a while to get up, but as I got out of bed, I could see some blood on my bed covers. I looked down at my clothes and there were blood stains on them. I was shocked. I took off my clothes and saw blood between my legs. I panicked and ran to the bathroom to see what had happened. I could not see anything wrong. I quickly washed myself, my clothes, and the bed covers, then hid them in the wardrobe before my mom finished her morning prayer. She came to my room and said, "You lazy girl. You missed your prayer again."

I was confused and scared, but did not say anything. I started my morning prayer. After breakfast, I ran down to the basement and pretended to start work. I pulled down my trousers and looked again and there was more blood! I was shivering and didn't know what to do. I found a piece of cloth and put it between my legs.

I tried not to walk. When I had to, I walked very slowly. I was also desperate to go to the toilet but was afraid of what I would see. It was lunch time and my mom called me upstairs. I slowly made my way up and sat down to have lunch but I couldn't eat anything. I was choked with tears. My mom asked me, "What is it, Nazgol? Why are you not eating your lunch? You haven't said a word to me all day."

I said, "Nothing. I'm fine. I just feel a bit sick. I think I am catching a cold."

I didn't say anything more and slowly tried to swallow a piece of bread. After a few bites, I stood up to go back to the basement. As I turned around, my mom said, "Nazgol! Your trousers are stained!"

I was about to faint. I burst into tears and started explaining, "I don't know what happened to me, Mom. I woke up this morning and there was blood everywhere. I was too afraid to tell you. It hasn't stopped since then. Oh, Mom, I think I'm going to die."

She started laughing loudly, and I could not understand her reaction. Then she said, "Don't worry, child. You are not dying. Your period has started. It is something that happens to all women every month. It starts around your age. You really are a woman now, and this bleeding is going to happen every month for five or six days. You don't need to let your father know because this is a matter between women. Now come back and have some proper food. I will give you pads so your clothes don't get stained."

I was so relieved. It was like I came back to life. As I was finishing my lunch, she gave me a pack of pads. "I'm going to have my noon prayer. By the way, there's no need to pray when you have your period. When your period is finished, you can take a cleansing bath then you can restart your prayers. Good thing your father leaves early otherwise he would have questioned why you did not pray."

I felt quite happy since I was very lazy about doing my prayers, especially the morning ones on cold winter days.

I ran to my room and got changed. Standing in front of the mirror, I tightened my shirt from behind to see that my small breasts had grown a bit. I felt proud of becoming a woman.

Suddenly, I heard my father opening the courtyard door. I was surprised to see him at that time of day. He ran into the house and happily shouted, "Did you hear the news? They announced the withdrawal of the last Soviet troops out of Afghanistan. The war is over!"

### Chapter Two

If I were lucky to get a chance to escape the housework or work in the basement, I would go outside to find the girls in the neighbourhood and have a chat and giggle with them. If I wasn't allowed to go out, I would sit in the basement and read the articles on the small pieces of newspaper that had been used as wrapping for the spice parcels. They were very boring and mostly about the civil war, the government and problems in the country. Rarely could I find something interesting to read like a nice poem or a cheerful story.

One afternoon, there was a bit of excitement. Nafisa, one of our neighbours, who was the daughter of a textile merchant, discretely brought a foreign magazine to show me and a few other girls. It was a fashion and embroidery magazine. It had pictures of women in different outfits posing in different locations. They were in the street or at a fashion parade or at a party.

She said that one of her father's customers had lent him the magazine so that he could find the right textile to make her a dress. In those days, this type of magazine was very rare in Afghanistan. Nafisa said she had found it hidden in her father's room when she was cleaning one day. I was totally mesmerised by the pictures of women wearing colourful skirts and jackets, high heeled shoes and glittering jewellery with beautiful shiny hair. They were very different from anything I had ever seen before in my life. I'd heard there were rich families in Herat who lived a moderately western type of lifestyle. I'd even seen a few of them in the bazaar when I went out shopping with my mom, but they looked nowhere close to the ones in these pictures.

Nafisa was nervous that her mom would show up at any moment and she was constantly telling us, "That's enough. I should go. Give it back to me." But we could not let it go. We were fascinated by it.

We were pulling at the magazine to see more when suddenly, out of nowhere, Nafisa's father appeared. We fled in all directions, leaving poor Nafisa behind to suffer the fate of her father's fury. I could hear Nafisa's loud cries as I was running. She was apologizing to him while he was beating her. I felt so sorry for her but could do nothing to help. I would be in big trouble myself if my father found out what happened.

We did not see Nafisa for a long time after that. One of the girls who lived in the house beside Nafisa's told us she saw her from the balcony in their courtyard and she was bruised all over and limping as she walked. I was distraught and felt really guilty because I was one of the offenders who stopped her from leaving by holding on to the magazine.

As I grew older, my desire to go outside and meet with others and see more of life increased. I often used any excuse just to get out, like taking spice packages to my father's shop or buying sequins to sew onto my dress. I even told my mom I was going to the doctor for a light cold so she would let me leave. I wore a chador when I went out to cover my body curves as I was looking more feminine every day.

I had a good friend who lived close in the neighbourhood. Her name was Anar. We used to get together and go out whenever we could. Her father and brother had gone to Iran to make some money, and she was living with her mother and grandparents, which made it easier for her to escape and spend time with me. We often walked to a place where a few young boys gathered at the corner of the street. Just passing and hearing them tease us was a big thrill. Anar was the only girl in the family, and there was no man in their house other than her old grandfather so my mom let me visit her sometimes. They had a nice balcony on the second floor where we could see everything that was happening in the street. I loved to go there just to sit and watch the people go by. I often wished we had the same balcony, but what I hadn't realised at the time was that our house had something even better than Anar's balcony.

One day, my mom asked me to help her take some pickles up to the roof where we stored them. I hadn't been up there before because during the war my mom had told me it was not safe. It was just then that I realised how great it was to stand there and look over the houses and streets. I could see everything from the roof. It slowly became my habit to escape there and just sit and watch the everyday hustle and bustle of people, bikes, and cars go by. I could even see into our neighbours' courtyards and would often watch their daily routines. I discovered a corner of the roof that was surrounded by neighbouring walls and was very discreet. I felt much safer there. This became my sanctuary, and I spent any free time away from my mom's eyes there, lying down, reading a poem, combing my hair, or just day dreaming.

From that corner of the roof, I could see into the courtyard of a house behind ours, but I didn't know the people living there. I had seen an old couple, a young couple, and their child from time to time. They had a small water fountain in the middle of their yard, and they used to put a carpet on the raised platform beside it and sit there to have tea or lunch. The young family lived in the rooms to the right side of the courtyard, and the older couple lived in the rooms on the opposite side. I imagined the old couple were the parents of the man and the young woman was their daughter-in-law. Watching their life discreetly from the roof became my daily amusement.

One day, I was on the roof sewing when I heard the water running into the fountain in the neighbour's yard. As usual, I peeked to see who it was and for the first time, I saw a young boy, probably my age or a couple of years older, sitting beside the pond. He had no shirt on and was washing his head and hands. He was very slim with dark skin, a long thin face, a thin pointy nose, and dark straight hair. I could see he had adolescent, wispy facial hair. My heart started to beat faster. He finished washing then dried himself, put on his shirt, and went to a room on the left side of the courtyard. I kept looking to see if he would come out again but he didn't. From that day onwards, the habit of peeking into the neighbour's courtyard became an obsession. Any chance I had and every minute that my mom was busy doing something, I ran upstairs to see if he was in the yard. I saw him more and more often, either having tea with the family or reading a book or just playing around.

Once, I smartly tried to get some information from my mom. "Mom, the other day I was in the basement. I heard a kid crying but the sound was not coming from the street. It was coming from the wall behind. Do you know who lives there?"

"I'm not sure," she said. "There was an older couple that had two sons. All I know is one of their sons died in the war many years ago, and your father went to his funeral. I'm not sure if the same family lives there now."

I thought it was the same family. I remembered they had a big party a few years earlier, and we could hear the music and the sound of women cheering. I guess that was when their son got married. _So who is that young boy if one of their sons died in the war?_ I wondered.

I was so curious to know more. One day, I found an excuse to go out. I decided to go to their street and see the house from the front, hoping I might bump into him. My heart was beating so fast that I could feel the blood in my head. I was trembling while at the same time trying to look normal. When I got to the street, I tried to recognise the house from the front but it wasn't easy. Most of the houses looked the same. I started counting houses until I found the one that I thought was right. As I got closer, the front door suddenly swung open. I recognised the old woman and the child as they came out. For some reason, I became very nervous. I instantly turned and walked back to our house as fast as I could. I was almost running as I arrived. I closed the door quickly and sat down behind it to catch my breath.

The following day, I plucked up enough courage to try again, even though I was still nervous. I walked past their house as if I were just a passerby, but didn't see any activity. So I quickly went back home and went to the roof to see if anybody was in the courtyard. I saw him heading back into his room. I frowned as I had missed the scene by just a few minutes.

I wasn't about to give up, so the next day I tried again. I stayed longer this time and walked to the end of the street, trying very hard not to look conspicuous. I turned and started to walk back toward the other end of the street when suddenly I saw him in the distance, standing alone at the corner. I felt sick to my stomach and my legs turned to jelly, but I continued to walk towards him. As I passed, I heard him making a noise like, "Emmmm."

I went back home and I was in the skies. I looked at my body in the mirror and admired it even though I wasn't sure he could see anything beneath my chador. From that day on, I went to bed every night, not dreaming about any dress, but about him. I realised I had feelings that I never had for anyone before. I was in love and I didn't even know his name.

Trying to see him became a fever. I found more and more excuses to go out so I could pass by his house and I went to the roof at every opportunity. I was on the roof once when I saw the child sitting next to his mom. She was trying to feed him his lunch but he was misbehaving. Just at that moment, the young guy came out of his room and sat on the platform next to them. I could see he was looking at the mother and child very discreetly while pretending to read a book. The child was being very naughty and he accidently knocked his plate of food onto his mom and started to laugh. She had food all over her dress. She shouted at her son, jumped up, and went off to her room. After a few seconds, I saw the young guy put his book down. He snuck up to her room and started to look inside from the corner of the window. After a few minutes, he ran back, picked up his book, and sat as if nothing had happened. The young woman came out with a new dress on. I thought he had been very naughty. He was looking at the young woman as she changed her dress. But it didn't make me feel too bad about him. I still loved him.

I spent my days in the house or basement working and day dreaming about him. I made up all sorts of stories about us, and imagined he would marry me and become my man.

On one of the many occasions when I was on the roof, peeking down into the yard to watch him, I heard my mom's voice calling me. It was getting closer and I realised she was making her way to the roof. I jumped to my feet and ran towards the stairs. As I was running, a piece of newspaper I had been reading flew in the air and drew his attention. He turned and saw me as I disappeared down the stairs.

For the next few days, I didn't see him, and all sorts of thoughts came to my mind. _Maybe he has gone on a trip, maybe he has gone to war, maybe something has happened to him but that can't be possible as the people in the house were around as usual with nothing out of the ordinary happening_.

One afternoon, I went on the roof and as usual, looked into the courtyard, but I couldn't see anyone. The weather was so nice, the sun was shining, and there was a nice cool breeze, so I just lay down, spreading my hair around myself to catch some sunlight. I closed my eyes and started dreaming about him. After a few minutes, it turned a bit dark like a cloud was hiding the sun. I opened my eyes and there he was, standing beside the neighbour's wall. His shadow was blocking the sunlight from me! For a second, I thought I was dreaming, but as I moved, he jumped back a step and I realised it was real. I screamed and ran down the stairs like I had seen a ghost. Luckily, my mom was in the basement and didn't hear my scream.

I ran to my room and closed the door behind me, trying to understand what had just happened. He obviously came to look for me after seeing me that day. In our neighbourhood, most houses had flat roofs that were at the same height with only a short wall separating them, so he must have got onto the roof and jumped over the wall. He could have been in big trouble if anyone had seen him. Just the thought of it scared me. After I got over the shock, I tried to remember the details. Now that the fear had disappeared, my fantasies were back. I started giggling to myself and enjoyed the fact that he managed to get close to me.

I didn't go to the roof until the next afternoon when my mom was taking a nap. I peeked down into the courtyard and saw him sitting next to the fountain, alert, looking up towards the roof. To make him aware of my presence, I stood up for a few seconds and sat down again. After a few minutes, he appeared on his roof, but this time he just sat there and kept his distance, just looking around and glancing toward me from time to time. I wanted to stay there all day and look at him, but I knew my mom would be waking up at any minute, so I went back to the basement to pack the spices that were ready to go to my father's shop. Over the next few days, we kept playing hide and seek. Every day he came a step closer and I pretended I was reading a book or sewing something, but my heart was beating so fast and my hands were shaking so much that, of course, I couldn't sew anything right.

After a few days, he was very close. It felt like almost touching distance. I was looking at him on and off but did not make a move. My heart was racing. Suddenly he broke the silence and said, "What is your name?"

I quickly replied, "Nazgol."

He smiled with victory. "Nice. My name is Jabber." I did not say anything and looked down, so he tried to make conversation. "I live in that house down there."

I answered naively, "I know."

"How do you know?"

I felt embarrassed about my naivety, but said, "Because I saw you there the other day."

He naughtily said, "Just once or many times?"

I did not answer and told him, "I should go now."

"Where are you going? We are talking."

I turned around to take the stairs and he said, "I will come back tomorrow at the same time. Okay? Come up and we will talk more."

I shyly said, "Okay."

I was so excited that I could not even eat my dinner. I pretended that I didn't feel very well so I could go to bed early and think about him in solitude. I wanted to go to sleep as soon as possible so that the next day arrived sooner, but this thought didn't let me sleep until very late that night.

I woke early in the morning and couldn't go back to sleep. After prayer, I ran to the basement to finish what I needed to do that day so I would be ready to go to the roof earlier. After lunch, I waited for my mom to take a nap but she was busying herself around the house doing different things. Every minute passed like an hour and I just wanted her to take a nap. I couldn't control myself, so I said, "Mom, you look tired. Why don't you take a nap?"

She said, "I need to prepare these vegetables for the marinade. Why don't you help me?"

I went to help her, hoping to get it finished quickly, but it took forever. I was getting really impatient thinking there was no hope of going to the roof that day. But luckily, my mom went to the basement to choose the spices for the marinade, so I took the opportunity and ran upstairs like crazy to see if Jabber was there. To my disappointment, he wasn't so I ran down as fast as I could before my mom came back.

Again, I couldn't eat much that evening. I was thinking, _Maybe he came but didn't stay long because I wasn't there. Maybe somebody saw him and he ran away._ I had all sorts of thoughts going through my mind that night and did not get enough sleep again.

The next afternoon, my mom took a nap as usual, and as soon as she was asleep, I ran up to the roof. Jabber was not there again and I got worried. I stayed as long as I dared and was just about to go back down when I saw him. It made me happy like I had seen a miracle. He came close by the wall and said, "Did you come yesterday?"

"Yes, but you were not there."

"I had too much food for lunch and fell asleep."

I didn't like what he said but I just said, "How about today? You were late."

"Who said what time I would come? I come whenever I like."

I did not like his attitude and looked down. He realized he had upset me and said, "Anyway, I came up just to see you."

Just that little sentence made me happy and I smiled.

"Do you have any brothers or sisters?"

"No, it's just me."

"Strange. Is your father or mother sterile?"

I got offended and said, "No. How do you think I came to this world, then?"

"Maybe you were an orphan."

I got upset and said, "No, I was not. Anyway, I should leave." I turned around to go.

"Don't get angry. What is wrong with being an orphan? I'm an orphan."

I stopped and looked back.

"If you promise to be a good girl, I may tell you my story."

I went toward the door, whispering, "I am a good girl."

"See you tomorrow, good girl!"

The day after, I went upstairs and he was sitting there.

He came toward me and said, "See, I came earlier today so you wouldn't complain."

I smiled and told him, "You promised to tell me your story."

"Only if you are a good girl."

"I am a good girl!"

"No, you should trust me so that I can trust you. You did not have any scarf on your head the first day I saw you, but since then, you always wear your scarf."

"Well, you are a strange man. I cannot show you my hair."

"No, I'm not. If I am, why do you talk to me? I'm your friend."

I really liked his last sentence so I slowly pulled my scarf down.

He said, "No, take it off. I want to see all your hair."

"I feel shy."

"Okay. Then I will just tell you a part of my story."

"Okay. Tell me how come you're an orphan? I thought the old couple you live with were your parents."

"No, the old man is my uncle. My father's brother."

"What happened to your parents?"

"My parents and my two younger brothers died in an explosion in Kandahar."

"Oh, I am so sorry. When did it happen?"

"A long time ago when I was six years old, I was out playing with other boys in the street when an airplane dropped a bomb which exploded in our house. Everybody inside the house died."

"Oh no. That is very sad. Have you lived with your uncle here since then?"

"No, I was living with my other uncle in Kandahar."

"So how come you came here?"

"Well, I told you, I'm not going to tell you my entire story if you don't take off your scarf."

I smiled and was thinking about doing so when I heard some noises coming from downstairs.

"Oh no, my mom is awake. I should go down. You too. If she sees you here, she'll kill me."

I ran down and he disappeared over the roof tops.

The next day was a holiday, so my father didn't go to his shop. After lunch, both my mom and father took a nap. I was desperate to go to the roof but was afraid. I decided to take the risk and ran to the roof to see if he was there. He wasn't there, and when I peeked into their courtyard, he was sitting with the whole family having tea so there was no chance he could come to the roof. I went to my room to take a short nap.

When I woke up, my mom and father were drinking tea. They asked me to join them so I sat and had tea, all the time wondering if I could get back to the roof.

My father said to my mom, "Do you remember Akbar?"

"I'm not sure. Is he the one who was your comrade in the army? That was a long time ago."

"Yes, exactly! He came to visit me a few times when I was hospitalised, if you remember. I saw him in the Bazaar yesterday."

"Oh really? How was he? I remember him and his wife vaguely. I remember their young son was also in the army with you."

"He was good, although he was looking much older. Apparently, he stayed in the army for another eight years. His elder son, who was in army with us, is thirty years old now. He has two other children, a twenty-three year old son as well as a sixteen year old daughter, the same age as Nazgol.

Then he smiled at me and said, "I told him what a lovely daughter I have, and he is very eager that we meet with his family after all these years. His younger son could be a good candidate for Nazgol."

I was completely shocked and my heart sank at what he said. I didn't know what to say. I looked down sadly.

He added, "Well, of course I won't give my daughter to just anyone. We should see who this young man is and Nazgol should like him too."

That gave me some relief that I would have a chance to share my opinion, but I still felt very nervous about what might happen.

The next day, my father went to work as usual and my mom went to the bazaar to buy some supplies. As soon as they left, I combed my hair, put on my head scarf, and went to the roof. Jabber showed up a few minutes later.

"You still have your scarf on, so you are not interested in my story, I guess? Well, then, I can go take a nap."

I was really hoping he wouldn't ask me to take off my scarf, but I said, "No, no. I am interested." And I shyly pulled down my scarf.

"I said take it off," he grumbled.

I moved closer to the wall to make sure no one could see me and I took off my scarf.

"That's better."

He was looking at me with greed, like he had never seen any woman's hair before.

I felt very vulnerable but also a little excited. It took a few minutes until I whispered, "Are you going to tell me the rest of your story or not?"

"Oh, yes, where was I?"

"You were living with your other uncle but then you came here. Why?"

"Ah, right, right. Well, my uncle has four daughters and no sons. I grew up with his daughters like brother and sisters, but he was getting old and silly. He was suspicious of me being around them and accused me of peeking at them and teasing them and all that sort of nonsense. He wanted to send me to the army but there was no chance I would have gone. With this civil war all around the country, going to the army is a death sentence. Why should an eighteen year old boy go to his death? So he sent me here to live with my uncle and his family. Of course, I am a grown up man now and I don't need anybody to take care of me. I will find a job sooner or later and will get out of here. "

I liked what he said about being a man and finding a job. I went into a day dream that we would get married and he would help my father with his business. He interrupted my thoughts by saying, "So tell me. How much do you like me?"

I was surprised and found his question very straight forward. I felt intimidated and looked down and said, "Who said I liked you?"

"Oh, come on. It is so obvious. You get red cheeks whenever you see me, and I can see how you run to the roof just to spend a few minutes with me."

"No, you're wrong. I always used to come here before seeing you. I like it up here and it has nothing to do with you."

"Whatever. You cannot deny that you like me so tell me the truth. How much do you like me?"

"I don't know."

"Okay. At least you know you like me. Can I touch your hair?"

"Oh, no. This is not good. You are going too far. No boy has ever touched my hair and neither will you!"

"No problem. You will see. I'll do it one day."

"Okay. We will see about that!"

He suddenly jumped toward me and grabbed my hair. I screamed and pulled back to get my hair out of his hand, but a few strands remained in his grasp. I took my scarf and ran to the door to go downstairs. He laughed, "Not only did I touch your hair, I now have a few strands as a souvenir."

I could see how mischievous he was, though I couldn't help but like it. I saw him again and again. He said he thought I was very beautiful, just like his cousin's wife. He also said that his cousin's wife had a very nice body. I did not like that comment at all and said he was being very rude. He just laughed out loud and said it was true so why not say it.

We were seeing each other almost every day, just teasing each other and talking about everything, and eventually one day he convinced me to allow him to stroke my hair. I really liked it. I could hear his breaths getting deeper as he was stroking; I thought this was a sign of love.

### Chapter Three

My father came back home from the shop one night with a small parcel. When I opened the door for him, he gave it to me and smiled. "I know it is not Nowruz, but this is for you."

I opened it, and it was a very nice blue silk scarf. I was so happy and excited, I ran inside to my mom. "Mom, Mom, look what Father has bought for me."

"Wow, that's pretty."

Then she looked at my father. "God bless you. There must be a good reason for you to buy this nice scarf."

"God bless you too. Yes, of course. We are invited to Akbar's house this weekend for lunch, and I'd like Nazgol to look her best."

Suddenly, all my happiness disappeared and my joy faded away.

My mom said, "Great! Sure, she will look her best." Then she looked at me and said, "What is wrong, Nazgol? Aren't you happy? I know what is wrong." She paused.

For a second, I thought she knew something about me and Jabber, and I panicked but she continued. "Any girl would be afraid when it comes to marriage because they don't want to leave the comfort they have with their parents and go somewhere they don't know. That is normal and you will be fine. I had the same feeling when I was given for marriage, but I was lucky that your father is such a good man."

The talk of marriage sent a shock through my body. Even though I knew this day would come, all I could think about was Jabber. I gathered myself before saying, "Yes, that's right, Mom" and gave a false smile to reassure her.

I went to my room and tried not to think about what just happened. I tried on my new blue scarf. It was really beautiful, and I thought if Jabber could see me in it, he would be even more attracted to me. I tried to console myself by thinking that hopefully Akbar's family would not like me, and my father would not like Akbar's son. I tried not to worry and just thought about Jabber.

The next day, I wore the blue scarf and went to the roof. Jabber came toward me and said, "What's wrong with you? After all this time, you are still wearing your scarf."

I was upset and disappointed with him. Not only had he not given me a compliment, he was very rude to me.

"I just wanted to show you my new scarf."

"Ah, okay. Well, it's nice but take it off. I prefer to see your hair."

I pulled my scarf below my hair and thought, _maybe it doesn't look so good on me_. We chatted for a while, but I didn't tell him anything about the plan for the weekend because I didn't want to upset him. While we were chatting, he was stroking my hair without asking for my permission. I didn't say anything, but then he brought his hand down and started stroking my hand. My heart started beating faster, and I couldn't think straight. There was a silent moment between us. He was looking into my eyes while gently stroking my hand. It gave me a strange feeling inside. Eventually, I looked down in shyness. As I looked down, I saw something very strange. His manhood was bulging and moving around in his trousers. I pulled my hand away and jumped back in shock.

I couldn't even say a word. He kept saying, "What is it? What's wrong? Don't be afraid." But I could not even breathe. I felt dizzy and queasy. I just ran to the stairs and headed to my room, slamming the door behind me. I was quivering all over. My mom heard me and came to my room to see what I was doing.

"What is it, Nazgol? Why are you so pale? Why are you shivering?"

I didn't know what to say. I just made up a story and told her, "I think I saw a ghost. I was trying on my blue scarf and looking in the mirror. I saw someone behind me but when I turned, there was no one there."

My mom said, "God forgive, you poor child. What are you saying? We never had anything like that in this house. It must be your imagination. Don't worry; I will bring you some sugar water. Maybe you are over excited about this weekend."

The sugar water really helped. I felt better. I tried to find some logic in my mind about what had happened.

I didn't go to the roof for the next two days. Even though I really missed Jabber, I was also afraid to see him again.

On Friday morning, I didn't want to get up because I knew we were going to Akbar's house. My mom came to my room and happily said, "Wake up, girl. This may be the day you never forget in your life." She started commenting on how I should dress. "I think you should wear your dark blue dress. It is very elegant and goes well with your blue scarf."

I objected. "But, Mom, I don't like this blue scarf. It reminds me of that ghost. Besides, I am not sure if it looks good on me."

"Stop this nonsense. If you don't wear it, your father will be really upset, and anyway, I think it looks very nice. I think you should preen your hair. It will look better under the scarf."

I had no desire at all to fix my hair and dress up. I just put myself into my mom's hands to do whatever she wanted to do. For the first time, she used her eye liner to make up my eyes. I really looked different, more like a woman. Even though I didn't want to go to this lunch, I liked the way I looked and wished Jabber was there to see me.

When we got to their house, my father's friend, Akbar, opened the door. He looked very tough and much older than my father. He smiled at me, and I looked down and followed them. I noticed how nice their courtyard was with lovely flowers and plants. My father gave him a compliment. "What a nice courtyard. It seems like you spend lots of time on it."

Akbar said, "No, actually, it is Maher, my eldest son, who spends time making the yard so pleasing."

As we got closer to the house, another man, who I quickly figured out must be Maher, came to the door. He was slim with big dark green eyes and thick black eyebrows and dark hair. He shook my father's hand and welcomed me and my mom warmly. He kept his distance and called his mother and sister over. They also welcomed us and invited my mom and me to the living room. My father sat with Akbar and Maher outside on the veranda.

Akbar's wife sat beside my mom and started chatting about when they had seen each other last. The young girl started serving the men some tea. When I looked toward the courtyard, I saw the silhouette of another man through the curtains. I heard him say hello to my father as he sat down to join them for tea. My first impression was that he looked quite chubby even though I had only caught a quick glimpse of him. The young girl then came with tea for us. After serving my mom, she served me then sat down beside me. She was very pretty and delicate with white skin and green eyes like her mother and brother. She introduced herself. "My name is Neshat. What's your name?"

"My name is Nazgol."

"What a beautiful name, just like yourself."

"Oh, thank you. You are very pretty too, and I like your name as well. Are you cheerful like your name?"

She laughed and said, "You're not only beautiful, but also smart. I was very happy when my father told me you were almost the same age as me because I don't have a sister and I always wanted to have one."

I had mixed feelings. She was very sweet, but at the same time, she was thinking that I was already her sister-in-law."

After an hour of chatting, Neshat and her mother went to the kitchen to prepare lunch. She said we could all have lunch outside since it was a beautiful day and the veranda was big enough for all of us. We made our way outside. As we arrived to where the men were sitting, I was briefly introduced to Najib, Akbar's youngest son, and then quickly shown where to sit. Neshat's mother had carefully laid the settings so that the men and women were separate but close enough to see each other. While having lunch, I discreetly looked at Najib. He had a round face and dark eyes, thick eyebrows and dark curly hair. He was very grim faced and didn't look toward us at all. Neshat noticed me looking and whispered, "Don't worry. My brother, Najib, is very shy with strangers. That's why he looks so grumpy but he is a good guy."

I tried to look down and eat my food, but my curiosity got the better of me and I looked over toward the men. I unintentionally made eye contact with Maher. He smiled. I got embarrassed and just looked down.

After lunch, we went back inside and had tea and sweets. Even though Neshat was good company, I felt a little uncomfortable, like I was under their magnifying glass. Her mother was looking at me every five minutes and kept asking my mother about my housekeeping skills and other abilities. I really didn't like it. It was as if I were being interviewed for a job rather than it being an introduction. She was also advertising for her son. "Najib is a very nice boy. He always helps me with the work around the house and cooking. God bless, Maher. He is more like his father. He doesn't do anything unless it suits him. He likes working in the courtyard, making it beautiful for us, but Najib does anything for me. He even shows interest in my chitchats and conversations. Any girl who gets married to Najib will be very lucky. Not only will he be a good husband but also a good help."

Finally, my father called us to go home. It was such a relief for me to get out of there.

When we got home, I was very curious to know what my father and Mom had thought about him.

After a long silence, my father said, "He was a well mannered man, even though he did not say much, but he looked serious and dignified."

My mother said, "He looked grumpy. Was he upset with something? Anyway, he looked decent but I'm not sure if he saw Nazgol very well. He didn't look very eager."

I jumped into my mom's sentence. "I totally agree. I don't think he's interested in getting married. Maybe they are forcing him to get married and he likes someone else. I really didn't like him."

My father looked at me with anger. "What are you talking about? Why do you make silly comments? He was just a bit shy, that's all. I didn't see any problem with his attitude and I do not want to hear any of this nonsense again. I liked him but who knows? Maybe they didn't like you. You looked very unfriendly and unhappy. What was wrong with you? Do you think that I am going to keep you in this house forever? I need someone to help me with the business before I get too old. In fact, I wanted to suggest to Akbar that his son can work with me if he becomes my son-in-law. His sons are very smart. The older one, Maher, is a doctor, and Najib is going to university to become an engineer. What more do you want in your life? I thought you were smarter than that. You should be very happy to become part of an educated family."

I did not say any more since I realised he was really upset with me. I was trying to control myself not to cry.

Everybody was quiet for a while until my mother started talking and distracting my father from the marriage subject. "By the way, did you realise why their older son, Maher, still lives with them? Akbar's wife was telling me his story. It is very sad. He went to war when he was eighteen years old. A couple of years after, his family decided to find him a wife. They found a good girl, but he could not come back from war to marry her. So, with her father's permission, they married the girl to Maher in his absence. During the year that they were married, he only came back to see her a couple of times. She became pregnant a few months after their marriage. He didn't think it was safe for her to stay in the city during her pregnancy so he took her to stay at her family's farmhouse outside the city. He then went back to war and his wife stayed with her family. The tragedy is that while she was walking in the fields of their farm, she stepped on a mine and died instantly. After that, Maher was devastated and vowed never to get married again. He felt that it was his fault for leaving his pregnant wife and going to war."

My father said, "What a sad story. He is really a genuine person and very dignified. It is a shame that he refuses to get married again. That is why he has overloaded himself with work at the clinic, I guess. This is what Akbar was telling me."

I thanked my mom in my heart for distracting my father. I slowly stood up and went to my room, praying that they would tell my father they didn't like me.

Later that afternoon, I found an excuse to go and see Anar. I was very sad and needed someone to talk to. I told her a little bit about my story of the roof and Jabber. She was very surprised and somewhat excited. Of course, I didn't feel comfortable sharing the parts about allowing him to play with my hair and him touching my hand, so I told her we just sat and talked to each other.

Like discovering a mystery, she said, "Now I understand why you stopped coming to see me and talking to me like before. All this time, I thought you didn't like me anymore or your parents had stopped you from coming to see me for some reason. I have something to admit as well. Do you remember that short guy with a pock marked face that was standing at the corner of the street teasing us sometimes? Well, I think he likes me. Every time I go out, he follows me. He doesn't say anything, and he just follows me. The other day, another guy teased me and this short guy got upset and shouted at him to go away. Even though he's quite ugly, it gives me a great feeling to know someone likes me. But I'm not as lucky as you. I don't dare talk to him. Besides, we have no discreet place to see each other. So tell me Nazgol, why are you so unhappy?"

"Well, a friend of my father wants me to marry his son. We met them today and I didn't like him at all. He looked very grumpy and didn't show any interest in me. Jabber is not that caring either, but I know he likes me and I love him so much. I don't want to be with anyone but him. I really don't know what to do."

"Have you told Jabber about this guy?"

"No, not yet."

"I think you should tell him. Maybe when he knows that somebody else wants to marry you, he'll come and ask your father for your hand."

"I'm not sure. He's young and doesn't have a job."

"Even better. Then he can help your father with his business!"

"You think so?"

"Oh, definitely. I think you should go and talk to him."

The very next chance I got, I went to the roof to see Jabber and tell him what happened. He was down in the courtyard, so I threw a small stone to draw his attention. He saw me and made his way to the roof. When he got close, he said, "What happened to you? Where were you? Why did you disappear?"

"What happened to you that day? What was that in your trousers?"

"Are you trying to tell me that you didn't know what was happening to me?"

"Of course, I don't know. Otherwise, I wouldn't have got scared and run away."

"You girl, you know nothing. My younger cousin knows these things better than you. Of course it happened because I like you. When I touch you, I get excited and my manhood becomes erect. This is only natural. It happens to all men. There's nothing scary about it. In fact, you should be happy because it shows how much I like you."

"Are you sure this is normal? It was a very strange experience for me. I just didn't have a good feeling about it."

"Oh, yes. If it were dangerous, women would be in big trouble all their lives."

I kept quiet for a few seconds.

"What's wrong now? You don't seem to be happy today."

"There's something I should tell you."

"What is it?"

I hesitated. "My father wants me to marry his friend's son."

"Is this a joke or what?"

"No, it's the truth. We went to their house yesterday."

He suddenly got mad. "What? You went to their house? You saw this other guy? How dare you!"

I got scared. "Oh, don't be mad. I didn't want to go but my father forced me."

"It doesn't matter. You betrayed me by going to someone's house without even telling me. I knew there was something wrong. You see yourself as a good girl? Then let me tell you, you aren't and I don't want to see you again."

He turned to go down and I burst into tears. "Oh, please don't go. You know how much I like you. I would do anything you want me to do. I want to be with you and I don't want to marry anyone else."

But he didn't turn around. He jumped over the wall and disappeared off the roof. I couldn't stop crying. It was a big disaster. My world suddenly went dark, and I felt I had lost all reason to live. As I was crying, I heard a noise. For a moment, I thought it was him, but when I raised my head, I saw my mom coming towards me. I didn't know what to do or what to say. Had she been watching me? When did she come up? What was she going to do? All sorts of things were going through my mind.

When she got close, she asked worriedly, "Nazgol, what are you doing here? Why are you crying? What happened?"

I realised she didn't see anything. "Oh, Mom, I'm sorry but I was so sad and I wanted to cry, so I came to the roof where nobody would see me."

"Why are you sad?"

"I don't want to marry this guy. I didn't like him. Why is Father acting like this?"

"Well, because he is right. Sometimes children do not know what is good or bad for them but their parents know because of their experience. Your father is a wise man. He has the experience to know what people are like by their behaviour and from their face. If he thinks Najib is a good man even though he was grumpy, he is correct. Maybe Najib didn't have a good day that day, but it doesn't mean that he is not a good person."

"But how about me? I should like the person I will live all my life with, shouldn't I?"

"When you get to know him better, you will like him. Anyway, they have not sent any message yet. Maybe they didn't like a grumpy girl like you!"

She went down and I followed her to avoid any other surprises.

My father came back home that night and said that Akbar had visited his shop and told him that they liked me. My father invited them to come over the next weekend to give their son a chance to talk to me. I couldn't stop my tears. I thought those were the worst days of my life. But now when I look back, I realise how delicate and naive I was to consider those days as the worst.

I didn't see Jabber all that week. He didn't show up at all, not on the roof, nor in the courtyard. I was feeling so miserable I couldn't eat anything, and any chance away from my mom's eyes, I cried like I had lost someone. I went to Anar's house and told her what happened. She tried to console me, but then she told me something that made me even more upset. "Nazgol, I'm surprised this guy has shown such a cruel reaction. If he loves you, he should understand this isn't your fault. I thought when you told him the story, he would ask his uncle to come to your father and ask him for your hand. If I were you, I would have doubted his love."

"You know nothing. He was very jealous that I had been to see another man. He just wants me for himself, and I have the same feeling about him. I don't want him to look at any other woman. In fact, it was my mistake for listening to you and telling him the truth. Now he hates me. I think you were jealous about our relationship and that's why you suggested I tell him because you knew he would get mad."

"Are you out of your mind? Why should I do something so mean to my friend? You are really overreacting."

"No, you aren't my friend. Not anymore. This is over."

"If you think like that, you'd better leave. I pray to God that he cures you. I think this stupid guy has made you so blind and sick that you can't see the truth."

I left her with rage and shut the door hard behind me. I was thinking I had no one I could trust.

The weekend arrived and I was so sad I didn't want to do anything. My mom was running around, preparing food and cleaning the house and shouting at me to help her, but I didn't have any energy to move. Cleaning the floor took me forever, and my mom was getting really upset and nervous. She wanted to present the house and her cooking the best way she could. My father was out for Friday prayer and told my mom that they would all arrive when prayer finished since Akbar and his sons were going to prayer with him.

Eventually, my mom finished the preparation then shouted at me with anger. "Go get dressed right away. You look like a ghost. I will come to put some makeup on your face and you'd better be ready. You don't want me to tell your father that you were no help to me today!"

I dressed very reluctantly, and she put subtle makeup on my face, but I couldn't even appreciate that.

My father came back from prayer and told us that they were on their way. They arrived shortly thereafter and my father welcomed them at the door. It was just Akbar, his wife and his son, Najib. It made me feel even worse that they hadn't brought Neshat.

They came into the living room and sat down. I was in the kitchen and my mom was pouring tea. She said, "Take the tea to the living room and behave. Smile and be nice, otherwise you know what will happen after they leave!"

I went to the living room. Akbar and his wife were nice and smiled at me, but Najib looked very serious. He didn't even look at me when I served him tea. I went to the kitchen and stayed there until lunch was ready to be served. After lunch, my father said, "The weather is very nice. We can go to the courtyard and have some tea while Najib and Nazgol talk together in the living room."

They went to the veranda and kept the windows and doors open so they could clearly see us. I sat in the corner and didn't say anything. I just looked down, fiddling with my fingers. He did the same, but after a few minutes, he said, "My parents want me to get married but I want to continue my studies. We will get married, but you should know that I will be spending most of my time finishing school then finding a good job, so I won't have much time to spend with you."

I didn't say anything, but I was thinking that this isn't too bad. It gives me some freedom to do what I want to do.

Then he said, "Is there anything that you want to tell me before this decision is finalized?"

I felt like saying many things, but was wise just to say, "No, I don't think so, but you don't look happy. If you don't like me, please let me know now."

For the first time, he looked up and said, "It has nothing to do with you. I'm sure you're a nice girl and you will be a good wife. I told you it's just because I want to continue at university and complete my studies. But I don't want someone who complains all the time. I want peace of mind. As long as you cook my food and manage the house, I have no problem, but if you start nagging, then I'll really get upset. If you don't have any other questions, we can call them in and tell them that we're okay to get married."

I said, "But you haven't even looked at me properly yet. How will you know if you like me?"

He turned his head and looked at me with a surprising look. "How do you know that I haven't looked at you? I've looked at you and I think you look nice. Besides, my father knows your father and believes your family is a really good family. This is very important to me. So I don't have any reason not to like you unless you tell me something that I don't know."

For a second, I thought I should say something to make him change his mind, but I was afraid. My father would severely punish me, so I said, "No, there's nothing."

So he went out onto the veranda and said to my father, "I'll be honoured if you accept me as your son-in-law."

My father stood up happily and kissed Najib's head and said, "I accept. I trust you, and I believe you will take good care of my daughter. She is my only child and I have treated her very well. So I expect you to do the same."

Then he looked at Akbar. "Please consider my daughter like your daughter."

Akbar smiled. "Of course. Let's have some sweets and celebrate."

I was sitting in the living room, thinking that was the end of my dreams and the end of my world. My life and my thoughts didn't really matter anymore.

I went to my room and cried until they left. As usual, Akbar's family interpreted that as my shyness and dignity.

I didn't leave my room all night, and my father and mom didn't bother me since they knew I was sad. But anyway, the decision had been made.

### Chapter Four

My mom started getting prepared for the engagement and wedding. She was buying materials and sewing bed sets and dining table sets for me, and despite my sadness, she was very happy. She kept telling me not to worry because I would really like it once I was married. I spent most days in the basement sorting out the spices and trying to forget about everything. I didn't even go to the roof.

One afternoon, I was desperate to see Jabber. I had been thinking about him all day, so I waited for my mom to go for her usual nap, and made my way to the roof. I knew it was a very bad idea, but I went anyway. To my great surprise, Jabber was there. My heart was beating like a bird. I didn't know what to do. My logic was telling me to go down before he got close but my heart wanted me to stay and talk to him. I couldn't control myself and I went closer. He walked towards me and with an indifferent look said, "I thought about what happened last time, and even though what you did wasn't good, I forgive you. We can see each other again."

"I'm not sure if we can see each other because my father has accepted to give my hand to his friend's son."

"What? That quick? That's crazy. Your father obviously wants to get rid of you."

"No, that isn't true. He wants the best for me."

"Well, if he wants the best for you, he should wait for someone like me to come and ask for your hand."

I got so excited. "Will you do that? Will you ask my father? Listen, it doesn't matter that you don't have a job. My father can give you a job in his spice shop."

"Oh no. It's too early for me to work or even to get married, but if you can wait, I may ask for your hand in a few years."

I sadly said, "I can't wait a few years. They're going to give me to this family next month. Besides, you are eighteen years old. It's time for you to work and get married."

"That's not true. Anyway, that's not the only problem. Since I am Pashtun, my uncle wants me to marry a girl from a Pashtun family. You are not Pashtun so there is no way they will accept this marriage. But in a few years, I can make my own decision. By then, we will get to know each other better and it'll be a good marriage."

"I told you my father is going to give me to this family very soon. You need to find a solution."

"Okay. I'll think about it. Anyway, last time we talked you told me you'd do anything for me. So get closer. I want to touch your hair."

I naively and happily got closer and he grabbed my hair and pulled it towards his face, breathing it in deeply. I felt so uncomfortable and feared that my mom might appear, so I took a step back and grabbed my hair to force it out of his hand. He looked at me angrily, "What are you doing?"

"I'm sorry. I should leave. My mom will wake up and be looking for me. Last time, she came to the roof and found me. Luckily you had just disappeared over the roof tops. I will come back tomorrow and maybe I will let you touch my hair again, but find a solution by tomorrow so we can be together."

I ran away, feeling so guilty for talking to him and letting him touch my hair when I knew I was going to get married to another man, but I was feeling happy that I got him back.

I went to the roof the next day feeling very guilty, not knowing that what Jabber was about to offer was going to change the entire course of my life.

He was there, and as soon as he saw me, he ran towards me. Without a greeting, he said, "I've got a good plan to get you out of this mess!"

I excitedly said, "What is it?"

"You said that you will do anything to be with me."

"Yes, I will."

"Okay, here is the plan. We're going to run away together and go to Kabul. Kabul is a big city and nobody will find us there. I will try to find a job and we can get married."

The idea terrified me so much that I lost my breath for a few seconds. I looked at him with my eyes wide open and said, "This is very dangerous. It's a big risk. I may even get killed for doing this."

"That's why I asked you again if you would do anything to be with me. Yes, of course, it's a big risk, for me as much as it is for you, but I am ready to take this risk. Think about it another way. If our plan works, you will be with me and you'll be very happy."

"I don't know if I'm ready to do this. You're a man. They won't do anything to you if they catch us, but they'll kill me if they find me."

"Well, it is up to you. You can get married to someone you don't like and be miserable for the rest of your life, or you can run away with me and do whatever you like in your life. Don't forget that I am doing this to save you from this marriage."

"I need to think about this. I'm not sure what to say."

"Okay. Take your time, but every day that goes by, things will get more complicated."

I went downstairs with fear in my heart. I felt I needed to share this idea with someone because it was too heavy for me. I felt extremely nervous so I decided to go to Anar's house to share my burden, even though we had not talked since our last argument. She opened the door and looked at me, surprised. "What do you want?"

"I'm sorry about our argument last time. I shouldn't have accused you of jealousy. That was not good judgment."

"Good that you realised that. I was very sad about what you said to me. It wasn't fair at all."

"I know, and that's why I came over to apologize."

"Okay. I forgive you just because I know you're a good girl and what you did last time was not deliberate. Come in."

"Thank you, Anar. I really need to talk to you about something very serious."

"What is it this time?"

"Jabber came back to me. He isn't angry anymore. He wants us to be together."

"Okay. I guess he came to his senses."

"The problem is my father has accepted the marriage proposal of his friend's son and we will get married soon. They are going to organise an engagement celebration in two weeks."

"Oh, really. Wow. You'll be a bride!"

"Yes, but I don't want to be his bride. Don't you understand? I love Jabber."

"Then why hasn't he come forward to ask your father for your hand?"

"Because his family is Pashtun and they want a Pashtun woman in their family."

"Well, then what's the solution?"

"Don't freak out, but Jabber suggested we run away to Kabul together."

"WHAT? Are you out of your mind? If your family knows about your plan they'll kill you!"

"Yes. If they find out, but if they don't, then I can be with the person I love forever."

"Nazgol, this is crazy. I know that you're in love but this love is poisonous. You shouldn't do this. Even thinking about it makes me shiver."

"You are not being helpful at all. Instead of giving me some courage, you make me feel even worse. This is why I got angry with you last time."

"I don't care what you think. I don't support your plan. You are totally blind!"

"And you're a coward. I shouldn't have told you anything. I was naive to trust you and think you would help me."

"You're insulting me again. You aren't the Nazgol I knew and I don't want to help you in your devious plans. Go now. I don't want to talk to you anymore. You are under evil's influence."

"Stupid coward."

"Go away!"

I went back home in tears and went straight to the basement so that my mom wouldn't see me. I lay down on the packs of spice and cried. I felt so weak that I couldn't think straight. All I could think about was Jabber and being with him. Deep in my heart, I knew Anar was right and I was wrong. I didn't think Najib was a bad man but I didn't want to be with him. I wanted Jabber, even though he acted indifferently towards me and I couldn't feel his love. The more he was careless, the more I was attracted to him. I had a huge desire to have him and be with him. I knew it would be a disaster if this plan didn't work, but I was blind to see how dangerous it was and how badly it could affect my family. I was mesmerised by Jabber and could not see anything else.

All night I thought about every scenario of running away and what could happen. The more I thought about it, the more I felt like doing it. I became totally fearless and was sure that it would work. We just needed to plan it well.

I saw Jabber the next morning and told him I was ready to go with him. He smiled victoriously and said, "Good girl. I knew you were smart and wouldn't refuse such a good idea."

"What should we do now? What's your plan?"

"We'll set a date. You just need to pack a few things that you'll definitely need and you have to steal some money from your father because we need it to get to Kabul. I have some but I am not sure if it will be enough. You should have a very good excuse ready to leave the house for a couple of hours. I'll meet you somewhere a few streets away from here. We'll go to the bus terminal and take the evening bus to Kabul. When we get there, we will decide what to do next. Do you know where your father keeps his money?"

"Yes, but it's locked in a cupboard and only my father and my mom have a key."

I hated the idea of stealing money from my father, but in my mind, I was naively thinking I would give it back one day.

"Do you know where your mom hides the key?"

"Yes, in her wardrobe."

"Well, then, you need to find a way to get the key and get the money. Let's set a date. How about Wednesday? It will give you a couple of days to get the money and sort your stuff."

"Oh, that is too early."

Fear flooded across my body.

"We can't wait very long. Somebody may know about it and tell your parents."

He was right. Anar might say something to her mom and her mom would definitely tell my mom.

"Okay. Wednesday."

"Done. Wednesday afternoon, same time, I'll meet you in front of the bakery shop which is two streets away from here. Don't forget to bring your burqa because you will need to wear it so nobody recognises you."

"Okay."

"Tomorrow, let me know if you can get the money otherwise we cannot leave on Wednesday."

"Okay."

I was like an obedient dog. Anything he said, I agreed to without question, even stealing money from my parents.

The next day, my mom told me that she was going to the bazaar to buy a few things for my engagement. That was the perfect opportunity for me to do whatever I needed to do.

I sorted through all of my belongings, trying to choose what to take. It was difficult for me to leave everything behind. I just packed a set of clean clothes, a few of my favourite hair bands and my gold earrings, which my father bought me when I had my ears pierced eight years ago. I packed everything, including my burqa, into a plastic bag and hid it in the wardrobe.

I then went to my mom's wardrobe and searched until I found the key to the cupboard where the money was kept. I opened the money box. Inside was my parent's entire savings. I felt really bad for taking it. I knew they were saving the money to pay for the bride's household and the wedding celebrations, but I needed the money to be able to survive in Kabul. I took some money and filled the bottom of the box with newspaper and rearranged the remaining portion so that the box didn't look empty.

I put the stolen money into a plastic bag and hid it in the wardrobe. I ran to the roof to tell Jabber I had it and Wednesday was on. He was in the courtyard peeking into his cousin's rooms again. I got upset but I thought maybe he was looking for the child or something. I dropped a small stone so that he would notice me. He came straight up and I told him I had the money.

"Perfect. Then we can run away to Kabul tomorrow. Are you excited? I'm excited. I will get rid of my grumpy uncle and his stupid comments about my life and behaviour."

I thought this was a very strange thing to say. I did not like it at all and was thinking he didn't appreciate what others did for him, but I didn't say anything to upset him.

My mom came back happily from the bazaar and told me, "Nazgol, look at this nice textile I bought for your engagement dress. I got it from Nafisa's father and he gave me a really good discount when he realised it was for your engagement."

She wrapped the textile around me like it was a dress and said, "My dream of seeing you as a bride is coming true. Oh God, thank you for letting me see this day."

What she said was like a stab in my heart. I knew not only would her dream not come true, she would also be extremely hurt when I ran away with most of their money. This could also be the last time I would ever see my mom's happiness and smile. I couldn't control my tears. I started crying and hugged my mom and told her, "Oh, Mom, I love you so much. Please forgive me for whatever I do to you."

"Oh, what are you talking about? You do nothing wrong! You're a sweetheart. Why are you crying anyway? You should be happy. I don't know what's wrong with you these days. You're very emotional, either crying or looking nervous. I know you're excited about your marriage and you don't know what's going to happen but don't worry. I'll teach you everything you need to know about marriage and married life."

I just kept quiet. I was afraid my emotional state would make her suspicious. I was looking at myself in the mirror with the textile wrapped around me, thinking that I would never wear that dress.

I was sick all night with a fever and stomach ache, thinking about the next day.

Wednesday arrived and even though I was feeling so sick, I woke up to see my father before he left for work. It was the first day of Ramadan and everybody was fasting. My mom was preparing something to eat before the dawn and the official start of our fast. My father saw me in the kitchen and smiled.

"Nazgol, you have never woken up to eat with us at dawn during Ramadan. I guess you know you will not see us as much since you will be in your own house, so you are taking advantage of seeing us every minute you can." Then he continued with a sense of humour, "But don't worry. I will get permission for you to come over and pack the spices for me so you can see us."

I sat with him and my mom to eat. I knew every moment with them that day was precious. After morning prayer, I went to the basement to pack the spices that my father needed for the next day. The feeling that this was the last time I would do it and the last time I would be in the basement made me sad. It had been my home and my refuge for many years. I loved the aroma of the spices and the atmosphere of the basement. Even though it was dusky, it was like a tranquilizer for me.

In the afternoon, my mom took a nap. I sat there for a while looking at her. I knew I might never get a chance to see her like that again. I was feeling melancholy.

I went to the roof and looked around. Jabber was not there, but the little kid was playing in the fountain in their yard. I took a mental picture of all the things I had experienced and went back down to wait for my mom to wake up.

When she woke up, I told her I needed to buy sequins to sew onto my dress. She opened her purse and gave me more money than usual and told me to look for the best sequins that would match my engagement dress.

I went to my room, took the plastic bags with my clothes and money in them and hid them under my chador. As I got ready to go, I heard my mom telling me to get back before dark so we could break our fast together.

I told myself, this is the moment of no return. I ran to the door and left the house. I was wearing my chador so my mom wouldn't be suspicious. It was slightly looser than my burqa and did not cover my face. I ran to the local mosque, went to ladies' section, and took my burqa out of the bag and quickly put it on so nobody could see my face. I then ran to the bakery to meet Jabber. He was there. As I got closer, I called his name. He looked towards me. "Wow, I had no idea that it was you. Good thinking to wear your burqa right away."

I said, "We need to hurry."

We walked to the bus terminal as fast as we could without drawing attention to ourselves. It was quite a distance. I had never been there before and didn't know the way so I just followed Jabber. He knew where he was going, which made me feel very confident in him. It was quite interesting for me to see that part of the city, since I had never been that far, even with my parents. There were derelict buildings everywhere. I could see signs of the war from the past several years. After walking for an hour, he stopped in a quiet corner and said, "I think we are far enough away now for it to be a bit safer. Where is the money?"

I opened the plastic bag and gave him the money I had taken from my father's box. He looked at it and said, "I expected more but I guess this isn't bad." Then he put the money in his pocket and we continued walking. It was almost sunset when we got to the bus terminal. I knew my mom would be wondering where I was by then.

Jabber stopped and asked someone where to get bus tickets to Kabul. The man pointed to a small kiosk. Jabber walked over to get the tickets. He came back and said, "Damn it. The next bus to Kabul is full and even the one at midnight is full. The first one we can get is not until four in the morning."

"What should we do? Can we go to another city?"

"No, it's not safe. Kabul is the best choice and I have a few friends there who can help us. I think we just need to hide somewhere and come back at around three o'clock."

"Where can we hide? Where should we go now?"

"There are many empty buildings around here. We should be able to find one that we can stay in for a few hours."

We left the terminal and started walking to find somewhere to stay. Jabber stopped at a bakery and bought bread so we could break our fast. We continued to walk and looked around for an empty building, but each building we came across was either unsafe or occupied by homeless people. I was tired and just wanted somewhere to rest.

We walked for another hour until we finally found one that looked safe to stay in. Jabber jumped over the wall and went to check inside. He showed up at the door after a few minutes, telling me to follow him inside. It was completely dark. I still had my burqa on and could barely see anything. I was terrified so I stayed as close to Jabber as I could. Jabber found a corner near a window that was lit dimly by the street light. We sat on our plastic bags. I took off my burqa and Jabber gave me half of the bread. I was so hungry, I gulped it down in seconds. I was so excited to be with Jabber and to break my fast with him. He finished his bread then lay down and said, "I think we should get some sleep. All this walking has made me really tired. Even though I never fast, I had to do it today because not a single grocery or bakery was open. Oh, I hate Ramadan."

I was very surprised that he was talking about Ramadan in that way. I just stared at him. His eyes were rolling, and it didn't take him more than two minutes to fall asleep. I also felt extremely tired but I was too nervous to sleep. I kept thinking that both my father and my mom would be very worried and would have started looking for me around the neighbourhood.

I placed my burqa on the ground and lay down to sleep. I moved close to Jabber to feel safer and eventually fell asleep.

I had a horrible dream that night. I dreamt there were snakes all around the building. They were coming in through the holes and cracks in the walls, getting closer and closer to me. I was tied to the ground with ropes and could not move. They were hissing loudly and getting closer. Then, one of them got so close, it started crawling on my chest.

I jumped awake and suddenly realised Jabber had embraced me from behind and was touching my body. His breathing was very deep and noisy like the hissing of a snake and he was trying to take off my clothes. I was horrified and shouted, "What are you doing?"

He deviously said, "I am doing what I've been dreaming about for nights and nights. Why? Don't you like it? Isn't this what you wanted?"

I tried to pull myself out of his arms but he held me tightly and said, "Shhhhhhhhh, don't worry. You will like it. Just keep quiet."

I felt like I couldn't breathe and that my heart had stopped. I pushed him away as hard as I could, but he pulled me back and blocked my arms from moving. I was writhing and I started to scream. He jumped on me and slapped me very hard across the face. I felt really dizzy. He put his hand firmly on my mouth and started pulling up my dress. I used every bit of energy I had left to push him away with my leg, and I kicked him hard between his legs. He screamed loudly and rolled up into a ball on the ground. I grabbed my burqa and started running as fast as I could. I heard him swearing at me. "You whore! You can't get away. I will get you and I will have you. Stop now or I will kill you. You have nowhere to go now. Your parents will kill you, bitch."

I was running for my life. I tripped on some rubble and fell down hard, cutting my leg. I stood and didn't look back. I just ran out of the building, into the dark street. I could hear him coming for me.

I ran like crazy. I glanced back and could see him in the distance, bent over in pain, running after me. I turned down the first street I came to and tried to put on my burqa while I was running. At the end of the street, I saw a building with its inside lights on. I pushed the door hard, but it was locked so I kept running. I was out of breath and was about to give up when a miracle happened. I saw a building ahead of me with its courtyard door open. I just ran inside and shut the door behind me. It was quite dark but there was a light on inside the house and I could hear people talking. I was totally out of breath. I suddenly heard Jabber's footsteps running past the door. I tried to stay silent but was gasping for breath so deeply that I thought everybody could hear me. I was terrified, but luckily, Jabber's footsteps disappeared into the distance. I went to the other corner of the courtyard, where it was darker, and just hid in the shadow. After a few minutes, a man came out of the house and walked toward the door. He was saying, "I will come back tomorrow father. Take care."

A voice inside the house said, "God bless you, son."

The man walked to the courtyard door, and I pushed myself hard against the wall. Fortunately, he did not notice me. He just opened the door while saying to himself, "Who closed the door?"

He left. I took a deep breath and finally felt I was safe.

### Chapter Five

I knew I couldn't stay there for long but I had nowhere else to go and I was sure Jabber would be prowling around somewhere, just waiting to catch me.

The light in the house went off and I relaxed a little. I was exhausted. Before I knew it, I was asleep.

I was awakened by the sound of morning prayer from the local mosque. It was still dark, but the dawn's light was beginning to appear. I was trying to decide what I should do when suddenly a light went on inside the house. I was afraid whoever was in the house might be getting ready to go to pray and would come out and see me. I thought I should leave immediately.

I stood up and felt a sharp pain in my knees. They felt very swollen. I slowly and silently opened the door and snuck out. The streets were very quiet and I could not see anyone around. I decided to follow the sound of morning prayer and find sanctuary at the closest mosque. I walked as quickly as I could, all the time looking around for Jabber in case he was still lurking in the shadows. I arrived at the mosque, and fortunately, the doors were open. I went into the ladies' section and it was empty. I knew I would be safe for a while since no one would question what I was doing there.

I sat in a corner on the nice soft carpets and started thinking about what happened to me. My life was crashing down around me. I was weeping quietly, knowing I couldn't go back to my family. I hated Jabber with all my passion. For the first time, I finally realised what a devious lowlife he was. He deceived me in the worst possible way. I had suddenly come to my senses, remembering his bad manners and his bad comments about everyone and everything. Anar was totally right. I was blind and couldn't see what he was doing to me. He was just using and abusing me, and I did anything he asked without questioning it. He didn't want me. He just wanted to rape me. I stole my father's savings and now Jabber had all the money. I remembered my earrings and touched my ears to make sure they were still there. Fortunately, they were. I remembered I still had the money my mom gave me to buy sequins because I put it in my pocket. That gave me a little comfort; at least I could buy some bread.

I guessed my parents would be frantically searching for me, but I didn't have the courage to go back. I knew my father would kill me if he found out what happened. I remembered all the stories I heard about women being killed by their fathers, brothers, or husbands because they ran away and brought disgrace to their families. I felt so sorry. I was beating myself up for what I had done to ruin my own life as well as my parents'. I deserved to die.

I cried until I had no more tears. I lay down in the corner and fell asleep. Suddenly, I was awakened by the voice of a woman. "Hey, girl. Are you okay? Hello, can you hear me?" I got up and the woman said, "Thanks God. I thought you were dead. I have been praying for the last two hours and you didn't even move once. I thought you may have fainted because of fasting."

"I'm okay. I fell asleep. What time is it?"

"It is almost noon. They will start the noon prayer shortly."

"Oh, thank you. I think I need to go home now."

She looked at me suspiciously and left. I ran to the ladies' bathroom and looked in the mirror. I was dusty and dirty with dried tears on my face. I washed my face and started cleaning my burqa with a wet tissue, and the bad pain in my knees was back. I went to the toilet and pulled up my dress and I saw blood on my trousers. When I took them off, I saw two deep wounds on my knees.

I tried to clean them and wash off the blood. I was thinking I should go back to the derelict building to find my bag of clean clothes, but then I thought that was a silly idea since Jabber might be there waiting for me.

I didn't want to stay in the mosque any longer because the woman I spoke to might tell someone about me or call the police, so I put on my burqa and left. I had no idea where I was going, so I decided to just walk and find another mosque for refuge. I had been walking for at least three hours when the afternoon prayer started. I could hear the sound of prayer coming from several directions and decided to follow the loudest. I turned a corner and could see the mosque in the distance. I was still worried about seeing Jabber so I was very watchful, looking hard from underneath my burqa. Since it was Ramadan, there were not many people in the street, which made me feel slightly more secure.

As I approached the mosque, I walked around to find the ladies' section, but the mosque was so small, it was for men only. By then prayer had finished so I just wandered the streets, hoping to find another mosque.

I don't know how many hours I walked, but I was getting very tired, thirsty, and hungry. In the back of my mind, I was still worried that Jabber was hunting me.

As it was Ramadan, I couldn't drink water in public so had to wait until the call for evening prayer. It was a hot afternoon and the sun was very strong. I took shelter in the shade wherever I could, and stopped to catch my breath and summon the energy to continue. I didn't dare ask anyone where I was or how I could get back to my neighbourhood.

I reached the point when I could walk no longer. I had a feeling I was walking around in circles as the buildings all looked the same. I found a quiet street and sat on a platform beside a door to rest. I felt weak and had a bad headache. The world was spinning around in my head. I finally decided to be brave and ask someone the directions to the closest mosque. I saw a woman walking towards me so I stopped and asked her. She was very friendly and showed me the way without asking any questions. I gathered my energy and walked to the mosque. The ladies' section was very small with barely enough room for five women. I went to the corner and lay down against the wall. I was so hungry and tired, but I couldn't sleep. My mind was buzzing, thinking about what I could and should do. I knew there was no chance of going to the police and asking for help because they would simply arrest me and put me in jail before giving me back to my parents. I could go back and beg my father for forgiveness, tell him the truth and promise never to leave the house again. I thought I could even ask him to imprison me in the basement so I could work for him all day, like a slave.

But none of those promises would be good enough to save me. I knew in my heart that he would kill me. I even thought I could go to Akbar's house and beg him to accept me as his son's bride if I promised to work for him like a maid day and night. But I knew that wouldn't work either.

I could sell my earrings and go to Kabul and try to find a job, but again, that would be very difficult. Someone like me trying to sell earrings would be suspicious. Someone would definitely question me or take me to the police. Even if I could find someone to buy them, how could I be safe in Kabul on my own?

It was close to sunset so I bought some bread. When I got back to the mosque, it was evening prayer. I ate the entire bread greedily and drank many cups of water. Afterwards, I sat there and prayed very hard like never before, hoping that God would forgive me and help me find a solution. The mosque was quiet. A few women came in after prayer then left after an hour or so. I was the only one left, although I could hear men talking and praying in the men's section. I decided the only thing I could do was to spend the night in the mosque. I needed to quickly find somewhere to hide before the mosque was emptied and closed at midnight. I checked all around and found a small cupboard where they kept the prayer books and prayer rugs. I pushed everything into a corner and tried to squeeze myself in. It was difficult, but after trying a few times, I managed to get in and close the doors behind me. It was very difficult to get comfortable because it was so small. My knees were really hurting and I was in a lot of pain. I was in there for about thirty minutes until I heard the mosque keeper shouting loudly before entering the room. I could see him through the key hole in the cupboard door. He looked around and turned off the lights and closed and locked the entrance door.

I climbed out and lay there for a moment. The room was pitch black. There were no windows, and I couldn't see anything. The combination of darkness and silence was kind of scary for me. I was all alone in the building and at that moment, I realised I had no one in the world to turn to. It was the first time in my life I was completely alone. I tried to pull myself together. It took me a while to overcome my fear. I had to survive, so I started to think about what I should do next. I didn't have much money left, maybe enough to buy a few pieces of bread, which would only last one or two days. After that, I had nothing. I didn't sleep well that night. I had nightmares and kept waking up. I worried about sleeping too long because I needed to make sure I was back in the cupboard before the mosque keeper arrived to open the doors. This weighed heavily on my mind.

I eventually fell asleep for what seemed like only minutes before I was woken by a noise from outside. I jumped up in a panic and squeezed back into the cupboard just as the mosque keeper was opening the door. He turned on the lights, came in, and started tidying up the carpets. I held my breath as much as I could so he wouldn't hear me. He came toward the cupboard a couple of times, which scared me to death, but he just put things on top of it. Finally, he left. I was very lucky not to have been caught. Once I was sure he was gone, I got out of the cupboard quietly and ran to the bathroom and washed my face and drank as much water as I could. I was very hungry, but I didn't have any bread left to eat. I stayed at the mosque until mid morning then decided to leave. I had been there long enough and didn't want to arouse anyone's suspicion. I walked for miles until I arrived at a very busy street. I felt it was a good sign as it could have been one of the main streets linking the city. Walking along it might lead me to somewhere I recognized. I kept walking. There were very few women around, but lots of men. Even though I was wearing my burqa and nobody could see my curves, the men were still teasing me and being offensive. They even tried to rub themselves against me. I felt very uncomfortable and nervous.

I continued until I came to a crossroads. I didn't know in which direction to go. I was tired and thought I should ask someone for directions. I looked around for a woman to ask but the street was full of men. It was a struggle to stay out of their way. Suddenly, I noticed a woman wearing a loose scarf and chador with makeup on her face. She was very different than most other women I had seen in Herat. She seemed very open and approachable. She looked around as if she were waiting for someone. Everybody was looking at her but nobody was getting close, until one man stopped and said something to her. She replied and he quickly left.

I thought that was my chance.

I approached her cautiously and said, "Hi. I think I'm lost. Can you help me with some directions?"

She looked at me suspiciously and asked where I wanted to go. I told her the name of my neighbourhood, and she said, "How did you get lost? You are a very long way from where you want to go."

I didn't know what to say so I kept quiet and thought I should just leave but then she said, "Did you run away?"

My heart sank and I stammered, "No, no. I just got lost when I was doing some shopping with my mom."

"Listen, kid. You cannot lie to me. I am the master of lies."

I turned quickly and started to walk away but she called me and said. "Wait, wait. I'll show you the direction."

I turned back toward her and she said, "Business is not good anyway because of Ramadan so I can help you instead."

"Oh, thank you. God bless you."

Finally, there was a glimmer of hope.

"We need to go somewhere quiet first. You need to come to my house because it's not safe to talk here."

I didn't know if I could trust her. She could have been deceiving me. Maybe she would take me to the police, or harm me, but I didn't have much choice so I decided to take the risk and follow her. We arrived in an alleyway after passing a few dirty streets. She stopped at an old rusty door and opened it. It was a small house with no windows and everything was untidy, old, and worn. She took off her chador and lit a cigarette. "Now, take off your burqa and let me see your face."

I took off my Burqa and she looked at me with pity. "You poor girl. You're so young to be so far away from home. If you want my help, you need to tell me the truth. Don't worry. I won't hurt you and I won't tell anyone. What is your name, kid? I'm Lulu."

I hesitated for a minute but had no option other than to trust her. "My name is Nazgol." I told her my story in brief.

"Wow. You're lucky to have escaped with your life! But why do you want to go back home? You know your father will kill you."

"Yes but I'll die anyway. I have no money, nowhere to go. I'm alone and have no one to turn too. I just want to see my mom and try to talk to her."

"You're very brave, kid. I ran away a long time ago from Kandahar, but not for stupid, childish, blind love. I ran away to save my life from my psycho husband who took pleasure in torturing me. I came to Herat. I was all alone and still am. I have had to go through really hard times to survive."

"How do you manage to survive? What work do you do?"

She paused for a while and said, "I sell my body to men."

"What! How?"

"How? I let them sleep with me for money. You really are a naive girl. It's like you really know nothing at all."

"Oh. You're a prostitute!"

"Shut up! I'm just trying to stay alive. What else can I do? This is what you'll have to do if you want to survive."

"Never. I'd prefer to die!"

Lulu kept quiet for a while then said, "Listen, if you go back they'll kill you. No matter how kind your father is, he has to kill you for his and the family's honour. For sure, he won't be able to live with the shame you have brought upon him. You really did a very stupid thing! I'm not sure if I should take you to your neighbourhood. I would be taking you to a certain death, and anyway, it's quite a distance to travel. It's at least a three or four hour walk."

"Oh, please help me. I'll do anything for you. I can work for you and clean your house and cook food for you."

"I can clean and cook myself. I don't need you to do it for me."

I looked down sadly and tried to think of a way to convince her, and then suddenly, I remembered my earrings.

"I can give you my earrings! They're pure gold!"

She looked at my earring with interest.

"They look nice."

She hesitated for a moment and said, "Okay, give me your earrings and I will help you. I'll also give you some food. It looks like you haven't eaten anything in days."

I happily nodded my head. I was extremely hungry and decided I would break my fast just this once.

She opened her cupboard and brought some bread, cheese, and dry fruits. I ate like it was the most delicious food of my life.

While I was eating, she said, "We can't go today. It's too late, and it will take several hours to get there and for me to get back. You can sleep here tonight and I will take you tomorrow morning. Now I need to go back to work. You can rest here but be alert. If you hear me opening the door, you need to go to that small room and sit behind the curtain as I will probably come back with a man. Do not come out no matter what happens."

I just nodded my head then she left.

I looked around. There was nothing interesting or of any value. I guessed that's why she wasn't worried about leaving me there. She had nothing to lose. I decided to do her a favour and clean up a little then take a nap. A couple of hours after evening prayer, I heard her opening the door and talking to someone. I went behind the curtain and sat there quietly. I could hear her laughter and the man's voice saying all sorts of indecent things to her. I was very curious so I peeked through the gap in the curtain. She was half naked and he was writhing around on top of her. He turned her over, grabbed her hair, and pushed her head into the bed. For the first time in my life, I realised what it meant to sleep with a man and what happened when two people had sex. I had a strange feeling while looking at them, the same feeling I had when Jabber was touching my hair.

They started making strange noises. He was pulling her hair and pushing his body hard against her. She was crying out but he just did it harder. I didn't know if I should do something to help her but I remembered what she said and was afraid to move in case the man attacked me as well.

Suddenly, he moaned loudly and let go of her hair. They lay down, out of breath. She lay motionless on her face. I was worried for a second but then she stood up and quickly got dressed. The man put on his clothes and gave her some money then left. She came and opened the curtain and said, "It's over. You can come out now. I think you brought me some good luck because he didn't hurt me much and gave me good money."

"But he was hurting you and pulling your hair. He was very rough with you."

"Oh, you sneaky! You were watching us! That was nothing compared to some sick clients I get."

"Why did he scream and stop suddenly?"

"Oh, kid. Should I give you sex lessons now? He just had an orgasm. I guess this is your first experience to know about sex. By the way, thank you for tidying up the room. Now we can prepare some dinner."

The rest of the night was a question and answer session. She explained in much detail about making love and sex while we cooked and ate dinner. She told me things that my mom would never have told me. I was feeling very shy and a bit embarrassed listening to her, but I also felt quite comfortable and happy in her presence. She was very honest and straight forward. It was a new world for me, and just for that moment, I forgot about all my problems.

For the first time in many days, I had a deep and comfortable sleep and woke up very late the next morning.

She told me she felt sorry for me and decided to let me sleep. We had breakfast then she told me, "Listen, I know what I do is shameful, but at least I'm alive and nobody can harm me. I have my own life and I do what I want to do. It's sometimes a bit rough, but it's much better that the life I had before. So if you want to stay with me for a while and do what I do, I can help you. I can teach you how to attract clients and how to manage their expectations. I feel really sorry for you and I know you won't get away with what you did if you go back home. If you are very lucky, your father won't kill you, but for sure he will do something to you that you'll regret forever. He may cut your hands off or deform your face, or I don't know, blind you, but it'll be worse than being alive."

I started crying again and she hugged me. "You can stay here for a while."

I wiped away my tears and said, "No, anything he does to me, I deserve. I don't want to live a shameful life."

"Are you sure? Once you go back, you can't return."

"Yes, I've made my decision."

"Okay, then let's get ready and go."

We put on our burqas so we could travel without being noticed and left the house. I was happy yet full of fear and anticipation as to what would happen to me once I got home. On the way, we talked, and she helped me with ideas to convince my family not to hurt me. We finally arrived close to my neighbourhood. I recognised the area well, so I told her I was okay to make the rest of the journey alone. It was strange. We had only known each other for a day, but I felt very close to her. I had tears in my eyes. We hugged and said our final farewells. She wished me God's protection and left. I felt so alone without her. I suddenly lost my courage. Every step was agonizing, and I felt sick with fear.

I decided to go to Anar's house to find out what had been happening in my absence, and ask her to fetch my mom so I could tell her everything. My heart was beating faster and faster the closer I got.

When I arrived at our street, it was late afternoon and very warm. Everything was quiet, nobody was in the street. I walked towards Anar's house with fear in my heart. I knocked at the door, and to my surprise, her mother answered. I didn't know what to do. I wanted to run away but I couldn't. I had nowhere to run. She didn't recognise me at first because I was wearing my burqa and asked who I was and what I wanted. I eventually opened my mouth and said hello. When she heard my voice, she screamed like she had seen a ghost and slammed the door in my face.

I was totally terrified. I stood there for a while then decided the only thing I could do was run back to Lulu and stay with her. Then, suddenly, Anar's mom opened the door, grabbed me, and pulled me inside.

"How dare you come back? Did you come back to see your family's devastation? You evil girl! You even wanted to involve my innocent, naive daughter in your devious plans. You should kill yourself because you don't deserve to live."

I was crying uncontrollably. She kept shouting and swearing at me and then she said, "I'm going to take you to your parents so they can give you what you deserve."

She grabbed my arm and pulled me out of the house. As I was turning, I saw Anar behind the window. She was looking at me and crying.

Anar's mom dragged me with force to my house. I begged her to let me go. I could see the neighbours coming to their windows, wondering what all the noise was about. Before we reached the front door, it flew open and my father came running out.

Anar's mother threw me to the ground and shouted, "Here's your devil daughter." before hurrying back towards her house. My father stood silent for a few seconds. His face was red with rage. He suddenly started kicking me. I was screaming and asking him for forgiveness. He just kicked me harder. "You're not my daughter. You will die for what you've done." He was cursing while he continued to kick me. I didn't recognise him as my father anymore. I lost my breath with every kick. I couldn't even scream. I was in a daze and then he grabbed my leg and pulled me toward the house. I remember my mom screaming and crying before I fainted.

When I opened my eyes, my mom was pouring water on my face. I was in the courtyard and my father was coming toward me with a big stick. Before I could move, he started beating me and shouting, "Die, die!" My mother was screaming and trying to grab his arms to stop him. I lost consciousness again.

I eventually came to, not knowing how long I had been unconscious. I was in a huge amount of pain. I thought I was dead and going to another world. I couldn't move any part of my body or open my eyes. All I could feel was pain and the taste of blood in my mouth. I wasn't awake for long before I slipped back into unconsciousness. It happened several times and it was like I was hallucinating. I heard vague and unclear voices and constant moaning. It felt like I was in a deep grave and somebody was pouring soil over me and burying me. I could hear an old man singing prayer constantly and a woman mourning loudly and bitterly. I was travelling between very strange dreams and unbearable pain in complete darkness. I didn't know if I was alive or dead or if it was day or night. I finally woke with enough awareness to realise I was alive. I was in the basement because I could smell the spices. I had no idea how long I had been there. It could have been hours or days. Eventually, I managed to open my eyes enough to see I was locked in the bomb shelter in the corner of the basement. I could hear my mom crying constantly from behind the door.

I was so weak I couldn't call out to her, and after a few minutes, I fell back into unconsciousness. When I next awoke, I was able to slightly move my arms and legs but I was in so much pain that moving any part of my body was ten times more painful than just keeping still. The pain and the soreness was unbearable. I was in agony. I moaned and asked for help but my voice was so weak that no one could hear me. I desperately tried to call my mom but no one came. I went unconscious or was asleep, I didn't know which. When I woke, I gathered all my energy and screamed for help. After a while, I heard somebody open the basement door and unlock the bomb shelter. I was so happy that my mom had heard me and finally came to help, but as the shadowy figure got closer, I realised it was my father. He had a big stick in his hand. He angrily said, "Don't you want to die? Then let me help you." He raised his stick high and beat me like an animal. I screamed and he beat me harder, telling me, "Shut up! Close your mouth and die."

As he was beating me, things got darker and darker and his voice got further and further away. Suddenly, I saw Jabber beating me and laughing like crazy. I closed my eyes and opened them again. I could still see Jabber beating me and laughing while his uncle and cousin, Anar, her mother, Akbar, Najib and his mother all laughed and pointed at me. I was trying to shout at them to go away but I had no voice. Their laughter just got stronger and stronger. I covered my face with my arms and tried to press myself against the wall and kept saying, "God strike you, Jabber. God strike you down."

Then everything went quiet. I felt like I had been set free and I was flying. I was weightless and there was no pain. It was peaceful and calm. It was bright, and there was a nice breeze like it was a perfect summer day. I was on top of a mountain, and there was nothing but peace. As I looked down into the canyon, I saw Jabber falling to the bottom. I was looking at him without pity. The scene was happening in slow motion, but the joy of that moment was eternal for me. I was totally at peace. I left myself in the hands of the cooling breeze. There was a nice aroma that attracted me like a memory from childhood. I was trying to recognise the smell. It was cinnamon. It reminded me of my playful days in the basement, and I wished I could go back there and have one more chance to live my life and rebuild everything I destroyed. I started to cry and I heard somebody else crying but I couldn't see anyone around me. The atmosphere started getting darker and darker, and the sound of crying was getting stronger and stronger. I suddenly felt as though my head was underwater. I couldn't breathe. I tried to take a breath and suddenly air came into my body.

### Chapter Six

The next thing I felt was somebody turning me onto my back. I thought it was my father coming to finish his mission to kill me. I couldn't move or shout or even cry. I wished for death. But he did not beat me. I tried to open my eyes but I couldn't. He put his hand on my head and from the gentle touch, I knew it could not be my father. I was terrified for a moment that maybe he had sent someone else to finish me off. I tried to move and shelter myself against the wall but I couldn't move. I tried to talk but words wouldn't come out. It just sounded like moaning. I heard the man say, "Shhhhhhhh. Don't worry, I am not going to harm you. I am a doctor."

Then he took my hand and put it in his. "If you can hear me, press your finger on my hand." I gathered my energy to move my finger and he said, "Good, so you understand me. I am going to check your wounds and clean them as much as I can."

That gave me huge relief. Then I heard my mom whisper, "How is she?"

He replied, "She is conscious, which is a good sign, but she is very weak." Then, he started to remove my dress very slowly. It was so painful that I wanted to scream but I just moaned weakly. After a while, he said, "The wounds don't look good at all. They are infected. Soon, the infection will spread through her body and we won't be able to save her. I will give her an injection of an antibiotic. She will also need some energy to fight the infection. I assume she has not eaten or drunk anything for a while. She must be very strong to have survived this long. Please bring me some drinking water and salt."

He started cleaning my wounds. Even though he was gentle, it was extremely painful.

I heard my mom come back after a few minutes. He carefully lifted my head and put something narrow in my mouth and said, "You need to try to drink this." I was trying to swallow but even that was difficult.

He said to my mom, "I've given her some medicine mixed with water to reduce the pain and hopefully help her recover. You must give her as much water as possible. Can you bring her some clean clothes? You need to change her clothes and clean her as often as you can. I'll leave the medicine with you and I'll come back tomorrow to find a way to get her out of here before it's too late." Then, he pressed my hand with his fingers and said, "You need to fight. Be strong." Then he left.

My mom came back after a while and started undressing me. I was like a lump of meat and couldn't do anything to help. She started talking and crying at the same time.

"You ruined your life and my life. Why did you do that to me? You're all I have and now you are dying in front of my eyes. Thank God it is Ramadan, otherwise you would be dead already. Your father didn't kill you only because the Imam of our mosque told him that as per Sharia he is not allowed to do that, especially because you're a virgin. He made me bring a midwife in while you were unconscious to examine you. At least you didn't go as far as giving away your virginity. You've made our lives hell. I was happily waiting for you to come back home so I could show you your engagement dress, and within a few hours, all my happiness was replaced with extreme shame and misery. Your father was looking for you everywhere, thinking that you had been kidnapped. He was running around like an insane man. I went to Anar's house, hoping she could give us some clue as to what happened to you. At first, she denied knowing anything, but when she saw my tears and panic, she opened her mouth and told us everything. Oh God, how I wished you had been kidnapped. We can't live in this neighbourhood anymore. Everybody knows about you, even in the bazaar they know what happened. Akbar found out and told your father that his family was offended and his son was not interested anymore. Can you imagine how shameful that was for your father? He is so ashamed that he doesn't even want to go to his shop. He doesn't talk to anyone, even me. He accused me of not supervising you well and allowing this to happen. He wanted to kill both you and that Godless boy. He went to his house and his uncle told your father that he had not come back home. His family was also very ashamed and frustrated. They cursed him for his actions. How could you run away with such a lowlife person? How could you steal money from us? The money we had saved for your wedding. I guess he just left you in the street so you came back home. Thanks God he didn't rape you. You know, if your father finds out that I tried to save you, he'll kill me as well. He wanted to leave you here with no food or water so you'd starve to death. I thought you were dead yesterday after he beat you again, but God gave you back to me."

"When your father went out this morning, I asked the doctor to come and visit you. He and all the others refused to come. They were afraid to interfere in family business but then, like a miracle, I saw Maher, Akbar's son, in the clinic and begged him to come and see you. God bless him, he accepted. I snuck him into the house in darkness after your father had gone to the mosque for evening prayer. He spends most of his time there these days and comes back home very late. I had to steal the key to the bomb shelter from his pocket this afternoon when he was asleep. You see what I have gone through to save you? I've become a thief like you! Now I should go back up before he comes home and finds out what has happened."

She left and I was crying in my heart, cursing myself for letting all those things happen to my parents. I was a very lucky girl to have such good parents who treated me very well all my life. I felt so sorry for my father and wanted to see him again and kiss his hands and feet and ask him for forgiveness. I was in extreme pain and misery and wished to die.

When I woke up the next day, it was quiet and I couldn't hear anyone walking around the house. I didn't know what time of day it was. I could open my eyes a little, but could barely move my body at all. I noticed a bowl of water close to me and pushed my head towards it and tried to grab it with my lips. The bowl turned upside down and most of the water spilled on the ground with just a few drops entering my mouth.

I lay there, worried that my father had found out about my mom helping me and had done something bad to her. After an hour or so, I heard the courtyard door open and somebody running toward the basement. It was my mom. She ran down and unlocked the shelter door and happily told me, "Wake up, girl. You are one of God's favourites and he has saved you from death. I will pray for Maher day and night. He is an angel. He went to your father's shop and asked for your hand. He has done it against his father's will and wants to marry you today. Your father has accepted with the condition that Maher takes you away today and you never come back. They have gone to bring the Imam to marry you to him. They will be here shortly."

I did not know if I was awake or if I was dreaming, but from the amount of pain I was in, I realised it wasn't a dream. I couldn't believe Maher made such a decision, even against his family's wishes.

She ran back upstairs and came in with something in her hands. My eyes were half closed and my vision blurred, but I thought it must be the engagement dress she made for me. As she came closer, I could see the beautiful dress. I started to cry. She gently took off my clothes and carefully put on the beautiful engagement dress.

"Even though this is not what I wanted for you and is nothing like a normal wedding or engagement, I am going to celebrate it with joy! I will do anything for this guy. He has bought your life. Where are your earrings? Oh, no. Don't tell me you gave them to that bastard!"

She hesitated for a few seconds then took off the necklace she was wearing and put it around my neck. "You know this came from my mom. I wanted to give it to you on your wedding day. Well, I guess today is the day."

She kissed my head and said, "Nazgol, even though you disgraced and destroyed me, you are still my daughter and I love you and will always love you. I may not see you again but I want you to know that you're in my heart and I will pray for you every day."

Tears were running down my face but I couldn't hug her or kiss her and tell her how sorry I was or how much I wanted to make better all the things I had done wrong and the many mistakes I had made.

She hugged me and said, "I know, my dear. I can hear you and I forgive you."

Then she looked up toward the stairs. "They will be here any minute. I should pull you out of this room but I don't want to hurt you. We will have to stay here. They will sit in the courtyard and the Imam will marry you to Maher from there. It would be any girl's dream to be his bride. After all you have done, you should be honoured to be his bride. Whatever happens, be a good wife to him and always remember he saved your life."

I heard the men come into the courtyard and announce their presence, so my mom went up to talk to them. She came back down a few minutes later and pulled me, with difficulty, towards the door. She sat down on the ground and put my head on her lap. I was in extreme pain but it was like a hallucination. Then I heard the Imam reading the vows and asking Maher if he agreed with the terms of the marriage and if he accepts him as his advocate to marry me to him. I heard his confident and strong voice, "Yes."

Then, he asked if I accepted the marriage and my mom responded, "On behalf of my daughter, yes."

Then the Imam read the sermon and called me Maher's legal wife and prayed for us. My mom was excitedly caressing and kissing my hand.

After he finished his prayer, my mom went upstairs. I could hear them in the courtyard, talking and preparing the paperwork. The Imam said his farewells and left.

I could hear my father's voice. He was talking with Maher, but I couldn't hear exactly what they were saying. After a while, my mom came down with Maher. I saw his silhouette as he entered then I saw him in his white Salwar Kameez and dark waist coat. My mom brought a quilt down. She put it on the ground and Maher slowly put me on the quilt and wrapped it around me. He lifted me and carried me up to the courtyard. I couldn't see my father or even hear him. Maher took me straight outside and gently placed me on the back seat of a car. My mom put a bag full of my clothes beside me and kissed my head before she closed the door and waved to me, crying as Maher drove away. I wanted to say so much but I couldn't even open my mouth. I fell asleep in the car and woke when I heard Maher opening the door. He smiled at me and said, "You're safe now. Don't worry. I will take good care of you." He lifted me out of the car. I could see the blue sky and felt the breeze on my face. Then, I heard another man greeting Maher and inviting him inside. We entered a house and I heard another woman greeting Maher and asking him to follow her. She took us to a room and Maher put me down on a bed. I saw the woman's face. She was a middle aged woman with beautiful, big brown eyes. She was wearing a colourful scarf that covered her hair completely.

She left the room and Maher took away the quilt and said, "What a beautiful dress. But I need to take it off now because I need to clean and bandage your wounds."

I was completely lifeless, and even though I tried to say something, my words didn't come out. I was murmuring again. Maher said, "You don't need to speak. You'd better save your energy. We can talk later when you feel better. I will give you some medicine to reduce the pain. You also need to eat and drink. I will bring you some food and water. Mahbooba, my friend's wife, has made you some porridge."

He left and came back with water and put a few drops in my mouth with a small spoon. He then started undressing me. I felt extremely nervous and shy. When he took off my dress, I could see his sympathetic and sad look. He started cleaning my wounds carefully and putting ointment on them. They were very sore. He then put some loose clothes on me and left the room. I closed my eyes and thanked God for sending him to me. I didn't know who he was, but at that moment, he was an angel from God.

I heard somebody walking in. It was Mahbooba. She sat beside me with a bowl of porridge and started feeding me slowly. The porridge tasted bitter in my mouth and I had difficulty swallowing, but she was very patient and cleaned my mouth after each spoonful.

A little boy came to the room and hugged her from behind and she said, "Please go back to your dad. I need to be here and cannot play with you now." He stared at me for a few minutes while his mom was feeding me and then left the room.

Maher and Mahbooba checked on me periodically during the day. At night, Maher came to the room and put a bed beside me. I was very nervous after my bad experience with Jabber, but he just checked that I was okay and went to sleep. I felt relaxed.

When I closed my eyes, I was back in the basement, beaten and bruised, and dreamt that getting married and being safe with Maher was just a dream. I could hear my mom's cries and could see my father standing over me, holding his stick, ready to beat me. I jerked out of my nightmare and saw Maher cleaning my face with a damp towel. He whispered, "I think you had a bad dream. You have a high fever and I need to bring it down." He put a spoon of liquid and drops of water in my mouth. I felt like I was burning up. He took away the quilt and put my feet in a little tub and started pouring cold water on them. It was such a good feeling, like putting out a fire. When I woke up, it was morning. Maher wasn't in the room. Mahbooba came in after a while with another bowl of sweet porridge and said, "Maher went to work early this morning. He will come back tonight."

For the next few days, Mahbooba was kindly taking care of me during the day and Maher looked after me during the night. I was getting used to Maher touching my body to clean my wounds. I started to feel very comfortable with him and trusted him completely. I slowly started to recover and got my voice back. One night, while Maher was checking my wounds, I touched his hand and told him, "Thank you. You saved my life."

That brought a big smile to his face and he said, "Oh, not only can you move your hand but you can also talk now. This is great." I smiled back at him.

I was making a good recovery. I was able to sit up in bed instead of lying down all day. Mahbooba and I began to chat. She told me that her husband, Jahan, was Maher's long time friend. They were very close, almost like brothers, and had been in the battlefield together during the war against the soviets. Jahan was Mahbooba's second husband. Her first husband was Jahan's brother but he died in the war. She had a ten-year-old son from her first husband and a four-year-old son from Jahan. Jahan also had another wife who he married before Mahbooba, and he had two sons and a daughter from her. They all lived in the same house, but as it was summer vacation, Jahan's first wife and children and Mahbooba's older son had gone to stay with Jahan's parents in a small town close to Herat for summer holidays. Although Mahbooba was a few years older than Jahan and was his second wife, she was happy and satisfied since Jahan treated her completely equally to his first wife.

Although I was recovering physically, I was still suffering mentally from everything that had happened. I was feeling very depressed. From the day I ran away to the day Maher saved me was no more than a week but it felt like ten years. I spent my days in bed, going over and over what had happened, and praying to God from my heart and asking for his forgiveness and serenity.

The thought that I would not be able to see my family again was devastating, and thinking about how I got married, compared to what I had dreamed of since I was a child, was heartbreaking. I could have had a nice wedding with family and friends, and I could have been well respected, but now I was just alive thanks to Maher's mercy and had neither family nor friends. I didn't know what Maher was going to do once I was better. I thought he only agreed to the marriage to save me, not that he really liked me or wanted to be with me. Most probably, he would just keep me at home like a maid, and sooner or later he would marry someone else to have children with. Why would he want to have a child with someone like me, who ran away with another man?

Suddenly, I couldn't see any life ahead of me and I wished I was dead.

After a few more days, I tried to take a few steps but it was too early. I asked Mahbooba to give me a mirror. She hesitated but I insisted, so she finally brought a small mirror. I looked at myself and was shocked. My face was still blue and yellow and swollen, my eyes were puffed up, and I really looked horrifying. I dropped the mirror and cried loud and bitterly, repeating, "I want to die. I want to die."

Mahbooba hugged me and tried to console me. She said I would be fine and I would look beautiful again, but I asked her to leave me alone and I cried for hours. When Maher came home, Mahbooba told him the story about the mirror and my wish to die.

He came to the room while I was crying and looked at me angrily. "Pull yourself together. I do not like this weak behaviour! I didn't leave my family and jeopardise my life, using my energy on you day and night to hear that all you want is to die because you don't look so good. What are you thinking? That you will be perfect after a few days? You should be happy that none of these injuries are life-threatening. These wounds and bruises won't stay there forever. They will heal and eventually you'll look like before, but you need to be patient and you need to help yourself and be strong."

He disappeared out of the room and I felt even worse.

After breaking his fast, he came back and told me, "I am going to shower you. You can sit now and your wounds are much better. A good shower will help your healing process and will take you out of this mood."

I nodded and he gently took me in his arms to the bathroom. He placed me on a chair and started taking his shirt and trousers off. I was feeling shy to look at him but I peeked discreetly. He had a nice body but with quite a few scars. He left his underpants on then started undressing me. Even though he had been cleaning my wounds, I still felt very uncomfortable about getting undressed. I pulled myself together and he gently took off my clothes, tested the water, and placed me on a stool under the shower. He poured water on my back. It was such a great feeling. It was like I was shedding my skin like a snake. I relaxed and discreetly looked at Maher. He was very calm and relaxed, like he had done it many times before.

He then dried me with a soft towel and wrapped it around me then took me back to the room. He dressed me in pyjamas and put me into bed. He told me to rest while he took a shower. He was so gentle and nice, and I had such a good feeling about him that I just wanted to hug him but I controlled myself and obediently lay on the bed. I had a great peaceful sleep that night.

I started feeling something for Maher, trusting him and feeling safe about my future. From that day, I decided to be strong, try hard to not look back, and to have no regrets. I needed to get ready for my new life with Maher. It was amazing how my decision and determination helped me recover. I started taking a few steps every day with Mahbooba's help, I was combing my hair and dressing myself, and even Maher commented on my determination and how happy he was with my progress.

He came back one day and sat beside me and said, "I found a house. It's small but it's a good start. I'm going to buy some simple furniture over the next few days and we can move there soon and leave Jahan and Mahbooba in peace. They have been very kind for letting us stay for so long."

I was so happy I couldn't control myself and kissed his hand. He smiled at me and said, "It's not necessary to kiss my hand. You just need to recover completely so that you are able to walk and do things around the house by yourself. Otherwise, I won't be able to leave you alone at home and go to work."

I excitedly said, "Oh, of course. I will recover soon. I can manage everything myself now."

He laughed and said, "Not yet. We need a few more days."

From that night, I pushed my limits to walk properly and to be as fit as possible. I even asked Mahbooba to stand next to me while I took a shower, but I did it without her help.

Two or three days later, Maher told me he had taken the basic things we needed to the house and it was ready to move in. On Friday afternoon, when Maher and Jahan came back from Friday prayer, Maher packed our things and put them in the car. I kissed and hugged Mahbooba and told her I would never forget her kindness and would pray for her. She said she would always be there if I needed help and she would also pray for me.

Maher had an old car, but it was very exciting for me to sit beside him. He drove through the streets of Herat and I was looking around like a tourist. Everything was new in my eyes, like I had just started a new life. We got to a small alley and Maher stopped in front of an old, modest house. Maher helped me get out of the car and proudly said, "Welcome home."

I was so excited, like a child that gets a great present. He opened the door into a bright yet small living room with a kitchen and bathroom on one side and bedroom and storage room on the other side. There was an old rug on the floor with some big cushions spread around it and a low table with a few books and a Rubab on top. I slowly walked to the kitchen. There was a second hand oven and refrigerator with a few kitchen appliances and some pots and pans. I went into the bedroom. There was a double bed, some bed covers, and a small bedside table with a lamp on top. That was about it.

He came beside me and said, "I know there is not much here but I will get more things little by little."

"Oh no. This is great! It's much more than I expected."

"Good. I will get some food and basic supplies. You can rest a bit. It has been a hard day for you."

I didn't say anything but I was thinking to myself that day was one of the best days of my life.

Over the next few days, I tried to make the house like a real home for us, even though I was still in pain and found it difficult to keep going. I cleaned and rearranged the house, little by little. I also started cooking nice foods like my mom taught me and asked Maher to buy some sewing materials so I could make bed sheets, bed covers, curtains, table sets, and whatever else we needed. He appreciated everything I did and complimented me on my work. The first thing I made was a silk handkerchief with his name embroidered on it which I intended to give him for Eid.

Ramadan finished and Eid arrived. I couldn't believe only a month had passed since the day I ran away. Everything happened so fast and it all seemed like a bad dream. Even though I still had difficulty moving around, I had made a tremendous recovery in the three weeks since Maher saved me.

Maher went out for Eid prayer, and I decided to make a small lunch fiesta for him. I cooked all sorts of things. When he came home from prayer, he was so pleased to see the lovely spread of food. He ate everything I cooked. I enjoyed watching him eat. He patted his tummy and gave me a big compliment on my cooking. I then gave him the handkerchief. He opened it and smiled. "I knew I wasn't wrong. You're such a good woman." That brought tears to my eyes. I took his hand and kissed it and said, "I owe you my life. I would do anything for you." He kissed my head and told me, "You owe me nothing. I did what I had to do as a human."

Not long after we moved in, Maher came home from work one day, looking very pale and unwell. I asked him what was wrong. He said, "Nothing," and rushed by me to the bedroom. He hadn't closed the door properly so I peeped in and saw him injecting something into his arm.

Oh God, was Maher a heroin addict? It was something that became quite common in Afghanistan. I had read stories about addicted people who destroyed their families and spent all their money on drugs and sold their wives and children. I finally found the reason why he married me despite my situation. He might decide to sell me after I got better. I felt faint. I sat down before I fell down and knocked the small living room table over. He heard me and calmly said, "What happened? Are you okay?"

I couldn't even answer. I was paralyzed. He put the syringe to one side and slowly came toward me. He sat beside me and said, "What's the matter?"

I burst into tears. "What do you want to do to me? Do you want to sell me to someone else? I should have known this is too good to be true."

"Are you out of your mind? What are you talking about?"

"You're an addict. I saw you injecting something into your arm."

He laughed and said, "I should have told you earlier but didn't get the chance."

"Please don't sell me. I can work. I can sew and make money."

He laughed loudly. "You're so naive and you have a wild imagination. I'm not an addict. I'm diabetic. I guess you don't know anything about diabetes. I'll explain everything to you, but first, you need to calm down. You look so pale. You must be in shock."

He helped me sit on the cushions then he explained what it was and that he was diagnosed with it during the war. Since then, he had to have insulin injections every day.

"Something you should know is that in some severe cases, diabetic people may sometimes become unconscious or have a seizure if they don't keep their insulin balance correct but you shouldn't worry. That is very rare. I take good care of myself and it is unlikely you will see me like that, but I'll teach you what to do in case it happens. It's very important that you don't panic. You just have to stay calm and control yourself."

That put my worries at ease. I just wanted to hug him and tell him how sorry I was for my foolishness and that I would always take good care of him, but as usual, I was too shy.

### Chapter Seven

My wounds started to disappear and my face looked much better. I was doing my best to look good for Maher.

One night, I decided instead of platting my hair, I would just spread it around my shoulders to attract his attention and it worked very well. When I welcomed him home that night, he looked at me with a nice, surprised look. While we were eating, I could see from the corner of my eye that he was looking at me very often. After dinner, he checked my wounds as usual. I held my hair up while he cleaned them. When he finished, I let go of my hair. It cascaded down my back. His breath was getting deeper, and I felt his fingertips on my hair. He was gently stroking it, and my heart fluttered. He came closer. I felt his gentle breath on my hair and shoulder. I trembled and got goose bumps on my neck. He slowly put his hands around my waist and pulled me toward his chest. I was like a tamed deer. He pulled my loose shirt down and I shivered when he put his lips on my bare shoulder. He moved his hand over my stomach and made his way up to my breasts. The sensation was extremely overwhelming for me. He was kissing my neck and I was burning from his touch. Then suddenly, his hand accidently brushed against a wound on my chest and I let out a scream. He pulled himself back and I felt embarrassed, "Oh, I'm sorry. I am really sorry. It was just very painful."

"Oh no. No, it is me who should be sorry. It's my mistake."

He pulled up my shirt and went to the bedroom. I embarrassedly buttoned up my shirt and went to the kitchen to make some tea. After a while, I could hear him playing his Rubab in the living room. I took the tea and he calmly said, "That's a good idea. I'm really thirsty." We didn't say much that night and went to bed like all the other nights. Neither of us went to sleep for a while but nothing happened. He turned around and pretended to be asleep, and I blamed myself for what happened.

After that night, Maher wasn't looking at me like I was his patient anymore. When he was putting ointment on my wounds, I could feel that his touch was different. It seemed more affectionate and it took longer. He was getting very close, and I was hoping he would try again, but it usually ended there.

A week had passed and still nothing happened. My wounds had virtually healed but Maher still liked to go through the routine of checking them. I think he enjoyed it and I was happy with that. I could walk more easily and was busy around the house doing the daily chores and sewing different things. We went out shopping together a few times to buy more furniture. I always wore my burqa in case anyone I knew saw me. I was still ashamed of myself and afraid of being seen. I think Maher knew this but didn't make any comments.

It was toward the end of summer and the weather was wonderful. One Friday, Maher took me out for a walk along the promenade. There were people everywhere. Maher said, "Well, neither of us can pay a visit to family today. I saw my father and brother in Eid prayer but I think my father is still upset. He didn't reply to my greeting but I'm sure one day he'll understand."

I felt sorry that he had put himself into this situation. I was also very surprised he was not offended and even gave them the right to be upset with him. I had lots of questions, but felt very shy and uncomfortable to ask any of them. I really wanted to know what was going through his mind. Why he married me and what he knew about me and my story.

He suddenly started to talk. "You know I was married a long time ago in my early twenties. I didn't even see my wife before getting married, but in those days, I was young and only motivated by war and politics. I didn't have any fear of dying. When I came home for the first time to see my wife, we had already been married for three months. I was selfish and all I wanted was to have children. I stayed for ten days then went back to the battlefield. Later, I received a letter from my father telling me that my wife was pregnant. I was happy but also very ignorant as I didn't think of her feelings or of the situation she was in. I was irresponsible. I should have been with her to protect her in those early days. I went to visit her again a few months later. She was staying at my father's house. She was very sad and asked me to stay with her, but all I wanted to do was to go back and fight the Soviets, so she asked for my permission to go and stay with her family for a few months. I didn't mind. I took her to her family home outside of Herat. One month later, I received a letter from my father telling me she died in a mine blast at her parents' farm. That hit me very hard, and I went into a deep depression. I felt ashamed of myself and guilty for being so cruel and leaving her alone while I was killing soldiers just like myself, who themselves had families. I saw many dead soldiers and young men who had lost their arms and legs and God knows what else. I realised we were just all victims of politics.

"I decided to go back home and do something to serve people instead of planting hatred in my soul and the soul of others. I promised myself that if I ever got the chance to save any human being, I would do so. This is why I trained hard to become a doctor, to try to preserve life instead of taking it."

He looked sad. "Although I didn't have strong feelings for my wife, I cannot forget the sad look in her eyes when I met her. I think she married me against her will. Maybe she liked someone else, but I didn't care at the time. I only thought about it when she died. I thought about it over and over again. She could be alive and happy today if I hadn't married her. Since then, I never found the courage to marry anyone else. My mother found many girls for me but when I saw them, I could see that they didn't have a vote and they would say yes just because their parents made them. This was not what I wanted. When I heard that you had run away because you didn't want to get married against your will, I thought you were very brave. I knew what you had done was probably going to cost you your life. Although my parents were totally against the idea of me marrying you, I thought I should fulfil my promise to myself and save you no matter what the circumstances. Even if you didn't want to marry me, I couldn't leave you there to die like an animal in a cage."

He stopped for a few minutes then said, "Listen, now that you've recovered, you're free to decide what you want in your life. I don't want to keep you against your will. I know that you loved another man and that's why you ran away. You can go and find him or you can do whatever you like. You can stay with me as long as you like, and once you feel you're ready, you can go. I will divorce you whenever you want."

My heart sank and I was choked with tears. I had just started to develop some strong feelings for him and started thinking about us as a family. I thought he liked me, but by what he had said, I thought he had no feelings for me and just wanted to save me from death. He took pity on me and no matter how hard I tried, he would not see me as a wife or someone to have a family with. Of course not, what was I thinking? How could he trust me after what I had done?

I was lost and confused and drowning in my sorrows. I didn't know what to say, so as usual, I said nothing.

We went home and I cooked some food with no interest or desire. We had our dinner in silence, and I went straight to bed after dinner and cried in my solitude. When he came to bed, I turned the other way and pretended to be asleep.

I had no more enthusiasm to do anything around the house. All I was doing was cooking and cleaning for Maher. At least I was compensating for his generosity and humanity. He also realised my distance and tried to respect it. He didn't complain or do anything about it. He spent more time in the clinic and was coming home late. There were no more wounds to treat so there was no touching between us. He kept himself busy playing his Rubab when he was at home. He played sad songs most of the time, which made me sad and tearful. The days were going by and the most words that would come out of my mouth were simply "goodbye" or "hello." I had no one to talk to or to go to. I wanted to see my mom but I didn't have the courage. I was trying to come up with a purpose for my life, but I didn't know what to do anymore.

I felt very depressed and was thinking about ending it all. This thought was getting stronger every day, and I even started reviewing the suicide options, cutting my wrists, hanging myself, drinking a poisonous liquid or eating all the painkillers Maher had brought me. Then I thought I shouldn't do it at home. I should leave Maher and find a secluded place. I started making plans. I would ask Maher to divorce me and tell him I wanted to go to Kabul then just go to a derelict building and kill myself so he would never know. All I needed was the courage to ask Maher for a divorce.

Every day, I practiced my conversation with Maher and what I would tell him but at night, I couldn't even open my mouth.

One Friday, Maher went for Friday prayer and I decided to take a shower. In the shower, I was thinking that this would be the day. I went to the bedroom and was drying myself when I heard him opening the front door. I kept repeating to myself, "Be brave and tell him." He suddenly opened the bedroom door. I turned in fright and the towel dropped to the floor. He looked at me in a glance. I grabbed the towel and quickly covered myself. He looked down, went out, and closed the door. _That's it. He doesn't desire me at all. Today is the day._ I put on a nice dress and combed my hair like I was celebrating my decision to divorce him. When I opened the door, he was still standing there. He looked at me and I said, "Maher, I want to talk to you."

He came close and looked at me for a few seconds, and suddenly grabbed me hard and said, "I can't do this anymore." He pulled me onto the cushions, and I was afraid he was going to harm me. He was very intense and sat on his knees and pulled up my dress. He was so fast and I was shocked that before I knew what was happening, he was on top of me. It didn't even take a few seconds before I felt a sharp pain. I screamed. He jumped back shocked and said, "God forgive me, you are a virgin!"

He ran to the bathroom and I just lay there in shock. After a few minutes, I got up and there was some blood on my dress. I realised what had just happened. I ran to the bedroom and closed the door behind me, sitting behind the door while I came to my senses. I heard him come out of bathroom and run out of the house. He did not come back until after midnight. I lay there, very quietly pretending I was asleep but he didn't come to the bedroom. I heard him leave the house early the next morning.

I thought about what happened, and a light came on in my heart, _Maybe I am wrong. Maybe he does desire me, and maybe he is controlling himself hard not to get close to me. I have to find out for sure. I can't leave without knowing the truth. I must ask him. I should tell him what happened between me and Jabber. He needs to know that I hate Jabber and did nothing with him. I have to tell him everything._

All day I went around the house, reminding myself of what I wanted to say.

He came home late. I stayed awake waiting for him. He was surprised to see me awake and went to bathroom. He took his time in the shower. He came out and sat down quietly. I served him tea and told him, "Maher, I need to talk to you." But before I could speak again, he said, "I'm really sorry for what happened yesterday. I lost control but all this time I thought you had lost your virginity and that was why your father wanted to kill you."

"No, Maher. I thought my parents told you. I need to tell you everything. There was a man in our neighbourhood that I had a crush on. His name was Jabber. He used to come to our roof and we talked to each other a lot, but nothing happened between us. When your brother asked me for marriage, I panicked. I didn't want to get married. I wanted to be with Jabber and was afraid of losing him, so we planned to escape and go to Kabul. We wanted to take the night bus, but looking back, I am fortunate it was full. We found a derelict building to spend the night in so we could get the bus to Kabul the next morning. That night, he tried to rape me but I hit him hard and managed to escape. I realised how blind and stupid I had been not to have seen through his devious nature. I hate him with a passion. I survived by sleeping in mosques for a couple of days and eating bread and water. I had nowhere to go until I found the courage to go back home. I met a woman in the street and she was kind enough to help me to get home. The reason my father wanted to kill me was because I brought disgrace to the family. Everybody in the neighbourhood got to know my story. He was humiliated and embarrassed. Maher, I don't have anyone in this world. My parents have disowned me, and I have no friends to turn to. You're the only one who has accepted me. I can understand if you don't want to have a family with a girl who ran away with somebody else, but if you have any desire for me, please let me stay with you. You saved my life. I will do anything for you. You can even marry another girl and have children with her, but do not leave me because I will die alone."

My tears did not let me continue. I could barely take a breath.

He came beside me and took me in his arms and said, "Shhhhhhhhh, don't cry. Of course, I won't leave you. You're my wife and I won't let you go unless you wished me to, and of course I desire you. I desire you more that any woman in my life. I like you very much. I liked you from the first time I saw you. You're beautiful and smart and have a good heart. If you have done something wrong in your past, it doesn't mean that you should suffer forever. I have made so many mistakes in my life too. I'm happy you have told me these things. I was so sad that you didn't object to what I said that day and I thought you really wanted to go. Nazgol, look at me."

I slowly looked up into his eyes through my tears.

"If you tell me you want to be with me, not only will I not let you go, but I also want to have children with you. Why would I need another woman when I have an angel like you?"

"Maher, I love you with all my heart."

He pulled me firmly into his arms and put his lips on mine. We kissed with passion. He lifted me up and carried me to the bedroom, laying me gently on the bed. He took off his clothes and gently undressed me. Then he started kissing me and touching my body. The sensation of his skin against mine was extremely joyful. He was very passionate, and I was so sensual and aroused. I got to a point I had never experienced in my life. It was like something was set free in me with extreme relief and pleasure. I was paralyzed with this feeling and couldn't move. He hugged me gently and I pressed myself against him like a bird in her nest.

The next morning, we woke happily in each other's arms and started the first day of our life as a couple.

That day, he came home from the clinic early. I opened the door and he came in. He kissed me on the forehead, smiling and sat down in the living room. I went to the kitchen to make him tea. When I turned, he was at the kitchen door, staring at me. Then he said calmly, "You know, I couldn't concentrate at work today because I wanted to be with you." That made me giggle and I tried to pass him to go to the living room. He grabbed my waist and blocked my way and said, "Your giggles make me crazy. They were in my ears all day today." I got hot all over and desired him so much. I took his hand and put it around my waist and said, "Take me, Maher."

I was flying, and he was giving me wings. We had so much passion for each other.

After making love, we fell asleep in each other's arms. When I woke up, it was dark. I got flustered and wanted to get up. Maher asked me, "What's wrong?"

I said, "It's night and I haven't cooked any food!"

He laughed and pulled me back in his arms and said, "Don't worry. We'll have bread and yogurt tonight. We've got something more important than dinner here."

I happily lay back in his arms and enjoyed the most beautiful and romantic moments of my life.

The next few days were as passionate and beautiful as the first. I felt like I was born again. I was feeling proud and strong that not only did Maher want me, he also wanted to have a family with me, and above all that, he was someone I adored and loved deeply.

Maher was around me like a butterfly. He came home as early as he could and even helped me in the kitchen to be close to me. Sometimes we ran around the house like children, chasing each other and laughing. I was losing my inhibitions and expressing myself more, and he kept repeating, "You make me crazier every day."

We were getting very intimate and learning more about each other. We were both braver in saying what was on our minds. I told him about my childhood and working in the basement, and he told me about the war and how he got each of his scars. I was talking to him about having children and he was telling me about his dreams. He answered all my questions and I was very proud of him.

One Friday morning, we woke together and lingered in each other's arms. I told him, "You'll be late for Friday prayer."

He replied, "This is better than a thousand prayers, Nazgol. I don't know what you've done to me but I can't think of anything but you. I feel like a teenage boy! When I'm with you, I feel more like myself than any other time. You even bring me closer to God because I can appreciate the reason of my being and understand that life is not about suffering, but about love and enjoying the moments."

I was in tears when he was talking and kissed him all over.

"Do you remember the first time I told you my story, Maher? You told me you liked me from the first time you saw me. When was that?"

"When you came to our house with your parents, when I saw your beautiful eyes, my heart missed a beat, but then I blamed myself for being unreasonable and looking at the girl that may one day be my sister-in-law. That day, I wished that my parents had made me the candidate for you, but then again, I thought I was too old for you and you deserved someone younger."

"Oh, really. I can't believe it. You're exaggerating."

"No, I'm not. I felt sad after my parents came back from your house and said that you had agreed to marry my brother, but I knew in my heart it was against your will because I saw the way you looked at Najib. You didn't like me either. Did you?"

"Even though I knew nothing about you, I still had a good feeling when I saw you for the first time. Now that I know you, I adore you. You are handsome, strong, gentle, and wise. You're the type of man every girl in Herat dreams about. What else could I want in my life?"

He hugged me and said, "Oh, now it's you who is exaggerating."

"Of course not. I know I'm the luckiest girl in Herat."

He laughed and said, "Then you're the queen of Herat, and I'm the king!"

### Chapter Eight

When Maher played Rubab, I used to sit beside him, totally mesmerized. I loved it when he played. His songs were very joyful and very soothing. Once, he was playing a tune that I knew the lyrics to. It was a romantic poem from Hafez and I started quietly singing the lyrics while he played. He stopped and looked at me surprisingly and said, "Not only are you beautiful, but you also have a beautiful voice. How do you know this song?"

"My mother used to sing it while she was busy around the house."

"You know, it is a poem from Hafez. I really like his poems because they are very meaningful."

"I know many of them. He's my favourite too. I used to read his book whenever I had a chance."

"Really? You have read his poems? I didn't realise you could read that well."

"I love reading books and poems! I even used to read all the newspaper articles from the paper that we used to wrap the spice packs. I really wanted to finish my schooling but my father didn't let me continue. My teacher thought I could become a doctor one day. It's a shame, it didn't happen, but it doesn't matter because you are a doctor and you're part of me now."

He put his Rubab down and picked up his Hafez book. He sat beside me and asked me to read one of his favourite poems. I read the poem for him. He was looking at me joyfully. When I finished, he kissed me and said, "You're a gem. You read so beautifully. I've never heard it that way before. Your voice is smooth and rhythmic. I want you to read more and more for me. You should also sing with me when I play Rubab."

He held my hand then said, "It's really important to continue your education. I'll buy you some good books, and I want you to learn more about almost everything. Nazgol, you are very smart, and once you learn more, we'll be able to talk about anything. I want our children to be well educated and achieve greater things than us."

He bought me a few books of different topics: literature, history, religion, and just general things about life. Some of them were hard reads for me, but I wanted the challenge of learning more and I was not shy to ask Maher about anything I didn't understand. He enjoyed teaching me.

I remember once, I was so deep into reading a book, I didn't realise the time passing. I'd forgotten to cook anything for dinner. Maher came home and I got flustered. When he saw my frustration, he held me and said with a smile, "Don't worry, my dear. We'll eat bread and yogurt tonight. You did something more valuable than cooking today." He helped me set the table and asked my opinion on the book I was reading. I was very pleased my opinion was important to him.

The days were passing fast and my life was peaceful. Even though I had no one to talk to, I didn't feel like I needed anyone else. I missed my mom and my father but I wasn't lonely. We visited Jahan and Mahbooba and Maryam (Jahan's first wife) a couple of times and we also invited them around to ours. Mahbooba was very pleased to see me so happy and healthy, and told me how worried she had been about me.

One day, I was cleaning the house when Maher opened the door. It was mid-day and I was very surprised to see him at that time of the day. I was a little worried, "Is everything okay, Maher? How come you're home so early?"

"We have a guest."

He moved away from the door and my mom walked in. I couldn't believe it. I ran and hugged her tightly, and we both burst into tears. "Your mom came to the clinic to ask how you were, so I said why not find out for herself, and I offered to bring her to visit you. I knew how happy you would be. I have to go back to the clinic now and will come back in a few hours to take your mom home."

He turned to my mom and took her hand and told her, "Welcome to our home, Mother."

Maher left, and we sat down, hand in hand, crying. After we gathered our emotions, my mom asked me how I was and if I had totally recovered.

"Yes Mom, I have recovered and feel very well. Not only am I very well, but also very happy. All that had happened was for a reason. It led me on a path to find a man like Maher. I couldn't be happier anywhere else. All that pain and misery was worth it to be with Maher. Mom, I owe this to you. If you had not asked him to come and visit me, I would not be here today."

"I am so grateful to God that this story turned into something good. Even though deep in my heart I knew Maher was a good man, I was worried that you would not recover or you were unhappy with him. Listen, there's something I need to tell you. After what happened to you, your father felt very humiliated and dishonoured and could not raise his head in front of his friends in the bazaar. He sold his shop and his business to a stranger for a low price. He also sold the house. We are moving to a small town outside of Herat. He has bought a small house with a grocery shop below. I wanted to give the address to Maher so we don't lose contact. I hope your father forgives you one day and we can get together again. He has aged so much in the past couple of months you would almost not recognise him, but don't worry, I will take care of him and we will start a new life and things will change. Now that I know you are okay, I will have great peace of mind. Nazgol, do you know how many times I have bowed down to God and thanked him for saving your life? I was sure your father was going to kill you. Even though he's a good man, it was too much for him. Do you know how many women are killed for running away like you? What happened to you was a miracle."

She then looked around the house and said, "This is a cosy house. I can sense the happiness and love here, and I see that you have excelled in what I taught you. What beautiful curtains and cushions."

I smiled and kissed her hands and put my head on her lap. I told her how much I missed her and how badly I wanted to see her, but I didn't have the courage to go back. We had lunch together and chatted for a while till Maher came to pick her up. It was a very emotional moment for me since I didn't know when I would see her again, but at least I was relieved she was fine, and she knew I was very happy.

When Maher came back, he consoled me and took me out to get some air. I opened the window of the car to let the air soothe my tear-swollen face. Maher was singing a song in a low voice, and I let the sound of his music and the soothing air pamper me and take away my sadness.

After a few months, I started getting bored being alone all day and doing daily chores. I asked Maher when we were going to start a family. He said it was too early and he preferred to spend some time with me and enjoy it before children occupied our lives. Even though I wanted to have children, I decided to leave it to him.

For the Nowruz celebration, since neither of us could pay visits to our families, Maher decided to arrange a trip to Mashhad in Iran. He told me he always wanted to visit there and it was good opportunity for us to take a break and travel together. I was very excited because I had never travelled before, especially to Iran. I was thrilled since I had heard so much about it. Maher said Mashhad was not that far from Herat, and we could get there in half a day by car. The process of passing the border was easy for Afghan people in those days.

He organised everything, including getting me a passport and preparing all of the paper work needed to get into Iran. It was such a luxury for me to have a passport, and I felt like I really was the queen of Herat. I was counting the days, and my small bag was ready and packed a week before we were set to leave.

Finally, the departure day arrived, and I woke up very early in the morning. I was staring at Maher until he finally woke up. We packed everything in the back of the car and took to the road. It was a pleasant journey, but Maher told me how dangerous it had been to take this road several years ago during the war with the soviets. We stopped on the way and had some tea and sweets. We eventually got to the border around noon. The process for crossing the border was fairly easy, but there was a long queue as many Afghans travelled to Iran for work or for a visit.

The roads on Iran's side of the border were much more developed. Maher explained to me that Mashhad was one of the most important cities of Iran and was known as a holy city since the shrine of the eighth Imam of the Shia Muslims was located there. We were Sunnah, so we wouldn't go there for a pilgrimage, but we would definitely pay a visit as it sounded very impressive.

As we got to Mashhad, I was amazed at the size of the city and the number of houses and streets and people. It was clean and modernised compared to Herat with lots of tourists. Women were freely walking in the streets, wearing different types of clothes, from black chadors that fully covered them to long jackets with jeans and loose scarves on their heads, looking fairly westernised. There were very few women wearing burqas and I was sure they were not Iranian.

Maher drove around for a while then stopped at a few hotels, finally choosing one. It was a small, clean hotel close to the main street. From our window, we could see the dome of the shrine in the distance. The hotel room was fun for me. It had a nice soft bed and a TV, which we didn't have at home. I was like a kid, jumping on the bed and giggling, and Maher was laughing at me.

We went out to discover the city. It was interesting to see all the shops and malls and restaurants. We went to a restaurant for lunch, and it was so unusual for me to see women sitting on their own or with their children, casually eating and drinking. It was my first time in a restaurant. Most of the restaurants in Herat were for men so going to a restaurant was not very comfortable for a woman on her own.

For me, it was a totally new world. Walking around so freely with Maher and visiting the monuments and buildings and just watching people go by was amazing.

We went to the Imam Reza shrine and it was really impressive with several blue and golden minarets and a big golden dome, courtyards with water fountains, and beautiful tiles with different colours and patterns. The main courtyard was very crowded. Maher asked me if I wanted to go inside the shrine. The ladies' section and men's sections were separated, and people were pushing each other to get in. I decided to go in and asked Maher to meet me outside by the water fountain in thirty minutes. I wrapped my chador firmly around me, took my shoes off, and joined the crowd. People were pushing hard to get in. I was shoved and squashed and out of breath. I finally managed to get in and moved closer to the tomb to get a better view. It was fascinating. All of the walls were decorated with mirrored tiles. The floors were white marble and the tomb was shining in the middle. Women were crying bitterly and saying prayers and clinging to the cage around the tomb, asking the holy Imam to heal them or save their children or any other needs they had. The atmosphere affected me and I thought back to my dark days and how desperate I was. I started crying and thanking God for giving me back my life and happiness.

When it was time to leave, I joined the queue where everyone was pushing and shoving to get out. After a bit of a struggle, we streamed out into the courtyard and I made my way to the water fountain to find Maher. I waited for a while but Maher didn't show up. I was a bit worried so I walked around to see if I could find him, but there was no sign of him. I was in a panic. I started running around like a mad woman. Then a woman came toward me and asked, "Are you lost?"

"No, I'm looking for my husband but I can't find him."

"From your accent, it sounds like you are Afghan and not from around here."

"Yes, we're just here visiting."

"No worries, I'll take you to the main office of the shrine. When people get lost here, they usually go to the office and ask for help."

She took me to the office and guided me to the reception hall.

I spoke to the man at reception, "I'm looking for my husband."

He said with a sarcastic look, "Well nobody is looking for a young woman here. We don't normally get lost wives or husbands, just lost children."

"What should I do?"

"I'm sorry I can't do much for you. You can wait here. Hopefully, your husband will come and look for you."

I sat on a bench. There were lost children crying loudly and worried parents were walking around in the hall. I felt so foolish and helpless. I was so dependent on Maher that I couldn't even find my way back to our hotel on my own. I was like all of those lost children.

What if Maher didn't think of coming to the office? I suddenly thought that maybe something had happened to him. _What if he had a seizure?_ I went to the receptionist and asked what happened if they had an emergency case. I explained that my husband was a diabetic, and was worried he might have had a seizure. He guided me to a room where first aid was given and I asked the nurse the same thing. She took me inside and I saw Maher on the bed. When he saw me, he got up and opened his arms. I ran to him and he hugged me firmly.

He said he got dizzy and fighting his way through the crowd made the situation worse. Before he knew it, he fainted. He woke up and found himself in the first aid room and just remembered what happened and that I was waiting for him. I was just so happy that I found him safe. We slowly walked back to the hotel and stayed there the entire day to allow Maher to recover.

We celebrated our first Nowruz together in Mashhad and spent a nice week eating in restaurants, seeing the different sights, and experiencing a life totally different to what we were used to in Herat. It opened my eyes to a different world. The week passed very quickly. We packed our bags and returned to Herat. During the short period of time I had been married to Maher, I had grown up a lot and was more mature and much more experienced. Those days in the basement seemed like such a long time ago.

We had been married for almost ten months when I woke up early one morning and felt sick and out of energy. I guessed I had picked up a bug. I couldn't eat breakfast and felt unwell most of the day. The next morning, I had extreme nausea and ran to the bathroom to throw up. Maher came to see what was wrong and told me with a smile, "I think you have all the signs of being pregnant."

He wanted me to work less and take it easy as much as I could, so he helped me more with the housework. For the first few months, I felt really sick and didn't like it at all, but when my belly started getting bigger, I was very excited and couldn't stop looking at it and was touching it all the time. I was talking to my child every day and singing songs, hoping he or she could hear me.

Maher and I were talking about the baby most of the time, and I asked him, "Maher, would you like a baby boy or a baby girl?"

"It doesn't really matter as long as the baby is healthy."

"Oh, come on. I'm sure it matters. It matters to every man in Afghanistan! Everybody wants a boy."

"Then I'm different from every man in Afghanistan because I like baby girls just as much."

I was relieved knowing the gender of our child would not be an issue.

Apart from the first few months, my pregnancy was uneventful and went smoothly. It was toward the end of the winter, a Wednesday at mid-afternoon, when I went into labour. Maher had taught me what to do. I bore the pain for a couple of hours, taking deep breaths and trying to calm myself. Fortunately, Maher came home early and took me to the hospital. I was taken to the maternity ward where I was shouting and howling for hours as the labour pain got unbearable. It was late at night when the baby was finally born. It was a lovely baby girl. The nurse put her in my arms and I realised my life was about to change. I was a mother and responsible for the life of my little baby girl. Maher came inside and I gave him our little daughter. He had tears in his eyes. He whispered a prayer in her ear and named her Leila.

When we got home, I felt anxious and overwhelmed. Suddenly, I had Leila, this little bundle of life to take care of, so Maher took a few days off to help me. He also asked Mahbooba, Jahan's wife, to help. She was wonderful. She supported and guided me on how to take care of Leila, and taught me everything I needed to know about babies. I wished my mom were there, but I knew my father wouldn't allow it.

Maher met his father at the Friday prayer and told him about our baby. He was happy at first, but when Maher told him it was a girl, he lost interest. Maher also asked him to tell his mom she could come and visit any time and help if she wanted. He replied they were not willing to help at all since they did not welcome me as their daughter-in-law. I felt very sad for Maher when I heard this, but didn't expect much else. It was close to Nowruz, and Mahbooba had to go home to take care of her family and get ready for the New Year. It was difficult for me to take care of Leila on my own. Maher was back to work, although he came home early whenever he could. I was very tired and stressed and in a state of panic most of the time. Leila cried a lot, which made the situation worse. I couldn't seem to calm her down, but as soon as Maher held her she was peaceful and fell asleep in his arms. That upset me even more. I couldn't understand why she wouldn't stop crying for me or sleep in my arms. To this day, I believe it was because she could feel my stress.

When Maher was back from work, I used to leave Leila with him to take a rest. It was exhausting for me taking care of her all day while she was constantly crying. Eventually, I got used to being a full time mom and was more relaxed about the whole thing. Leila also cried less and less. I think she felt my growing calmness. I started getting ready for the New Year by cleaning the house, cooking, and preparing the sweets and Haft Mewa. We celebrated the Nowruz in our house as a family. The feeling was overwhelming, and I was in tears but they were tears of happiness.

Maher tried to get home as early as he could to be with us. One afternoon, he was sitting beside me, reading the newspaper and I could see he wasn't happy. I asked him what was wrong and he said there was a new political party in south Afghanistan called the Taliban, and their followers were known to be Islamic extremists. They had taken control of Kandahar and were moving towards Kabul. He said that from what he read, there could be a civil war, which would destroy Afghanistan. It might be worse than it was when we were at war with the Soviets.

It was so sad. Afghanistan had just begun to recover from the war with the Soviets and now there was further bloodshed and war coming to destroy it.

After six months, Leila became a beautiful sweet girl and her father's dear cherished child. Maher spent lots of time with her. He enjoyed taking care of her, which was great for me. I was happy that Maher loved Leila so much. She started crawling when she was nine months old. It was so cute. I just sat and watched her all day while she tried to explore every part of the house.

One evening, Maher told me his father had given his sister, Neshat, to the son of one of his wealthy friends. She was very happy to become a bride, but Maher said, in his opinion, the son had been spoiled all his life because he was the only son between seven daughters, and had been given everything he ever wanted. I didn't know too much about Neshat then, but I remembered her as a very sweet girl. I wished her a life as happy as mine.

It only took a few months before we knew Neshat was in a bad marriage. One afternoon, she went to Maher's clinic to ask him for help. Just by doing that she put herself in danger. She was in a very bad situation so he decided to bring her to our house. This was the first time I had seen Neshat since going to their home for the introduction to their family. She was bruised everywhere, and one of her eyes was badly swollen. She told us her husband was an opium addict and was very aggressive. He was beating her for small reasons like touching his belongings, the taste of his food, even the temperature of his tea. Since he didn't need to work, he went out with his addicted friends and would bring them home to smoke opium. He made her cook and serve them food then clean their mess. His friends insulted her, but her husband didn't care. He even got angry if Neshat complained.

I felt deeply sorry for her. I tried to comfort her but I felt helpless. Maher decided she should stay with us until he could find a solution, but the next day, Maher's father went to the clinic and told him to return Neshat to her husband's house. He said that she belonged to her husband and there would be a big problem if Maher didn't send her back home.

Maher came back that evening and told Neshat what happened and that despite his despair, he would have to take her back. Neshat was crying bitterly, begging Maher to let her stay, but Maher explained he had to take her back. If he didn't, for sure they would do something harmful to her.

Maher assured Neshat, "I will talk to your husband. I will make him understand that he should not take your life for any reason."

He drove Neshat to her husband's house. He spoke with him, making it clear she was not to be harmed. He was very upset when he arrived home. I asked what happened and he told me he had very strong words with him. Maher said if Neshat's life was taken, there would be a big conflict between them. He was still very concerned that something bad would happen to her.

The day after, Neshat's Godless husband took her to Maher's clinic to show him what would happen if she ran away again. "She is not dead, as I promised, but do not interfere in our lives again." She was badly beaten but at least she was alive. Maher tried very hard to control his anger and calmly said, "While she's here, I can treat her wounds. Now please wait outside." That night, Maher went to the bedroom and cried for hours. He was so angry that he couldn't do anything for his sister. I cried with him and told him, "There are some things that are beyond our power to control, but at least you saved her life."

### Chapter Nine

It was the end of the summer of 1995. Herat had been invaded and captured by the Taliban. Maher was very worried for our safety. He said they killed thousands of people in other cities just to take control, and he prayed the same thing wouldn't happen in Herat. Leila started walking and was excitedly exploring the house, pointing at everything and making baby noises, trying to communicate with us. It was obvious that our house was getting too small for her and her attempts to explore. Maher decided it was time to find a house with more bedrooms and a courtyard. It took him a while but he eventually found somewhere suitable that was close to his clinic so he could check in on us during the day.

Maher's brother, Najib, finally decided to reconcile with Maher even though it was against his father's will. He offered to help us with the move. I had a strange feeling when Maher told me that Najib was going to help.

When he came to our house, I didn't know how to face him, but to my surprise, he was very polite and cheerful and greeted me warmly. He hugged and kissed Leila with great enthusiasm and started playing with her. Leila took to him very quickly.

Jahan also came to help, and when Maher finally took me and Leila to the new house, they had almost finished putting everything in place. I really liked it. It was much bigger than our old house with two big bedrooms and a large courtyard. It also had a basement, which reminded me of my father's house.

It took us a few more weeks to make it feel like home. We had to buy more furniture and fill up the empty spaces. On our trips out for shopping, we saw that something had very obviously changed in the city. There was a subdued feeling around, and there were traditionally dressed bearded men everywhere carrying guns on their backs. They looked harsh and unpleasant. Maher explained that they were Taliban followers and asked me to stay away from them. The atmosphere around the city was heavy and people tried to avoid crossing their paths.

I wasn't as concerned about them as much as Maher was, since he and Leila were my entire world in those days. I was busy in the new house, decorating, making new curtains and bed covers and taking care of Leila.

A few months later, we heard through Najib that Neshat was pregnant and her husband had stopped beating her because of her pregnancy. He very badly wanted to have a son. I prayed day and night for Neshat to deliver a baby boy. I couldn't bring myself to imagine the consequence if she had a daughter.

Thanks to God, Neshat finally delivered a son, which brought a big celebration for both her family and her husband's family. That was her salvation and life became more tolerable after the birth. Her husband brought in a nanny to help her, and the beatings stopped. Maher was relieved that his sister was safe from her husband's cruel ways.

But it did not last long before the cruelty started again, although the physical abuse was not as bad as before because she had to take care of the baby. He didn't allow Maher's parents to see her or the baby which was devastating for them. I knew Maher was very concerned so I offered to go and see her, hoping her husband would allow it. To my surprise, her husband agreed with one condition: that I go there without Maher.

Maher dropped me off at their house. Neshat's husband came to door and guided me to the living room. He was an ugly man with obvious signs of drug abuse on his face. His behaviour was odd. He looked at me like I was an alien. When I got to the living room, I saw Neshat. She looked weak and pale. She was sitting on some cushions, breastfeeding her son. He was a little cute boy who looked like his mother. She told me the reason her husband accepted my visit was that he was very curious to see who I was; a girl that had run away with another man and Maher still decided to marry her. I asked Neshat how she was and told her how worried Maher was for her. She cried and complained about her ruthless husband, but she was so grateful that God had given her a healthy son. She told me she considered taking her life before getting pregnant, but when she delivered her son, he gave her a reason to live.

There was not a day that passed when I didn't thank God for my calm and comfortable life and my wonderful husband. The days were passing quickly. My time was taken up with taking care of Leila, sewing new clothes, and making puppets and dolls for her or reading books. Leila was growing up and was talking sweetly, and Maher and I were totally devoted to her. She was our biggest happiness and made our lives even richer and brighter. I missed my parents, especially my mom, but other than that there was nothing to complain about. Like every marriage, there were small disagreements between us but they did not affect our love for each other. Maher was proud but also stubborn and liked to make the decisions. I understood this and didn't make any issue of it. I was comfortable to let him decide for both of us, and when he insisted on his opinions, I simply accepted them to keep the peace. I had my ways of convincing him to do the things I wanted when it was necessary. A delicious dinner with a bit of affection and some good lovemaking was a good tactic, and it usually worked.

A few months after Leila's second birthday, I became pregnant again. This time it was much easier. I could handle things better even though I had to run around after Leila to stop her from getting into mischief. Everything was quiet and good inside the house, but outside, the face of the city was changing into a scene of terror and panic. The Taliban had removed the government from power in Kabul and ruled the country. They established very strict Islamic rules, which were mostly against women. Many of them were irrational and oppressive, and Taliban police were everywhere in the streets, beating and arresting people who did not abide by their rules.

They set a rule that no woman could go out without being accompanied by a relative male, either father, brother, uncle or husband. We heard that a woman was shot dead by a young Taliban member because she was on the street without a male relative and refused to stop when ordered to. She was very unwell and had a high fever, and didn't have any male relatives available to accompany her to the clinic.

The Taliban also imposed death sentences, mostly against women, for little or no reason at all. I heard they were stoning women to death in public for adultery. Every day, the situation was getting worse.

I was very afraid of how bad things were. I had suddenly become a prisoner in my own home. Maher was very angry and couldn't control himself. He was swearing and cursing them in private. They made a rule that all men must grow a beard, which had to be longer than the size of a fist. He started growing one and hated it. I couldn't go out of the house without him, but I kept myself busy with Leila and my pregnancy. The Taliban had even banned Nowruz and didn't let anyone celebrate, so that year, we celebrated our New Year in the house quietly and discreetly.

Finally, my due date arrived, and since it was forbidden for women to be treated by a male doctor, I delivered a healthy son at home with the help of Mahbooba and a midwife. The Taliban had also introduced a rule that all women had to give up their jobs, so finding a female doctor if something went wrong was almost impossible. Thankfully, we had Maher and everything went well, and it was a simple but painful birth.

Maher was so delighted to see his son. He kissed him and whispered a prayer in his ear then named him Faraz.

Maher's parents were very excited that he had a son and finally showed interest in coming to visit us. I was nervous to receive them but I conquered my fear. Even though it was just a few weeks after I gave birth to Faraz, I did my best to welcome them. I cooked lots of food and cleaned everywhere and dressed Leila and myself in our best clothes. They greeted me very coldly and acted almost like I didn't exist. Maher's father, Akbar, didn't pay any attention to Leila, but his mother hugged her and kissed her warmly. The entire time they were there they played with Faraz and talked to Maher. It was obvious they were happy to see Maher and they had forgiven him, but they treated me like I was a maid. My feelings were hurt but I said nothing because of Maher. I went to the bedroom and tried not to be around them. I heard them talking about Neshat and how much they wanted to see her and her son. They also talked about Najib and that he didn't want to get married. He had become suspicious of girls after what had happened. I could hear them blaming me and calling me "that woman" but Maher didn't object and didn't defend me, which made me more upset.

When they left, I complained to Maher about their attitude, and Maher got upset with me.

"What did you expect? That they would receive you like nothing had happened? Have you forgotten what you did? You know better than anyone it was a big taboo and people don't respect a women who does something against society's rules and traditions. I can't blame them for how they react because they don't think like me. You should be patient with them and let them get to know you. They will forgive you one day. I'm happy that at least they forgave me and have now accepted us as a family."

I couldn't say anything. He was right. I took his good manners and behaviour for granted and even forgot that my own father had disowned me and didn't want to see me again. It was a heavy weight on my heart, and I decided to do my best to earn back their trust.

It took quite a long time but eventually they started to like me, and to my surprise, Maher's father became more tolerant than his mother. She always had something bitter to say and blamed me for one thing or another, but I was always polite and graceful to her, hoping her attitude would change one day.

Faraz started to walk and talk much earlier than Leila and they played a lot together. Leila loved her little brother and was very protective towards him.

Maher decided to do some work on our courtyard so the children could play there and have more fun. Since it was his old passion, he was really good at it. He planted flowers and trees and bought a pile of big stones to make a water fountain. I couldn't wait to see the final look of our courtyard. While it was under construction, I couldn't let the kids go out unless Maher was around.

When Maher was at home it was much easier for me. I could take a break and relax. They loved to help Maher while he was working in the courtyard. We couldn't keep them in the house all the time, so sometimes we took them out shopping or just for a walk. When we took them out, we dressed them very modestly and kept them very close. The Taliban were even causing problems for parents if they thought their children were dressed inappropriately, like wearing colourful clothes.

Despite the Taliban's presence, we had a fairly peaceful life until the day a big fear grew in my heart. We were out shopping with the kids, Maher was carrying Faraz in his arms and I was walking Leila. I saw an open jeep with two Taliban gunmen sitting inside along with two gunmen outside. They were stopping people and harassing them for no reason. As we got closer, my heart stopped beating. I suddenly recognised one of the gunmen. It was Jabber.

Despite his long beard, I recognised his face. He was sitting inside the jeep and interrogating everyone that had been stopped by the other gunmen. I was horrified. I started shivering. Jabber, that vicious bastard, was now a member of the Taliban. My fear increased the closer we got to the jeep. I saw him looking at me like he recognised me through my burqa. I felt like my heart would jump out of my mouth. I was terrified and trying to hide behind Maher.

It took just a few seconds to pass but it felt like an hour. I could see from beneath my burqa that his eyes were following us. I whispered to Maher, "Can we go home? I don't feel well."

Maher took us home. I looked over my shoulder every few seconds to see if we had been followed. I was shivering with fear all the way back and got a fever that night. I had nightmares that Jabber was chasing me in the empty streets, and I was shouting but nobody could hear me. I woke up in a sweat and my moans woke Maher. He asked me what was wrong, but I didn't say anything about Jabber. I just told him I had a fever and had nightmares.

From that day, my mood changed. I was nervous and scared, and became very intolerant towards my children when they were playing noisily or crying. I shouted at them for no reason and that just made them cry more as they were not used to me behaving that way. As soon as their father was back from work, they went straight to him, keeping their distance from me. I was very upset with myself but I couldn't help it. I was paranoid that Jabber was watching me and was around somewhere. I found any excuse not to go out and tried to keep the children with me, not even letting them go out with their father.

Maher was getting upset with my behaviour, which created a bad atmosphere in the house. I tried to find the courage to share my anxiety with him, but I couldn't.

I decided to convince Maher we should leave Herat and decided to use my old methods. I cooked his favourite food, put subtle makeup on, let my hair hang loose, and showed him more affection. One night in bed, I asked him, "Maher, do you know why I'm so anxious these days?"

"Oh, I wish I knew what's wrong with you. You've changed, Nazgol. What's the matter?"

"The city has changed so much. The situation with the Taliban terrifies me. I'm worried for our children's future, and I am worried for you as well. We can't raise our children in this dreadful atmosphere. Every day I'm afraid that something might happen to them. Imagine in a few years when Leila should be going to school but she can't because the Taliban has forbidden it. Imagine Faraz growing up in this aggressive environment when sooner or later he'll be forced to go to war. Our kids don't have a healthy lifestyle being at home all the time and not being able to play with other kids. I can't let them grow up like this."

"These things are in my head day and night. God knows, I don't want to raise our children in this atmosphere of terror. Thinking about the children's safety and security is my biggest concern. But where can we go? The Taliban are everywhere in Afghanistan. Nobody can escape from them."

"We can go to Iran! Do you remember how nice Mashhad was? We can go to a quiet town and start a new life."

"It's not that easy. Do you think I can practice medicine in Iran like I do here? The medical education and the qualifications needed to practice as a doctor are much more stringent. They would not recognise me as a doctor. What else could I do there? Become a construction labourer like most Afghan men who work in Iran? Besides, my father and mother are getting old. I need to be here for them."

"But Najib is here. He can help them!"

"Oh no, Najib can't take care of them. In fact, he's not able to take care of himself and needs somebody to support him!"

"But our children are more important, Maher."

"Please don't push me. You're not the only one who thinks about it. I know the situation isn't good at the moment, but things can change. We must protect Leila and Faraz, and not expose them to these people."

I turned over and pretended I was going to sleep, but I couldn't stop thinking about it. I knew if Jabber found out I was alive, he would destroy everything we had.

### Chapter Ten

Over the next few months, things were quiet and it was the same daily routine. The few times we went out, I didn't see Jabber so I started to feel slightly more secure.

I was less anxious and more focused on raising the children. Our life got back to a more peaceful and normal rhythm. The courtyard was almost done except for a few stones that were left to complete the water fountain. It looked really nice.

One day, we received worrying news. Maher's father came around and told us that Najib hadn't come home for the past couple of days, and they couldn't find any sign of him. Maher was very concerned. He and his father searched everywhere but couldn't find any clue as to where he was. The more they searched, the more they worried. They dared not say it to each other, but Maher suspected the Taliban may have arrested or even killed him for some reason. He became very subdued. He wasn't playing with the children anymore and just read the newspaper every day, hoping for some information. I was also worried for Najib and prayed he was safe somewhere.

It was a hot summer afternoon when I heard somebody knocking at the door. As I walked through the courtyard, the kids followed me. I opened the door and it was Najib. I couldn't believe my eyes.

He was very frightened and had bruises all over his face.

"My God, Najib, what has happened to you? We were so worried. Where have you been?"

He didn't reply, and instead asked me where Maher was. I told him he was at the clinic and wouldn't be back for another hour or two.

"Can I sit in the courtyard and wait for him?"

I welcomed him in and he closed the door and sat by the water fountain. The children wanted to play and were hugging him and pulling his hands. I tried to take them inside, but Najib said it was okay.

I said, "Can I get you anything? Water? A towel for your face? Some fruit?" I didn't know what else to say. I was still in shock that he had suddenly appeared. He said yes to all, so I went inside to fetch them.

While I was washing the fruit, I heard the courtyard door open. I thought it must be Maher so I went to the window to check. It was Najib, and he was talking to someone. I had a bad feeling in my stomach and dashed out to bring the children in. As I got to the courtyard, I saw Najib picking up the children. I shouted, "What are you doing?"

He just looked at me with fear in his eyes and ran down to the basement. I heard the courtyard door close. I looked over my shoulder and my nightmare had come true. It was Jabber.

He was smiling viciously, "Hi, Nazgol. Do you remember me?"

I shouted, "Get out of my house!"

"Oh, you've got a house now? And you're not inviting your old love in?"

He walked towards me. I was petrified. I ran into the house and my legs buckled beneath me. I managed to get to the children's bedroom. My hands were shaking so much I could barely lock the door and sit behind it. I was shivering and crying in panic because I knew he was going to rape me and probably kill me.

I heard him getting closer. He started to talk to me.

"So you thought you could run away from me and I was going to disappear and you wouldn't see me again? Well, you were wrong. I promised I would come back and get you one day and here I am. This is a day to celebrate, don't you think? Two lovers back together after so long. I've been looking for you for a while and now here you are. I was surprised to find out you were still in Herat. I thought you would be dead by now but, apparently you're a survivor. I've been tracking you, your stupid husband, and his faggot brother. I know everything."

I could hear his steps walking around outside the door.

"Nice house! I never thought a whore could make a nice house like this. Honestly, I didn't think you would still be alive but you got lucky and a dumb looser rescued you."

He came up to the door and turned the handle. I pushed my back against the door as hard as I could.

"Don't make me force my way in. I don't want to beat you unconscious straight away. I want you to enjoy it as well."

I was crying quietly and trying not to make any noise.

"Do you know how I found you? Through your whore friend, Anar. Poor girl was married to that silly fat boy in your neighbourhood. I tricked her like I tricked you. I had sex with her then I made her tell me what happened to you. Do you want to know what I did to her? I beheaded her myself because of her adultery. I should have brought her head for you as a present."

He suddenly kicked the door hard. I fell to the floor but managed to push the door with my feet as he was coming in. I started shouting hysterically. "Get away from me, get away from me. My husband will kill you."

He pushed the door so hard that I rolled backwards into the room. I ran to the window and started shouting and screaming desperately. Before I could move, he was behind me with his hand tightly over my mouth. He threw me to the floor, sat on my legs, and pushed my face so hard into the carpet that I could hardly breathe. I could hear my children's cries from the basement.

I tried to beat him, but he was too strong. He held my arms and forced one of his legs across both of my legs. I was unable to move and frozen with fear. He shouted, "You can't do anything, silly girl. Did you think I would let you escape like the last time? No, this time I'll win. I will rape you and kill you and take your head as a souvenir then I will kill your cowardly, queer brother-in-law. I will take your children and own them and torture them every day while thinking about you."

He made me feel sick to my stomach. I pushed my head up and screamed with all my power. He slammed my head so hard into the ground; I fell unconscious for a few seconds.

When I came to, I could feel him tearing the clothes off my back. I was still dazed and sliding in and out of consciousness. I had no strength left in me. I couldn't even scream.

Then I heard a loud thump. It felt like he threw his whole body on me. I found my voice and let out a scream. I thought the end of my life was close.

But suddenly he was motionless, just lying on top of me. I summoned up some strength and pushed myself out from under him. I looked at him. His eyes were wide open. I pulled myself to my feet and saw Najib in the corner of the room, rolled in a ball. I looked back at Jabber. He was bleeding badly from a head wound, and one of the big rocks from the unfinished water fountain was lying beside him. I took a few breaths. I ran to Najib and grabbed him by the hair. "Where are my children? If you have harmed them, I will kill you." He was weeping like a child. He mumbled, "They're safe in the basement." I ran to the door and down to the basement.

They were sitting in the corner, hugging each other and crying. As soon as they saw me, they ran to my arms. I lifted them up with all my strength and ran to the courtyard. I was heading out of there as quickly as I could, thinking I would be safe if I could get to a neighbour's house, but before I got to the courtyard door, the door opened. It was Maher running in worriedly. I just gave him the children and fell to the ground, lifeless.

When I opened my eyes, I was in our bedroom and the children were beside me, crying and calling my name. I looked around. No one else was there and the door was closed. I hugged them and kissed them, telling them everything was alright.

I quickly gathered myself and asked the children if they wanted to play a game of hide and seek. "You must hide in the wardrobe and stay there until I get back while I go find your father."

I looked outside and could see the heads of neighbours curiously trying to find out what had happened, then I saw Maher running into the courtyard toward the main door shouting, "Please go back to your homes. Everything is fine. It was just a family matter, but everything is okay now."

He came back inside and I slowly opened the bedroom door, and I heard Najib crying and asking Maher for forgiveness repeatedly. I went into the children's bedroom.

Jabber was still on the ground, and Maher was standing there in shock. As soon as he saw me, he came toward me and held me tightly then shook me. "What in God's name happened here? Who is this lying dead on the floor? Why are all the neighbours at the door?"

I started crying and pulled myself out of his arms and sat down in a panic, but also in relief that Jabber was dead.

He sat down and shouted furiously at me and Najib. "Do you want to tell me what the hell is going on here?"

I moaned and blurted out, "That is Jabber, the guy I ran away with. He came here to rape me and kill me."

He sat back with shock. "To rape and kill you?"

Then he looked at Najib and said, "You suddenly appear here from the dead and this happens? Stop crying like a child and open your mouth. Tell me what happened here."

Najib threw himself at Maher's feet.

"Please don't kill me. Please forgive me. Please, for God sake. I didn't harm anyone. They wanted to kill me. They are going to find me and kill me. Please! Please!"

Maher held Najib up and slapped him hard across his face and said, "Pull yourself together and tell me what happened."

He was howling and talking incoherently. "Please, you are my brother. You should understand me. I am gay. I don't like women. I desire men."

Maher shouted, "What are you talking about, Najib? What the hell does that have to do with this?"

"I was in Osman's house. We were in bed together when the Taliban broke in and arrested us. They blindfolded us and took us to the basement of a derelict building. There were others there, locked in cells. I lost count of how many days we were there. They tortured and beat us to within an inch of death."

Then, his cries got louder. "Osman was screaming so they just cut his throat in front of me. Oh, my dear Osman. I am no one without him."

He took a breath and continued. "They threw me into a dirty dark cell and were going to execute me the next day. In the middle of the night, I heard someone come into the cell. It was this guy. He was one of them. I thought he wanted to torture me again but he told me he was going to spare my life on one condition. He said he knew me and knew I was your brother. He knew that Nazgol was your wife. He told me he was once her lover and desired her so much that if I took him to her, he would set me free. I believed him. At that point, I would have believed anything he said. I didn't want to die and I thought maybe Nazgol would desire him too."

I shouted, "You're crazy, Najib. How can you even say such a thing? He's the most evil and sick person I've ever met in my life!"

Maher interrupted me. "Shut up. Continue, Najib!"

He wiped the tears from his eyes. "I brought him here and took the children downstairs to the basement so he could be alone with Nazgol. But then I heard Nazgol's screams for help and heard him saying that he was going to rape and kill her then kill me and take the children. It was then I realised what I had done. I was deeply ashamed and decided I had to do something even if I died trying. I grabbed a rock from the courtyard, ran upstairs, and smashed it hard against his head."

Maher put his head between his hands and said, "God forgive us. How are we going to get out of this?"

I heard the children crying and calling for me so I went back to the bedroom. I hugged them and told them everything was going to be okay.

Maher walked into the bedroom, I went toward him but he walked past me and hugged the children. He kissed them and asked them to be quiet and play together. He took the big quilt from the bed and went back to the other room. I followed him. He laid the quilt next to Jabber's body and rolled him onto it and wrapped it around him.

He then went to the bathroom and was there for a while. When he came out, he just sat down deep in thought, not talking at all. Najib went to the bathroom and washed his face then came and sat down. I sat down by the bedroom door where the children were playing quietly. It was a heavy and uncomfortable atmosphere.

It took Maher a while before he started talking. "I don't know what I've done in my life to deserve this horrifying situation."

He then looked furiously at Najib.

"You are a shame and disgrace to our family, not because you're gay. I knew this a long time ago, but because you're a coward and a betrayer. How could you do this to me? Bring a man to my wife just to save your own pathetic life? Did you think about my children and their future? Were you that stupid to think this bastard would leave you alone after getting to Nazgol?"

Najib started crying again.

"Please forgive me. I know I deserve to die. I was under huge pressure. After they tortured and cut Osman's throat in front of me, I couldn't think straight. They knew everything about me. My parents, my address, my long time relationship with Osman. They threatened that not only would they will kill me, they would also arrest and torture the rest of my family."

Maher looked at Najib with pity then looked at me with anger.

"And you, you betrayed me as well. You knew about this guy being back in Herat, didn't you? That's why you've been so nervous recently. How could you do this to me?"

I was crying quietly. "Yes, I knew he was in town and he was with the Taliban. I saw him once with other Taliban gunmen when we took the children out shopping. I didn't want to disturb your peace or our life. I thought he would never find me if I kept myself hidden. I'm so sorry, Maher. I tried to convince you to leave Herat, but you had your reasons. God knows that I didn't know he was looking for me. God knows that I didn't have any desire or feelings for him other than hatred. I never betrayed you and never will. I'm sorry I didn't find the courage to tell you, but I thought if I did, it may put you in danger because I didn't know what you would do."

I was looking at him to say something, but he was quiet for a while then he said,

"We need to clean up this mess. We're not safe here. By now, they would have found out that Najib is missing and that this bastard has disappeared. We need to get rid of his body and find somewhere safe to stay. We're under the neighbour's magnifying glass at the moment, so we'll have to wait until tonight when everything has calmed down. We'll take his body and dispose of it somewhere in the mountains then I need to take you somewhere safe, out of Herat."

The next few hours passed like years. I couldn't believe that the dead body of Jabber was lying in children's room. I was terrified he would come back to life and escape from the bedroom. I tried to make myself busy. Maher tried to get some sleep but was very restless. Najib cried quietly and constantly. The children fell asleep much earlier than usual.

I prepared some food but I couldn't even swallow a bite. Maher played with his food but Najib was eating his. It was obvious he hadn't eaten for a couple of days.

Even though I was exhausted, I couldn't close my eyes. I was terrified that Taliban gunmen would break into our house. I sat there reading prayers for hours.

It was three o'clock in the morning when Maher decided we should go. Maher and Najib took Jabber's body from the bedroom and walked slowly and quietly in the darkness toward the main entrance. They put the body into the trunk of the car. Maher came back and lifted the children, who were in a deep sleep, and took them to the car. Meanwhile, I put every valuable thing we had, as well as a few clean clothes, in a bag and got into the car. I sat beside the children on the back seat. Maher and Najib quietly pushed the car for a few meters before Maher started the engine and we drove away.

We were all terrified. The streets were empty and Maher drove with the lights off to try to stay as invisible as possible. He suddenly stopped and pointed at a truck in the distance with a few Taliban men standing next to it. "It looks like a checkpoint," Maher said. He reversed and took another route. He stayed away from the main streets and drove through small streets and side alleys. We eventually came to the winding road which led out of the city. Maher was still driving with the lights off, using the dim moonlight to see where he was going.

He drove for a couple of hours. It was just before sunrise when we reached the mountain pass road. It was very rough and very narrow, and driving was not easy. The children opened their eyes a couple of times, but I covered their face with a scarf to block the light and stroked them gently to soothe them back to sleep.

We got to a point where the road turned into a rocky path and it was getting very difficult to drive any further. By then, we were almost at the top of the mountain. It was dawn and very bright up there. Luckily, the kids were still asleep. Maher stopped the car, and he and Najib took Jabber's body out of the trunk and started walking towards the edge of the roadway. I left the children asleep in the car, locked the door, and walked after them. There was absolute silence with a light cool breeze.

When we got to the edge, Maher and Najib threw the body down into the canyon. As they threw it, the quilt unwrapped and I saw Jabber's face as he was going down. It was déjà vu, exactly like my hallucination when I was unconscious in the bomb shelter. It felt like total relief.

### Chapter Eleven

When we got back to the car, the children were half wake. Maher said, "The only safe place I can think of is your parents' house, Nazgol. It's out of Herat. We can trust them and the Taliban don't know them or where they are."

"But what about my father?"

"I will talk to him and ask him to let you in for the sake of our children."

We started driving back. We sat in silence, all with our own thoughts. I took a piece of bread from my bag and fed Leila and Faraz. I felt like I had got my life back once again, and I was so grateful that my children were safely beside me. I didn't know what would happen next, but the horror story of Jabber was behind me and I was anxious to see my mother and father after so many years.

It was not such a long way to the town where my parents lived. We had almost passed it on the way to the mountain. We did not know where exactly they lived, but after asking a few people, we eventually found their house. As we drove up, I saw my father by the door of his grocery shop. I almost didn't recognise him. He looked like an old man. Sadness choked my throat, and I covered my eyes as if I were hiding from him. When Maher stopped the car, I didn't dare get out. Maher walked towards my father. He was very surprised and welcomed Maher warmly and kissed his head. They talked for a few minutes, and I could see the worry in my father's eyes. He said something to Maher and hugged him. Maher came back to the car and told us he welcomed us to his house. I was paralyzed and couldn't take a step. The children ran out of the car, and Maher lifted them up and took them toward my father. I saw the tears in my father's eyes. He hugged and kissed them, and the children were shy with him. Najib also got out of the car and shook my father's hand politely.

I gathered all my strength and got out of the car. I looked down and went toward my father, and when I got close, I just threw myself to his feet, crying and asking for forgiveness. He lifted me up and looked at me for a few seconds then hugged me tightly and said, "I have forgiven you, Nazgol. God forgive me for what I did to you."

I was crying loudly and kissing his hands and shoulders, and he was crying quietly with me. It was such an emotional moment that I can still feel it to this day, and every time I think about it, it brings tears to my eyes.

Then, I saw my mom running out of the house toward me. She hugged me and kissed me all over my face. I kissed her hands and sank into her arms. That feeling and the smell of her perfume took me back to my childhood. I was in heaven.

She then sat down and hugged and kissed the children, who were looking at all these emotional moments curiously. They were shy and trying to hide behind me.

My mom kissed Maher's head and welcomed him. We went upstairs into the house and my mom served us breakfast. After breakfast, my father asked Maher, "What is the danger that you were talking about? Is it very serious?"

"Yes, it could be very serious. We have harmed a member of the Taliban because he insulted Nazgol, so they may come after us. I don't think they will let us get away with it. Here it is safe because nobody knows about you or where you live. We won't stay here long and will leave in a couple of days."

"You are welcome to stay here as long as you want. These people have made everybody's life hell. What they do and what they force people to do has nothing to do with Islam. It is just their excuse to get away with their vicious plans to control Afghanistan."

I realised that Maher didn't want to reveal the full truth and was afraid of mentioning anything about Jabber's death. Najib and I looked at each other and kept quiet.

After breakfast, Maher and Najib, feeling a bit safer, took a nap while I was chatting with my mom and telling her all the stories since the last time I saw her. My father was entertaining the children with his old tricks. I could see how happy he was, but I was so sad to see he had aged so much.

My mom and I prepared lunch like the old days, and despite the horrifying scenes I had been through the day before, I was feeling peaceful and calm. The fact that my father forgave me and accepted me again was very sweet and relieving for me.

We had lunch together and I could see Najib was more relaxed, but Maher was deep in thought and not saying much. After lunch, he asked to talk to me and Najib in another room.

"I need to go back and clean the house and remove any evidence before they find out and break into the house and realise someone was killed there. I also need to go to my father's house and take my mother and father somewhere safe. I'm sure they'll be the Taliban's first target. You two should stay here with the children. We can't risk everybody's life."

I begged him to stay. "Maher, please don't go. They'll arrest and torture you. Please think about me and the children."

Najib bravely said, "If anyone should go back, it should be me. This was all my mistake and I need to clean it up."

Maher looked at us and said, "You two need to calm down. Nothing is going to happen to me. I've been in the battlefield more times than I care to remember. I can handle everything. If Najib goes back, they will kill him for sure."

Najib looked down, ashamed, and said, "Just because I'm gay doesn't mean I'm not a man. I will come with you, Maher."

"I'm not going to argue with you anymore. This is my decision and you need to accept it. I promise to come back soon. It's because you're a man that I want you to stay with Nazgol and the children to take care of them while I'm gone."

He then held me firmly and said, "Look at me, Nazgol. You need to be strong as always. You need to focus on our children's safety. Something bad has happened but we can't let ourselves go down with it."

He kissed my head and went back to the living room. He kissed the children and hugged them for a few minutes. He said goodbye to everyone and told my father he would be back soon.

I tried hard to control my tears in front of the children. The first chance I got, I went to the bathroom and cried like a child. I was so afraid something would happen to Maher and he wouldn't be safe. He was my life. I was beating myself for being so weak and not telling him earlier about Jabber.

My mom was worried. She came to me and said, "Nazgol, I am your mother. I can sense something is seriously wrong. You should tell me the truth. We can help you. We will do anything to save you."

"Mom, it's awful. It's like a nightmare but I can't tell you. Just pray to God that Maher comes back alive."

"I don't insist, but talk to me whenever you are ready. I will keep your secret and won't tell your father."

"No, Mom. Not now, please."

She left me alone and took the children to the bedroom to put them to sleep. My father went down to his shop. Najib just sat there, upset and ashamed.

After a while, he looked at me and said, "I hate myself and I hate my life. All my life, I tried to be a good son to my family. All my life, I tried to hide myself like I was a criminal. Even from my childhood, I knew I was different from the other boys. I always wanted to wear feminine clothes and play with puppets and dolls. When Neshat was born, I envied her, wearing those clothes and being a girl. God knows this was not what I wanted, but something is wrong with my nature. When I grew up, I realised I had feelings for a boy in our neighbourhood. I wanted to be with him all the time but he was talking about girls and how much he desired them. Of course, I couldn't open up to him and tell him anything about my feelings. I was scared all the time that someone would find out about me. Even though I hated the war, I went to the battlefield when I was sixteen just to be away from home and to be around men. Some of them knew I was gay and would touch me and get close to me because they didn't have any access to women. I didn't mind because I actually liked it, but my life was miserable, and I used to get bullied all the time. When I got back from the war, I decided to continue my education in order to escape from being at home. That was when I met Osman. He changed my life. He was my physics teacher at university. He was smart, kind and handsome, and I couldn't resist him. I was afraid of getting too close to him because I knew I could get into big trouble, but somehow, he was aware of my feelings. One day, when nobody was in the class, he came and put his hand on my hand and told me of his desire for me. It was the best day of my life."

I could see the light in Najib's eyes and the smile on his lips, he then continued, "Life was heaven for me after that. Suddenly, I felt alive and accepted. I fell in love with him and used to go to his office any chance I had to kiss him and touch him discreetly. He was married and had one child, but he told me he got married just to stop the rumours. His wife knew, but didn't say anything to anyone. He used to send his wife and child to his parents' or his in laws' as often as possible so I could go to his house and make love with him with no fears. He was so passionate and loved me very much. He taught me everything. Even when I got my degree and started working, we stayed close to each other and took any chance we could to be together. I miss him so much."

I saw the tears in his eyes. He wiped his tears and looked at me and said, "Nazgol, I was so happy when you ran away. I knew it was wrong and cruel but I used that as an excuse not to get married. When Maher made that brave decision to marry you, I felt so relieved and prayed for him deep in my heart. I know you think I'm a selfish coward, but you've never lived my life to know how difficult it is to be homosexual in this country. It's like you have a death sentence hanging over you, but you're never sure when they're going to kill you. I don't blame you if you hate me, but believe me, I never wanted to hurt you or Maher. I always liked you and knew you were a good woman."

I didn't know what to say. I had mixed feelings for him. I knew what a scandal it was to be homosexual in Afghanistan, and I felt really sorry for him.

I just shook my head and left the room to see if my mom was okay with the kids. She was asleep and seeing my children in her arms in a deep sleep brought a smile to my face. I felt exhausted, so I decided to take a nap.

It was getting late, and there was still no sign of Maher. My father closed his shop and came upstairs. He started chatting with Najib and asked how his father was and how his job was going. Najib replied politely. I was restless. If only my father knew what Najib had done. I tried to occupy myself with the children and helping my mom. We had our dinner in silence. No one was very hungry. We were all worried about Maher and the atmosphere was heavy.

At almost midnight, when the children were asleep, my father was listening to the radio, and Najib was playing with worry beads. Nobody wanted to go to bed. I was so worried. I couldn't control myself. I was frantic and my mom was stroking my arm to calm me down.

Suddenly, we heard the doorbell and my father jumped up and went down to open the door. Maher came up. He was devastated. It looked as though he had been crying all the way back.

I ran and threw my arms around him. I was so relieved to see that he was still alive. He was shaking, so I went to the kitchen and brought him a glass of sugar water. He drank it and burst into tears. "Those bastards have killed my mother. The neighbours told me what had happened. She was screaming and trying to release my father as they were dragging him away so they threw her down the stairs. I found her dead body in the courtyard. Nobody dared touch her. I got there an hour too late. They wrecked my father's house and took him away."

Najib started beating himself hard and shouting, "This was my fault. Oh, God. Why? Why?"

The children woke up and ran to the living room. I took them in my arms and they started to cry. Maher and Najib were crying hard, and my father was trying to console them. Maher steadied himself and wiped his tears away and said, "We must pull ourselves together. We don't have time to grieve."

Then he looked at me and said, "You must leave this country and take the children with you. It is not safe anywhere in Afghanistan. Sooner or later, they will track us down. If they find us here, the same thing could happen to your parents. Right now, they don't know anything about your parents, so the sooner we leave the better it will be for them."

He started to cry quietly again and said, "We should have left the country when you asked me long ago. If I had listened to you, these disasters would not have happened."

Everybody was crying, and Najib was on his knees beating himself all over. Maher took his arm, pulled him to his feet, and shook him hard and said, "I'm talking to you. Stop crying and be a man for once in your life. I need you to help me. I want you to take Nazgol and the children to Iran. I have to go back and get Father before they torture him to death."

I shouted, "I won't let you go anywhere and I won't go anywhere without you!"

"Nazgol, don't make it any harder for me! I cannot leave my father knowing he's alive and it is impossible for Najib to go back. They will kill him on sight. Please understand me. Do you remember what I told you when we got married? I have to save my father as I saved you. I cannot leave him to die."

Najib said, "I won't go anywhere. I will go and get my father back even if I die."

"Don't talk nonsense. You won't even get close to Father. They'll kill you before you get the chance."

"Then I'll come with you. How can I leave when I know my father and my brother are in danger?"

"Najib, please, be wise. I need you to go with Nazgol and the children for your own safety and for theirs. Don't you see, Najib. I need you to look after them until I can join you."

"No, I am a man and I will decide what I will do."

Maher got angry and slapped him hard. "Enough, Najib. You've made all this mess. Now you will do what I tell you. I'm your older brother and you'll do as I say."

Najib went quiet. He knew Maher was right. Then Maher said, "I'll take all of you to the border now. Najib, I will give you my passport and you can act as though you're me. Hopefully there should not be much of a problem getting out of Afghanistan. I will go back, and as soon as I rescue Father, we will join you in Iran."

I protested, "But how will you get out of Afghanistan without a passport? I will never see you again, Maher!"

Suddenly his voice changed. He had a compassionate tone. "You must trust me, Nazgol. That won't be an issue. Father and I have both spent many years in the army. They taught us well and we know enough to be able to cross the border without getting caught. But you should be very strong. If for any reason I don't make it, you should move on with your life and focus on taking care of our children. You know I'll do my best to be with you but if anything happens, I want you to make me proud."

I couldn't stop my tears and threw myself into his arms, begging him, "Please don't leave me."

He kissed my head and said, "I'll always be with you, no matter where I am."

We got dressed and ready to go. It was a bitter moment to say goodbye to my parents, knowing I may never see them again. My father gave me a bag and said, "This is all my savings and I want you to accept it. I wish I could do more for you and I am ashamed to let you go like this but Maher is right. It is not safe here. I will pray for you as I did every day of my life, even when I was hurt."

"Father, I don't know what to say. You will always be in my heart."

My mom was very calm. She was not crying. She whispered in my ear, "I know you will be safe. I know deep in my heart that you are God's favourite and he will protect you. Be strong and remember you are in my heart." She whispered a prayer in my ear and kissed me goodbye.

We got into the car and Maher drove away. I was looking back from the rear window and crying while waving goodbye to my parents. We had been with them for less than twenty-four hours, and I had to leave them again, but this time it was forever.

We travelled all night and were almost halfway to Iran's border when we saw a road block up ahead. We realised the Taliban had set up a check point and were checking every car. There were a few cars in front of us and Najib started to panic. I was very nervous but tried to stay calm. Najib's behaviour made me worse. Maher said in a loud whisper, "Najib, control yourself. Say nothing, act naturally, and let me do the talking."

He told me, "Cover the children with the quilt, and cover your face with your burqa."

When we got to the check point, the gunman asked, "Where are you going?"

"I'm taking my sister and brother-in-law to the border. Their children are sick, and they need special treatment that we cannot find for them here. We hope the doctors in Iran can find out exactly what is wrong with them and treat them."

The soldier threw the light of his torch into the car and looked at Najib and me and the children.

He pointed at Najib and said, "What is wrong with this guy?"

"He is sick as well. The doctor in Herat didn't know what was wrong with him."

Then he said, "How about yourself?"

"I will come back when I drop them off there. I offered to help because they don't have a car."

He looked at Maher suspiciously for few seconds. My heart was beating so hard that I could hear it. I was sure he was not convinced. He threw the light of his torch on Maher's face again and said, "I have seen you before, you are a doctor yourself, aren't you?!"

Maher hesitate for a second and said, "Yes, I am."

He smiled and said, "You saved my son's life a few years ago when he was dying of meningitis. I know that these people are not really sick but I owe you so I will let you go. I myself sent my family to Iran a few months ago. Herat is not safe for families anymore. "

Maher thanked him and put his foot on the accelerator and drove off before he changed his mind.

We got to the border around the time of morning prayer and Maher and Najib went to the mosque beside the border. I took the children to the ladies' section and I freshened them up in the bathroom then waited for Maher and Najib to finish their prayer. The border was full of people, all pushing and shoving to get closer to the border office. It was totally different from the last time we were there. I could see people were in a panic to get out of the country. The Taliban men were stopping people and sometimes separating the women from their men. People were crying and begging them to let them go. It was chaos.

Maher and Najib returned. I was dreading this moment. I knew it was time to say goodbye. Maher told us we should not waste any time and should cross the border immediately because it was possible that the Taliban had sent Najib's details to the border to stop him from crossing. He said we should be clear with our story that Najib and I were husband and wife and Leila and Faraz were our children. We should tell the border guards that we were going to Iran for a pilgrimage and they would let us through.

He hugged Leila and talked to her for a while and told her how proud he was to have a daughter like her and asked her to take care of herself and her brother. Leila was crying and nodding her head. He kissed Faraz and took his gold chain from around his neck and put it around Faraz's neck. I was crying bitterly because I knew that he sensed he wouldn't see us again.

I wanted to hug him and kiss him for last time and tell him how much I loved him but he pulled himself away and told me it would give the game away. The Taliban would surely arrest us for showing such public affection. I could see the tears in his eyes and how hard he was trying to control himself. He put a bag in Najib's hand and told him, "Here is the passport and the other papers you will need as well as all of my savings. I leave my dearest people in life with you, and I expect you to take care of them and support them like they are your own. I trust you to do this."

Najib kissed his hand and said, "I owe you my life, brother. I will take care of them like they are my eyes."

Then he told us to go toward the border.

Najib lifted up Faraz and took Leila's hand, and I walked after him. I kept looking back at Maher and I could see the tears running down his face. He put his right fist on his heart and I did the same while crying bitterly beneath my burqa.

That was the mental picture I took of Maher in my mind, knowing I would hold it in my memory and my heart forever.

### Chapter Twelve

As I am writing, I can hear Leila's laughter in her room as she talks to her boyfriend. She's twenty years old now and looks like a princess, so beautiful and so dignified that I feel deep pride. She is studying psychology in one of the high ranking universities, and she is one of the best in her class. She is all that I couldn't be. Her boyfriend, I should now say her fiancé, proposed to her a few weeks back and they are planning to move in together in a couple of months and will get married in the summertime next year.

It took me quite a while to get used to the western lifestyle. It was all a bit alien to me at first. I remember how lost I was when I first arrived here in Canada, but after a few years, I started to understand the differences. I adapted to this culture and learned to raise my children with the same values.

Faraz is a young man now. He is seventeen-years-old and just started college. He is going to university to study law this autumn. He is handsome, calm and wise. He's shy with girls and has recently had a crush on one of his classmates. She is a sweet and warm girl. They went to their prom party together last week, and now they are officially boyfriend and girlfriend.

Najib lives a couple blocks away from where we live. He worked hard to earn money and help us. He was always there for us when we needed him. He is like a brother to me and we are very close. We often talk for hours and enjoy each other's company. He's an experienced civil engineer now and earns a good living. He lives with his boyfriend of seven years and they are very happy together. His boyfriend's family is originally from Ireland but they have been here for so long that he now considers himself to be Canadian.

I took a loan and opened a small dressmaking shop a few years ago. It took time for me to build a good client base, but I'm self-sufficient now and I can earn enough money to pay off the loan and take care of the family.

And Maher...

He is here with us, but he has lost most of his eyesight due to diabetes and what happened to him after he left us at the border.

When he went back, he decided to give his mother a decent burial. It was just him and Neshat. They washed her body and wrapped her in white cotton cloth then buried her in a graveyard just outside of Herat. He made his way back to our house, and watched from a distance until he was sure it was safe. He thought the Taliban may have been waiting for him to show up. He went in and collected a few things. He didn't want to spend any more time than necessary in the house, but he realised that if the Taliban had not been to the house then maybe they had not made the connection between us and Jabber. He felt reassured by this. It would mean my mother and father were safe, and they didn't suspect our involvement in Jabber's disappearance.

He gathered everything he could carry and went to Jahan's house. Jahan was not so surprised to see him. He knew what had happened to his mother and father and almost expected Maher to show up sooner or later.

Maher knew he could trust Jahan with his life and told him the whole story. Jahan also had a story to tell. He and some of his old army comrades had set up a small resistance cell to hit the Taliban whenever they could, and he asked Maher to join them. But Maher told Jahan that although he was proud of what he was doing, his fighting days were over. All he wanted to do was to get his father's freedom and join me and the children as soon as he could.

After a few days of searching, Maher found out through Jahan's contacts that his father was being held in a makeshift detention centre inside Herat. He went over the different options in his mind on how to free him. He decided the only option was to simply go to the Taliban and persuade them of his father's innocence. He knew this was a huge gamble, but he had the nerve, and it might just work. Jahan tried to talk him out of it. They would arrest and torture him for sure, and he would achieve nothing. Jahan tried to convince Maher that there were other ways to deal with it, but his mind was made up. He didn't want anyone else putting their lives at risk. There had been enough bloodshed.

Maher went to the detention centre the next morning, but not only was he arrested, they also tortured him and kept both him and his father in detention. He was there for days without food or water or his insulin. He was tortured every day but he denied knowing anything about Jabber or what had happened to Najib. He said he thought Najib must be dead. He stuck to that story no matter what they did to him and he knew if he gave in, he was a dead man. He had several seizures due to the insulin imbalance and was lucky to stay alive. The only person in the prison who tried to take care of him was his poor father, who was in the same bad condition as Maher.

God bless Jahan. He was the one who saved Maher. Jahan knew it wasn't difficult to contact Maher inside the prison. He paid one of the guards to deliver a coded message that Maher would understand. "My brother, at morning prayer, pray to God to forgive you of your sins, for he shall set you free". Maher said he would never forget those words. Jahan had identified that security was at its weakest during morning prayer and he was going to attack the next morning as soon as prayer started. Jahan and a few of his best men attacked the centre at day break. Maher said it was chaos with bullets flying everywhere. While they were trying to escape, Maher's father was shot in the neck and died in front of him. Maher was also shot in the arm but was not seriously injured. Jahan took him home, fixed up his wound, and a couple of weeks later, arranged for him to be taken from Afghanistan to Iran through the mountains and across the border.

They paid a shepherd to guide him. He dressed Maher in a sheep's skin for camouflage and took him through the mountain pass between Afghanistan and Iran. He took him as far as possible before leaving Maher to walk for another day to complete his journey. When I saw him in Iran, he was so weak and so thin and sick that I couldn't believe he was the same Maher I left several weeks before.

We stayed in Iran for six months to allow him to recover, then decided we should make our way to Turkey. From there, we applied to go to Canada as refugees. The process was very long and we didn't have much money. By then, Maher had lost at least half of his eyesight. Najib was working as a labourer, and I was working as a cleaner in people's houses while Maher was with the children at home. We stayed in a small twelve square meter room that didn't have a kitchen or bathroom. We had to go outside to use a communal bathroom. I cooked with a small gas burner and washed the dishes with water I brought from the bathroom.

The process to get to Canada took almost two years. Even when we finally arrived, life was not easy, but I was grateful we were all safe and Maher was with us. Maher was very depressed about losing his eye sight, but he's a fighter and never gave in. He pulled himself together and went back to university and studied sociology. Ironically, he's now working in the refugee section of the immigration office. He goes around like nothing is wrong and he handles himself very well.

He's very close to Leila and Faraz and they consult him about every decision they want to make. He supports them and lets them decide freely on most things. He says, "My children are free birds. They can fly wherever they want. I'll teach them to fly and we'll just fly behind them to make sure they stay on course and safe from any danger. I want them to fly high, where I couldn't go when I was their age."

He's still a good lover and a very supportive husband, and I knew that without him, I would not have been able to go through all the hardship. I sleep in his arms and it's like I'm in heaven, safe and sound. He strokes my hair, and when I complain about my hair going grey and wrinkles showing up on my face, he says, "You know, Nazgol, the biggest advantage of being blind is that I always see you as the young woman I first met. So I don't understand what you mean when you say that you're aging. And because I can't see myself in the mirror, I assume I'm as handsome as I was in those days."

I look at him. He just turned fifty-one. His hair is gray and he has deep wrinkles on his face. I say, "You haven't changed at all, Maher. You're as handsome as you were when we got married."

He says, "So I'm still the king of Herat and you're still the queen?"

"Oh Maher, those words take me back to memories of the days of love and fear."

A few years ago, when the Taliban regime was defeated, we felt it was safe to go back for a visit. Maher and I flew to Afghanistan and went to see my parents. They were still there in that small town, and despite the fear and difficulties they went through during the Taliban regime, they were happy with their life. We travelled together through the country and everywhere we went, we could still see how much Afghanistan had been ruined during all those years of war. Poverty was in every corner. Although the atmosphere was not as heavy and women weren't as persecuted, people were still living in fear of the warlords who had taken the place of the Taliban.

People were also in fear of the foreign troops, who in the name of freedom and support were bombing some areas in Afghanistan and killing innocent people. They were in every town and city. They didn't have much respect for our people and were going around like it was their territory.

We also went to see Neshat. Even though she was my age, she looked like an old woman, her beauty was still apparent despite all the wrinkles and scars. She had three sons and a daughter, and they were all like their mother, strong, dignified and healthy. Her abusive husband overdosed and died a couple of years ago, and her eldest son, who was a young man now, was taking care of her and the family. From whatever her husband hadn't squandered on opium and left for them, they made a small business in Herat and were living a fairly comfortable life. She told us that after many years of misery, she got her life back and could live without being abused or insulted.

We also went to visit Jahan, but discovered that because of pressure from the Taliban, he had moved to Iran with his family just a year after we left. He had a small business in Torbat Jam, a small city close to Mashhad and Afghanistan's border. He had visited Afghanistan after the fall of the Taliban but preferred to stay in Iran.

We didn't take the children with us as we were not sure if it would be safe for them, but they always ask about Afghanistan and are very eager to learn the culture and traditions.

I always tried to maintain our traditions while raising them, and we still celebrate the Nowruz in March of every year. This year, I gave Leila a beautiful blue scarf, just like the one my father gave me many years ago. She likes it very much and wears it around her neck.

The spring has arrived in Ottawa, and there are beautiful blossoms everywhere.

I've invited the whole family for lunch today. Najib and his boyfriend, Leila and her fiancé, Faraz and his girlfriend, and of course, Maher and myself. It's a nice warm day and I am planning to serve lunch in our small courtyard.

I think I'm done with telling my story. Sometimes I think this was my mission: to let everyone know that despite the suffering I've gone through, my strong love, beliefs and the dream of freedom never died. In fact they gave me great strength throughout my journey.

Maher has just called me, "Nazgol, if you haven't finished yet, we can simply offer bread and yogurt to our guests."

### ###

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P. S. Nevis

### Endnotes

1-Herat: Third largest city of Afghanistan Wikipedia] [Go back

2-Nowruz: The Persian New Year that is also celebrated in Afghanistan Wikipedia] [Go back

3-Chador: A full-body-length semicircle of fabric that is open down the front. This garment is one possible way in which a Muslim woman can follow the Islamic dress code. Wikipedia] [Go back

4-Kandahar: Second largest city in Afghanistan Wikipedia] [Go back

5-Pashtun: The largest ethnic group in Afghanistan Wikipedia] [Go back

6-Kabul: Capital of Afghanistan. Go back

7-Burqa: An enveloping outer garment worn by women in some Islamic traditions to cover their bodies when in public Wikipedia] [Go back

8-Ramadan: Ninth month of the Islamic calendar; Muslims worldwide observe this as a month of fasting Wikipedia] [Go back

9-Imam: Worship leader of a mosque and Muslim community Wikipedia] [Go back

10-Sharia: The moral code and religious law of Islam Wikipedia] [Go back

11-Salwar Kameez: Traditional dress of Afghan men. Go back

12-Rubab: A lute-like musical instrument originally from central Afghanistan Wikipedia] [Go back

13-Eid: An important religious holiday celebrated by Muslims worldwide that marks the end of Ramadan Wikipedia] [Go back

14-Hafez: Famous Persian poet. Go back

15-Shia: Second largest denomination of Islam Wikipedia] [Go back

16-Sunnah: First largest denomination of. Islam. Go back

17-Haft Mewa: Afghan New Year seven dried fruit medley. Go back
