The trap of marriage

Inside the large reception hall of the home of one of the village's most prominent families, the Maghrabi family

Sheikh Gad al-Maghrabi presides over the meeting with his authority and age, which exceeds seventy years. He leans on his cane, and next to him are his eldest son, Alwan, and his grandson, Saad.

Opposite them are members of the other family, their rivals in terms of status and wealth, the al-Sawi family

represented by its head, Jalal Al-Sawy, with his tall, slender physique and handsome features, but with a sharpness and severity that belies his age, which exceeds thirty. He is adorned with a beard as dark as his hair and sharp, golden eyes that remain calm and steady as he watches the faces of those seated after he has made his request to them. His uncle Sabri presides over the meeting. A sharp silence reigns throughout the room as they wait for Sheikh Gad al-Maghrabi's response to the Sawy family's request. Sheikh Gad sits leaning on his cane, looking at the ground thoughtfully, but the answer comes in a sharp, arrogant voice from his eldest son, Alwan, who says

“Your request is denied, son of Al-Sawy. Our land is not for sale, even if you pay what I have told you ten times over.”

Jalal furrowed his dark eyebrows before glancing at his uncle, who was poised to respond with a sharp, violent retort. But Jalal's silent signal restrained his scathing reply before he could utter it. He exhaled sharply, his face contorted with rage, and pressed his lips tightly together as he saw Jalal turn once again toward Sheikh Gad al-Maghrabi, addressing him and deliberately ignoring Alwan, saying in a calm but firm voice

= What did you say, Hajj Gad? I'd like to hear your response.

This time, Alwan stood up, angered by Jalal's deliberate disregard for him, saying angrily

“What's wrong, son of Sawy? You don't like the answer?”

His father's voice interrupted him sternly

“Alwan...you can't talk like that.”

Alwan turned to his father and said angrily

“How can that be, father? You can see how I'm talking.”

Jad shook his head, motioning for him to sit down, saying seriously, “No arguments.”

“Sit down, Alwan, and let's talk rationally.”

Alwan sat down violently, breathing heavily with anger and a furious expression on his face. Calm prevailed for a few moments before Jad spoke in a calm voice, addressing Jalal, who was sitting comfortably and calmly on his seat.

“Listen, son, as Alwan said, we will not sell our land, even for all the treasures in the world, even if it means our death. The land is an offering, and you understand what I mean when I say that one should not give up one's land.”

Jalal's face betrayed his understanding of Jad's veiled words, but he quickly put on a cold expression.

He stood up, and his uncle immediately followed him, saying calmly

= Okay, Jad, I understand your answer. But I was hoping it would be different, especially since the land I'm asking for is the land of Al-Sawi from the beginning.

Sheikh Jad al-Maghribi smiled and said calmly, motioning for Jalal to sit down.

“Sit down, Jalal, my son. I haven't finished what I was saying, and I haven't responded to your request yet.”

Jalal furrowed his eyebrows and looked at Jad al-Maghribi thoughtfully. They exchanged glances for a few moments before Jalal sat down again. Jad continued in a calm, clear voice.

“Look, my son, as I said earlier, our land is not for sale, even if it costs us our lives...”

He suddenly stopped talking and looked down for a moment, during which tension filled the room, before raising his head and looking firmly at Jalal, who continued calmly and decisively.

= But we can give it to our daughter when she gets married, and then she'll be free to do whatever she wants with it... She can keep it in her name... She can write it to her children, but not even to her husband. We can't talk about it or say no to it.

The atmosphere became tense as soon as he uttered those words. All eyes turned to him in shock and amazement, but he did not avert his gaze from Jalal's eyes, who returned his gaze firmly until Alwan's cry of disapproval shook the room. He shouted with rage and madness.

=What are you saying, father? We are not sick. Give her the land... She's our daughter, just like our own daughter.

Jad turned his face toward his son, who was grinding his teeth, and said sharply in a low voice

= Sit down and be quiet. If you don't like what I'm saying, get out now.

Alwan's face turned pale as he swallowed his saliva slowly and awkwardly before lowering his head and sitting back down on his seat without saying a word. Jad turned back to Jalal and looked at him, and their eyes met again for a moment. Then Jalal said calmly and seriously

“Haj Jad, I am honored to ask for your granddaughter's hand in marriage.”

Jad smiled slowly, his eyes sparkling with joy, and said happily

“I am honored by your request and I accept.”

⭐ ⭐ ⭐

“What are you saying, Jalal? Who is the Moroccan girl you are going to marry? And what about me?”

Salma, his cousin, screamed at him with those words, then threw herself into her mother's arms, crying bitterly and sobbing loudly. Her mother's scream rose with her, calling out sharply

= That can never happen. The daughters of Al-Maghrabi live in our house... They are the ones who caused your father to lose his money and his business, and because of them, he sold the land.

Jalal interrupted everything that was being said with a firm, resolute voice, saying

= There's no need to say that, mother. You know very well why the land was sold and for what reason... We've read the opening chapter and written the book, and the dowry is also ready.

Salma's sobs grew louder as soon as he finished speaking, drawing her mother's attention to her husband and son, who had been sitting in silence since the conversation began. She said in astonishment

= And you like what happened and agree with what he said, Sabri?

He answered her, lowering his face and saying with a frown

= What Jalal did was right, otherwise the land would never have been returned to us.

Salma raised her head from her mother's chest and shouted

= Let the land go to whoever wants it...

At this point, Hajja Rajia raised her head sharply, screaming angrily after sitting silently and intently watching what was happening.

= What land are you burning, Sabri? This land is what gave you and your family the value and prestige that you and your mother enjoy among God's creation. If it weren't for Jalal, you would never have had any value or prestige among creation.

Jalal approached her, patted her hand, pulled her head toward him, kissed her forehead tenderly, and said

= Calm down, grandmother. She surely didn't mean anything by what she said.

Salma screamed in blind rage, stamping her feet on the ground.

= I don't mean... And I'll say it again and again, set fire to the ground for whoever wants it.

Then she rushed toward the stairs, climbing them quickly, her loud sobs following her as her mother called after her anxiously and frantically. Silence fell over the place after her stormy departure, until Hajja Rajia said in a faint voice after a while

“Look at your daughter, Sabri. What is she saying?”

Sabri quickly bent over her palm and kissed it tenderly, saying softly, “I'm sorry.”

“You're right, but please understand, she's just a little girl and doesn't understand what happened. It's hard for her to know the value and importance of the land.”

Ragia nods in agreement before turning to Jalal, placing her wrinkled hand on his cheek and touching it tenderly, saying

“You're right, Sabri. Not everyone knows the value and importance of the land.”

Jalal gently took her hand and smiled tenderly at her, his expression reflecting her feelings, but that moment was interrupted when she asked, her voice betraying her rejection of what was happening.

“And who do you think is the bride from the Maghreb? As far as I know, they don't have any girls to marry except...”

Her words were cut off, and shock and astonishment were written all over her face when Sabri nodded his head in agreement and answered her fearfully, glancing at Jalal with concern and saying

=Jalal, the village of Fathia, Jalal

Qadriya's eyes burned with fury, and her voice almost pierced the sky in disapproval

= Who do you mean... You mean the night she was Ragheb's fiancée?

You mean the girl who no one has crossed since her fiancé left her? She will be my son's wife... She will be your eldest daughter-in-law.

She stood up screaming, hitting her head with her fists hysterically, saying

= May your luck be with your son, Qadriya... So Jalal, the head of the Al-Sawy family, will be lucky like the girl... Yamila, your luck is in your son, Qadriya.

Jalal stood up and shouted firmly, in a voice that brooked no argument. Everyone knew that nothing more needed to be said when he used that tone, and Qadriya fell silent immediately when he raised his voice, saying

= That's it, Mom. That's all there is to say about this matter. Tonight, whatever her name is, she will be considered part of the Al-Sawy family and will remain so. Nothing will change my mind.

⭐ ⭐ ⭐

= I still don't want to stop crying, Laila.

Layla turned her face toward her sister, her eyes swollen from crying since her grandfather had curtly informed her of her marriage, so she could learn what had happened and how the marriage had been arranged. She felt broken and humiliated, wondering in pain if she had fallen so low that she was being offered in this way to this suitor. Had her situation become so dire in her grandfather's eyes that he would offer him that land in exchange for his consent to marry her?

Tears fell profusely and silently down her cheeks. She turned toward the window again and looked out once more with a sadness that broke her heart. Her sister Shurooq sighed compassionately as she sat next to her, looking at her for a moment before saying softly and gently

“Agree, Layla, and accept.”

Layla looked at her with sad eyes, stunned. Shurooq nodded to her, saying tenderly

= Yes, agree and live your life. You can't find a home that will compensate you for everything that happened to you.

Layla closed her eyes in pain, tears falling silently.

"What am I waiting for there after they took me above the market, Shorouq... The night of the spinster, as the whole country says about her. What will you find in Al-Sawy's house other than humiliation and disgrace after her husband sold her to them for nothing?

Shurooq quickly grabbed her face between her palms, raising her eyes to her, shouting eagerly and tenderly.

“Grandpa, don't worry, Laila. Grandpa is looking out for your best interests. Do you want to spend your whole life listening to the gossip around us, like poison, and die slowly every day from the whispers and insinuations around you?

Think about it, Laila, and you'll see that Grandpa is only doing what's best for you.”

She threw herself into her arms, crying bitterly and speaking in broken words that came out of her mouth with difficulty

= I can't help it, Shorouk. I feel like they took her from her home to the fire, and I don't know the difference between right and wrong

Shurooq patted her back tenderly, saying

= Believe me, Layla, any groom will be better than your cousin, no matter what his character is like. My heart tells me that tomorrow will be better, and God will reward you with all that is good.

⭐ ⭐ ⭐

And there she sat in her wedding dress in the suite reserved for her and her groom in the Al-Sawy family home, feeling awe and her heart beating loudly, deafening her ears, while her mother sat next to her on the bed, smiling tenderly and whispering softly and reassuringly

“Don't be afraid, my dear, and don't worry about anything...”

She hurried to continue, eagerly trying to reassure her even more.

“I know that Jalal Al-Sawy is a good man and that his heart is kind, contrary to what they say and what we hear about him.”

Pale, she looked at her mother, trembling at her words, which did not calm her fears but increased her dread and fear even more. Shorouq quickly cheered her up with a joke in an attempt to remedy the situation.

“Did you see how my aunt was sitting there during the celebration? I felt like she was going to explode with rage.”

She turned to her, whispering tremulously.

“It wasn't your uncle's wife, Shorouk, who was about to explode. Didn't you see how the Sawy family sat and what they did when your grandfather entered? Not one of them uttered a word throughout the celebration. It was as if they had come to mourn, not to celebrate.”

Shorouk embraced her and whispered tenderly

Leave them alone and don't be upset. God willing, everything will work out in time. But the speed with which the marriage took place left everyone tense and on edge.

That night, she raised her eyes, glistening with tears, realizing that nothing she said was true and that the women of the Al-Sawy family strongly rejected the marriage. She had realized this from the moment they prevented them from visiting her or asking about her throughout the engagement period and did not follow the customs customary during that period, ignoring her existence completely, as if she did not in their lives. She had only seen him once, when he quickly and efficiently placed the ring on her finger without saying a word to her, not even to congratulate her, and then immediately left with her grandfather. She had not seen him since then until that day.

Suddenly, the door opened and her mother-in-law, Hajja Qadriya, appeared, dressed in black and her eyes lined with kohl, her gaze sharp as she shouted sternly and rigidly

“You've been sitting here for too long... The groom is standing outside and wants to come in to his bride. What do you think?”

Laila's mother hurriedly got up, shouting in embarrassment and confusion

“No, we were just leaving.”

Then she quickly kissed her daughter, followed by Shorouk, who whispered to Zeina angrily and resentfully

“Your mother-in-law wants to strangle you, but I'll let her go for your sake...” She kissed her on the cheek and continued tenderly,

“I'll go and talk to her. Don't worry, I'll take care of you.”

Then she moved to follow her mother, leaving the room, followed by fateful glances for a few moments before turning to Layla, who was standing with trembling feet and a heart beating loudly, looking at her from top to bottom, pursing her lips to the side, making a sound between them, a sign of her dissatisfaction, and then leaving, closing the door behind her forcefully. Leila sits on the bed in despair, tears streaming down her cheeks, but she quickly wipes them away, cursing her luck and whispering in pain, "

= Is that how you like it, Grandpa... I was happy when I got rid of that night with her passport. I was relieved when she threw me into the fire, not knowing where it would end.

She raised her face, terror etched on her features, when the door opened again. She looked at the person entering, who was none other than her long-awaited groom, standing tall with his solid body and broad shoulders. His face was like a blank page, revealing no emotions or expressions, not even in his golden eyes, which slowly looked at her and made her lower her face in shame, trembling with awe as she listened to the sound of him closing the door and walking calmly toward her until he stood directly in front of her. Her eyes gazed at his shiny shoes for a moment. Silence reigned between them, and she could hear nothing but her own heartbeat, which was so loud it almost deafened her as she waited for him to make a move. But she found him moving away from her again, to the other side, and then his strong, firm voice reached her, saying

= Go change your clothes in the bathroom, and I'll wait for you here because I have a few words I want to say to you.

She quickly raised her eyes toward his voice in astonishment, but quickly lowered them again, nodding her head in agreement. She gathered her dress around her with one hand and with the other grabbed a white shirt that was lying on the bed. Then she headed toward the only door in the room, except for the entrance door. She opened it slowly, slipped inside, and closed the door behind her quietly.

⭐ ⭐ ⭐

She spent a long time in the bathroom until she was able to deal with the zipper of her dress and get rid of it. Then she stood looking at herself in the mirror, feeling a lump in her throat as she looked at her relatively small body outlined in this shirt and covered by a robe of the same type, which, despite its reasonable modesty, she felt did not suit her, nor did nor did her dark brown hair, scattered around her round face, matching the color of her eyes. She cursed herself a thousand times for refusing to let Shorouq cry for her until he calmed down, justifying it by saying that she wanted him to see her without any attempt to beautify or hide what she always saw as one of her flaws, which she had always hated. She smiled sarcastically at her father. Shrouk at that moment to leave her alone, telling her, as she always did, that it was one of her distinctive features, making her look like a gypsy nymph. She was well aware of what she was trying to do to boost her self-confidence, and she succeeded in doing so at that moment. But now, as she looked at herself in the mirror, she felt insecure and anxious about her decision.

She exhales, closes her eyes, and tries to push away the tears that are struggling to escape their confinement. She tries to breathe slowly several times, then moves, slowly opening the door and stepping outside with trembling bare feet. She raises her eyes, searching for him, and sees him sitting on the blue sofa, having changed into comfortable home clothes. In front of him is the food tray for the wedding night. He watches her approach him calmly, his face expressionless, then speaks to her in an indifferent voice, pointing to the food tray.

= Come and eat first, then we'll talk.

She shook her head in refusal, whispering with a trembling voice that was barely audible.

= I don't want to... I'm not hungry.

Jalal nodded his head in understanding before saying in a clear voice

= Okay, come here. I want to talk to you for a moment.

She headed toward the seat next to the sofa and saw him sitting comfortably on it, his facial features still unclear. He waited for her to sit down, so she quickly sat down and gathered the edges of her dress around her. Then there was a moment of silence before Jalal said in a serious, practical voice

Listen to me, Laila, and I hope you understand what I'm about to say.

She lowered her head and rubbed her fingers nervously as she listened to his serious voice, trembling as he continued calmly.

Look, girl, I want our life to be full of light from the very beginning...

I'm not going to lie to you and tell you that love and emotions are real. We're not children, and we both know why we got married and what it was for... You are my wife, and I respect and appreciate you, but I can't promise you anything more than that. I hope you understand what I'm saying, so that we don't keep going back and forth, repeating ourselves and waiting for something that will never happen.

She felt tears welling up in her eyes again, but this time they were accompanied by a lump in her throat that almost choked her. She tried to hold it together as she heard him move closer to her and continue, his tone softening as if he sensed the harshness of his previous words.

I know that my words are untimely and out of place, but I wanted everything between us to remain clear from the beginning so that we can continue without either of us expecting the other to do something they are unable to do. Do you understand what I mean, Layla?

He waited for her answer, but she couldn't utter a single word. All she could do was slowly nod her head in agreement, still lowering her head to hide her rebellious locks of hair. Her pained expressions flinched violently when she felt his fingers above her, pulling her back behind her ears and whispering softly.

“I knew you would understand me about the land...”

She swallowed hard, cutting him off. She understood what he was about to say and didn't want him to add to her humiliation and degradation by reminding her that he had chosen her as his bride. She whispered softly, the words coming out with difficulty from between her lips.

= I know everything about him. My grandfather told me, and I'm ready to do whatever you ask at any time.

Jalal smiled gently, still playing with her hair.

= Okay, that's fine... Since we've agreed on everything, would you like to have dinner first before we go to sleep?

When he mentioned sleeping, she jumped up in confusion, saying in a hoarse, stuttering voice out of sheer fear.

“I have a request... If you agree to it...”

Jalal calmly observed her confused state with compassion

= Tell me tonight, and if I can, I'll do it...

She sat down again, rubbing her hands nervously, not knowing how to tell him what was on her mind. She didn't think she could treat him like a normal, happy bride after what he had said to her earlier and what he had made clear during that conversation, which made her realize her true value to him and that she was nothing more than a means for him to reach his family's land, and he had tried to make her understand that. her about this since their first night together, so she plucked up her courage and said softly, her words stumbling out.

= Like... what you said to me a little while ago... about... our marriage and the circumstances...

I... wanted... if... possible... if possible, I mean, to have a chance... so that... I can come back... to you... before... I mean... I mean...

Jalal exhaled sharply and slowly leaned back, watching her intently and thinking, while she sat trembling in her seat, waiting for his response to her request. After a long silence, her nerves were about to collapse when he spoke calmly and emotionlessly.

= Okay, I understand what you mean... I have no objection to it... and I want you to understand that I will never force you to do anything you don't want to do."

Then he got up from his seat and headed for the bed, lay down on it, and turned off the lights without saying another word, leaving the room in complete darkness. She sat where she was, feeling guilty, as if she were the one who had humiliated him, not he who had shattered her hopes. Like any girl on her wedding night, she looked her husband to hear her, to reassure her about their future together, but he categorically refused and told her not to expect him to love her one day, as if it were impossible, unattainable.

But she does not blame him. Instead, she blames her grandfather for her pain and suffering. She blames him alone for everything that has happened to her. It was easy for her to live her whole life bearing the title “Al-Bayra” as they liked to call her, and not to live a moment of happiness as she listened to her husband tell her what he had said to her a little while ago, shattering all her hopes of loving and adoring like girls her age in order to get rid of her alleged spinsterhood in the eyes of her family.

She sighed painfully, letting those pent-up tears finally flow freely from their prison. She cried silently, mourning a joy that was never and would never be hers.

⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐

She woke up to the sound of loud knocking on their door. When she tried to get up, she found him rushing towards the door, opening it slightly, and her mother's voice asking him eagerly

=

What's the news, my son... Everything is fine

She followed her words as she tried to peek her head through the crack in the door, but Jalal's stern voice stopped her, saying

Good morning, Mom... What news are you referring to?

Qadriya was harsh and nervous

Jalal, you know what I mean, so don't get upset.

Jalal turned his head toward his mother, who was now watching what was happening with trepidation. Before leaving the room, he quietly closed the door behind him and turned to his mother. She was standing there, looking at him with eagerness and curiosity. He spoke to her calmly but in a stern tone that brooked no argument.

“I understand very well what you mean, Mom, and because I understand, I'm telling you that I don't want to talk about this subject.”

His tone changed to one of warning and stern seriousness as he continued, his mother's eyes widening in shock with every word he uttered.

“This is between me and my wife, and it's no one else's business, not even yours, Mom.”

Disappointment rose above Qadriya's face as she said with feigned sadness, hoping to change his mind.

“So, Jalal, you want to hide this from your mother... and that means I want to know why, so I can feel at ease.”

Jalal sighed heavily, then said calmly

“I'm telling you, Mom, just trust me. I think that's enough for you.”

Qadriya tried to push past him in an attempt to enter the room.

=Okay, I'll reassure myself, and at the same time, I'll go to the bride.

Jalal shouted impatiently

=Mom... we're done talking about this. If the bride is still asleep, we'll wake her up and bring her to you.

My eyes flashed with anger that I couldn't control, and I couldn't utter a single word of the insults I had in mind for that bride and what she meant to me. So I said, with words that came out with difficulty, trying to pretend to agree in an attempt to get through it.

=Okay, my dear, as you wish... I'll go down and prepare breakfast for you and send it up with Najia, and you guys relax."

Jalal nodded his head in agreement and went back into the room after his mother left, who continued to curse in a low voice for fear that he would hear her.

He said, “The bride said... This is a marriage of regret, and there is nothing else you can do about it, bride in my house.”

As soon as Jalal entered the room, Layla quickly stood up, flustered. Jalal noticed her trying to gather the edges of her robe around her, looking around fearfully, her face clearly showing her distress. But he ignored her flustered state and calmly walked toward her, slowly running his eyes over her, making her heart beat faster and her fear and panic of him. She tried to gather the edges of her dress more and more tightly in her fist. Jalal followed her movement with sharp, narrowing eyes, increasing her fear. She wrapped her fingers around her dress even tighter, until she was almost suffocating, and he shouted at her impatiently

“Just because I agreed with you yesterday doesn't mean this will be the case every time you see me.”

He sighed, trying to calm down when he noticed her fear dancing in her eyes. After a moment, he said softly

“Okay, we agreed that we have to get along. You gave me your word, so why are you still afraid?”

She didn't say a word, but he noticed her features relax somewhat, so he continued calmly and slowly.

“What do you think? Go to the bathroom, get ready, and get ready for your family to arrive for breakfast.”

She nodded slowly, her eyes wide with fear, and moved toward the bathroom, but he reached out his hand to stop her, saying, still calm but with a hint of warning and sternness.

=Tonight, it's between you and me. No one else knows about it, not even your mother or sister. Understood, Laila?

She shook her head weakly again, and he sighed impatiently.

=That's not reasonable. Is that always how you're going to respond to me? I want to hear your voice.

She moistened her lips and tried to swallow her saliva to relieve the dryness in her throat

before attempting to respond, her voice coming out hoarse and trembling.

“Yes... what you see.”

He looked at her thoughtfully for a moment before nodding his head without saying a word. She hurried toward the bathroom door, entered, and closed it quietly behind her while he stood watching her silently with a mysterious look in his eyes, whispering after she disappeared.

You're going to wear me out, Moroccan girl.