He didn’t want her at the table during family meals or anywhere near when visitors arrived.
He believed she was cursed, and when Zainab turned 21, she made a decision that would destroy what remained of her already broken heart.
One morning, her father entered her small room where Zainab sat silently, her fingers tracing the Braille pages of an old, worn book, and placed a folded piece of cloth on her lap.
“You’re getting married tomorrow,” he said curtly. Zainab froze. The words made no sense. Marry? To whom?
“He’s a beggar from the mosque,” her father continued. “You’re blind, he’s poor.
He’s a good match for you.” She felt as if the blood had drained from her face. She wanted to scream, but no sound came out. She had no choice. Her father never gave her one.
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