She raised her eyes and looked directly at her father, who was standing with a belt in his hand, breathing heavily. Her heart raced as she began to speak harshly.

"I swear, you might as well kill us, but I will never agree to this marriage. If you force me, I will expose your filthy business to the authorities, even if it costs me my life!"

He didn't realize when he dropped the belt, staring at her in shock before turning to her mother, who was crying with her body covered in bruises from his beating. He looked back at his daughter, seeing no fear in her eyes, only determination and courage. With a trembling voice, he spoke, looking back at her mother.

"Na'ima... did you reveal my secret to our daughter?"

As he spoke, he moved closer to her, and she felt her breath almost stop from fear and anxiety. Crying, she stepped back, shaking her head.

"I swear, I didn't tell her anything. I don't know where she heard it. Haulatu, where did you hear it?"

The girl named Haulatu looked at her mother, tears streaming down her face, her throat choked with the pain of her mother's doubt in her father, a man who saw them as nothing but a burden to be rid of at any cost. She found herself unable to speak, as if her tongue was tied. She stood up and stormed into her room in anger. She expected him to hit her mother again, but she heard nothing. Finally, she heard the door slam, indicating he had left, and she buried her head in her knees, crying. In this state, her mother entered the room, shaking her with wide eyes full of worry.

"Haulatu, tell me where you learned about your father's dirty business? Who told you?" She looked up, sobbing, and said.

"Mother, please stop being afraid of this man. Let's run away and leave him with his house. I swear, if he insists on marrying me off to Nazifi, you will look for me and not find me. I will save my life since you see and hear that you can live with him."

She fell silent, just looking at her daughter, unable to say anything, her tears flowing and her breath coming in gasps, her body aching from the beating, which she had become accustomed to over time.

Haulatu looked at her mother with her tear-filled eyes, giving a bitter smile.

"I know, this silence you always keep whenever I suggest we run away, you will do it again. Fine, mother, keep being silent if you think this is the solution you have chosen for us. You prefer how I am treated at school, being bullied because of my father's behavior. Fine, I will continue living with you in this neighborhood where even the neighbors avoid us, seeing us as worthless because of your husband. No one respects us except the thugs who gather at our door every day, praising your husband as their boss. I will continue living here until one day I follow in his footsteps and become a drug dealer..."

"Shut up, Haulatu! Close your mouth before I knock your teeth out!"

Her mother's shout interrupted her almost delirious speech, and then her mother softened, crying as she hugged Haulatu. She was her only child, apart from the six pregnancies her husband had forced her to abort. Haulatu was the only one who survived to be born. Haulatu also cried, hugging her mother, the only person she loved more than anyone in the world. She loved her with a passion she could never feel for the man who was her father, a man she could never trust. She dreamed of one day freeing her mother and ending the oppression they faced. Their rights had been trampled beyond imagination, and they lived under a shadow they could not escape, but the situation was becoming unbearable.

"Mother, please don't let him marry me off to Alhaji Nazifi. I swear I will die."

She looked at her daughter's face, wiping her tears and shaking her head.

"You will not die and leave me, Haulatu. God willing, you will live a long life and find the happiness I always dream for you. This marriage will not happen, I feel it in my heart. Your father will not bring it up again."

Haulatu closed her eyes, feeling a deep pain in her chest. Every time her name was linked to him, she felt like tearing herself apart. She hated being called his daughter. She heard what her mother said but was not convinced, wondering how her mother could be so sure the matter was over.

The call to the Asr prayer broke their silence. Her mother got up to perform ablution, while Haulatu leaned against the wall.

By the time her mother returned and laid out the prayer mat beside her, she hadn't noticed. Her mother looked at her closely. Delaying prayer was not new for her daughter, which worried her mother. She knew, as her maternal grandmother had told her before she died, that prayer could solve any problem. That's why she always tried to pray on time and encouraged Haulatu to do the same, though it often took effort to get her to pray. She feared her daughter might inherit her father's bad habit of neglecting prayer. This was one reason she insisted on Haulatu attending Islamic school. Sometimes she went, other times she pretended to be sick and stayed home.

"Haulatu."

Her mother's call startled her. Something stirred in her mother's heart, which she suppressed by swallowing. With a voice that clearly showed her weakness, she said.

"Get up and perform ablution and pray. This thinking and crying won't help you. Understand?"

She frowned, then got up with a small hiss, not saying a word as she left the room. Her mother was used to this behavior, always trying to correct her daughter's manners and upbringing, knowing that prayer was the solution to everything.

With that, she dismissed her thoughts and began her prayer. Before she finished, Haulatu had also come in, put on her hijab, and started praying. Her mother finished and went outside to start her chores. When Haulatu finished, she found a place to sit and watched her mother as she prepared to wash dishes.

A tall woman with fair skin and natural beauty, if they stood together, you wouldn't think she was her mother but rather her sister or aunt because of her well-maintained appearance. She believed that if they lived a comfortable life, her mother's beauty would be even more evident. A smile escaped her, momentarily making her forget their problems, as she imagined a life where her dreams came true. She saw them in a beautiful house, her mother being served by maids, having everything she needed for a comfortable life, while she became a successful lawyer fighting for people's rights. She imagined herself in court, defending her mother against her father, winning the case and gaining their freedom. She was lost in these thoughts until her mother noticed her.

Seeing her daughter smiling at her, her mother was surprised, wondering if worry had affected her mind.

"What are you thinking about? Why are you looking at me like that?"

Her mother's words brought her back to reality. She sighed deeply and closed her eyes briefly.

"Nothing, mother. Pray for me, that God fulfills my dreams."

Her mother smiled.

"Haulatu, you know you are always first in my prayers after every prayer and other acts of worship. Then my parents and my husband."

She finished with a weak voice. Haulatu said nothing, hearing the last name, as it wasn't the first time her mother had told her to include him in her prayers, believing that God would guide him to repentance before his death.

"Check if we have enough oil left, then buy some charcoal so we can cook the remaining pasta."

Haulatu agreed, remembering how her father had thrown the pot with the oil earlier when he started ranting about Alhaji Nazifi coming to discuss marriage, and she refused to go out to meet him. He had slapped her before her mother intervened, redirecting his anger towards her by beating her with a belt, blaming her for not letting her go out.

Luckily, there was a little oil left, enough to cook the pasta since her father never ate with them, always bringing his own food. Whether it was instant noodles, meat and bread, or even chicken, he ate his fill without offering them any.