Synopsis: A woman stands in her apartment anxiously, nervous of what's to come.
Content Warning: Domestic Abuse
It was a hot Monday evening, with a cool breeze breaking up the warmth. Dina sat on a couch by the window, stiff, with her arms to her sides, clenching the fabric of the couch. She’d been sitting there since she got home from work half an hour ago, now staring intently at the clock in her living room. She had two minutes. She broke her gaze, and began to look around the room, trying to occupy herself in her last few moments. Dina turned to a vase on her windowsill, noticing she’d have to change the water of the flower that occupied it. She picked it up carefully, delicately, and took it to her kitchen. After she dumped the water in the vase, she started filling it again while she gingerly checked the rose, admiring the soft crimson petals, which wrapped around themselves gracefully. She raised it up to her nose and smelled it, admiring the refreshing aroma. She began to smile to herself.
She stared out her kitchen window, as the light highlighted her small frame. A woman in her late twenties, Dina had long brown hair, soft rosy cheeks, and glowing hazel eyes. She was vaguely aware that she was pretty: which people told her a lot when she was younger. She was popular in highschool, and successful in college and in her early career, owing to her intelligence and charisma. Now, her concept beauty was ephemeral, no matter what people said. She did not think much of herself in any way. But as she stood there holding onto the rose, she felt somewhat content. Like her, the flower was beautiful, though ignorant of it. Like her, the flower was small. Like her, the flower was gentle.
Suddenly, the door slammed, catching her attention. He was here. She quickly put the rose back in the vase, turned off the water and rushed to the door. There stood Adham, tall and handsome, with a dark, trimmed beard and even darker, curly hair. He turned to look at his girlfriend and smiled warmly. Although his bright blue eyes pierced her, they had not matched his smile—far too relaxed. He went up to her and held her warmly, his hand caressing her side. Dina shifted uncomfortably, but subtly.
“I missed you so much,” he announced, breaking the embrace. “How are you, honey?” She sighed and kissed him.
Over dinner, Adham was talking about his colleagues - about their hilarious jokes and sad stories. Dina looked into his eyes as he spoke, smiling at the protectiveness and care for his friends. As he finished his tale, he insisted upon knowing about her day. Dina’s eyes lit up as she began talking about the children she had taught, who all got together without her knowing to get her a nice mug as a gift.
“That’s nice,” he smirked, “I’m proud of you.”
“Thank you,” she grinned back.
“How did you get back in time to make lunch though? The bus usually arrives late.”
“I came home with Z-.” Dina cought her tongue and slowly swallowed her words. She regretted opening her mouth.
“With whom?” Adham asked, raising one eyebrow inquisitively.
“Ziad.” She already knew the weight of what she said..
He clenched his fist around his fork and grit his teeth together as he swallowed his food.
“I told you not to spend time with the guys at work.” He hissed as he continued cutting his steak.
Dina grabbed her own arm and began stroking it nervously. She didn’t know what to do - whether to explain herself, or to stay silent. She gulped again. “I – I can’t ignore all the men around me,” she stuttered.
“Yes, you can. I don’t care how, I don’t trust you around men,” he began cutting quicker and more forcefully into the meat.
“There’s dozens of people there, I can’t just leave th-“
“Yes, you can. I don’t want my girlfriend being a slut. Now drop the fucking subject or else.”
She paused. The silence filled the room, the only sound coming from Adham’s knife, which was cutting randomly into his steak all over, as he tried to let out his anger. Dina stared at her glass of water.
“Or… Or else what?” she asked. She tried to put on a straight face, but her feet were tapping anxiously but silently under the table.
He dropped his silverware and grasped the table, which screeched along the floor by the force of his anger. “Excuse me?” he snarled back at her.
“Adham, I can’t handle this. If you keep this up,” she paused and sighed. She looked into his eyes. She fought against herself. Her mind was tearing itself apart. She loved him – she knew she did – but just because you love someone doesn’t mean you belong with them. She continued: “If you keep this up, I’m going to have to kick you out.” Her brows furrowed as menacingly as she could make them, but her gentle features betrayed her.
Adham tossed the table aside, spilling all the food and breaking the plates in a cacophony of sound. He rushed over to her and in a moment, he was standing above her. Dina flinched but kept her composure, her hands surreptitiously gripping the sides of the chair in fear.
“Say that again.” He raised his hand menacingly.
Dina pushed her chair back and folded her arms, and she slowly gave the order: “Get out.”
Adham noticed she was trembling, and smirked. “You don’t want me gone.”
“No, I don’t.” She looked down at her feet, before she worked up the courage to continue, and looked him in the eye. “But I need you to leave anyways.”
His smirk turned sour. He stared at her and lifted his hand, and she closed her eyes, terrified. Nothing happened. Her eyes were closed for what felt like an eternity, but a moment later, she eased them open, and across from her, the door was left ajar as she caught a peek of him storming out in rage. She knew he didn’t want to hurt her. He was a cruel man, though in his own, disturbed way, he did love her. But that excused nothing. That did not make up for the years of emotional pain she felt. That did not mean she was at all free when they were together. But he was gone — for now.
Dina let out a sigh. She began shaking uncontrollably, knowing this was just the beginning of the fight to get out of this hell. Dina noticed her hand was clenched, ready to fight back if need be. She walked nervously into the kitchen, and took a glass from her brown oak shelves, and filled it in her sink. As she took a sip and gulped down the water, before openning her eyes. Shifted her glance to the red rose which absorbed her attention. Dina put down her glass and picked up the rose, and sniffing it again and relaxed her. She felt something on her fingers though, and opened her eyes, noticing blood flowing down her finger. Then she remembered. All roses have thorns.
Author's note: I wrote this story to talk about domestic abuse, a huge problem not only in Egypt but all over the world. I wanted to write specifically about domestic abuse when you love your partner though. This happens constantly and is extremely dangerous because victims tend to rationalize their abusers' violence. If you or anyone you know is in a potentially violent relationship please seek help.
I tried to ask many women for their perspectives on the story before I published it to avoid portraying the situation incorrectly or potentially hurting someone. Thank you to everyone who reviewed it, especially to Raneem Mangoud and Laila El Refaie, who gave a lot editorial advice.