She was late.
Too late.
Aaliyah's shoes hit the gravel path in desperate silence as she slipped through the side gate of her home. Her scarf was barely pinned. Her heart thundered loud enough she feared it would give her away.
But her father's voice cut through the darkness like a blade.
"Aaliyah."
She turned, slowly.
He stood by the door—no jacket, prayer beads wrapped tight in his fist. His eyes didn't glow with anger. They simmered. Quietly. Dangerous.
"I lost track of time," she said, voice brittle.
"With him?"
She froze.
He stepped closer. "Do you think we don't know? That you can hide dishonor under fabric and silence?"
"I haven't done anything wrong," she whispered.
He nodded. "Then you won't mind me checking your phone."
Her stomach twisted.
Her phone.
Silas's messages. The poem he sent. The midnight voice note.
"I... I deleted everything," she said too quickly.
"Give me the phone."
She didn't move.
So he reached out—and snatched it from her trembling hands.
She couldn't breathe as he swiped through the screen.
Couldn't look.
He said nothing. Just stared at the screen. Then at her.
The silence was worse than shouting.
Worse than blows.
"You have dishonored this family," he said, voice calm. "You will not leave this house again unless it is to marry a man of our choosing."
Aaliyah blinked. "I'm not ready to marry—"
"You've made your choices. Now you'll face the consequences."
She was dragged inside. Her room was locked. Her phone confiscated.
She stared at the ceiling. She didn't scream. Didn't cry.
She just curled into herself, gripping her scarf like a lifeline.
When her mother came in hours later, she didn't say anything. Just placed a silver ring on the table beside the bed.
"Your cousin arrives in three days," she said quietly. "Say yes, Aaliyah. Before your father gives you a reason not to."
That night, Aaliyah didn't pray.
She just lay in the dark, whispering Silas's name like a secret sin—
and wondering if God had already turned His face away.
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