The first thing she did when the house fell quiet was pick the lock on her window.
She didn't climb out—just needed the air. The illusion of freedom.
She sat on the edge of her bed with a flashlight under her blanket, unfolding the small paper someone had slipped through the rusted grill.
It was his handwriting.
Silas.
> "You don't owe them your prison, Aaliyah.
You don't owe anyone your silence.
But if you're afraid to speak—then let me scream for you."
She pressed the paper to her chest.
God, her chest hurt. From too many unsaid things.
She wrote back on the back of a Quran class notebook:
> "I'm losing pieces of myself.
My father prays for my soul, but every time I think of you...
I feel something warm enough to believe again.
Is that wrong?"
She didn't sign her name.
She didn't need to.
---
The next evening, her cousin arrived.
Dressed in a fine suit. Polished, proper. Carrying a box of sweets and a gaze that never met hers fully.
His name was Amir.
And she knew with terrifying certainty that her parents had already decided.
When she excused herself to breathe, she found herself walking through the garden… and into the one person she thought she hated more than anyone.
Lucien.
Perched lazily on the neighbor's wall, smoking something that wasn't legal, wearing sin like perfume.
"What are you doing here?" she snapped.
He didn't move. "Watching."
"For what?"
"You."
Her eyes narrowed. "You shouldn't be here."
"You shouldn't be promised to a man who wears prayer like a chain," he said darkly.
She stepped back.
"You think I'm the devil?" he asked.
"You are."
He smirked. "Then why do you keep finding me when you're closest to breaking?"
She turned away—but not before he spoke again.
"I've seen your God," Lucien said, voice lower now. "I saw Him in the hospital hallway when my mother bled out from pills she swallowed because her Imam refused to let her leave her husband."
Aaliyah froze.
"I begged Him for mercy," he continued. "He gave me silence."
Her breath hitched.
Lucien hopped off the wall, walked up to her slowly.
"When you're done believing in Him," he said, "come find me. I'll show you a love that doesn't come with chains."
And then he walked into the night, leaving the scent of smoke and sorrow behind.
Aaliyah clutched the scarf around her neck.
Tighter.
She was slipping. Falling into something deeper than love.
Into a war between mercy and madness.
And no one was going to save her.
---