“The best thing about you is your tan,” he’d always tell me.
“What tan?” I’d laugh, “I am as dark as chocolate.”
“And I’m crazy about chocolate” he’d respond adoringly.

I’m 32 years old.
I’m divorced, and I don’t have any children.
When I turned 32, everyone pressured me into getting married.
I honestly wasn’t really looking forward to it.

I now understand why they say: “When poverty knocks at the door, love flies out of the window.”
I work, I cook, I wash, I clean, and I take care of the baby.
I just can’t do it anymore.
I want a break from my life.

You’re beautiful.
I’m not beautiful like you.
Are you going to be happy?
Does he hug you?
He loves you, right? Did he say it to you? Are you sure?

I’m not the one going through this.
It’s a close friend of mine who is,
But she’s not strong enough to share her story.
She’s been married to a man for 18 years.
It started with infertility,
Then with his parents getting involved,
And insulting her.

I work in a pharmacy.
One day an old lady walked in with her daughter.
“Assalam alikum. Are you a miss or a mrs.?”
“I’m the pharmacist,” I replied, “Can I help you?”
She asked for some pills.
Then I heard her telling her daughter:
“It’s alright to ask her.”

I’m tired of my parents.
I don’t know why some people feel bad for orphans.
Maybe their lives are much better without parents.
I don’t want my parents.
They don’t do anything for me.
I don’t spend time with them.

After a certain age,
A girl no longer has the freedom to choose a suitable person to marry.