Every time I felt agonizing loneliness
Even when lying next to him.
Every time he promised me he’d be a reliable source of support, and he wasn’t.
Every time I told myself that I’m living this life alone
Even though I’ve got a man, supposedly.
romantic relationships, divorce, marriage

You can’t go out alone. I have to be with you.
I have to be there even if you go out with your friends.

I know that a lot of women unknowingly enter into marriages with similar types of men, and that I was lucky and all that.
But I never imagined that something like that could ever happen to me.

I don't regret anything;
I just had no idea what I was getting myself into:
the lies, the secrecy, the plotting,
the unethicality of the women of the family I was marrying into
and the blind denial of the men.

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 found myself forgetting about the music,
And the fitting Fayrouz lyrics streaming from my earphones.
Forgetting about the book in my hands,
And forgetting my desire to improve my English.
I gazed at her face.

My upbringing was very conservative and restrictive,
The house and Amm Salah’s supermarket at the end of our street were my limits.
Just these two.
From kindergarten to the second or third grade
I went to an Islamic school.

You said I was only pretending to be a liberal,
And I turned out to be a conservative woman who had issues,
Just like any other Egyptian woman.
You said that because I refused to do what you wanted.

I had a friend during high school,
And things started to develop between us.
I thought it was love at first,
But I found out later on that he was taking advantage of me.

I start knitting.
My hands aren’t yet used to the two new needles.
I do not think of you.
I wrap the yarn around the needle to start stitching.
I applaud myself for not thinking of you until the third stitch.