Lunja's strained relationship with her in-laws made it difficult for her to feel genuinely happy. She was unaware of the lie her husband had told his mother about him being the reason for their childless status. According to hospital reports, both of them were perfectly fine; it was simply the will of Allah not yet blessing them with a child.
Although the hurtful words from her in-laws had stopped, she now felt like an outcast within the family. No one sought her company or visited her. The conflicts that used to occur between her and Omar's sisters now seemed like a blessing in disguise, as at least they acknowledged her existence then. She felt profoundly lonely, despite Omar's efforts to make her happy. Their love alone was not enough; they needed supportive families to survive.
Lunja wanted to express her desire to go back to her former house, near Omar's family, his cousins, and the few friends she had made. However, she knew that moving away from her in-laws was his way of protecting her. Nevertheless, she was tired –
Family gatherings became tense affairs, where conversations cautiously tiptoed around unspoken issue that hung heavy in the air – Lunja's perceived hold on their son and brother, Omar. His mother, the matriarch whose heart beat in sync with the family's legacy, viewed Lunja with suspicion. Where Omar saw radiance, his mother saw indulgence; where Omar heard laughter his mother heard whispers of manipulation.
Lunja had reached a point of exhaustion. She was tired of putting on a fake smile in response to Omar's attempted jokes, tired of pretending to be fine while she battled inner demons of depression. She loved her husband without a doubt, but loving him alone was becoming an overwhelming task. Love should not be a burden, and yet Omar's love was starting to weigh her down. The weight of her own struggles coupled with the strain of their relationship was taking a toll on her emotional well-being.
Their once blissful home, filled with the simplicity of pure love, now echoed with traces of unrest. The absence of material luxuries, once insignificant in the presence of their deep affection, turned into a source of contention as Lunja's desires began to outgrow their humble abode. Each unfulfilled wish cast a shadow on their happiness, causing domestic tranquility to crumble the weight of dissatisfaction
Omar's love for Lunja was a flame that burned with an intensity rivaled only by the noonday sun. Yet, passions of such magnitude cast shadows of doubt as deep as their glow was bright. His devotion became a fortress, immeasurable to outsiders but stifling to the one within. Lunja's world contracted, hedged by the prickly fence of Omar's insecurities.
His jealousy flared her every laugh shared with another man, each smile she bestowed outside their walls. Her social sphere dwindled, restricted by Omar's ever-tightening leash—a bid to hoard her allure for himself alone. Lunja's sigh would carry with it the weight of captivity as her male relatives, once companions in conversation, became unwelcome shadows at the gate of their life together.
In fact, Omar no longer allows Lunja visit her own family freely. If he grants her permission to go, he accompanies her and sits in her father's sitting room, constantly reminding her of the limited time they have before whisking her back home. He seems to have developed a growing sense of possessiveness, as if afraid that someone will snatch his wife away before they return. He has even shortened his own time spent in his trade, as his fear intensifies when he is separated from her. Deep down, he finds more peace when they lived closer to his own parents, as he felt at ease knowing she was within the safety of his father's compound. However, now that they are living far away, surrounded by wealthier elites, Omar's mind is constantly plagued with fear, interpreting any glances directed towards them as potential threats. Sometimes he unconsciously grips her hands so tightly that Lunja winces in pain, causing her to remind him of his own actions. It's something he cannot help, his sense of possessiveness overwhelming his control.
Within the arms of such familial disaffection, Lunja's sense of isolation deepened. She was a stranger in a strange land, her inner spark extinguished by the weight of misgivings and resentment. With each chide, each sneer masked by cordiality, the gap widened between Lunja and the family she desperately wished to call her own. Ita ba dangin shi ba, ba kuma nata ba.
