Haneed Was A Psycho

CHAPTER 7

The pleasant memories still remain vivid. I can recall that wonderful day when we engaged in a Mortal Kombat match on Haneed's Xbox. We played it approximately nine times, and in each battle, I faced defeat.

Haneed was incessantly laughing, reveling in his victories, while I embraced my losses. However, none of that truly mattered to me, because all I desired was to witness his happiness.

I seized that opportunity to regale him with tales from my primary school days, recounting instances when I sought revenge using a compass against those who upset me.

Later that same day, Haneed came to my room for a sleepover. He mentioned hearing unsettling noises in his own room and believed he was being subjected to insults. Though I felt a surge of fear, I managed to convince him that he was experiencing hallucinations.

I arranged my bed for him and recited several Quranic verses until he drifted off into sleep.

Upon waking the following morning, I found myself on the bed, bewildered about how I got there, and Haneed was nowhere to be seen. I hastened to his room, but he was absent.

I dashed straight to the kitchen, where I spotted him seated on a stool, organizing salad, eggs, and tomatoes — he was assembling a sandwich. I stared in awe, my mouth agape, until he smiled and instructed me to set the water to boil.

A few minutes later, we were at the dining table, ready to indulge in breakfast when Haneed suddenly posed a question, "Meysa kika kwanta a qasa?," which translates to "Why did you sleep on the floor?"

His gaze penetrated deep into my eyes, sending my blood pulsating as I stuttered and explained that I had a habit of involuntarily kicking people in my sleep, even sharing the anecdote of my mother dragging me out from under the bed when I was younger. He laughed and encouraged me to tell the truth, a request I declined.

Haneed playfully teased me, to his own satisfaction, but I remained steadfast, refusing to reveal what I wasn't willing to disclose.

In the midst of our interaction, I countered with my own question. I inquired about the reason he married me, yet Haneed maintained his silence. It was evident he lacked an answer to my query.

That day, I felt a profound sadness and disappointment, realizing that Haneed harbored no affectionate feelings for me. I retreated to the bathroom and cried until my eyes swelled.

My heart ached immensely, and a heavy sense of depression washed over me. Haneed noticed the change and inquired about the cause of my tears. I fibbed, blaming it on severe stomach pains. In response, he contacted our family doctor, who promptly arrived and prescribed antacids, assuming I suffered from gastritis.

Within a short span of time, I discovered a dwindling interest in all aspects of life. Haneed's concern grew palpable, prompting him to summon my sisters to spend time with me.

Observing my rapid weight loss, he devoted extra attention to my well-being, yet I remained perplexed as to why he was making such efforts for me. At some point, it seemed as though Haneed had transformed into a different person. He inundated me with jokes, albeit many were quite feeble, all in an earnest endeavor to alleviate my pain.

Unfortunately, his attempts were futile, as my mind insisted he was merely putting on a show for my sisters... Not even a hint of affection did he seem to possess for me.

While I endeavored to navigate my relationship with Haneed as both a friend and a husband, an undercurrent of sadness coursed through my heart. "Is this what marriage is meant to be? What kind of life am I leading? How do I continue living with a man so enigmatic?" These questions echoed relentlessly within me.

I embarked on a mission to address my struggles by seeking answers online. I delved into books that offered guidance on dealing with complex individuals and understanding men in general. This pursuit proved immensely beneficial. Additionally, I sought assistance from a qualified psychiatrist who shed light on the fact that I was living with a husband exhibiting psychotic tendencies.

Although I contemplated seeking my family's help, another voice cautioned against it, fearing it might result in our separation.