—To the countryside.
I wanted to refuse. I wanted to run back to the wedding house, where there were women, voices, and witnesses. But I was a young wife in a town where women were taught that disobeying their husbands could bring more shame than suffering because of it.
Real Estate Market
So I followed him.
The path seemed endless. Behind us, I could still hear the distant laughter from the wedding. With each step, those voices grew fainter, until only the wind, the dust, and the man walking beside me remained.
Then I saw what he was carrying.
A sharp farming tool.
My body understood before my mind could accept it. I told myself he just wanted to scare me. I repeated to myself that no man would actually destroy his wife over two pieces of cloth.
I was wrong.
When we arrived at the empty field, there was no one around. No woman. No neighbor. No one who could stand between his anger and me.
He turned to me and asked:
—Which hand did you use to hold the fabrics?
Anatomy
My mouth went dry.
—With the right hand—I whispered.
The way he looked at my hand revealed everything. He hadn’t brought me there to interrogate me. He had brought me there to punish me.
