NADIA – The First Day After the Wedding

The apartment was quiet after breakfast, but the silence felt different now — heavier, watchful.

Rahim had guided me back to my room, his hand warm and steady on my arm. "Your bed is two steps ahead. The cane is on your right," he said softly, then left, closing the door gently behind him. The click sounded final.

I sat on the edge of the bed, cane resting across my lap, and listened.

The house now had three heartbeats.

I could hear Sana in the kitchen — the careful clink of plates being washed, the faint rustle of her salwar, her movements slower and heavier than before. Rahim's footsteps were heavier. When I woke up, I had heard him going to the kitchen first. Low voices. Then the sound of him making a phone call.

"Soundproof the walls between the two bedrooms," he had said. "As soon as possible. I don't care about the cost."

He had done it after Sana told him she could hear us.

I pressed both palms tightly to my stomach. The warmth from last night was still there — a dull, pleasant ache between my legs and deep inside me. He had been inside me. He had finished inside me. He had held me afterward like I was something precious.

But at the breakfast table this morning, I had felt it clearly for the first time.

I was second.

During breakfast, I had turned toward Sana and spoken with a trembling voice:

"Apa... I know this is painful for you. I'm not here to take your place. I'm not here to compete with you. I just want a child. If my presence hurts you, I can stay in a separate room. I can be invisible. I don't want to make your pain worse."

Sana had stared at me for a long moment, i could tell. Her breathing had changed. Sharp.

Then she had said nothing.

She simply turned back to the stove, her hands shaking as she continued making breakfast. Her silence was louder than any words. It pressed down on me like a heavy stone.

I understood. She was the first wife. She had suffered with him through every loss. She had the scars. I had only the hope of a child.

Still, the thorn was there — small, sharp, and already buried deep in my chest.

I stood up and began mapping my new world the only way I knew how.

Three steps forward to the low wooden table. Five steps to the right — the window. The glass was cool under my fingers, and outside I could hear the distant honking of CNGs, the call of a street vendor selling jhal muri, and the faint Maghrib azaan beginning to rise. Six steps left to the almirah. The wood was smooth, expensive. Inside, my few clothes hung neatly beside the red wedding kameez that still smelled of sandalwood and Rahim.

I moved carefully, cane tapping softly, memorising every corner so I wouldn't bump into anything and give Sana another reason to sigh. The floor tiles were cold marble — different from the rough cement in my mother's Mirpur flat. The air carried layers: Sana's heavy jasmine oil near the shared wall, faint sandalwood from last night, and something expensive — leather and old books, probably from Rahim's side of the house.

The ceiling fan creaked on the third rotation.

I sat on the floor near the shared wall and pressed my ear against it. Nothing. The wall was thick now. Rahim had already started building barriers.

A soft knock startled me.

"Beta?" A warm, older voice. Rahim's mother.

I quickly stood up, smoothing my salwar. "Yes, Ammu."

The door opened. I heard the rustle of silk saree, the clink of bangles, and the smell of fresh mishti and attar.

"Arre, why are you sitting on the floor like this on your first day?" Ammu's voice was kind but carried that familiar backhanded tone. "Come, I brought sweets for you. The whole family wanted to come, but I told them to give you time. Priya sent these new clothes — soft cotton, easy for you to manage."

She placed a heavy packet in my hands. "And these are from your Chachis — special herbal medicines for strength. You must get pregnant quickly, beta. The family is waiting for good news."

Her hand patted my cheek. "Sana is a good girl, but... you understand. A son is needed. Don't worry about her. Just focus on your duty."

I forced a smile. "Thank you, Ammu. I will try my best."

She left after a few more minutes of gentle pressure and prayers. The packet of clothes and sweets felt heavy in my lap. Useful. That was what I was now.

My phone rang again. My mother.

The moment I answered, her voice came through, anxious and eager.

"Nadia? Beta, how are you? Tell me everything. How was last night? Did he treat you well? Did you... do it?"

I swallowed hard, cheeks burning. "Yes, Amma. It happened."

"Alhamdulillah!" She let out a shaky breath of relief. "Now listen carefully. Be very good. Give them a child quickly. Once you have a baby, your position will become stronger. Until then... be careful. Don't demand too much. Second wives are easily replaced if they don't prove useful."

Her words made my stomach twist.

What if I give them a child and they still push me aside? What if Sana never accepts me? What if Rahim only wants me as a womb and nothing else?

"I'm trying, Amma," I said, voice small. "But... it feels strange. I'm scared she hates me already."

"She will get used to it," my mother said quickly. "Be grateful. This is your chance, Nadia. Don't ruin it."

The call ended. I sat there, phone still in my hand, feeling smaller than ever.

Later in the afternoon, Rahim came to my room again. His voice was gentle.

"Tonight I will stay with Sana," he said quietly. "Are you okay with that?"

I turned my face toward his voice and forced a small, calm smile. "Of course. She is your first wife. I understand."

He left the door slightly open when he walked away. I lay down on the bed and listened to the house settle into evening.

Sana moved in the kitchen again. Rahim's footsteps went to her room. The door closed. The apartment grew quiet except for the ceiling fan and the distant sound of traffic outside.

I pressed my palm to my stomach once more and felt the faint, lingering warmth from last night.

I was useful. I was chosen.

But I was still second.

And the thorn in my chest was already learning how to grow.

Author's Note 

If this chapter made your heart feel heavy... welcome to the pain club.

Tell me in the comments:

How do you feel about Nadia's phone call with her mother?

 Do you think Nadia will be able to survive in this house? 

Who are you feeling the most sorry for right now?

Vote if this chapter hit you hard. 

Comment your thoughts — I read every single one.

Thank you for staying with this painful journey 🖤