I looked at him.
For years, I had imagined marriage as another role I would have to perform correctly.
The good daughter would become the good wife.
The quiet girl would learn to keep her husband happy.
The woman everyone admired would continue living according to expectations she had never chosen.
But sitting across from Zayd, I understood that I didn’t want a marriage built on fear.
I wanted a relationship where neither of us had to pretend to be perfect.
“I think I can,” I said. “But only if we keep being honest, even when the truth is uncomfortable.”
He nodded.
“That’s fair.”
“And I need you to understand something else.”
“Tell me.”
“I won’t spend the rest of my life trying to prove that I’m worthy of being loved.”
He reached across the table and took my hand.
“You shouldn’t have to.”
I looked at him, searching his face for any sign that he was simply saying what I wanted to hear.
