"Hello, my wonderful readers!

This is my first time writing a story, and since English is not my first language, please bear with any grammatical errors.

Enjoy!"

Author's POV

In the soft morning light filtering through the window, the beauty of the 18-year-old Muslim girl is ethereal and serene, as if touched by the first light of dawn. She stands near the window, gazing outside, where the world is still waking up. The golden rays of the sun gently illuminate her face, enhancing her delicate features with a natural glow, almost as if her inner peace is harmonizing with the morning itself.

Her almond-shaped baby blue coloured eyes, deep and reflective, are lit with the quiet awe of someone connected to the beauty of Allah's creation. They glimmer softly in the sunlight, hinting at a soul rich with faith and wisdom. Her long, natural lashes frame her gaze, adding to the depth and warmth in her expression.

Her skin, kissed by the morning light, looks smooth and luminous, the kind of radiance that comes from purity of heart. Her cheeks have a soft flush, as if the freshness of the morning has graced her with a hint of color. The soft arch of her eyebrows mirrors the elegance in her demeanor, always serene, always calm.

A subtle smile plays on her lips, filled with gratitude and a quiet, unspoken joy. Although she is facing many difficulties in her life at this small age still she smiles.It's the smile of someone who sees the beauty of Allah in everything around her. Her hijab, gently draped over her head, frames her face perfectly, adding a sense of modesty and grace. The fabric catches the light just right, emphasizing the purity and peace she exudes.

As she watches the world awaken, her inner beauty shines just as brightly as the morning outside the window, a reflection of her unwavering faith and the quiet strength it brings her. The girl looked up at the sky, raised her hands, and prayed, ''Ya allah aaj ek naya din ek nayi shuruwat hai phirse mere rab mere imaan ko aaj bhi mazboot rkhna aor mere maa papa ke dil mai mere liye thodi jagah dedena''.

(Oh Allah, it's a new day, a new beginning; please keep my faith strong and make this day better. Grant me the love and support of my parents today, dear Allah.")

After praying she went to the kitchen to prepare breakfast for everyone."Just then, a woman's voice was heard, and she shouted, 'Sifna! Oh Sifna! Where have you disappeared, you unlucky girl? You still haven't prepared our breakfast!

SIFNA POV

This morning, I woke up a little later than usual, my body weighed down by the onset of my period. Unable to offer my salah (namaz), I spent a quiet moment talking to Allah, seeking solace and strength. Afterward, I hurried to the kitchen, knowing the day's chores awaited me.

Just as I entered, I heard my mother, Haniya Khan, calling out angrily, her voice echoing through the house. "Sifna! You unlucky girl, where have you disappeared? You still haven't prepared our breakfast!"

Her words pierced my heart, and each syllable felt heavier than the last. It hurt me deeply, but even in that moment of pain, I held on to a small hope-a hope that, one day, she would call me "Sifna beta" with warmth instead of disdain.

I swallowed my pain and responded as calmly as I could, "Ammi, I woke up a little late. I'm sorry, I'll prepare breakfast quickly."

Before I could turn to begin, I felt a sharp, stinging slap on my cheek. My face burned as the shock of it sank in. "You ungrateful, lazy brat!" she spat, her words cutting deeper than the slap itself. "All you do is eat and sleep."

Tears welled up in my eyes, and soon they fell silently down my cheeks, one after another. Yet, despite the sting of her words and the pain in my heart, I said nothing in return. I stood there, tears flowing, my silence a shield against the storm inside me.

"Now go and make breakfast quickly! What the hell are you looking at me for?" she snapped, her eyes cold and unforgiving.

I nodded weakly, my voice barely a whisper as I replied, "Yes, Ammi." My throat felt tight, and my heart ached, but I forced myself to move, turning toward the kitchen. Just as I took a step, her voice rang out again, sharper this time.

"And before you leave for school," she added with a cold edge in her tone, "don't forget to clean the house. You know what will happen if you don't."

Her words hung in the air like a threat, a weight pressing down on my already burdened spirit. I didn't dare look back at her. I knew all too well what the consequences would be if I failed to meet her demands-the harsh words, the anger, the disappointment. The thought of it made my chest tighten even more.

As I walked toward the kitchen, the sting of the slap still burning on my cheek, my tears blurred the world around me. But I kept moving, knowing that no matter how much it hurt, there was no escape. I had to endure, just as I always had.

With every step, I silently prayed for strength, for the day when the weight of her anger would lift, and for the moment when she might look at me with something other than frustration. But for now, all I could do was lower my head, bear the pain, and keep going. After cleaning the house and making breakfast, I quietly got ready for school. I knew what was coming-my punishment was clear: I wouldn't be allowed to eat today. The hunger gnawed at my stomach, but I forced myself to ignore it, knowing it would be pointless to ask for food.

As I stepped into the dining room, I saw my Ammi, Abbu, and Didi gathered around the table, enjoying the breakfast I had prepared. I stood in the doorway, invisible in my own home. My Ammi and Abbu didn't even glance in my direction, their indifference cutting deeper than any words could.

But then, Didi, Inaya, looked up and saw me. Her eyes softened, and she called to me gently, "Sifna bacha, come have breakfast." Her voice was like a rare kindness in a sea of harshness.

Before I could respond, my Ammi's voice sliced through the moment, cold and sharp. "There's no need for her to eat breakfast. How much will she eat? She's already turning into an elephant."

Her words hit me like a blow, each one heavier than the last. I lowered my eyes, the familiar shame settling in my chest like a heavy stone. I didn't even feel hunger anymore-just an aching emptiness.

Didi, bless her heart, tried to stand up for me. "But Ammi, look at her. She's gotten thinner," she said softly, her eyes pleading.

But before she could say more, Ammi cut her off with a glare that could freeze the sun. "No need to take her side. And you," she turned her gaze back to me, her eyes filled with contempt, "leave for school before I change my mind about letting you go."

The threat in her words was unmistakable, and without another word, I hurriedly turned and left. Tears pricked at my eyes, but I blinked them away. There was no time for crying, no room for weakness. The sound of laughter and clinking plates echoed behind me as I slipped out the door, my stomach empty and my heart heavier than ever.

Each step toward school felt heavier than the last, but I forced myself forward, the only thing driving me being the hope that, somehow, this pain would one day end.

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