married off his daughter

in aesthetics and social standing. Her sisters, Aminah and Laila, were the gilded statues in his gallery—all flashing eyes and sharpened tongues. Zainab was merely the shadow they cast.

The hook came not with a word, but with a scent: the pungent, earthy odor of the streets brought into the sterile house.

“Stand up, ‘thing,’” her father’s voice grated.continue reading …