Havoc ensues when young soft-hearted belle, Inayah, is forced by her step-mother to marry a wealthy widower she has never met and then plied to surrender her dowry to her stepsister.
In a land where death is preferable to dishonour, Inayah must figh...
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Dear Readers,
It is with great pleasure I announce the release of the full novel including epilogue of Inayah's Struggle on Amazon Kindle. I will post the link in the comments box for you to purchase. I've dedicated the book to all you guys. Without you. My dream would not be possible.
The cockerels screamed from the bottom of their lungs strutting through the alley way. Nazia jumped from her Palang and rushed to Inayah's bedroom. She sighed with relief when she saw Inayah fast asleep, it was the day she would be rid of the burden.
Soon, the house was awash with activity. Nazia had invited a handful of relatives to observe the formal ceremony; neighbours and family. Their house was modest and small; she couldn't cater for a large number of guests.
"The baarat are here!" announced the young boy running into the courtyard.
The wedding procession had arrived with a trail of cars; one of the many cars carried the groom.
"They have loads of bi-iig cars." He exaggerated with his small arms, his eyes wide in amazement.
"Can I sit in the car!?" He jumped up and down in excitement pestering his mother; she quickly slapped the back of his head and forced him to behave.
Rukhsar Afzal, sister of the groom, arrived with an army carrying baskets of gifts. The full figured, middle-aged woman donned a white and lavender chiffon sari, her eyes concealed with black shades.
"Mubarakah!" Nazia welcomed Rukhsar and opened her arms.
Rukhsar maintained her distance and leaned into Nazia, with her cheek slightly touching hers, she kissed the air.
"Where is the bride?"
"Inside." Nazia swallowed a lump forming in her throat. "Getting ready."
The question was on everybody's lips, who was the groom? What did he look like? How old was he? Was he comely? Or merely tolerable? Suspense filled the vacuum.
Imaan and Fari dressed the bride with an ache in their heart.
"Don't do this Inayah." Imaan grabbed her sister's hand.
"I know you're doing this for me but I'll be ok." Imaan pleaded.
Inayah curved her lips into a reassuring smile.
Fari held Inayah's diamond shaped face in her hands; she was beautiful. Without a doubt-she was their father's favourite and often praised the prettiest from the 3 sisters--to Nazia's aversion. Fari often found herself jealous of Inayah when people compared them; the fair one and the dark one. Inayah deserved better, Fari believed, better than an old widower, and definitely not Hadi. Someone special. Inayah was soft hearted, that was her only downfall. She was a tender soul who cared too much at times, and that's why their father doted on her abundantly. He lived to protect her, but now he was gone, who would protect her?
