In Front Of The Wardrobe

Samira padded barefoot into the bedroom. A bath towel was wrapped tightly around her body, her still damp hair hidden under a second towel. There was no large mirror here in which to look at oneself; that would have been a sign of vanity. Only on the inside of a closet door was a small mirror attached at eye level so that one could check the correct fit of the headscarf after getting dressed.

When she looked into it, she noticed that her face was still glowing, but not from the water or the heat.

David had said, “He's an idiot if he can't see how beautiful you are.” What did that say about her if she hadn't seen it herself? She closed her eyes to block out her reflection and avoid the question. Instead, she saw David in front of her.

In the silence of the room, she asked herself, “Why can't he let me go?” And yet she had to admit to herself that he wasn't the problem. It was her who couldn't let go of the thought of him.

To distract herself, she reminded herself of the tasks she had to do. Get dressed, tidy up, then she could make herself a cup of tea and prepare dinner. Simple things. Routines that meant peace and security.

She untied the bath towel around her chest. Rustling, it slipped to the floor and formed a ring around her feet, seemingly trapping her in the spot where she always stood in the morning to start her day. Samira lifted one leg and stepped out.

Choosing her fresh clothes was unusually difficult for her. A hijab, of course, without which she would feel naked. And what else? Her hand brushed lightly over the everyday clothes that hung neatly lined up in the closet. There were salwar, wide pants that hid the silhouette of her legs. Cotton dresses in muted colors that made her feminine body disappear. This would be the sensible choice. Respectable. The look her husband expected.

She touched the sleeve of a kamiz, a longer shirt that was usually worn loosely over pants. A thin garment, light cotton, cream-colored. Something for hot summer nights when you sat with your family on a secluded balcony or in a walled garden until the heat subsided and it was time to go to bed. She hadn't worn it in ages.

It fell loosely over her shoulders, soft and flowing. The fine fabric tickled slightly as it nestled against her skin. Directly on her skin. No undergarments, no underwear. She held her breath for a moment and listened to her inner voice.

Is this what I want?

She already knew the answer.