The undue repent. Part 1 - Where it all started

Inspired by the actual events, this post will revolve around the concept of forced marriages, an act still being performed by families living abroad. The story is a journey of the victim's sister after the victim is flown to  Pakistan to marry  a family friend. Here's the first part.

Ayla and i were inseparable from the day i opened my eyes in this world to the day she left us to begin an arduous and mentally painful life journey. Despite the 5 years age difference, our relationship was beyond what was expected of us. We fought over clothes, scuffled over television remote and quarreled endlessly over  petty issues. However, the contrary is true too. My  bedtime was incomplete without Ayla reading out a tale to me. Her mornings involved everything from waking me up, helping me get ready to accompanying me to school. Not to forget our lunch break catch-ups. It was as if i never needed a friend. I had her and she was enough. 

I lived in a very humble household of four in Southwark, London.My family migrated from Pakistan when dad was only two. A year after i was born, dada and dadi (paternal grandparents) decided to move back, unknown to this day as to why.Somehow at the back of the mind i know they never really felt comfortable. Yes after all these years, which later had an impact on Ayla's life. My father was a good salaried accountant of a local business and my mother, a devoted housewife.When we were growing up, Ayla and i hardly saw our father. He was always "busy", something that we were  told. To this day i believe and i  always will that actually he was never interested.

My mother was a very innocent woman. Very much attached to the culture she belonged to. She never really adapted anything western in all this time. Blame the lack  of education or exposure, she was easily manipulated. Somehow i blame my mother for what happened to Ayla. Had she stood by us and voiced her opinion,our world would have been totally different today.

Ayla grew up to be a beautiful young lady. I remember always looking up to her. The way she dressed, her hair always tied up in a long pony tail and her slender body. The way she walked and talked, something out of the princess diaries.I was, on the other hand chubby and loud. I liked my food and my views on every matter. Also, was very much used to being spurned disdainfully by my parents. Ayla however liked being quite,something she would repent for the rest of her life.