Page 147 - A Woman Is No Man

“Is there anything I can do?” she asked in a low voice. Her compliance
eased her on days like this, when she felt as though she was useless. If she
couldn’t give him a son, the least she could do was be a good wife and

please him.
He stared at her. She looked away. She knew that if he looked at her too
closely, the thoughts—fear, anger, defiance, loneliness, confusion,
helplessness—would burst from her and the tears would rush out of her
eyes and she’d collapse right there in front of him. And Isra couldn’t have
that. It was one thing to think, another thing entirely to speak your mind.
“I’m sorry,” Isra whispered. Adam continued to stare. The look in his

eyes was unsteady, like he was under a spell and trying hard to focus. He
took a few steps closer, and she took a few steps back into the corner of the
room, trying not to flinch. He hated when she flinched. She wondered if
Nadine flinched when Omar touched her. But Nadine was different, she
thought. She must have been loved in her life that she knew how to love
and be loved in return.

Adam reached out to touch her. He traced the outline of her face, almost
as if daring her to move. But she kept still. She closed her eyes, waited for
him to stop, to step away and go to bed. But then, all at once, it came.
He slapped her.
What terrified Isra most was not the force of his palm against her face.
It was the voice inside her head telling her to be still—not the stillness
itself, but the ease of it, how naturally it came to her.