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2) Between the Disclaimer and the the story you will see the format/script i made for this story to have been generated.
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Private catfight between a Indian muslim woman and a Pakistani Muslim woman over an indian muslim man.
Add commentary between the two characters, which should include insults, taunts, and jabs on each other's nationality.
Fight Rules
Weapons are not allowed and characters are prohibited from biting.
Characters will be wearing traditional salwar and Kurtis.
There's no audience, only the two characters.
Location
Both characters are living in Dubai, UAE.
Characters
Jasmine of Hyderabad, India is a 24 year old Muslim woman standing at 148 cm, she has a small butt and breasts that measure at 32C.
Maryam of Hyderabad, Pakistan is a 24 year old Muslim woman standing at 161 cm, she has a moderately sized butt and breasts that measure at 34D.
Adnan of Karnataka, India is a 21 year old Muslim man standing at 178 cm.
The Story
Jasmine of Hyderabad, with her warm, chocolate-colored eyes and auburn hair coiled into a tight bun, had always been the picture of grace and poise. Her 32C breasts, modestly concealed beneath the soft fabric of her salwar kameez, swayed gently as she moved. Despite her small stature, she was a force to be reckoned with, her sharp tongue as fiery as the spices that flavored the air of her homeland. Her heart was set on Adnan, the charming 21-year-old from Karnataka. He was her world, her sanctuary in the sprawling desert metropolis of Dubai.
Maryam of Hyderabad, Pakistan, on the other hand, was a head taller with a more voluptuous figure. Her 34D breasts were a source of envy, and she often flaunted them in her well-tailored salwar suits. The golden necklace with an intricate tassel at the bottom bobbed as she walked, drawing the eye to her curves. Her beauty was unmistakable, and she knew it. Her confidence was like a wall that she used to keep people at bay, especially Jasmine, whose advances towards Adnan she found utterly distasteful.
The tension between the two had been simmering for weeks, ever since Adnan had moved into their shared apartment complex. It was a chance encounter at the communal laundry room that finally brought it to a boil. Maryam been folding her clothes, humming a Bollywood tune, when Jasmine walked in, her eyes narrowing at the sight of the Pakistani girl. Without preamble, she dropped her basket of clothes on the floor and planted her hands on her hips. "What do you think you're doing, trying to steal him away from me?" she spat, her voice thick with accusation.
Maryam's eyes snapped up, surprise and anger warring on her features. "Steal him? He's not yours to claim!" she shot back, her voice rising. "You think just because you're from the same country, you can lay claim to every man?"
Jasmine took a step closer, her nostrils flaring. "At least I don't have to cross borders to find a man," she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Maybe if you weren't so desperate, you'd realize that Adnan doesn't want anything to do with you or your... your..." she searched for the right word, her eyes flicking over Maryam's body, "...Pakistani charm."
Maryam's cheeks flushed a deep shade of red. "And maybe if you weren't so blinded by your own pride, you'd see that Adnan is his own person," she retorted, her words cutting through the air. "He doesn't need your fake Indian sweetness to make up his mind."
Jasmine's eyes narrowed into slits. "Fake? You dare call me fake when you're the one parading around here in borrowed culture?"
Maryam stepped closer, her voice tight. "I dare because you're the one who doesn't know the first thing about respect!"
The air in the laundry room grew thick with tension, the whir of the dryers a distant hum compared to the building storm between the two women. Jasmine's eyes darted to the floor, where her basket of clothes had tipped over. She bent to pick it up, her hands trembling with rage. As she straightened, she found Maryam right in her face, her eyes flashing.
"What do you know about respect?" Jasmine hissed, her small fists clenching. "You come here, flaunting your... your..."
Maryam didn't let her finish. With a swiftness that belied her size, she slapped Jasmine across the cheek. The sound echoed through the laundry room, a stark punctuation to their heated words. Jasmine's head snapped back, her eyes watering with pain and surprise. For a moment, she just stood there, staring at her assailant in disbelief.
"How dare you?" she whispered, her voice shaking.
Before Jasmine could respond, Maryam's hand shot out and pushed her hard against the cold, metal door of the laundry room. The force of the push took Jasmine by surprise, and she stumbled back, her hands flying up to grip the doorframe to steady herself. Her eyes searched for a retort, but she was momentarily stunned into silence.
Maryam closed the gap between them, her hands now balled into fists at her sides. "You think you can just waltz in here and claim what isn't yours?" she said, her voice low and dangerous. "Adnan is mine!"
Jasmine's eyes flashed with anger, and she shoved back. "You think because you're taller and have more to... show, you can just take him?" she sneered.
Maryam's eyes narrowed. "It's not about size, it's about what's inside," she said, jabbing a finger at her chest. "And what's inside you is just a small, jealous girl!"
Jasmine's cheeks burned with humiliation. She knew she had to act fast, or she would lose any shred of dignity she had left. With surprising strength, she shoved Maryam away, sending her stumbling backward into a row of washing machines. The clang of metal on metal echoed through the small space, and for a brief moment, the only sound was the steady throb of the appliances.
Maryam's eyes flashed with rage as she straightened up, her traditional salwar riding up slightly to reveal the anklets that adorned her legs. She took a step forward, and Jasmine braced herself, her fists tightening. "You think this is over?" she growled.
"It's just beginning," Jasmine replied, her voice low and steady.
Maryam's eyes narrowed, and she took a step closer, her heart racing with fury. "You think you can take him from me? You're just a little Indian mouse!"
Jasmine's eyes sparked with defiance. "And you're just a desperate Pakistani cat in heat!" she spat back.
Maryam's hand shot out again, but this time, Jasmine was ready. She caught it mid-air, her grip firm and unyielding. They stood there, glaring at each other, their breaths coming in short, sharp bursts. The room was a tapestry of shadows and light, the harsh fluorescents highlighting the stark differences in their expressions.
"You don't know anything about me," Jasmine hissed, her grip tightening. "You think I'm weak because I'm Indian? Because I'm small?"
Maryam sneered, her eyes flashing. "Maybe it's because you are," she said, trying to pull her hand away. "Maybe it's because you can't even keep a man in your own country!"
Jasmine's grip tightened, her knuckles turning white. "At least I know how to love," she said, her voice shaking. "You're just a cold, heartless..."
Maryam's free hand shot up, slapping Jasmine's cheek with a resounding crack. The sting of the blow brought tears to Jasmine's eyes, but she didn't let go. Instead, she used the momentum to pull Maryam closer, their bodies now just inches apart. "You think you can win him with insults?" she whispered, her voice laced with venom.
Maryam's eyes were wild with anger, her chest heaving. "I don't need to win him," she said. "He's already mine."
Jasmine's grip on her wrist didn't falter. "If he were truly yours, he wouldn't be looking at me," she retorted, her voice filled with spite.
Maryam's breath was hot on her face, her eyes full of fire. "He's just being polite," she spat. "Can't you tell the difference?"
Jasmine's grip didn't loosen. "Polite? Is that what you call it when he looks at me like I'm the last piece of gulab jamun in the world?"
Maryam's nostrils flared, her teeth gritted. "You're delusional," she hissed.
"Am I?" Jasmine smirked, her eyes glinting with challenge. "Or are you just blind?"
With a snarl, Maryam brought her knee up, aiming for Jasmine's stomach. Jasmine, anticipating the move, quickly twisted her body to the side, causing the blow to glance off her hip. The impact was enough to make her grunt in pain, but she didn't release her grip. Instead, she used the opportunity to yank Maryam closer, their faces a breath apart. "You're just jealous because he sees what you're really made of," she whispered, her voice deadly.
Maryam's eyes went wide with anger, and she head-butted Jasmine, her forehead connecting with the bridge of her nose. Jasmine's grip faltered, and she stumbled back, her hand flying to her face. Blood trickled down her nose, staining the collar of her kameez. Through the haze of pain, she saw stars, but she refused to let the tears fall.
"You bitch!" she screamed, her voice muffled by her hand.
Maryam took a step back, her chest heaving with the exertion of the sudden movement. She watched as Jasmine stumbled, the crimson river flowing from her nose painting a stark contrast against her pale skin. A smug smile played on her lips. "Look at you," she said, her voice full of spite. "You're just a mess."
But Jasmine was not one to be easily defeated. Wiping the blood away with the back of her hand, she took a deep breath and lunged at Maryam. The two women collided, their traditional garments rustling as they grappled for dominance. They stumbled across the small room, knocking over laundry baskets and sending fabric softener packets flying. The air was thick with the scent of their perfumes, mingling with the industrial scent of detergent and fabric softener.
Maryam's strength was surprising, and she managed to push Jasmine onto one of the washing machines. Jasmine's knee connected with the cold metal, sending a jolt of pain through her body, but she didn't let it deter her. She used the machine as leverage, pushing herself up and shoving Maryam backward. They broke apart, each panting heavily, their eyes never leaving the other's.
"You think you're so much better than me?" Jasmine sneered, her voice nasal from the blood that still flowed from her nose. "You're just a... a..." she struggled to find the right words, her mind swirling with pain and anger.
Maryam stepped closer, her eyes gleaming with triumph. "A what?" she goaded, her voice a dangerous purr. "A better woman?"
The question was like gasoline on an open flame. Jasmine's eyes flashed, and before Maryam could react, she grabbed the fabric of her kameez, her nails digging into the soft material. With a violent tug, she ripped the top, exposing Maryam's ample breasts to the cold, sterile light of the laundry room. The sound of tearing fabric was like a gunshot in the enclosed space, echoing off the washing machines and dryers.
Maryam gasped, her hands flying to cover herself, but Jasmine wasn't done. She used the moment of shock to her advantage, pushing Maryam against the nearest dryer. The metal was unforgiving against her back, and she could feel the heat from the machine seeping through her clothes.
"How does it feel to be exposed?" Jasmine sneered, her eyes never leaving Maryam's face.
Maryam's cheeks flamed with a mix of embarrassment and rage. She gritted her teeth and reached out, her nails digging into the fabric of Jasmine's kameez. With a furious yank, she tore it apart, the material giving way with a loud rip. Jasmine's breasts spilled out, the pale flesh a stark contrast against the red of her blouse.
Jasmine's eyes widened with shock, but she didn't miss a beat. She swung her hand, slapping Maryam's hand away with a resounding crack. "Why don't you tell me!?" Maryam shouted, her voice hoarse with emotion.
The two women stood there, chests heaving, their clothes in tatters. The room was a chaotic mess of fabric and laundry detergent, a stark contrast to the pristine environment they had entered. The hum of the machines was a backdrop to their furious whispers, each trying to outdo the other in insults and accusations.
"You're just a... a... slut!" Jasmine finally spat out, her voice trembling with rage.
Maryam's eyes narrowed into slits, and she stepped closer, her breasts swaying with each heavy breath she took. "Is that the best you've got?" she taunted, her voice laced with contempt. "Calling me names won't change the fact that Adnan is mine."
Jasmine's eyes darted to the floor, searching for anything she could use to gain the upper hand. Her gaze fell on a stray shoe, and she kicked it at Maryam with all the strength she could muster. It glanced off her shin, and Maryam stumbled back with a yelp. Jasmine took the opportunity to close the distance between them again, her hands flying up to grab Maryam's hair.
The two women tumbled to the floor, their bodies tangled in a mess of limbs and torn fabric. Jasmine's fists rained down on Maryam's face, her rage blurring her vision. She could feel her knuckles stinging with each impact, but she didn't stop. The pain was nothing compared to the humiliation that burned in her chest.
Maryam, however, was not one to take such an attack lying down. She managed to wrap her legs around Jasmine's waist, flipping her over with a grunt. Now on top, she straddled Jasmine, her hands pinning her wrists to the cold, tile floor. "You're going to pay for that," she growled, her voice thick with anger.
Jasmine's eyes were wild, her breath coming in short, panicked gasps as she struggled beneath Maryam's weight. "Get off me, you... you...," she stuttered, searching for a word that could match the intensity of her feelings.
Maryam leaned in, her chest pressing against Jasmine's, her breasts smothering her. "You're just a tiny little thing," she sneered. "What could you possibly do to me?"
Jasmine's eyes glinted with determination. "I'll show you," she grunted, bucking her hips upward and throwing Maryam off balance. The taller woman stumbled back, and Jasmine rolled out from under her, her salwar riding up to expose her midriff. She scrambled to her feet, her heart racing like a wild stallion.
Maryam stood tall, her own kameez torn and revealing her generous curves. She sneered at Jasmine, her breasts heaving with each heavy breath. "You think you can win him with tricks?" she spat. "Adnan sees through your cheap attempts!"
Jasmine's eyes flashed with fire, her teeth bared. "Cheap? You're the one who thinks flaunting your body will win you a man!"
Maryam's cheeks burned with indignation, and she lunged at Jasmine again. This time, Jasmine was ready. She ducked under the incoming blow and wrapped her arms around Maryam's waist, lifting her off the ground and slamming her onto the floor. The impact was enough to knock the wind out of Maryam, and she gasped for air, her eyes wide with surprise.
Jasmine straddled her, her knees pressing into her opponent's sides. "You think you can just waltz in and take what you want?" she panted, her voice hoarse from the exertion.
Maryam's eyes flashed with anger. "Get off me, you... you...," she sputtered, her breath coming in ragged gasps.
Jasmine leaned down, her face inches from Maryam's. "What? You can't even come up with an insult? That's how empty your brain is," she jeered, her voice thick with spite.
Maryam's eyes narrowed, and she bared her teeth in a snarl. With a surge of strength, she bucked her hips, sending Jasmine flying off her. They rolled across the floor, their salwars and kurtis now in tatters, their bare skin gliding against the cold tiles. The smell of their sweat and the metallic tang of Jasmine's blood filled the air as they grappled, each trying to gain the upper hand.
Maryam managed to get on top, her larger breasts pressing into Jasmine's face as she pinned her down. Jasmine's eyes watered, but she didn't give in. Instead, she bit down on Maryam's hand, her teeth sinking into the soft flesh of her palm. Maryam shrieked in pain and recoiled, her grip loosening.
Jasmine took the opening and rolled them over, now straddling Maryam's waist. She rained punches down on her chest, the sound of her fists hitting flesh echoing in the small room. "You think you can just take him because you're... you're...," she gasped, searching for the right words.
Maryam's eyes blazed with anger, her teeth clenched as she endured the pain. "Because I'm what?" she challenged, her voice strained.
Jasmine, fueled by her own fury, spat out, "Because you're nothing but a desperate... a... a...," her voice trailing off as she searched for the most cutting word.
Maryam took advantage of Jasmine's momentary lapse, twisting her body with surprising agility. In a flash, she had reversed their positions, her hands now around Jasmine's neck. "You're the desperate one," she hissed, her grip tightening. "Choking on your own jealousy."
Jasmine's eyes bulged, her breath coming in short, desperate gasps. She clawed at Maryam's hands, her nails leaving red streaks on the skin. Her vision swam, but she didn't relent. With a surge of adrenaline, she managed to break free, her nails raking down Maryam's forearms.
Maryam still maintained her pin as she and Jasmine struggled to overpower the other using their hands.
"You think because you have more... to offer that he'll choose you?" Jasmine managed to choke out, her voice strained from the pressure that was on her throat.
"I don't need to offer anything," Maryam retorted, "He's already mine."
Jasmine's eyes widened with fury, and she bucked her hips again, sending Maryam off balance. As they rolled across the floor, the fabric of their traditional attire sliding against the cold tiles, the intensity of their struggle grew. Each woman's grip tightened, their nails digging into flesh as they fought for dominance.
Jasmine's eyes searched the room again, desperate for anything that could help her. They fell on a nearby laundry basket filled with clothes. Without hesitation, she reached out and grabbed a handful of fabric, pulling it over Maryam's face. The taller woman's eyes widened in shock, and she gasped for air, her grip loosening slightly.
Seizing the moment, Jasmine pushed her off and rolled away, her heart hammering in her chest. She could feel the bruises that formed on her neck from Maryam's relentless grip. "You're insane!" she panted, her voice raw.
Maryam pulled the fabric away, her eyes wild with anger. "You're the one who started this," she accused, her voice muffled by the material.
"You're the one who thinks you can take him from me," Jasmine shot back, her voice equally as harsh.
Maryam scrambled to her feet, her eyes searching the floor for something to use against Jasmine. Her hand closed around a discarded hairbrush, and she swung it wildly, connecting with Jasmine's shoulder. The shorter woman yelped in pain, stumbling back into a pile of laundry.
"You're just a little rat," Maryam snarled, advancing on her.
Jasmine's eyes narrowed, her body aching from the impact. She reached behind her, her hand closing around a forgotten laundry detergent bottle. "I'm not the one hiding behind cheap tricks," she said, her voice steady despite the pain.
Maryam smirked, her chest heaving from exertion. "It's not a trick if it works," she said, taking another swing with the hairbrush.
Jasmine ducked, the bristles of the hairbrush barely missing her head. She threw the bottle of detergent at Maryam with all her might. It hit her in the stomach, the impact causing her to drop the hairbrush and double over. "How's that for cheap?" Jasmine spat, her eyes glinting with triumph.
Maryam's face contorted with pain, but she didn't stay down for long. With a roar, she straightened up and charged at Jasmine, her hands outstretched like claws. Jasmine braced herself, her heart racing as they collided again. They fell into the pile of clothes, their bodies entwined in a desperate dance of rage and desire.
The salwar kurtis they wore had been torn to shreds, revealing their bruised and scratched skin. Jasmine's breasts bounced freely, the lace of her bra a stark contrast to the fury in her eyes. Maryam's larger chest heaved with each breath she took, her breasts pressing into Jasmine's as they wrestled. Their breaths mingled, a mix of sweat and determination.
Jasmine managed to roll them over, her knee now pressing into Maryam's stomach. She brought the detergent bottle down hard on her opponent's shoulder, eliciting a cry of pain. "Stay down," she panted, her voice shaking with the effort of holding her ground.
Maryam's eyes were filled with a fiery resolve. She reached up and grabbed Jasmine's wrist, her nails digging into the tender flesh. "Never," she ground out, her teeth clenched.
Jasmine's grip tightened on the detergent bottle, her knuckles white. "You think you're so much better than me?" she hissed.
Maryam bucked her hips, trying to dislodge the pressure on her abdomen. "I know I am," she managed to get out through gritted teeth.
Jasmine leaned down, bringing her face closer to Maryam's. "Then why are you fighting me for him?" she whispered, her breath hot against the other woman's cheek.
Maryam's eyes flashed with anger. "Because you're not worth it," she spat.
Jasmine's grip tightened on the detergent bottle, her knuckles now bloodied from the effort. "You're just jealous that he's with me," she said, her voice a low growl.
Maryam's eyes flared with fury. "He's with you because he's too polite to say no!" she shot back, her voice strained against the pressure.
Jasmine's eyes narrowed, her grip on the bottle unwavering. "Maybe it's because I know how to treat a man right," she said, her voice laced with spite.
Maryam's eyes flashed with anger. "You think I don't know how to treat a man?" she snarled. "I'll show you what a real woman can do!"
With a sudden burst of strength, she managed to flip their positions, Jasmine now pinned beneath her. The pressure on Jasmine's stomach increased, and she let out a grunt of pain.
"You're nothing but a desperate little indian whore," Maryam hissed, her grip on Jasmine's wrists tightening. "You think Adnan wants someone like you?"
The words stung, but Jasmine was beyond caring. "And you think you're some kind of prize?" she sneered back, her voice thick with sarcasm. "You're just a greedy Paki bitch who can't stand to share!"
Maryam's eyes widened with fury, and she slammed her forehead into Jasmine's, the pain making stars explode behind Jasmine's eyes. The smaller woman's head snapped back, and she let out a cry of pain.
"That's it," Maryam said, her voice dangerously low. "You've gone too far."
Jasmine's vision swam, the room spinning around her. She tasted coppery blood on her tongue, "What's the matter?" she taunted, her voice shaky. "Can't handle the truth?"
Maryam's grip tightened, her eyes burning with a fury that seemed to consume her. "You're the one who can't handle reality," she said, her voice a deadly whisper. "Adnan doesn't want you."
Jasmine's eyes flashed with pain, but she didn't let it show. "Keep telling yourself that," she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Maybe it'll make you feel better when he chooses me."
Maryam's grip on Jasmine's wrists tightened, her nails digging into the skin. "He's not going to choose you," she said, her voice cold and certain. "You're just a... a..."
Jasmine smirked up at her, her eyes glazed with pain. "A what? A tempting morsel?" she taunted, her voice laced with challenge.
Maryam's grip tightened, her knuckles turning white. "He's not going to choose you," she repeated, her voice a hiss.
Jasmine's smirk grew wider, a bead of blood trickling down her forehead. "Is that what you tell yourself at night?" she goaded, her breath hot on Maryam's face. "That you're the better woman?"
Maryam's eyes blazed with anger, and she slammed her knee into Jasmine's side. The smaller woman grunted in pain, but she didn't give up. "You're just a... a...," she panted, searching for the right words to cut deep.
Maryam couldn't take it anymore. Her hand balled into a fist, and she swung it with all her might, connecting with Jasmine's jaw. The sound of bone on bone echoed through the small room, and Jasmine's head snapped to the side. She saw stars, and for a moment, she was stunned into silence.
Jasmine's eyes watered, and she tasted blood in her mouth. Maryam continued her verbal and physical assault, her fist connecting with Jasmine's cheek. The pain was intense, and Jasmine's head snapped to the side. She spat out a mouthful of blood and brought her own hand up, slapping Maryam back with everything she had.
But it was futile, her strength gone and the pain immense. Maryam had Jasmine where she wanted as the Pakistani woman ceased her assault after realizing Jasmine was defenseless and at her mercy.
Maryam stood up, her chest heaving with the exertion of the fight. She looked down at Jasmine, sprawled on the floor, her traditional garments in shreds. "Look at you," she said with a sneer, "broken and begging for his attention."
Jasmine's eyes narrowed, and watered as she struggled to glare at her rival. "I'm not begging for anything," she gritted out, the taste of blood thick in her mouth.
Maryam smirked, a twisted smile of victory curling her lips. "Oh, really?" she said, stepping closer to Jasmine and placing a foot on her stomach. "You lost. You're just too blind to see it."
Jasmine gritted her teeth, the pressure from Maryam's foot making it hard to breathe. "You think you've won?" she whispered through gritted teeth, her eyes never leaving hers.
"I'm the one still standing and not whimpering on the floor." Maryam said, her voice dripping with contempt as she applied more pressure with her foot, pushing down on Jasmine's bruised stomach. "You're just a desperate little slut who can't handle being second best."
Jasmine's eyes flashed with anger, and she tried to push the foot away, but her strength was gone. "You're wrong," she said, her voice strained. "Adnan will never choose you."
Maryam leaned down, her face close to Jasmine's. "Wake up," she whispered, her eyes gleaming with malice. "He's mine."
Jasmine eyes continued to water as Jasmine realized she can't counter Maryam. Maryam smirked as she stared down the face of a once proud rival of hers. "You know it's over," she said, her voice a mix of triumph and disgust.
Jasmine did not respond, instead she just closed her eyes as she cried. Maryam stood back up and walked to Jasmine's scattered clothes she had brought to clean. "You know, your clothes are going to need a new owner." She said with a sadistic smile as she picked up one of Jasmine's Bra's, tossing it to her own basket. "Looks like Adnan will be getting a nice surprise tonight when he sees me in this."
Jasmine's eyes snapped open, fury burning in them. "You bitch!" She managed to get out, the words barely a whisper from her bruised throat.
Maryam laughed, the sound echoing cruelly in the empty laundry room. "Oh, come on," she said, her voice dripping with false pity, "You know it's true. He's going to see me in your clothes and forget all about you."
The words hit Jasmine like a sledgehammer, she tried to get up and fight again but it was no use, her body was to far exhausted and all she could was stare at Maryam as the Pakistani beauty took some of her clothes as trophies. "No. Noo." She managed to whisper with a broken voice, her spirit crushed.
Maryam ignored Jasmine's weak protests, continuing to gather her clothes with a smug satisfaction. "You know what they say," she quipped, holding up the bra with a dramatic flourish, "all's fair in love and war."
Jasmine's eyes followed the red lace as it disappeared into Maryam's basket, a sense of loss washing over her. She knew that Adnan had a soft spot for that particular set of lingerie. Her fists clenched, but she had no energy to fight back.
Maryam, feeling the victory was complete, turned her back on Jasmine and walked away, her hips swaying confidently as she stepped over the mess of clothes and knocked over bottles of detergent. The door slammed shut behind her, leaving Jasmine alone in the quiet, except for the humming of the washing machines.
Jasmine lay there, her body bruised and her spirit shattered. She could feel the sticky warmth of blood on her forehead and the sting of sweat in her eyes. Her chest heaved with painful sobs, each one a silent scream of anger and despair. Her mind raced, replaying every moment of the fight, every insult, every blow. She clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms.
But she knew that the battle wasn't truly over. It had just shifted to a different arena. As she lay there, she vowed to herself that she would not let Maryam win so easily. With a deep breath, she pushed herself up, her legs wobbly beneath her. She gathered what was left of her torn salwar and kameez, holding them to her bruised body.
The walk back to her apartment was a blur, each step a painful reminder of her defeat. She could feel the eyes of the other residents in the hallway on her, but she held her head high, not wanting to give them the satisfaction of seeing her broken. Once inside, she locked the door and collapsed onto her bed, the fabric of her clothes sticking to her damp skin, she promised herself that she will get revenge, that she will claim Adnan as hers and hers only one day.
