For six months, I let my fiancé and his family mock me in Arabic, thinking

As the dinner progressed, I maintained my guise, presenting a façade of ignorance while listening intently. The words that flowed around me were steeped in condescension, and though they thought I understood nothing, I comprehended every nuance, every slight, every hidden agenda.

Leila, my soon-to-be mother-in-law, leaned in closer to Tariq, her voice a low murmur that she probably thought was beyond my comprehension. “This arrangement benefits us, Tariq. Her connections will open doors that have long been shut.”

Connections. That’s what this was all about. My father, influential in the world of international finance, was a key player they hoped to manipulate for their own gain. And I was the unwitting puppet in their grand scheme, or so they thought.