Wealth should be in the hands and brains of wise people, not in their hearts.

You will share your story one day, and it will serve as a survival guide for someone else, explaining how you overcome what you faced.

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Zainab:
They call these people my relatives, but I have never met them. I loved the straightforward life we were leading, but I was left with no choice when they moved a long time ago, citing the need for their children to pursue higher education. Maybe there was another reason for their move that I am not aware of. I had to just let things happen and go with the flow. Perhaps this was meant to be, and perhaps a positive outcome will arise—you never know.

Since I am the only daughter left and they used to be close to us, I am not sure why this idea—that I have to stay with my relatives if something were to happen to my parents—was approved and signed by both families. What then transpired? What caused our separation?

I am going to miss my thoughtful neighbours and the girls. We used to go to the borehole and fetch water while telling each other endless stories. I will miss my dearest friends.

I will miss having the freedom to go anywhere and singing beneath these beautiful trees. Despite being small, the town exudes tranquility and unique beauty.
Already tears were streaming down my cheeks, so I wiped them away. I know that some people are just cruel in this world, but that is life, especially when I think back on certain incidents. We need to learn to be strong. Though I wanted to work, I was weak and alone. Will I ever be an independent, self-reliant girl with a strong sense of self?
Will a girl like me ever be accepted by someone?

My uncle sent me a letter, which I read. My own relative wanted me to work as a maid in their home, which hurt a lot, but I had to accept because I did not have much money. I needed a job to help me survive and make money so I could buy anything I wanted because my uncle's family was extremely wealthy.
To live better lives, we occasionally need to make tough choices and give up certain things.
I unwrapped the letter, which I am glad reached earlier.

Dear Zainab Hassan,

I will send the driver to pick you up, but you must report to work by eight a.m. on the dot. Do not delay for even a few minutes.
Yours sincerely,
Uncle Fawad Khan.
I went back and read the letter again. Were they unaware of what had occurred a few weeks prior? Do they only care about labor and money? precisely at 8 A.M.? Not even a "how are you" or a greeting would Uncle Fawad spare me? What is wrong with human nature?

*The following day*
I awoke at 5:30 a.m. the next morning. Even though I am usually a morning person, Mondays are the most exhausted day of the week for me. I extended my arms, expressed gratitude to Allah, and said a few prayers. I jumped out of bed, knowing that if I continued to lounge around and daydream as usual, I would be late.

After saying the Fajr prayer, I hurriedly stuffed my sister's and parents' framed photos into my bag.
I went to say goodbye to my neighbors, who had helped me most of the time—both in good and bad times in my life.

A black Mercedes with a lustrous shine was evidently waiting for me. Cars used to fascinate me, but that was years ago. The cars they drove gave the impression that they were extremely wealthy.

I opened the back door and sat behind the driver's seat. I recalled something my mother had told me when I saw the driver shutting the door.
My parents were wealthy like my uncle when I was a child. My father was a successful businessman. However, something happened one day that cost us everything. We lost our home, our company, and the lavish lifestyle we had.

We were left with nothing and had to rebuild our lives from the ground up.
Never put your blind trust in anyone.
We soon arrived at the enormous mansion. Masha Allah, the driver, just friendly smiled and opened the door for me.
He told me to follow him after taking the luggage. The long wooden door was knocked three times by him.
When the door opened, I let my gaze wander and my eyes grew wide. They had an enormous, exquisite garden that was kept up beautifully, full of vibrant flowers and healthy plants. There was an additional entrance to the residence, and sentries were strategically positioned around the grounds, vigilantly observing the environs of the garden.

"I adore gardens, particularly the fragrance of roses," I murmured to myself as the driver busied himself with the time.
Using my tiny watch, I checked. It was almost time. Five cars were parked in a designated area.
The mansion's other door opened shortly after, and the chef was the only person to greet us.

"Where is everybody?" It seemed strange to me that when I asked the driver, he pretended not to hear me.
"How friendly," I muttered to myself in a sarcastic manner.
I cast quick glances left and right. Expensive golden-colored cushions adorned both sides, while bright gold and pearl-colored curtains draped the large glass windows.

I glanced over my shoulder and saw massive, intricately carved wooden tables surrounded by matching chairs, with an enormous breakfast spread out on top. There were numerous fruit and juice varieties. It truly was incredible. This was a large dining room with a few dim lights to add some flare, but the main feature that drew my eye was an opulent chandelier. Millions of jewels in a variety of sizes were used to meticulously craft it, and it shone brightly like a star in the sky.

The voice of an elderly man surprised me and made me gasp. "You should have changed your clothes and started work by now instead of strolling around the house," the man said. My stomach churned with terror, and I dared not turn around.

"Everyone, get back to work," he said to the other maids and me. I believe he snapped at the poor old chef and driver, because they immediately left, leaving my luggage beside me.

The person had already left the dining room, leaving me alone, so I did not dare turn to see who it was. My hands were already trembling.

He was tardy at first, and then he became irate with the staff. Where was everyone else? Bosses are all the same, old or young.
What kind of people were they? Do you really think I will know every little detail about their home and their schedule right away?

"Is there someone who can show me around this enormous mansion?"
Great. I was speaking to myself now.

******
Note:
Chapter 1: How Did It Go?
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