For six months, I let my fiancé and his family mock me in Arabic, thinking I was just some naive American girl who didn’t understand anything. They had no idea I was fluent in Arabic!

Rami begged me to reconsider, stammering in both languages. “They didn’t mean it! It was just family humor!”

“Then maybe,” I said coldly, “you should marry someone who finds it funny.”

His mother called me overdramatic. His brothers avoided eye contact. But my mind was made up.

The next morning, I packed my bags and left his apartment. For the first time in months, I felt light — not because I was leaving a man, but because I was done pretending.

Weeks later, I received a letter in the mail from Rami’s younger sister. It was written in Arabic:Continue reading…