Chapter 3: The Cruel Mistress

Aisha had been living in Ibrahim's mansion for a few months now, but every day felt like an eternity. She missed her family terribly and longed for the freedom she once took for granted. However, she was determined not to let her spirits break, and so she worked hard to please her master and his family.

But it seemed like nothing she did was ever enough for the mistress of the house. The woman was always quick to criticize and find fault in everything Aisha did. She was cruel, vindictive, and seemed to enjoy making Aisha's life miserable.

One day, Aisha was in the kitchen preparing food when the mistress walked in. The woman's eyes immediately found Aisha, and a sneer formed on her face.

"What are you doing in here?" she spat. "Get out of my sight, slave."

Aisha quickly bowed and began to back away, but the mistress stepped forward and grabbed her by the arm.

"I said, what are you doing in here?" she repeated, her grip tightening on Aisha's arm.

"I was just preparing the food, mistress," Aisha replied, trying to keep her voice steady.

The mistress sneered again. "You're useless," she spat. "I don't know why my husband bothers keeping you around."

Aisha felt a surge of anger and fear, but she knew better than to say anything. She simply bowed her head and waited for the mistress to release her.

But the woman wasn't finished yet. "And another thing," she continued, her voice rising. "I don't want to see you anywhere near my son. You're a filthy slave, and I don't trust you with his care."

Aisha felt her heart sink. The baby was the one bright spot in her otherwise bleak existence, and now she was being forbidden from even seeing him.

"Yes, mistress," she replied softly.

The mistress finally released her grip on Aisha's arm and stormed out of the room. Aisha took a deep breath and tried to calm herself. She knew that the mistress was cruel and unpredictable, and that any misstep could mean punishment or even death.

As she continued with her work, Aisha couldn't help but think about the mistress's words. She knew that the woman was jealous of her relationship with the baby, and that she would do anything to keep Aisha away from him.

Aisha had been taking care of the baby ever since he was born. She would feed him, bathe him, and rock him to sleep. The baby had quickly become attached to Aisha, and she loved him as if he were her own.

But the mistress didn't see it that way. She saw Aisha as nothing more than a slave, and she didn't trust her with the baby's care. Aisha knew that the mistress would do everything in her power to keep her away from the baby, and that made her heart ache.

As the days went on, the mistress's treatment of Aisha only grew worse. She would assign her more and more difficult tasks, and when Aisha inevitably failed to meet her expectations, she would punish her harshly.

One day, Aisha accidentally spilled a tray of food on the floor. The mistress flew into a rage, and before Aisha could even react, the woman had slapped her across the face.

"How dare you!" the mistress screamed. "You're worthless! You can't do anything right!"

Aisha felt tears streaming down her face, but she tried to stay strong. She knew that showing weakness would only make things worse.

"I'm sorry, mistress," she whispered.

The mistress seemed to take pleasure in Aisha's pain. She laughed cruelly and turned to leave the room.

"You're lucky I don't have you whipped,"