I am 16 years old. Three months ago, I was sent by my parents from Afghanistan to Iran to be married to a young Afghan man. Since then, I haven’t been able to leave the house because of the coronavirus.
My husband, Rahim*, is a janitor in a big apartment block consisting of 36 units. We live in the basement of the building. He tells me that our apartment is an average Tehran apartment, but to me it is above average.
Rahim has to work in a second job elsewhere to be able to provide for us, even during the lockdown. During the first month of our marriage, I stayed inside our apartment the whole day, waiting for him to come back and worrying about what would happen to us if we caught the virus.
