Afghanistan: Under the Surface

Rafiullah laughed as he forked more rice pulao into his mouth, "Maybe I will even marry two women on the same day, make it simple." Rubeena visibly winced as she placed her chai on the heavily laden table. She attempted a casual giggle, "Absolutely not. You will marry only me." "But I will get bored with you and then what?" he questioned.
Rubeena and Rafiullah's relationship appeared quite scandalous. They weren't married, and yet were spending a weekend together, sharing the same hotel room. Like myself and my equally adulterous partner, they must have lied and said they were married.
My fake husband and I were lunching with an Afghan couple we had just met in Mazar-e-Sharif, Afghanistan. Afghan hospitality is legendary, and Rafiullah wouldn't let us pay anything for our feast of grilled chicken kebab and savoury rice pulao. Leaving the restaurant, Rubeena and I re-wrapped our headscarves, weaving them tightly around our heads and shoulders, ensuring that not a single hair was on display.
Rafiullah wanted to show us a good time; he took us to a family amusement park full of carnival rides and cafes. Groups of single men aren't allowed in, preserving the family atmosphere. In typical Afghan fashion, Rafiullah suggested that Rubeena and I must be tired, and should relax in the garden. I cautiously approached the question of her relationship with Rafiullah.
"Does your family know about him?" I asked. "No, they know nothing. The hardest thing will be to persuade them to accept this love marriage," she said. In the company of another woman, she talked openly and warmly. "But I am afraid he won't marry me," she continued. "He always make the promise, but then it is always the same." She sighed. "It is always the same with him."
"Do you think he really wants two wives?" I pressed. "This is what I fear the most. About this, you know, I can do nothing. We can marry, and then maybe in five years he can find a beautiful woman. What can I do? But I have to marry him; I already know him. This is a very big problem for the women in Afghanistan. We are trapped. We cannot say no."
I thought back to the day, and how Rafiullah treated Rubeena. He wasn't very nice to her. At one point, she offered us all chocolate. He took only a small a piece, smirking and saying, "I don't want to be fat like you." I'm sure he was charming and nice to her at other times. But he was also stringing her along, sleeping with her amidst vague promises of marriage.
What could she do?