Zainabscrib

THE VEILED FAVOUR

Chapter 1

Ya Allah! "Save my soul," Yasmin uttered with a heavy heart, struggling to drive from the mosque premises.

Yasmin Yusuf could be described as an epitome of beauty. She was born into an affluent home- her beauty wasn't due to the sophisticated life she enjoyed; she is naturally endowed. A round face, pointed nose, and full lips complemented her ethereal face. Her skin can be likened to milk and honey- The perfect definition of a brown-skinned girl.

Those who have been opportune to see her hair were always left in awe. She possessed silky, complete, and long hair with a soft texture. Her hair could be compared to that of actresses featured in Bollywood movies. The only difference is- she is a conscious Muslim who covers her hair.

To compliment her looks, Allah blessed her with a slender stature and an average height.
A beauty to reckon with.

Although her parents are secular Muslims, she convinced them to accept her way of life. Her mother was demanding at first.

" What is this?" her mother sized her up the first day she wore jilbaab home.

She was home to spend her 200-level second-semester break.

" Mum, it is Jilbaab, the garment of the honored Muslimah," she said while hugging her mother

" So, you have gone to school to join the extremists. Those rude children that don't respect their parents."

" Mummy, that's far from the truth. It is just a misconception. Those that are dressed this way are not extremists, and they honor their parents," she enunciated.

"My daughter, dressed in an illiterate garment."

" Mum," she drawled

" Yasmin, please don't mummy me. Go upstairs and change into something better."

" Okay, Mum," she let out. After all, she didn't need to cover up inside the house, and there was no reason to continue arguing with her mother. Her dad made the rules, and they followed.

She is the last child and only daughter of Chief Yusuf Gbolagade and Mrs Khairah Yusuf. There were only three of them. Her older brothers, Khalid and Jamal.

Khalid studied Estate Management at the Federal University of Technology, Akure. His younger brother, Jamal, bagged a Bachelor's degree and a master's degree in Architecture at the University of Ilorin, Ilorin.

They both worked in their father's company, head office in Lagos, during their compulsory one-year National Youth Service.

They joined their father's business fully after their service. Khalid, being the eldest, joined the business before his brother, Jamal.

Her father is a business tycoon- into sales of automobiles and landed properties. He is also semi-actively into politics. He had run for some ministerial positions in the past, but luck was not on his side.

Her mother runs a fashion house- KhaYus Women's Fashion House. Female celebrities and wives of creme De la creme of the society patronize her.

Her father returned home late in the night. His wife allowed him to have his dinner and rest before bringing up the issue of their daughter.

Despite Chief Yusuf's tight schedule, he always has a listening ear and creates time for his family.

Upon his arrival, he had checked Yasmin up in her room, but she was fast asleep.

He was about to go to sleep when he noticed the distressed look on his wife's face. He couldn't ignore it.

" Abewaji, is anything bothering you?" he began, moving closer to his wife on the bed.

Mrs. Yusuf was happy that her husband noticed her tense mood- she was dead worried about the new development of her daughter. How can her only daughter dress shabbily?

She had her reservations when her daughter gained admission to study Computer Science at the University of Ilorin. She had heard tales of how unsuspecting young Muslim ladies were initiated into wearing that " long thing." God forbid bad thing "Tufiakwa," she spat inwardly.

She tried to change her husband's mind about enrolling their daughter into one of the private universities in the country; if not for him being a typical African man who upholds the core African values, she would have preferred her children to school abroad.

When she tabled her fear to her husband, being a man of his word, he disagreed.

"Ade mi, omo Gbolagade. Omo won ni ilu aresa. Thanks for always looking out for us," she started.

Her husband smiled broadly and urged her on "women," he pondered.

"Thank you, Ademi. Eh! My fear has come to pass," She paused. " I was in the living room this afternoon to welcome my lovely daughter. Ade, I received the shock of the century," she exclaimed

" I am all ears," he said impatiently

" Hmm, Darling, Adufe mi was covered from head to toe. Not only that oooo. She was putting on socks. I told you, Ade. I told you," she lamented

" Hmm," he sighed

" I told you. My only daughter has been brainwashed. She looked so unkempt when she arrived."

" Temi ba mi," she added

Chief didn't see anything wrong in what his wife explained. He believes that everybody has freedom of choice, and his daughter was slightly over eighteen years old- an adult who can choose the way she lives or dresses.

" Abewaji, I understand your frustration and fear. I'm exhausted. I couldn't sleep seeing the look on your face. You know how much you mean to me." he spoke his mind tactically, touching his wife's cheeks

His wife blushed at his sweet words.

He continued, " Let's wait till tomorrow. I'll summon Adufe to figure out the reason behind her actions. May God spare our lives." He pecked his wife good night, turned off the bed lamp, and turned on his right side to sleep.

Mrs Yusuf was not pleased with her husband's comeback.

" I won't open my eyes to see my daughter derail. This is a war, and I'll fight it to the end," she whispered grumpily before sleep overpowered her.

The following day, Yasmin woke up as early as possible. She performed her Qiyamul Lail. She cried her heart out to Allah to ease her hijab journey, recited some verses she had memorized, and waited behind to observe her Fajr prayer. After praying, she chanted some adhkar and went to her parent's room to wake them for salah.

She was reluctant to knock at the door- theirs was a home where you pray at your convenience; many a time, they observe the Fajr prayer when they are awakened from slumber, and sometimes they don't observe it at all; Fajr could be said to be the only prayer observed in the Yusuf's Family.

She summoned the courage to knock at the door.

"Kpom, kpom, kpom " she knocked. She waited for some minutes before knocking again. This time around, she knocked at the door non-stop until she heard her father's voice.

" Yasmin, what do you want this early?" her father queried half-awake

"Assalamualaikum, Dad. Erm, erm," she stuttered. " I am here to wake you and Mom for the fajr prayer, sir," she said calmly

"Okay, thanks. We will get up now, darling angel," her father submitted weakly

Feeling fulfilled, she muttered, "Okay, Dad," and left for her room to continue her adhkar and perhaps read some verses in the Qur'an. She always felt at ease when reciting the holy book of Allah.

Although her mother heard the dialogue between her daughter and father, she pretended to be deeply asleep.

Her husband left her to sleep; he stood up to perform ablution.

Chief Yusuf was from a religious home but derailed from the righteous path when he graduated from the tertiary institution seeking greener pastures- he was not from a well-to-do family. He vowed to raise the status of his family by any decent means.
Fortunately, Allah crowned his efforts with success; unfortunately, he swayed from the right path, and his parents, who could have cautioned him, lost their lives in a fatal accident two months after his marriage to Khairah Owodunni.

Khairah's father, Chief Owodunni, was a multi-millionaire who controlled multinational companies. Khairah can be comfortably called 'Abolanle.' Being the only child of her parents. Although her father married two other wives who bore him four sons and three daughters, her mother was the 'apple of his eye' being the first wife, and she had stayed with him through thick and thin.

Khairah lived a comfortable life from the cradle, from a home where religiosity was not the order of the day.

Yusuf's financial status was raised due to his marriage to Khairah- While trying to balance and keep up with his new status, he lost his connection with his Lord. His wife had nothing to offer; she had lived all her life as a nonchalant Muslim.

Chief Yusuf gently woke his wife up to perform her prayer when he was through with his.

"Ajike mi, wakey-wakey," he said sonorously, tapping her lightly on her back. " Time for prayer," he added wilfully

She hissed, "This is it; this is what I am afraid of. When did we start waking each other to perform prayer in this house? When a child embraces a strange religion, this is the outcome."

© Zainab Abdul-Wasiu

Zainabscrib

Assalamualaikum.

Good evening, dear Family 💜

In sha Allah, we won’t be starting a new story yet.

For now, I'll be reposting The Veiled Favour for those who would love to read it again and for those who just joined us on this journey.

The Veiled Favour was the very first novel I wrote, and it holds a very special place in my heart. Bringing it back here feels nostalgic, and I’d appreciate your engagement.

Posting Days: Every day except Fridays

Posting Time: 5:00 PM, in sha Allah.

May Allah spare our lives to witness and enjoy this journey together.

Kindly drop your favourite emoji in the comments if you’re ready for this masterpiece.

Thank you all 💜

Zainabscrib

𝐈𝐌𝐏𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐓

𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐑 𝐅𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐘 💜

Thank you all for your engagement and support. I appreciate every one of you.

Reading the comments from those who have read Su’ad 2 always leaves me in awe… like, you all deserve to be celebrated.

As announced during the sales, Su’ad 2 is a premium story, and I won’t be posting all the chapters for free. The last chapter posted will be where we pause the free updates.

For those who want to continue reading without missing anything, you can access the complete story on Telegram for 600.

The eBook is also available for 1,500.

Honestly, the story is just getting started.

If you’ve been enjoying the story so far, this is the best moment to continue so you don’t miss what comes next.

Thank you once again for the love and support 💜

Account details will be in the comments.

𝐒𝐔’𝐀𝐃 𝟐

Chapter 38

This parting was harder.

It weakened her soul.

Her body felt not like hers.

All that remained was to cry, but she kept her tears.

What would she think of and not shiver at this hard reality?

Is it the stroll at night when everyone else is asleep but they escaped into the bustling world of Kano to drink the tasty Fura at Mamman Dogo’s place?

Or Mallam Aminu’s delicious suya they shared like little ones, fighting over a piece while others lay prettily on the wrapping paper?

Is it the mortar and pestle they turned into a playful weapon in the open kitchen?

Or the gist about men, and how not so important they are in their lives?

This part she didn't believe but knew it was a pattern they stitched to make her heal.

She could see the glow in Zuwairah’s eyes when she spoke to her husband.

She noticed the glee in Maryam’s countenance when her husband called.

And yes. They avoided talking about marriage or children.

The past week had been just about them.

The memories they shared.

Their childhood.

And for the first time, Maryam let Su’ad into her world completely.

While she cried about her own parents.
She never knew her friend was an orphan from birth who never knew her parents.

She felt selfish when she discovered it.

They never really talked about Maryam.

Maryam was the mature one.

The fierce one.

The one who wipes her tears away when she cries.

They all laughed together.

They cried together.

They healed from childhood trauma.

Together.

One of those days, Zuwairah recounted:
“I thought Alhaji hated me while growing up. He pampers the boys, but never spares me. ‘You're the home. You’re their role model’. Society expects a lot from you. All words, not sentences, came with a whip at my back. Wai, wai, wai… I felt the pain. I cried loudly for a long time until I became a woman, or so I thought. Then I started crying in silence. Wallahi, it took me so long to know my father loves me. When I saw him cry on my wedding day. The last day of celebration, when I had to leave with my husband's family. I saw tears in his eyes. He hid it so well. But I saw it. Then I wondered if this man could hate me. He was only grooming me with each stroke of the cane,” Zuwairah ended, and they took turns hugging her.

“He loves you, truly. He just wanted you to turn out well,” Su’ad said.

“Yes. That was it. But the cane was unnecessary. I was a calm child, he could have just talked to me. I forgive him. I forgive him,” she told them, and they sighed.

“I wish I had someone to beat me so I could turn out well. I grew up in the street. I blessed the day I met Director Hauwa. She was my guardian angel.” Maryam closed her eyes.

“It’s fine, Maryam. Allah writes our story even before our birth. And I believe He isn't done with us.”

“You're right, Su’ad. When my husband came into my life, I couldn't believe it. Someone as educated and exposed as he was, I thought I wasn't in his league, but this man proved me wrong,” Maryam said.

The conversations were unending. They started each day with stories, and ended each day with stories. Sometimes they would even pause mid-conversation, laugh over nothing, then continue again like they had all the time in the world. Now, those memories were leaving her behind. They had packed their bags and were ready to leave.

“Su’ad, I will still come and check on you,”
Zuwairah, observing that she was deep in thought, broke into it.

“In sha Allah, I’ll look forward to your visit. I can't keep you away from your family. May Allah reunite us in peace and not in pieces,” Su’ad prayed.

They wheeled their baggage out. Alhaji and Nana were outside waiting for them to come out.

“At last,” Nana smiled at them as they surfaced.

“Ummi, we don't want to leave Su’ad. Or should she follow me to my place?” Zuwairah pouted.

“You know that's not possible until she completes her Iddah.”

“I can't even follow you. So that you and your husband can blind me with love,” Su’ad joked, which made them all laugh.

“I’ll send him to his people,” Zuwairah replied, and they all laughed at the joke.

“The driver is here,” Alhaji, who had been quiet, announced. The women exchanged hugs and moved outside the compound, where the car taking them to the park was parked.

Zuwairah and Maryam pulled Su’ad into a group hug before finally saying their goodbyes. They held onto her longer than necessary, like letting go would make everything too real.

“Allah ya kiyaye hanyarku,” Nana prayed, asking Allah to grant them a safe journey, and they all chorused, ‘Amin.’

Su’ad watched the car turn into tiny dust, her eyes following it until it disappeared completely. She stood there for a moment longer, as if expecting it to come back.
Then she turned inside, knowing her real divorce journey had just begun.

Three months later

Walking under the scorching sun, she wiped away her sweat with her damp hands, making it even damper. The heat clung to her skin, and the dust rose lightly with every step she took.

The market was alive, as always.

Voices layered over each other.

“Hajiya, come and buy!”
“Original! Original!”
“See fine shoes!”

The smell of kunu aya, dried fish, and spices filled the air. Children weaved through bodies. Traders fanned themselves with pieces of carton. Some argued over prices; others laughed loudly like the day had been kind to them.

She walked slowly to the store where she saw those beautiful plates when she entered the market, even before the fabrics that brought her to the market.

Her Iddah ended a few days ago, and for the first time in months, she decided to do some shopping, changing her wardrobe and adding items that would be aesthetically pleasing to the eyes. To add beauty back into her life.

She’s no longer in the doom phase.

She is back to blossom even in the darkest moment.

She still remembered her unborn child. But was the loss not a blessing in disguise again?

She had spent nights thinking about the way forward.

Marriage had been crossed out.
For now.

She wanted to focus on her relationship with her Creator and her career. Showing up. Showing good.

Zayd was now in her past.

She was glad there was no talk of reconciliation till her Iddah ended. She picked his calls once in a while, never returning them. He never failed to send upkeep during those three months, and she was relieved when it ended.

She just wanted him to remain in her past, and stop showing up on her screen.
He texted and called on the day she completed her Iddah, trying to apologize for wasting her time, for all the bad he had done. But she had no words other than “it’s fine.”

And truly, it’s fine.

A sudden commotion pulled her attention.

A woman held a man by his neck, almost suffocating him. People gathered, shouting, laughing, separating them.

She paused briefly, shook her head, and moved on.

The market had its own drama; always crowded on Saturdays. The only thing unusual was the woman holding the man.

She heaved a relieved sigh when she saw that the plates she came to check out were still on display.

“Ina yini,” she greeted the store owner, who replied to her with a smile.

“Yauwa, sannu da zuwa, Hajiya! You’re welcome, you’re welcome,” the woman said, adjusting her wrapper and sitting up properly.

“How much are these bowls?” she asked the plump woman whose face was etched in a deep smile. Su’ad wondered why she smiled so much.

“Hajiya, one is 2,500, but you can take the set of three for 7,000,” the woman replied quickly.

Su’ad took one of the bowls, admiring it.
She traced the beautiful pattern on its body with her finger.

“7,000 is much,” she said calmly. “Make it 6,000.”

“Ah, Hajiya,” the woman laughed, placing her hand on her chest. “You want me to run at a loss? See this one, very strong. It won’t break easily.”

Su’ad tilted the bowl slightly, still examining it. “6,500.”

The woman looked at her, studying her face like she was calculating something deeper than the price.

“Okay,” she finally said, “because it’s you.”

“Nagode,” Su’ad replied.

She picked the three bowls and checked some other plates which she loved.

“These ones?” she asked.

“Hajiya, those ones are 3,000 each. Very fine. Imported,” the woman said, lowering her voice slightly like she was revealing a secret.
“Reduce it,” Su’ad said.

The woman laughed again. “Hajiya, you really came to finish my shop today.”

They went back and forth a little, the woman talking, persuading, laughing, touching the plates like they were precious, while Su’ad remained calm, negotiating softly until they reached a balance.

Su’ad paid for everything.

“Hajiya, nagode sosai. Wallahi, you are my first customer today. Since morning, no sales. You’re Godsent to me today,” the woman said, her smile even wider now.

She adjusted her scarf and continued, “Allah ya tsare ki daga sharri, ya sanya albarka a rayuwarki, ya kare ki daga duk wani abu mara kyau. May Allah protect you from harm, bless your life, and keep you from everything bad,” the woman prayed.

“Alhamdulillah. I’m so happy that I am your first customer. May I not be the last,” Su’ad replied.

“Amin, Amin!” the woman said quickly.
Su’ad stepped out of the stall, blending back into the crowd.

She boarded a taxi, which took her home.
She met her uncle outside.

“Su’ad, sannu da dawowa,” he said, looking at the nylon in her hand. “How was the market today?”

“It was fine, Alhaji. Very crowded,” she replied.

“That’s how it is on Saturdays,” he said.

“What did you get?”

“Just a few things. Plates… and fabrics.”

“Good,” he nodded. “It’s good you’re stepping out again. Staying inside too much is not good.”

She gave a small nod. “Yes, Alhaji.”

“Next time, tell me. I would have asked the driver to take you,” he added.

“It’s fine. I went early,” she said.

He looked at her for a second longer, like he wanted to say something else, then nodded and let her go in.

She proceeded to the kitchen to wash the plates. Her cousins had returned to school, leaving only her and her youngest cousin at home.

She dropped the plates in the kitchen, went into her room to keep the fabrics she got, and returned to the kitchen to wash the plates and prepare lunch.

She placed each plate carefully on the kitchen slab, took the sponge and the soap to start washing when she heard footsteps behind her.

She turned slightly and saw that it was her aunt.

“Sannu da yini, Inna,” she greeted her aunt, who replied to her.

“Lafiya lau. I didn't know you were back. I was surprised when Alhaji told me to check you in your room,” her aunt started.

“I returned a few moments ago. I came here to wash some of the items I got,” she said, showing her aunt the plates.

“Masha Allah. They’re beautiful,” her aunt said, running her hand lightly over one of them.

Then her voice lowered.

“You have visitors.”

“Visitors?” Su’ad asked, surprised. She knew it wasn't Zuwairah, and it couldn’t be Asiyah, who had both promised to check on her but their schedules hadn’t allowed it.

“Who are the visitors?” she asked again.

“Rinse your hands and come with me,” her aunt said, walking out of the kitchen.

Su’ad followed her, her mind occupied with who the visitors might be. Different names crossed her mind, none settling.

Her aunt paused midway.

“Go wear your hijab. They are in the sitting room.”

Su’ad, who had initially removed her hijab knowing no male would enter unannounced, turned back to wear it.

Her aunt was taking her seat when she returned to the sitting room.

She walked closer, nervously.

Her aunt was obstructing her view.

Her heart began to beat faster.

When her aunt finally sat down, she was nearer… and could see the visitors’ faces clearly.

“Za…”

Her mind screamed, not wanting to believe who she saw.

She was in shock.

Her hand gripped the chair to steady herself.

What were they doing in her uncle’s house? she thought.

the end but not THE END 😀

© Zainab Abdul-Wasiu

Zainabscrib

𝐒𝐔’𝐀𝐃 𝟐

Chapter 37

The following morning, Su’ad woke to the realization that she was back in her aunt’s house. Breakfast was a quiet affair, filled with small talk about neighbours, and work.

She ate slowly, savouring the food she was served. Her aunt knew Tuwo shinkafa was her favorite and she made that for breakfast that morning and Su'ad couldn't be more grateful.

She allowed herself to smile, reminiscing on their childhood days.

Later, she followed her uncle to his farm.
He rejected when she told him but later agreed to her request, with a strict instructions that she must not do any hard tasks. She walked through the farmland, and the plants seemed more alive, like they were trying to tell her things she would never understand.

She inhaled deeply, letting the air fill her senses. Here, she could think without interruption.

After her uncle and her cousins that they went together finished tilling and gathering the crops they came for, they called her and they all feasted on a delicious meal of roasted yams and palm oil.

“This is the sweetest meal I have had in a very long time,” Su'ad said, licking her palm childishly.

“You can say that again. And with this fura that your aunt made to gulp it down which is the best in town makes the meal the bestest meal ever,” her uncle complimented and they all laughed. She was happy to have followed them to the farm even though she wasn't involved in the task. It was a sweet breath of fresh air from her daily routine. It was after the Asr prayer that they returned home for her to meet not just one, but two surprises waiting at home.

____

The evening was cooler when they arrived home. While she walked inside with her uncle, her cousins stayed behind to take the farm produce from the car to the store. When her Uncle opened the door he stood for a moment which made Su'ad also stand behind him wondering why the sudden stop. Then she heard familiar voices, one from the past and the second one, a voice she had still heard the previous day on the phone. She peeped over her Uncle's shoulder but couldn't clearly see the faces of the two women seated whose heads were wrapped in a veil.

“What a surprise visit! You didn't inform us of your coming,” her Uncle said to one of the women who agreed that it was meant to be a surprise.

“I can see you're here with a friend. You're highly welcome my daughter,” her uncle said and she could hear a slight sound of a voice which acknowledged him.

“I hope your mother is aware of your coming,” her Uncle asked, moving away from the door, allowing her entry into the room at last. She moved slowly into the room and just like she had thought it was those she assumed were in her guardian's large sitting room; live and direct.

She opened her mouth to scream but no words came out so she covered her face with her palm and ran into her room. She heard footsteps following her, so she grabbed a blanket to cover herself from the intruders.

There was a knock at the door but she didn't reply after a while those at the door opened it and entered fully.

“What kind of joke is this?” one of them asked, walking over to Su'ad. She yanked off the blanket on her body and hugged her from behind. Su'ad struggled to release her hold and turned.

“Zuwairah.” She called like she was trying to confirm if she was indeed the one.

Zuwairah sat beside her on the bed folding her legs inward.

Su'ad blinked again, trying to believe that the second person standing in her room was real and she was in no way dreaming.

She blinked two more times, closing and opening her eyes dramatically, making her cousin laugh.

“Stop being dramatic. She is the one,” Zuwairah said, now smiling. Su'ad climbed off the bed walking barefoot. She walked over to where the person stood, and held her hand, expecting the person to vanish into thin air as they do in movies.
Surprisingly, the person smiled instead of disappearing. She called her name slowly.

“Su'ad.” And that was the confirmation she needed that this person standing before her was real.

“Maryam,” she called, cupping her cheeks fondly.

“Su'ad. I'm the one. I returned home a few days ago and met your cousin yesterday. She explained what happened to me. And what would it make me if I heard such and not here to provide the support you needed? I miss you Su'ad. I wish I could see that man and break his bones,” Maryam said as she flexed her hand.

Su'ad burst into laughter, almost forgetting what her friend could do.

“Wrap those loving arms around me before you break someone's bone,” she said and the two friends fell into a deep embrace. Zuwairah stood there watching them with a smile on her face.

“Maryam, I miss you too,” Su'ad said, intensifying her grip on her.

“Come let's sit,” she said, pulling Maryam towards the bed.

“When did you girls arrive?”

“After the Zuhr prayer, Ummu told us to wait behind and that you’ll soon return from the farm. I called your number to inform you but it wasn't connecting,” Zuwairah explained.

“The network there was bad. I couldn't call anyone also. I'm so glad you're here,” Su'ad pouted, Maryam pinched her nose and they all laughed like high school girls in love.

“Su’ad,” they heard Nana’s voice at the door, and they all stopped talking at once.

“Inna. Assalamualaikum,” she greeted, moving closer to open the door.

“Waalaikumussalam. How was your outing?” Her aunt asked.

“I had fun on the farm even though Alhaji didn't allow me to pick even a snail,” she said.

“Your food is in the kitchen when you're ready to eat. I know Zuwairah and Maryam won't give you breathing space. But I'm glad they are here. You girls should have a nice time together,” her aunt said before leaving the room.

“Eh, Ummu is changing ooo. She didn't force you to go take your food. Let me go bring it for you, we've also eaten, don't let's starve you,” her cousin said, moving out of the room.

“I'm sorry about what happened,” Maryam said to Su'ad immediately Zuwairah left the room.

“It's nothing to be sorry about. I just pray I come out of this stronger because sometimes I break inside. Three months looks like a long time waiting for what you know cannot be resolved.” Maryam pulled her into a bear hug

“You're stronger than you know, Su'ad. I'm just confused about everything I don't know Mr. Komolafe can do such to you. I can't wait to be let in on your struggles in his home.”

“No struggles. There was no struggle at all, just a warm emotional war. I want to be seen and heard. Zayd loves me, maybe we were never meant to be. Maybe we thought we were wise and wanted to cheat destiny, Maryam. All those are now in the past, I just needed to heal and move on for my future self. I'm still a woman in her prime, I can't let this get me down. The only loss I felt deeply was my pregnancy but then it was a veiled favour what if the pregnancy had stayed and this still happened. What would be the future of the innocent child? A child without a father's love. A child who sees her father from afar. A child who begged to be seen and heard. And if the heat of the presence of a child made me stay despite everything and made him keep me regardless of our differences then a child will be brought up seeing her mother at the mercy of her father. Maryam, I’ve explained everything to you on the phone I sent. I didn't keep anything back. I just want to…” the door opened and Zuwairah came in holding a tray with a plate beautifully set on it.

“...move on,” Su'ad concluded, making her cousin smile knowing she had entered in the midst of an inconclusive discussion.

“Su'ad. Eat,” she said, moving the tray closer to her.

They had a great reunion.

“I can't wait to meet your husband,” Su'ad said to Maryam who smiled.

“I can't wait either. Even though we're not so good presently, he's as still loving as ever.” She replied sadly

“What's the problem?”

“Nothing. His mother insisted that he marry from their tribe when they returned home. We've been home for a week. I wanted to inform you the last time you called but decided to surprise you when you told me what happened and that you will be returning to Kano.”

“Did your husband accept already?”

“No. He told me not to worry but his people are on his neck.”.

“Then you've nothing to worry about,” Zuwairah chipped in.

“Your husband should have the final say. And don't start giving him an attitude that can push him out,” she added and Maryam thanked her. Su'ad just listened, not feeling she is in the right position to advise any woman who is in a marriage to keep.

At night, both Maryam and Zuwairah spent the night in her room and they talked into the night.

“Good night, beautiful ladies,” Zuwairah said, announcing that she wanted to sleep.

“Goodnight,” both Maryam and Su'ad replied. It wasn't long before Maraym also slept off. Su'ad looked at them both and smiled, still surprised by how she and Maryam got along easily. It had been years since they last saw and seeing her that afternoon looked like seeing a screen goddess appearing suddenly in her room.

She was grateful for the gift of people in her circle. Asiyah won't stop checking on her also and it was a shock when she saw an alert from Zayd that morning with a narration of monthly upkeep. She informed her aunt who told her it meant nothing that she's still his wife until the Iddah ends. She can't wait for the month to fly by so she can start planning her next moves.

She stood up from the bed and took a seat by her desk. Taking out her old notebook, she kissed it. It had stayed with her for a long time. The notebook first knew about her feelings for Zayd on the day they first met.

She had forgotten what journaling was like but tonight she's getting back to her old habits of telling her diary everything. Everything that matters.

“...You remembered the man I met. Yes. Years ago. The one who entered my life quietly. Like dawn. Like rain. Like mercy.”

She paused. She closed her eyes and listened, not to sounds, but to what the silence carried. Her pen moved again.

“The one whose name echoed, even when never spoken aloud. The one whose visit stirred an old corner in my heart. Yes, that one.” She blinked away her tears. She paused, letting her pen hover, considering each word carefully.

“That afternoon, years ago, I didn't write his name. And tonight. I won't write his name as well. I wouldn't. He was a part of my life for some time. And now it all ended. It's been a long time since I held you, dear diary. But life has been so busy. But I thought it would be unfair not to let you know he was a passing time in my life that was never meant to stay.”

When she finally set the pen down, she felt a calm she hadn’t known in weeks. As night deepened, she closed her book and went to lay in bed. The soft breeze brushing her face from the open window.

The city slept, and she allowed herself to do the same. Sleep came slowly but surely, carrying her away from worry, from regret, from pain.

The ache remained, yes. But beneath it was hope. Quiet, steadfast, unwavering hope.

© Zainab Abdul-Wasiu

Zainabscrib