“It’s Dinaayah, of course. You know she would never agree to sit still after you said you were hungry. So when did she even go to Abuja and already return? Didn’t she say she would stay until the holidays were over?” Sauban said as he unbuttoned the shirt he was wearing.
“That Dinaayah is extremely stubborn! I already knew she wouldn’t last even two weeks, let alone one month and five extra days. A girl who is always glued to me—only sleep separates us,” Mummy said.
“Hm, I actually kept quiet because Aunty Zakiyya scolded me, that’s why I said nothing. I knew Dinaayah wouldn’t be able to stay even a week in Abuja, not to mention a whole month plus five days. A girl who can’t even go and sleep over in Hajiya’s room unless it’s some faraway place.”
“You people have truly tormented that girl day and night! Aunty Zakiyya ended up forcing her and told the driver to bring her back. While they were on the road she called me, ranting angrily, saying Dinaayah should never step foot in her house again because she has no manners.”
Sauban laughed and said, “I knew Aunty Zakiyya would suffer a lot. Let me go to the kitchen and help her.”
Mummy nodded and continued sipping the lemon juice Dinaayah had prepared for her, saying she should start drinking it while she finished cooking.
Quietly, Sauban headed toward the open kitchen connected to the sitting room. As soon as he reached the doorway, Dinaayah said, “Welcome, Sauban! Please open the fridge and bring me five big carrots and slice them for me.”
“Hey! So even now you noticed I came into the kitchen?” he added as he gently knocked her on the head.
She laughed and said, “My eyes may not see, but my nose smells. From the moment you stood there, I knew you had arrived because I recognized your body scent.”
As he washed the carrots he had taken from the fridge, he said, “Do you mean you can recognize anyone who comes close to you just by their scent, even if they don’t speak?”
She nodded and said, “Allah gave me this gift of recognizing people by their scent. Even if you all wear the same perfume—or even if there’s no perfume at all. If someone stands near me or passes by where I am, I’ll know who it is, as long as I know the person. You know it’s not only perfume that identifies someone’s scent; everyone has a unique body scent that Allah gave them.”
Sauban nodded thoughtfully. “This is the first time I’m hearing this from you, but now that you’ve said it, something comes to mind. There’s a course mate of mine whose body scent I’ve memorized. Even if I don’t see him, once I smell it—whether you call it a smell or a stench—I know he’s around. Honestly, even if you brought me a shirt I’ve never seen him wear, if he has worn it before, I’d know it’s his. His body odor almost makes me vomit.”
Dinaayah smiled and looked toward where he was, even though she couldn’t see him; they met eyes through her accurate sense of where he stood. She said, “Perhaps he has body odor disease, that’s why you feel that way. But that’s not the kind of smell I mean. I recognize the scent of anyone near me as long as I know them well. For example, I know the scent of everyone in this house. Even if I’m half-asleep, if one of you passes near me, I’ll immediately say who it is.”
Sauban placed a hand on her shoulder and said, “I don’t know why, Dinaayah, but I’ve never seen you as a blind person without eyes. Sometimes I even forget that you can’t see like everyone else.”
“Oh really? But I’ve never seen myself as disabled either. I’m certain Allah knows why He created me this way. I even thank Him, because He didn’t allow me to see the filth in this world that people often talk about. And on the Day of Judgment, my eyes won’t testify against me for looking at forbidden things. If I were to ask Allah to let me see anything in this world, it would be to grant me sight just once—to look at the Great Book of Allah while placing my hand on every word as I read, and also to see the faces of our Mom and Dad. I only miss eyes when I touch the Qur’an or think of our parents’ faces.”
He gently knocked her head and said, “So you wouldn’t ask to see our faces too?”
She laughed heartily, reached toward where she knew he was, touched his face, and said, “I already know what your face looks like! You and Sam’an look exactly alike.”
He glared at her as if she were actually seeing him. While stirring the stew on the gas, she said, “You’re glaring at me, aren’t you?”
He widened his eyes and exclaimed, “Hey! How did you know I was glaring at you?”
She laughed again. “My eyes may not see you, but knowing your character made me feel that you were glaring.”
He supported her chin and said, “You, honestly! May Allah guide you. Sometimes you behave like a jinn, wallahi. And when you say you know how much Sam’an and I resemble each other, it’s only because you hear people say so.”
“That’s not true! I already knew it long before people said that you and Sam’an are like two halves of the same stick,” Dinaayah said as she turned off the gas, realizing the stew was done.
She turned and headed toward the dishes like someone with sight, picked two plates. Sauban watched her silently, filled with deep affection. She had always moved him since childhood, but later, when he realized the special gifts Allah gave her—beyond those with sight—he completely stopped seeing her as someone lacking any blessing. Dinaayah knew every corner of the house by heart: their wing, Hajiya’s side, even their stepmother Aunty Habbooba’s room, which was also their usual gathering spot. Cleaning, washing dishes, cooking, laundry—there was nothing she didn’t do. Their daddy had argued at first, but eventually gave up, seeing how much Dinaayah loved doing these things. At times, he felt he would willingly give up his own eyes to give them to her.
“Give me the plates, I’ll help you serve,” Sauban said as he poured white basmati rice with peas and carrots onto the plates, transferred the rest into a container, washed the pot, and returned everything to its place—since Dinaayah knew exactly where everything belonged in the kitchen and store, and house rules required anyone who used something to return it. Only knives and electrical appliances like the blender, kettle, and electric cooker were off-limits to her by Daddy’s rule, except for plugging in her phone charger and switching it on. She also used her Braille display (the computer used by the blind), often with help from Mom, Sauban, or Daddy, though she frequently preferred her laptop with a Braille keyboard.
He went to the fragrant stew, served it into two small bowls, handed her one plate, and said, “Take this to Mom. I’ll bring out ours.”
“But we’ll eat together, right?” Dinaayah asked as she took the plate.
“You know we’ll eat together. Have we ever eaten separately when I’m home?”
She shook her head. “I just wanted to hear what you’d say.”
“Now you’ve heard—and you enjoyed making me talk.”
“Where’s Mom’s stew?” she asked, noticing only the rice.
“I already poured it on, go take it to her,” he said, teasing her.
She laughed. “Are you testing me? There’s no stew on this food you gave me—if there were, I’d smell it.”
“So, Mrs. Super Smeller! Go and take it, I’ll follow with the stew,” he said, smiling in admiration of her gift.
He carried the stew bowl first, returned to get their plates, and placed them in the sitting room.
“Sit down, let’s eat. Here’s ours,” Sauban said as he poured stew over the rice.
Dinaayah sat beside him. He shifted to face her so they could eat comfortably.
She took a spoon, scooped stew onto the rice, mixed it precisely, and took a bite. Anyone who saw the calm way Dinaayah ate would swear she had sight if they didn’t know her.
Aleesha greeted them at the door, her face gloomy as if she’d received terrible news. But when her eyes fell on her twin, Dinaayah smiled broadly and ran to hug her. “I really miss you, my twin sis, wallahi. I was even planning to follow you to Abuja tomorrow, only to find you’re already back.” She tossed aside her lab coat and sat beside Dinaayah, took her spoon, and helped herself to the rice.
Sauban snapped her lightly on the head. “You don’t know how to greet people in this house? And you just sat down to eat our food—who gave you permission?”
Aleesha pouted. “Please, Sauban, that hurts,” she said, rubbing her head.
Mummy heard everything but didn’t look their way—it was their usual behavior. They loved each other deeply, but always argued whenever they met.
“Have you checked on Benazir? I haven’t seen her pass by at all today,” Mummy Sarah interrupted.
Together, Dinaayah and Aleesha turned and asked, “She hasn’t come to this part at all today?”
“She hasn’t. Your dad said he saw her lying wrapped in a blanket in the living room. I went to check earlier but couldn’t see her—she was in her room.”
Immediately, Dinaayah stood up and headed out. Apart from Sauban and Aleesha, Benazir was the one she was closest to—sometimes even closer than Aleesha.
“Finish your food first! Mummy, you should have let her eat before telling her. Now she’s completely worried, and I know she won’t return to this food,” Sauban said with a slight frown.
Dinaayah hurried out before their mom could stop her and force her to eat before checking on Benazir.
She suddenly bumped into someone and quickly stepped back. “Sorry, Sam’an, I didn’t sense you coming. Benazir isn’t well—that’s why I’m going to check on her.”
Sam’an’s face was, as always, serious. Mummy often complained about his constant stern look, joking that among both families there was no one with such an expression except him. It was rare to see Sam’an laugh; at most he smiled faintly. That was how people distinguished him from Sauban, despite their striking resemblance—even their thumbprints were identical. Only facial expression set them apart.
“Please, Sam’an, try to smile at least a little. Otherwise, no girl will want you,” Dinaayah said teasingly, though she couldn’t see him.
“Am I joking with you?” he said sternly, though to him that was joking.
Aleesha arrived and said, “Mr. Boss, you’re back?”
He nodded at both of them and walked past into the house. They burst into laughter, held hands, and headed toward their stepmother’s section—Benazir’s mother, Aunty Habbooba.
They knocked and entered. The sitting room was empty, filled with the scent of musk perfume. They went straight upstairs to Habbooba’s room. As Aleesha reached for the door, Dinaayah quickly held her hand. “Knock first, please!”
Aleesha pouted, knocked, and pushed the door open at the same time. Her eyes widened to see Benazir sitting upright in the middle of the bed, eating wafer biscuits from a long carton. Startled by the sudden entrance, Benazir jumped, threw the biscuits, and pulled the blanket over herself, thinking it was her mother.
“You hypocrite!” Aleesha exclaimed, picking up the biscuits. Benazir quickly pulled down the blanket and sighed in relief.
“Oh, it’s my siblings! I thought it was Aunty. I was faking sickness. And give me back my biscuits, witch!” Benazir said, trying to snatch them, but Aleesha stepped back and ate one.
“You really took my right, Benazir! I genuinely thought you were sick and refused to eat,” Dinaayah said, sitting on the bed and holding Benazir’s hand to feel her temperature.
“I’m fine, sister. Aunty wants me to follow Sausan to Maiduguri, but Allah knows I won’t go. That city’s weather is insanely hot!” Benazir said, frowning.
“So you pretended to be sick just because you don’t want to go to Maiduguri! And the weather there is actually good and clears the skin. Anyway, calm down—Hajiya is planning that by the end of the year we’ll all go there for Aunty Laure’s daughter’s wedding,” Aleesha said, eating biscuits.
“For God’s sake! Isn’t Surayya, Aunty Laure’s daughter, still under fifteen? We’re in trouble!” Benazir exclaimed.
“I was shocked too, but I heard it from a reliable source. You know Hajiya doesn’t lie,” Aleesha replied.
Dinaayah then explained the background of Aunty Laure’s story—how early marriage in the village disrupted her education until Hajiya intervened and later supported her schooling, which helped her become a hospital worker with Daddy.
“Hajiya really loves Aunty Laure like her own daughter,” Benazir said.
“They’ve been close since she was eleven,” Dinaayah added.
“Aunty Laure is Daddy’s favorite!” Aleesha joked, laughing.
“Get up, let’s go eat with Mummy. I’m done,” Dinaayah said.
“I’m starving too. I was only pretending so I wouldn’t go to the kitchen,” Benazir said, getting off the bed.
Aleesha eyed Benazir’s long, thick hair. “Doesn’t all that hair feel heavy?”
Benazir tied it with a ribbon, wore a cap, and said, “Even if it grows more, I like it. I’m not one of those women who say they don’t know the value of hair because they have it.”
Aleesha clicked her tongue. “If you don’t reduce this makeup, one day makeup spirits will possess you. We’re just going to Mom’s side, and you’re wearing lipstick like you’re going out.”
“Hausa say: if you’re beautiful, add bathing to it. Let’s go,” Benazir said, holding Dinaayah’s hand as they left, Aleesha following.
He stood in the sitting room wearing a dark blue Brooks Brothers suit, adjusting his expensive black cover shoes. The scent of Imperial Majesty mixed with Caron Poivre filled the air, calming the heart. Aunty Habbooba stood beside him in a white lace gown with floral patterns and red accents, black inner top, red henna on her hands and feet, her face radiant. She spoke softly to him; only he could hear.
“Daddy is in the sitting room!” Dinaayah said, recognizing his perfume.
“Of course—he and Aunty look like they’re competing in beauty,” Aleesha smiled. No one would think Daddy had grown children in their twenties. Standing with Sam’an and Sauban, he looked like an older brother. Just as Daddy hadn’t aged, neither had Mummy Sarah nor Aunty Habbooba.
Their descent drew Daddy and Aunty’s attention. Their faces lit up at the sight of their children.
“The great daddy, Dr. Ibrahim Khalilullah Nuruddeen!” Benazir exclaimed, raising her iPhone 14 Pro to take pictures.
