Welcome.”
He noticed the sadness on her face, the traces of tears in her eyes. But being someone indifferent to his family’s emotions, he simply turned and headed toward his room. Mamy watched him go, wishing she could pull him back and force him to listen—but she knew it was futile.
After a few minutes, she wiped her face and followed him, determined to fulfill her duty as a wife.
She paused at his door briefly before entering. He was tying a towel around his waist.
“Is everything okay?” he asked coldly.
“I’m fine. I just came to prepare your bathwater,” she replied softly.
He scoffed.
“There’s water in the bathroom tap. Why must everything involve you?”
She turned away in frustration, picked up the bag he left, and arranged his belongings, wondering what kind of heart he had—so detached from his family.
After Maghrib prayer, he returned from the mosque. Soon after, Mubin also arrived. He greeted his father briefly and went straight to his room. Zalika came later, greeted him politely, and also returned to her room.
Dinner was served lavishly—varieties of soups, couscous, pasta, snacks, drinks—everything was available, yet there was no happiness. The pillar of the house offered no warmth.
They waited, but Baffa didn’t move.
“Baffa, we’re waiting for you,” Mamy said.
“I’ll come,” he replied curtly.
She served everyone, including him, but he still didn’t rise.
Everyone pushed food around their plates. Feeling pity for the children, Mamy said,
“Your food will get cold.”
“Bring my food here. I don’t feel like eating at the dining table today,” he said sharply.
The words pierced her heart. Mubin and Zalika quietly stood up, took their plates, and left. When Mamy looked up, they were gone.
She turned to Baffa, watching to see his reaction, knowing he was aware of why they left.
---
SADIYA
Sadiya lifted Kalifa in panic, checking his body for injuries. The motorcycle rider said,
“He was just startled by the horn. Allah protected him—I didn’t see him coming.”
She sighed deeply, still trembling. The rider advised her to be careful with children and rode off.
As Maghrib call echoed, another motorcycle stopped. She recognized Nasir from behind the rider. He got down, paid the rider, and walked away. Kalifa shouted,
“Abba! Abba!”
Nasir ignored them, unlocked the gate, and went in, slamming it behind him. Something tightened in Sadiya’s throat. Everything Nasir had ever done hurt—but this hurt more than all.
She followed into the house without even greeting.
“Is it that there are no elders in your family? You enter without greeting,” Nasir barked.
Her heart broke. She endured silently, placed Kalifa down, and went to perform ablution. As she was about to finish, Nasir barged into the bathroom furiously.
“Are you mad? You left me standing while I was talking?” he shouted.
She replied weakly,
“We spent the whole day outside. I haven’t prayed Zuhr or Asr, and Maghrib is being called—”
“I don’t care about your prayers!” he cut her off angrily.
“I didn’t marry you for companionship. You’re a bad destiny to me. Today, if I wish, I’ll divorce you and marry someone better than you—you’re not even a complete woman!”
Tears streamed down her face. Remembering her friend Noor’s advice, she stepped forward bravely.
“Nasir,” she called.
Surprised, he looked at her.
“Whatever you do, direct it at me. But never insult my parents.”
Before she could finish, he slapped her hard. Kalifa screamed and clung to her as she collapsed in tears.
She whispered,
“You slapped me, Nasir?”
Enraged, he threatened her further and walked away.
She cried silently for a long time, then prayed, pouring her pain out to Allah.
As she stood to pray Maghrib, Nasir returned, phone on loudspeaker.
She heard her father’s voice:
“Assalamu alaikum, Malam Nasiru…”
Nasir replied coldly,
“I’m not in the mood to return greetings.”
Her father asked softly,
“Is it Sadiya…?”
