In a state of intense fear, weakness, and dread, she struggled to form her words.
“What kind of problem is this again, Umma? I’m finished…”
“The Mallam didn’t see anything wrong with the girl. Everything was hidden from him. He didn’t notice any pregnancy, just as there is no clear proof that it’s there.”
Hafsat held her forehead, feeling her heart boiling inside her chest. Outwardly, she had developed a deep hatred for the girl. The girl had become a thorn in her flesh—someone she saw as a serious threat to her life. Burning with anger, she said:
“Umma, whatever he did to her, whatever is suitable for her—anything that will straighten her life—let it be done. I don’t want to see her anywhere in this house. Right now, Abban Mimi has paid for her Hajj; they’re going for the pilgrimage.”
She ended her words by bursting into tears, because the pain cut deeply into her heart.
Her mother began reciting prayers again, as though she were standing right in front of Hafsat.
“So you’re alive and watching this happen? Truly, we must be serious. We must stand firmly against this girl.”
ABBAS
“Oh my God,” he said inwardly, his heart pounding with overwhelming joy—like someone who had been given the good news of a first child after years of waiting in vain. He opened his eyes, a broad smile spreading across his face as he lowered his gaze to Widad.
Their eyes met. Her face melted instantly, and she broke into tears. The moment their eyes met, her weakness became painfully obvious. He knew for sure that today would be difficult—but whatever it was, he was ready to face it.
Pregnancy? A pregnancy that had cleverly hidden itself, whispering lies to her that it wasn’t their intimacy that caused it—maybe just drinking too much water? He knew accusations would surely follow.
He stretched out his hand to her, signaling her to come closer, his smile still resting on his face. But she turned her head away, tears streaming down her cheeks. He knew she was frightened. Today, it was all in God’s hands.
He tried to suppress his laughter, then stood up and walked straight to her. He stopped beside her, held her hand, and gently rubbed it within his own, his eyes fixed on the doctor.
“So what do we do now? I hope this won’t cause a problem with traveling.”
“I honestly don’t think so. I’ll try my best to ensure everything is done so you can travel together, since nothing is showing,” she said, herself surprised by how the pregnancy months had passed unnoticed—anyone looking at her wouldn’t suspect a thing.
Widad followed everything with her eyes, her mind completely detached from her body since the pregnancy was mentioned. Fear and anxiety wrapped around her tightly. When everything was done, he still held her hand, opened the car door for her, helped her in, closed it, then walked around to his own seat.
The moment he entered the car, she burst into tears—as if she had been waiting for that chance. He paused before starting the engine and turned to look at her.
“Oh Allah… what is it now? Did something hurt you?”
“By God, if Abba hears that you made me pregnant, he will kill both of us!”
No matter how hard he tried to hold it in, this time he failed—laughter escaped him. He had to cover his mouth with his fingers to keep it from becoming loud. When would she finally grow up? Was she still this innocent? How could he explain this to her?
He quickly forced his face into a sorrowful expression and turned back to her.
“Inna lillahi… so what do you think we should do?”
At first, his laughter unsettled her, but his words washed that away.
“I don’t know either… you’re the one who caused this. I told you I didn’t want it, but you said if I drank water it would come.”
She glared at him. He softened immediately, his face filled with sympathy, lowering his head.
“Well, I thought so too. And besides, you know what?”
She shook her head while wiping her tears. He turned fully to face her.
“Remember when you ran away to Kano?”
She nodded while looking at him.
“Abba himself called me and told me to do that thing with you—even if you didn’t like it.”
Her eyes widened in shock, almost popping out, as she stared at him in fear. He nodded firmly.
“I’m serious,” he said again, barely holding back his laughter.
Before he realized it, she punched him and burst into another round of uncontrollable crying.
“Allah! My father is not a shameless man who would say such a thing!”
She made him laugh even harder. He blocked her blows with one hand while laughing and saying,
“Allah… Allah, listen—I said Allah!”
She knew him well—he was straightforward and didn’t lie. As he said that, embarrassment overwhelmed her. She dropped her head onto his lap, wondering how her father could say such a thing. Does everyone know what we’re doing now?
She could hear him talking, but she didn’t lift her head or respond. Laughing quietly, he started the car and they left the hospital. His heart was light, his soul at peace—a joy he hadn’t felt in a long time filled him, clearly reflected on his face.
After they had driven some distance, he asked,
“Should I drop you at Hajiya’s house?”
He said that because he knew she disliked staying at their home. She shook her head quickly.
“No, take me home.”
A smile escaped him. He understood what she was avoiding—she didn’t want Hajiya to find out she was pregnant. He dropped the topic and continued driving toward home.
When he parked the car, he personally picked up her handbag and carried it inside while holding her hand. She tilted her head, looking at him.
“Give it to me, I can carry it.”
He shook his head, his eyes locked onto hers, feeling a warmth spread through his chest.
“I won’t allow that, baby. I felt it already—this sickness has a reason. Let’s just go. Or should I carry you?”
He tilted his head playfully. Shyness overtook her. She turned her face away, muttering inside her heart—doesn’t this man feel shame at all? As if he didn’t make me pregnant.
As if he sensed her thoughts, he smiled faintly, squeezed her hand gently, and said,
“Let’s go, baby.”
All this happened under Hafsat’s watchful eyes, as she stood by the window. Ever since they left, she hadn’t been able to sit still. Her heart imagined different places they might have gone. She was holding Shukra, who was struggling restlessly. She felt like tearing the child away and throwing her aside.
Her eyes fell on Widad’s handbag and their hands intertwined together.
A deep rage seized her heart. No matter how hard she tried to restrain herself, she couldn’t. She hissed angrily. Are they trying to kill me? After what Abbas did to her, would they continue their affair as if nothing happened in this house?
She couldn’t tolerate it. Everyone had to know she had been touched.
She untied the child, placed her on a chair, and rushed toward the door with furious speed.
He closed his eyes slightly, standing over her, looking at her with intense admiration. Every movement she made drew his attention.
“I’m stepping out for a bit. I won’t be long. What do you need?” he asked, holding her with his powerful, captivating gaze.
She closed her eyes briefly and shook her head.
“Nothing.”
“Really?” he asked, still looking at her.
She nodded again.
“Okay… I’ll be going,” he repeated.
She closed her eyes again—she knew what he wanted. But her body was betraying her as a woman. She adjusted herself deeper into the chair and said,
“Come back safely.”
“Oh, so you care today?” he teased.
She only smiled, hiding her face. He smiled back, bent slightly, kissed her forehead gently, and said,
“Take care of yourself.”
She nodded. After he turned away, she followed him with her eyes. Her heart whispered to her that what they had done wasn’t shameful after all. She placed her hand gently on her stomach, rubbing it in disbelief and fear—is there really a baby inside me?
Just then, Hafsat’s voice echoed loudly into her living room, trembling as she spoke:
“By God, I will never forgive this injustice. Allah will repay me.”
Widad clicked her tongue sharply and pouted, adjusting herself comfortably in the chair. In her eyes, Hafsat had completely lost her dignity. In all her life, she had never seen an elder behave with such shamelessness—especially toward Abban Mimi. Even if nothing else, respect was due.
She thought of how her own mother, Ummu, though elderly, respected Alhaji so deeply—never taking anything from his hand while standing, never rejecting his word. She stood up abruptly, grabbed her bag, and walked into her bedroom. She suddenly felt she couldn’t tolerate any noise around her.
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In a state of intense fear, weakness, and dread, she struggled to form her words.
“What kind of problem is this again, Umma? I’m finished…”
“The Mallam didn’t see anything wrong with the girl. Everything was hidden from him. He didn’t notice any pregnancy, just as there is no clear proof that it’s there.”
Hafsat held her forehead, feeling her heart boiling inside her chest. Outwardly, she had developed a deep hatred for the girl. The girl had become a thorn in her flesh—someone she saw as a serious threat to her life. Burning with anger, she said:
“Umma, whatever he did to her, whatever is suitable for her—anything that will straighten her life—let it be done. I don’t want to see her anywhere in this house. Right now, Abban Mimi has paid for her Hajj; they’re going for the pilgrimage.”
She ended her words by bursting into tears, because the pain cut deeply into her heart.
Her mother began reciting prayers again, as though she were standing right in front of Hafsat.
“So you’re alive and watching this happen? Truly, we must be serious. We must stand firmly against this girl.”
ABBAS
“Oh my God,” he said inwardly, his heart pounding with overwhelming joy—like someone who had been given the good news of a first child after years of waiting in vain. He opened his eyes, a broad smile spreading across his face as he lowered his gaze to Widad.
Their eyes met. Her face melted instantly, and she broke into tears. The moment their eyes met, her weakness became painfully obvious. He knew for sure that today would be difficult—but whatever it was, he was ready to face it.
Pregnancy? A pregnancy that had cleverly hidden itself, whispering lies to her that it wasn’t their intimacy that caused it—maybe just drinking too much water? He knew accusations would surely follow.
He stretched out his hand to her, signaling her to come closer, his smile still resting on his face. But she turned her head away, tears streaming down her cheeks. He knew she was frightened. Today, it was all in God’s hands.
He tried to suppress his laughter, then stood up and walked straight to her. He stopped beside her, held her hand, and gently rubbed it within his own, his eyes fixed on the doctor.
“So what do we do now? I hope this won’t cause a problem with traveling.”
“I honestly don’t think so. I’ll try my best to ensure everything is done so you can travel together, since nothing is showing,” she said, herself surprised by how the pregnancy months had passed unnoticed—anyone looking at her wouldn’t suspect a thing.
Widad followed everything with her eyes, her mind completely detached from her body since the pregnancy was mentioned. Fear and anxiety wrapped around her tightly. When everything was done, he still held her hand, opened the car door for her, helped her in, closed it, then walked around to his own seat.
The moment he entered the car, she burst into tears—as if she had been waiting for that chance. He paused before starting the engine and turned to look at her.
“Oh Allah… what is it now? Did something hurt you?”
“By God, if Abba hears that you made me pregnant, he will kill both of us!”
No matter how hard he tried to hold it in, this time he failed—laughter escaped him. He had to cover his mouth with his fingers to keep it from becoming loud. When would she finally grow up? Was she still this innocent? How could he explain this to her?
He quickly forced his face into a sorrowful expression and turned back to her.
“Inna lillahi… so what do you think we should do?”
At first, his laughter unsettled her, but his words washed that away.
“I don’t know either… you’re the one who caused this. I told you I didn’t want it, but you said if I drank water it would come.”
She glared at him. He softened immediately, his face filled with sympathy, lowering his head.
“Well, I thought so too. And besides, you know what?”
She shook her head while wiping her tears. He turned fully to face her.
“Remember when you ran away to Kano?”
She nodded while looking at him.
“Abba himself called me and told me to do that thing with you—even if you didn’t like it.”
Her eyes widened in shock, almost popping out, as she stared at him in fear. He nodded firmly.
“I’m serious,” he said again, barely holding back his laughter.
Before he realized it, she punched him and burst into another round of uncontrollable crying.
“Allah! My father is not a shameless man who would say such a thing!”
She made him laugh even harder. He blocked her blows with one hand while laughing and saying,
“Allah… Allah, listen—I said Allah!”
She knew him well—he was straightforward and didn’t lie. As he said that, embarrassment overwhelmed her. She dropped her head onto his lap, wondering how her father could say such a thing. Does everyone know what we’re doing now?
She could hear him talking, but she didn’t lift her head or respond. Laughing quietly, he started the car and they left the hospital. His heart was light, his soul at peace—a joy he hadn’t felt in a long time filled him, clearly reflected on his face.
After they had driven some distance, he asked,
“Should I drop you at Hajiya’s house?”
He said that because he knew she disliked staying at their home. She shook her head quickly.
“No, take me home.”
A smile escaped him. He understood what she was avoiding—she didn’t want Hajiya to find out she was pregnant. He dropped the topic and continued driving toward home.
When he parked the car, he personally picked up her handbag and carried it inside while holding her hand. She tilted her head, looking at him.
“Give it to me, I can carry it.”
He shook his head, his eyes locked onto hers, feeling a warmth spread through his chest.
“I won’t allow that, baby. I felt it already—this sickness has a reason. Let’s just go. Or should I carry you?”
He tilted his head playfully. Shyness overtook her. She turned her face away, muttering inside her heart—doesn’t this man feel shame at all? As if he didn’t make me pregnant.
As if he sensed her thoughts, he smiled faintly, squeezed her hand gently, and said,
“Let’s go, baby.”
All this happened under Hafsat’s watchful eyes, as she stood by the window. Ever since they left, she hadn’t been able to sit still. Her heart imagined different places they might have gone. She was holding Shukra, who was struggling restlessly. She felt like tearing the child away and throwing her aside.
Her eyes fell on Widad’s handbag and their hands intertwined together.
A deep rage seized her heart. No matter how hard she tried to restrain herself, she couldn’t. She hissed angrily. Are they trying to kill me? After what Abbas did to her, would they continue their affair as if nothing happened in this house?
She couldn’t tolerate it. Everyone had to know she had been touched.
She untied the child, placed her on a chair, and rushed toward the door with furious speed.
He closed his eyes slightly, standing over her, looking at her with intense admiration. Every movement she made drew his attention.
“I’m stepping out for a bit. I won’t be long. What do you need?” he asked, holding her with his powerful, captivating gaze.
She closed her eyes briefly and shook her head.
“Nothing.”
“Really?” he asked, still looking at her.
She nodded again.
“Okay… I’ll be going,” he repeated.
She closed her eyes again—she knew what he wanted. But her body was betraying her as a woman. She adjusted herself deeper into the chair and said,
“Come back safely.”
“Oh, so you care today?” he teased.
She only smiled, hiding her face. He smiled back, bent slightly, kissed her forehead gently, and said,
“Take care of yourself.”
She nodded. After he turned away, she followed him with her eyes. Her heart whispered to her that what they had done wasn’t shameful after all. She placed her hand gently on her stomach, rubbing it in disbelief and fear—is there really a baby inside me?
Just then, Hafsat’s voice echoed loudly into her living room, trembling as she spoke:
“By God, I will never forgive this injustice. Allah will repay me.”
Widad clicked her tongue sharply and pouted, adjusting herself comfortably in the chair. In her eyes, Hafsat had completely lost her dignity. In all her life, she had never seen an elder behave with such shamelessness—especially toward Abban Mimi. Even if nothing else, respect was due.
She thought of how her own mother, Ummu, though elderly, respected Alhaji so deeply—never taking anything from his hand while standing, never rejecting his word. She stood up abruptly, grabbed her bag, and walked into her bedroom. She suddenly felt she couldn’t tolerate any noise around her.