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"Ah! It seems your conversation didn't take long at all, seeing as you're already back."
Returning his smile, I nodded my head and replied, "Exactly, I swear!"
"What did she say to you? God forbid it's about returning to that job? I noticed Ammie was very furious about it..."
"Hmm! Don't even go there, Yaya Jafaru. She approached me with an entirely different matter altogether..."
My words were abruptly cut short by the blaring sound of a massive car horn aggressively honking at us, as if the driver intended to run us over just to pass. Without a second thought, we quickly scrambled to the side of the road, tracking the vehicle with our eyes. A sudden, terrible wave of dread washed over me the exact moment I caught sight of the car's owner.
"Oh! Is that Beenafah? Greetings to you."
With great difficulty, I managed to force out a faint "Good afternoon" from the depths of my throat, tossing the greeting in his direction. Even as the words left my mouth, I knew I would spend a long time in deep regret and sorrow for uttering them to him, because he didn't deserve it in the slightest.
He, too, stared at me with a malicious smirk plastered across his face and remarked, "I see you're giving me a look that resembles a glare, right? Well, I certainly hope you haven't ruined my house for me. Frankly, I really ought to start coming around to inspect it regularly."
In a clear display of anger, Yaya Jafaru glared at him and snapped, "Hey mister, what's your problem? What is the meaning of this?"
He cast a warning look at Yaya Jafaru and hissed, "And who on earth are you? Mts!"
With that, he slammed his foot on the gas and drove off.
Turning his gaze to me, his face filled with confusion, Yaya Jafaru asked, "And who exactly is that, Beenafah?"
Letting out a heavy, slow sigh, I closed my eyes briefly, opened them, and replied, "That is the man who gave us his house, the very one we are living in right now, rent-free..."
"But does that give him the right to constantly target you with such insulting and humiliating remarks?"
I offered a small smile, shaking my head as I said, "It's nothing, Yaya Jafaru. This is absolutely nothing to me, so please don't upset yourself over it..."
"Beenafah!"
Yaya Jafaru called my name softly, staring at me intently as though he were seeing me for the very first time.
Looking right back into his eyes, I responded, "Yes, Yaya Jafaru?"
"Is it possible for me to know who you people truly are?"
A brief, involuntary smile escaped my lips before I could stop it. Nodding my head, I told him, "We aren't anyone special, Yaya Jafaru. Our father passed away five years ago, after which we fell into the care of our paternal uncle. However, he eventually relocated to Abuja and left us behind here, and later on, he ordered us evicted from his house. It was then that this Uncle Isma'il you just saw gave us a house to live in."
Deeply moved, his voice filled with sympathy as he remarked, "Goodness! May Allah protect us from the times we live in. Once a person loses their primary support system, they are truly left vulnerable, and no one else cares. As long as the one who commands respect is alive and present, people pretend to care, but the moment the earth covers their eyes in death, that's it—you become worthless, to the point where a complete stranger might treat you better than family..."
I simply focused on the road ahead and kept walking. Although I heard every single word Yaya Jafaru was saying, I found myself completely unable to respond; at that moment, silence felt like my safest refuge. On another note, a burning resentment toward Uncle Isma'il completely gripped my heart. If this had been the past, no matter what he did, I would never have brought myself to open my mouth and greet him. But life had just handed me a profound lesson, and I had taken its teachings to heart. Letting anger dictate your actions and riding the high horse of pride does not work in every situation. If only I had exercised patience with what Muhsin did to me that day—just as I had always done in the past—their Daddy would never have fired and evicted me. This ordeal taught me that a lack of patience rarely yields good results, as I had ended up in a massive predicament because of it. For this reason, I made a firm promise to myself to become a deeply patient person, just as Allah and His Messenger taught us to practice forgiveness and tolerance. This meant I absolutely had to swallow my pride now and lower my head so as to avoid provoking Uncle Isma'il into evicting us, because I certainly wouldn't want that; if he threw us out, I had absolutely no idea where we would turn.
The moment we reached our front door, Yaya Jafaru turned to me and said, "Look at that, we didn't even get the chance to discuss your conversation with Hajiya Labiba because that foolish idiot showed up and ruined everything."
"It's alright, Yaya Jafaru. I will discuss the matter and deliberate with Ammie first."
"Alright, that's no problem. May Allah grant us success."
"Amen."
Meanwhile, over at Mummy’s side of the family, they were living life to the absolute absolute fullest, enjoying a level of luxury and wealth this year that completely dwarfed their affluence from previous years.
Aunty Aysha was still staying at the house, firmly declaring that she wasn't going anywhere until she spent a full year there to completely satisfy her longing and make up for the long period of separation from them. This arrangement forced Ahlan to return to Abuja briefly to pay his respects to Mummy and the rest of the family before turning around to head back to London all by himself.
Her younger brother, Hafiz, who was studying in Australia, had also traveled back home twice before returning to his studies. Throughout all of this, Aunty Aysha noticed several questionable things happening around the house, but she lacked the authority to speak up about them. For instance, Hassana was constantly entertaining an endless parade of different young men under the guise of suitors seeking her hand in marriage—a situation that, in all honesty, deeply displeased both Aunty Aysha and Husaina, though they simply chose to keep their mouths shut.
Today, Daddy returned home visibly furious, gathering everyone, including Mummy, in the living room. Finding a spot to sit, he glared directly at Mummy and demanded, "Hajiya Zaliha, what on earth is the problem with Hafiz? I asked you, what exactly is his problem?"
She shot him a sharp look, shifting her weight slightly on the sofa before replying, "What do you mean by that?"
"You know exactly what I mean, Hajiya Zaliha! You and your son are trying to make a complete fool out of me! If that isn't the case, why has he refused to progress in his studies? He just refuses to graduate! I do nothing but pour money into his accounts, yet I have absolutely no idea what he is achieving with it. When was the last time he sent me his official exam results after they were released? I am completely in the dark about what level he is currently in, and I don't even know what semester he is running..."
"Oh, come on, Alhaji! You are well aware of how modern education works; everything has become highly expensive and revolves around money..."
"Yes, I am not disputing that with you, but you must remember that I am educated myself—it's not as though I never went to school! He is treating me like a complete simpleton, collecting millions of naira constantly, but for what exactly?!"
With that final outburst, he stood up, breathing heavily with rage, and stormed out, leaving them alone in the living room.
A heavy silence enveloped the room for a long time, with everyone lost in their own thoughts, especially Mummy, who sat completely frozen, plunged deep into calculation. Finally, she let out a long sigh without uttering a word to anyone, picked up her phone, pulled up Hafiz's number, and dialed it.
The phone rang for nearly its full duration before he finally picked up, speaking in a very low, hushed whisper, "Mummy! What's up?"
Her voice laced with absolute displeasure, she snapped, "What on earth are you doing right now that your voice is so low?"
"Who, me? I'm not doing anything but sleeping, I was asleep, that's why."
Nodding her head, she said, "I see. I want to ask you, what exactly did you say to Alhaji?"
"What did I say? I only asked him for two million naira..."
"Hafiz, I want you to tell me the truth: what do you keep doing with all this money?"
He let out a careless, dismissive laugh before finally replying, "Mummy, what kind of question is that? Even someone studying in Nigeria constantly needs money, let alone someone like me over here. You know how life is nowadays; everything requires money to move forward..."
"You better watch your step, let me tell you that right now. He just came in here creating a massive scene, complaining that he has no idea what is happening with your education. Therefore, I want you to call him immediately and tell him exactly what year you are in and what semester you are currently running. You know my temperament, Hafiz, and you know exactly what I am capable of doing—I shouldn't have to remind you."
With that, she abruptly ended the call, set her phone aside, and slowly leaned her head back against the sofa, sinking even deeper into thought.
Hassana rolled her eyes, her face twisted in a look of sheer annoyance as she remarked, "Honestly, Mummy, I just feel Daddy is looking for an excuse to fight. Otherwise, what is the point of raising your blood pressure just because Yaya Hafiz asked for a mere two million naira? Besides, he is worth far more than that amount, so it shouldn't even be an issue..."
Husaina turned to look at her and countered, "Hey! You need to actually understand the core of the issue before you comment on it. There is nothing wrong with him asking for money, but the point Daddy is making is: What year is he in? And what semester is he currently running?"
Aunty Aysha stood up, sighing, "May the Almighty Lord grant us guidance and let everything work out for the best."
With that, she walked away and left them there. The twins continued to bicker back and forth while Mummy completely ignored them, acting as though she wasn't even in the room, until they finally grew tired, dispersed, and left her entirely on her own.
The moment I stepped inside the house, I found Ammie sitting with Bahrain’s food flask in front of her, dishing out food to be taken to his evening Islamic school, since today was Saturday.
"Oh, you're back already?"
"Yes, Ammie, I'm back..." I replied as I hung my hijab on the clothesline and found a spot right beside her to sit down.
"So, what did she say to you? I hope all is well?"
Fearing what her reaction might be, I looked at her cautiously and said, "It's an offer very similar to the previous one."
"An offer for what, exactly?"
"She suggested that I come along so she can take me to her parents' house, so I can continue working over there..." I concluded, keeping my eyes fixed intently on her face.
"But what if that other woman continues to target and harass you? Or what if her husband finds out—aren't you worried about the trouble that could cause? What if he discovers you there one day and subjects you to severe humiliation...?"
"Ammie, I told you it's her parents' house, not her marital home..."
"I am well aware of that..."
"Ammie, please, for Allah's sake, don't forbid me from going! This is an incredible opportunity we've been blessed with, and we cannot afford to throw it away. To be completely honest, I never told her the full extent of what happened between me and Muhsin. I know deep down that if I had informed her the very first time he started bothering me, she would have taken action. But this time, in sha Allah, I will be extremely careful..."
"Alright, I hear you! But do you even know what kind of people they are?"
Shaking my head, I replied, "I don't know them, Ammie, but I have the absolute best expectations of them. When I first started working at Aunty Labiba's house, neither you nor I knew what kind of character she possessed, yet she treated us with a level of kindness we never could have anticipated. So Ammie, for a woman of such stellar character, what kind of household do you think she raised in? Good upbringing and excellent character almost always stem from one's parental home, just as you have always told me."
Moving closer to her, I took both of her hands into mine, squeezing them gently as I softened my voice further and pleaded, "Ammie! I have gained a lot of wisdom and learned a profound lesson from what happened. In sha Allah, I will protect myself this time and be far more cautious than before."
She sat in deep reflection for a long time. Finally, she wiped away a stray tear that had silently rolled down her cheek, nodded her head, and said, "You are absolutely right, Beenafah. A good upbringing and noble character do start from the home. Even though I never grew up with my own parents, don't know what they look like, or even where they are, Alhamdulillah, I am incredibly proud of the people who raised me until I grew into who I am today. Because of this, I give you my full blessing and consent to go, but please, for Allah's sake, be very careful."
"In sha Allah, Ammie. Thank you so much for trusting me; I promise I will be extremely careful."
With that settled, I stood up and packed Bahrain's basket to head out, intending to deliver it to him. Just then, Yaya Hamza walked in to collect it, telling me to head back inside as he was already heading out in that direction and would drop it off for him.
I spent the entire remainder of the day completely consumed by thoughts of Aunty Labiba’s family home, endlessly wondering what kind of household it would turn out to be. Eventually, Yaya Jafaru came over, and alongside Ammie, the three of us thoroughly discussed the matter. In the end, I asked him to call her so I could give her my final answer. The moment I finished explaining everything to her, she responded with immense joy, telling me to wait for her tomorrow morning at exactly ten o'clock at the same spot she had dropped me off earlier, and she would come pick me up so we could head over together.
When night fell, I tried my absolute best to force myself to sleep, but sleep completely eluded my eyes. An overwhelming wave of thoughts completely crowded my mind. 'Aunty Labiba has been a person of immense value and respect in my life; it was in her home that I found a sense of independence, where I could be comfortable without facing hostility or contempt. But now, where am I heading? What kind of house am I walking into? Who will I meet there? What kind of life do domestic workers lead in that household? Will there be freedom and respect like at Aunty Labiba's, or will it be a regime of absolute oppression like Mummy Zaliha's house?'
In this state of restless anxiety, I spent the entire night weighing possibilities until dawn drew near. Once morning arrived and I completed my prayers, I didn't bother going back to bed. I tackled my morning chores swiftly as usual, wrapping everything up before dressing up. I then informed Ammie that I was stepping out to Fakiha’s mother's house to explain the situation so she could pass the message along to Abul’s mother.
Upon entering their house and exchanging greetings, I looked at her mother and said, "Mama, I came to ask if you could please inform Abul’s mother that as of today, I will no longer be working at her house, so she should look for a replacement. I have secured another job that is much better than hers. As for my wages for the days I worked this month, please ask her to calculate it and pay me whatever she deems fit..."
I heard Fakiha laugh behind me as she teased, "Honestly, Beenafah, when it comes to your hard-earned money, you don't play around at all! Even though you're changing jobs, you're still demanding your wages for this month and refuse to let it slide?"
Nodding my head with a chuckle, I replied, "Yes, I really can't afford to let it go. Honest labor is far better than begging; I worked for her on the agreement that she would pay me, I didn't ask her for charity, so she absolutely must pay me, even if it's just for a single day's work."
Their mother looked at me and said, "Ignore her, Beenafah. In sha Allah, I will inform her and collect your money for you. By the way, where exactly did you find this new job?"
"It's at Aunty Labiba's parents' house."
"Oh, bless her heart! So throughout this entire time, she never forgot about you and was actively searching for a way out for you. May the Almighty Lord reward her abundantly with the very best blessings. Please be extra careful this time around, Beenafah. Exercise utmost patience and learn to overlook certain things."
Nodding in deep appreciation of her wise words, I said, "In sha Allah, Mama, I will be very careful. Thank you so much, I will see you when I return... Bye Fakiha, see you later."
I concluded with a wave of my hand as I moved toward the exit.
"Alright then, take care until you return. I need to rush off to Islamic school myself, even though I am horribly late today."
I hadn't been waiting at the designated spot for more than twenty minutes when her car pulled up right in front of me. She unlocked the passenger door and signaled for me to get in.
As I slid into the front seat, I turned to her and said, "Good morning, Aunty Labiba."
"Good morning, Beenafah... are you ready?"
I stole a quick, sideways glance at myself just to be absolutely sure, then nodded and replied, "Yes."
She simply smiled, nodded in response, and started the engine to set us on our way.
Casting a brief glance at me, she remarked, "I notice you look a bit tense and withdrawn, Beenafah. Please don't worry; our family home is an even more pleasant place to live than my own house..."
I shot her an involuntary look of sheer disbelief upon hearing what sounded like a total exaggeration. How on earth could her parents' house possibly be more pleasant for me than her own home? It seemed completely impossible, even though I hadn't seen it yet.
She laughed, nodding reassuringly as she added, "I am being completely serious with you, Beenafah. Our family home is better than mine because at my house, it was just you and my immediate family, whereas our family home is bustling with many people..."
She continued to offer these soothing words to put my mind at ease, but my thoughts remained completely elsewhere.
I sat there wide-eyed, taking everything in like a clueless villager—and in a way, I suppose I could call myself just that—until we finally arrived at the gates of a jaw-dropping estate. Calling it a mere house would be an understatement; the sheer presence of the security detail at the entrance alone was enough to let anyone know they were entering an incredibly elite establishment. After the security guard flung open the massive gates for us and we drove in, I received absolute confirmation of the Hausa proverb that says: some rich stews can only be found in the neighbor's house. As massive and expansive as I thought Aunty Labiba's and Daddy's houses were, this estate completely blew them out of the water. It was a masterpiece of class and elegance—the kind of estate where, no matter how envious you might be, you couldn't help but stop and stare in absolute awe.
The estate featured three massive gates. The first faced the main avenue entirely, serving as the primary entrance into the compound. The second gate led deeper into the residential quarters, and the third was located at the very back.
A deeply refreshing aroma of imported roses and jasmine filled the air from the beautifully manicured gardens throughout the courtyard. Among the flora were automated, standalone fragrance diffusers that emitted a specialized scent, blending seamlessly with the breeze carrying notes of premium Oud perfume.
The entire property was secured with high-definition CCTV cameras, a smart lighting system, and automatic gate sensors. When night fell, the estate's lights automatically turned themselves on, and they switched off automatically at dawn.
This courtyard by the first gate housed the primary parking lot, which Aunty Labiba drove straight into to park. The ground of the parking lot was paved with Italian interlocking stones in shades of ash and champagne gold, gleaming so intensely they looked like a sheet of polished glass. At the end of the parking structure stood an electric car charging station installed specifically for a hybrid BMW i8, accompanied by a motion-sensor security camera monitoring every entry. I knew this heavy security was justified given the fleet of ultra-expensive luxury vehicles lined up in the lot—as the saying goes, safeguarding your wealth saves you from looking for a thief. Along the adjacent wall were elegant garden lights and stone benches, where family members often enjoyed coffee in the morning or evening whenever they pleased.
In the courtyard of the second gate, an artificial fountain bubbled gently, producing a deeply soothing, beautiful sound of running water.
I quietly followed behind her like a completely compliant follower as we crossed through the second gate, which opened up to two massive mansions—one a sprawling bungalow and the other a grand three-story mansion, with several smaller detached flats visible in the distance. I felt my feet step onto the polished marble tiles forming the pathway to the main entrance of the grand mansion. On either side stood a row of elegant automatic lamp posts equipped with solar sensors, standing perfectly in line, designed to illuminate automatically the moment the sunlight began to fade.
The exact moment we stepped into the breathtaking living room... Oh my God! My heart instantly skipped a beat from the sheer wave of cool air and the exquisite fragrance that rushed up my nose and filled my senses. The floor of the living room was covered in a luxurious Persian rug of gold and brown tones, gleaming as though it had been polished with oil. The gypsum ceiling was trimmed with blue and white LED strip lights, twinkling and shining like brilliant stars in the night sky.
The room was furnished with premium Italian sofas in beige and gold, beautifully arranged and adorned with large, tastefully styled throw pillows. Right in the center sat a crystal glass coffee table holding incredibly beautiful fresh flowers imported from Dubai.
Mounted on the western wall was a massive portrait frame of a strikingly handsome young man dressed in a crisp uniform—though I couldn't tell what branch it belonged to. Surrounding it were various stunning pieces of fine art painting, the kind typically collected by the ultra-wealthy.
To one side stood a massive 85-inch smart TV integrated with a state-of-the-art home theater system. Adjacent to it was a curved alcove housing a mini coffee bar, complete with a professional coffee machine, Turkish teapots, and exceptionally beautiful insulated flasks. Further down was a completely separate, massive home gym fully equipped with every fitness machine imaginable.
We bypassed this area and walked into a second, large living room. This one was far less cluttered than the first, featuring a designated space enclosed to look like a private mosque. It held a small glass display cabinet neatly lined with bottles of traditional humra oils and Islamic books, all laid out over a massive, plush prayer mat covering the floor.
We found a remarkably sophisticated young man in the living room who bore a striking resemblance to the guy in the portrait we had passed in the first parlor. He was seated close beside a beautiful young woman on the same sofa. An endless array of diverse dishes was laid out in front of them, making it look as though the house was hosting a celebration. There were bowls of various fresh fruits and numerous bottles of assorted soft drinks.
They exchanged a warm smile before the young man looked up and joked, "Well, if it isn't Hajiya Aunty Labibatu...!"
She laughed as she found a spot on an adjacent sofa and replied, "Look who's talking, Alhaji, long live your majesty."
"Good morning, Aunty Labiba," the young woman greeted.
"Good morning, Ziza. How is the house? And how are you feeling lately?"
He lightly scratched the back of his neck, casting a playful look at the woman called Ziza as he complained, "Please stop asking her how she's feeling! Ziza hasn't given me a single moment of peace from the very start of this pregnancy up until today... Nowadays, it's always 'I don't want this' or 'I absolutely need that'. When I come home looking to rest, I get no rest at all because she is constantly making my life difficult."
They all burst into hearty laughter before Aunty Labiba teased, "Becoming a father is no easy task at all! So you better keep your eyes wide open. Every parent starts out exactly this way. May Allah make it a safe journey, grant a smooth delivery, and bless you with a healthy, blessed child."
He made a slight face like a pampered child and replied, "Amen, but please, tell her to stop making me suffer. We literally just got back from her antenatal care checkup. Even though the scan we ran showed there are still about two months to go before the delivery, she is already acting as if she's about to go into labor this very second..."
They burst into another round of laughter before Ziza finally calmed down, gently taking hold of his hand as she said, "Calm down, my love, it's really not my fault..."
He playfully yanked his hand away, shifting to a different spot on the couch as he retorted, "Please leave my hand alone. You say the exact same thing every single day."
"Anyway, putting all of this aside for a moment. Where is Hajiya...?" Aunty Labiba asked. Turning her gaze toward where I was standing in utter amazement, she suddenly exclaimed, "Oh! Beenafah, you haven't even sat down yet? Please, for Allah's sake, have a seat."
Slowly—
