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Jiddah, Hajia Deluwa, and Ashir
Jiddah deeply admired the beautiful layout of Hajia Deluwa’s section of the house. It was clear that a massive amount of money had been sunk into the décor. However, her heart skipped a beat when she caught sight of Hajia Deluwa sitting majestically in an opulent armchair. She was heavily dressed in a grand, leaf-green lace outfit and was wearing a soothing, captivating perfume.
From the moment Jiddah walked in, Hajia Deluwa scrutinized her from head to toe with a critical, sideways glance. Jiddah looked far more beautiful in person than she did in the photograph Hajia Hindu had previously shown her, even though Jiddah was currently wearing a large hijab.
Jiddah approached and sat respectfully on the floor. In a very soft, submissive voice, she said, “Good afternoon, Hajia.”
With a sneer, Hajia Deluwa replied, “Welcome, bride. How are your days of marriage going?”
Jiddah remained silent, unable to answer. Hajia Deluwa contorted her mouth in disdain, adjusted her posture, and spoke with an assertive tone: "Look, bride, I want us to have an understanding, because I don't want to back you into a corner you can't escape from. First of all, you must know that I love my husband and I love his wealth immensely. Furthermore, I do not want any other woman to bear him children besides my own. My ultimate desire is for me and my children alone to inherit everything he owns. Age-wise, I am old enough to be your mother—perhaps even older. If Alhaji’s eldest sons like Yahuza had married early enough, they could have easily fathered someone your age as a grandchild.
Therefore, I strongly advise you to leave this house while you still have your dignity. I will give you any amount of money you want just so you leave my husband alone. I know for a fact that it was his wealth that drove you to marry him, because you young girls of today always cling to wherever the money is. The only reason I am explaining this to you gently is because I noticed you seem reasonable. You are also the youngest wife Alhaji has ever brought home in all his marriages. Leave this place and find a young man your own age to marry. Even if he lacks the money to marry you, I can sponsor the entire wedding for him. To cut the long story short, I can even let you choose among my own sons, like Ashir (her own son! 🙆🏻)."
As Hajia Deluwa spoke, Jiddah kept her head lowered, completely frozen in shock and bewilderment. She could not comprehend where these bizarre statements were leading. What kind of woman was this?
Before Jiddah could find the opportunity to respond, the voice of a young man—around 29 years old—giving a greeting echoed across the living room.
Grinning broadly, Hajia Deluwa replied warmly, “Where on earth have you been hiding, Ashir?”
With his eyes locked entirely on Jiddah, he said, "Mami, I swear I was just lying down in my room. By the way, who is this?" He finished his sentence by licking his lips and pointing directly at Jiddah.
Hajia Deluwa rolled her eyes slightly. “She is the new bride of the house.”
Ashir’s eyes widened as he leaned closer to examine Jiddah’s face. “Wow, Mami! So this time around, Dad brought home a spring chicken for us? Man, Dad is really embarrassing us. If he wanted to marry, he should have brought home a mature woman whom everyone would look at and admire.”
Hajia Deluwa glared at him but said nothing.
Jiddah’s heart pounded fiercely. Ashir’s insulting words pierced her soul, but she remained completely motionless.
"You may get up and leave now. Go and reflect on what I have told you," Hajia Deluwa commanded, cutting off Jiddah’s train of thought.
Jiddah managed to stand up with great difficulty and walked out, her body trembling with fear, while Ashir watched her walk away like an absolute predator.
### Part 2: Maimunatu and Sheikh Ali’s Wedding Night
The groom, Ali, was unable to return to his new house until around eleven o'clock. Malam Mustafa drove him all the way home. Without stepping inside, Mustafa turned around and teased him, wishing him a blissful wedding night.
Ali simply smiled, unable to formulate a response. He was naturally a man of very few words unless it was absolutely necessary—though whenever he chose to speak, he could do so extensively, particularly on matters regarding Islamic jurisprudence.
Carrying himself with his characteristic gentle, almost delicate demeanor, he stepped further into the house. He softly muttered "Masha Allah" under his breath, deeply impressed by how beautifully arranged the living room was. Everything was arranged in a perfect, orderly fashion. Without sitting down in the parlor, he headed straight for Maimunatu's bedroom.
In his characteristic soothing voice, he uttered a full Islamic greeting before entering.
Maimunatu, who was lying down on the bed, raised her eyes to look at him while whispering her response to his greeting. He was dressed in a soft, cream-colored fabric, paired with a well-tailored *kube* cap that had subtle cream accents. A gentle, calming fragrance emanated from him, instantly putting her heart at ease.
He glanced at her once and immediately averted his eyes. He placed a shopping bag he was holding onto the dresser and sat on the edge of the bed, keeping a respectful distance from her. She sat up and said, “Brother Aliyu, good afternoon.”
He replied gently, “Everything is fine, Maimunatu. How is the exhaustion from the wedding preparations?”
She simply smiled, unable to give a vocal answer, and began nervously playing with the edge of her veil.
He looked at her briefly once more before looking away. “There is food right there. I know you probably need it, because I have noticed that whenever women are occupied with wedding events, they rarely find time to eat.”
She smiled, her eyes fixed on his lips, which moved so subtly it barely looked like he was speaking at all.
Noticing her silence, he turned to face her. She quickly averted her gaze and replied, “Alright, thank you.”
For the first time, he let out a brief smile, stood up, and said, "Let me quickly freshen up. Before I get back, make sure you eat and perform your ablution." Before she could even answer, he had already walked out.
She let out a soft sigh, reached for the bag he left behind, and opened it. Inside was grilled meat, assorted fruits, and a few other snacks. She wasted no time, ate to her heart's content, brushed her teeth, and returned to sit on the bed.
About forty minutes later, Malam Aliyu returned. He was wearing casual clothes—long white trousers and a liver-colored t-shirt. In all the time Maimunatu had known him, she had never seen him wear casual western clothing. She became completely transfixed, staring at him because he looked exceptionally handsome. The outfit made him look remarkably young and fresh. She thought to herself, *“Wow, so he actually wears casual clothes like this?”*
Noticing that she was totally lost in thought staring at him, Malam Aliyu smiled. He sat down right next to her and playfully pointed a finger near her eye as if he were going to poke her.
She quickly gasped and covered her face, utterly overwhelmed by shyness.
He smiled softly and asked, “Do I look completely different to you?”
"Very much so," she replied, her eyes still covered.
“Hmm. You’ve always looked at me with fear in your eyes, which is why you think I look different now. I hope you've performed your ablution?”
Without uncovering her face, she said, “Brother, I am actually 'up' (meaning she is on her menstrual cycle).”
He didn't say another word. He looked away from her and let out a soft breath. For about two minutes, he mentally organized the words he wanted to say to her before adjusting his posture to face her fully.
“When did it start?”
She felt as if she would sink into the floor from sheer embarrassment. She pulled her veil to cover her face even tighter before she could manage to reply, “Today.”
“It is bad to lie. It actually started two days ago, which means you will be clean in four days.”
Startled, she uncovered her face, her eyes wide with shock. "Brother, how on earth did you know that?" The question slipped out of her mouth before she could stop herself.
Without answering her, he simply pulled her body close to his. He whispered directly into her ear, “Do you really want to know?”
She was completely consumed by shyness, and her body began to tremble slightly from being held against him. He experienced a similar wave of emotion, but he controlled himself, pretending to be completely unaffected.
They remained held together like that for about two minutes before he gently pulled her up to sit straight. “Sit up, let's talk properly.”
She adjusted her position and pulled her veil down tightly over her face again.
"Maimunatu, first and foremost, I know you possess both Islamic and western education. You have reached an age where you can distinguish right from wrong. I want you to set your mind on the fact that we are going to build a clean, pure marriage based entirely on the teachings of the Prophet Muhammad (S.A.W). By the grace of Allah, I will fulfill all your rights over me to the absolute best of my ability, and I expect the exact same commitment from you. I know that even before you entered this house, you were aware that I have a medical condition—one that caused the dissolution of my first marriage. You must understand that I still have no guarantee of a cure, but we pray for a breakthrough. We will only be able to confirm the true state of things once you complete your cycle.
If there is no improvement regarding my health, I swear I will not treat you unfairly; I will release you amicably by Allah's grace. However, if we succeed and things work out, Alhamdulillah. You will become Aliyu, and Aliyu will become you. To fully claim Aliyu as your own, you must be proactive and highly understanding of what he likes and dislikes. I have just given you a cheat sheet." He concluded his speech by gently pulling the veil away from her covered face.
She immediately buried her face in his lap out of sheer shyness, while he let out a warm smile.
*(Oh, Sheikh Ali's wife, I congratulate you! 🤣🤭)*
### Part 3: Conflict at Umma's House
Over at Umma’s house, three days after the wedding events concluded, all the guests had returned to their respective homes, leaving the immediate family alone. From Umma down to Walida, nobody was in good health. Everyone was entirely drained by depression, profound grief for Jiddah, and a deep sense of loneliness.
The following morning, Uncle Yahaya had to urgently call a doctor to the house to administer an intravenous drip to Umma because she was profoundly ill.
Later in the afternoon, Zarah disconnected the drip once it ran out. They prepared warm water for Umma to bathe. While they were right in the middle of cleaning up the house, Abba walked in.
Every single girl lowered her head as they greeted him.
He rolled his eyes dismissively and walked straight past them into Umma’s room, having noticed that Zarah and the others greeted him with an aura of resentment today.
Abba entered the room to find Umma sitting up, eating a bean porridge that Sadiq's mother had sent over. She glanced at him once and immediately looked away.
He sat down, visibly puffing his chest. Umma said, “Good afternoon.”
He didn't bother to reply to her greeting. Instead, he threw an aggressive question her way. “Yagana, is marrying off your daughter what has reduced you to this pathetic state? You really have your work cut out for you, it seems.”
Umma let out a bitter, sarcastic smile before raising her head to look him dead in the eye. “Whatever has reduced me to this state is absolutely none of your business. However, I want to ask you one question: Exactly how much money did Alhaji Garba pay you to give him Jiddah?”
Abba’s heart dropped into his stomach. With a trembling voice, he stammered, “Yagana, what on earth is this nonsense you are talking about? Do you think I would only marry off my children if I am paid money?”
“Hmm, Alhaji. Don't look at me like that just because you are older than me. I swear I see right through you. Where exactly did you get the money to pay off the bank loans you accumulated?”
He glared at her fiercely, panting with rage. “Why don't you just strangle me and get it over with, Yagana?!”
“I don't even need to strangle you; you will confess it yourself in due time. I swear, Alhaji, you need to wake up from this deep slumber you are in. You took out massive loans from the bank, and when the deadline for repayment arrived, you didn't have a single penny, right? Because you squandered all the money on your favorite wife and her children. Now that the bank is demanding the money or threatening to seize your properties, you panicked, didn't you? When you ran out of options, your beloved wife advised you to seek a loan from Alhaji Garba. And since he is a foolish old man, you went to him with your financial request, and he demanded your young daughter in exchange because she caught his eye. I swear to Allah, if I had known this was a transactional marriage, even if heaven and earth collapsed, this wedding would never have taken place! But even now...”
He let out a terrifying, thunderous shout, leaping to his feet in a blind rage. “From the mouth of which liar did this story come from?! If I were to swear an oath right now without any penance, I know it is Yahaya...!”
"You are absolutely right, it is me!" declared Uncle Yahaya, who was just walking into the room.
Both Umma and Abba turned around to look at him. With a deeply stern expression, Uncle Yahaya continued, “I swear to Allah, Big Brother, even in my worst nightmares, I never imagined your hatred for the truth could run this deep. For God's sake, how much is Jiddah worth that you would weave such a malicious conspiracy against her? Respectable, suitable suitors came forward seeking her hand in marriage, yet you fabricated lies against them to drive them away. I spoke to you about it before, and you answered me with nothing but arrogance. Big Brother, do you not fear the day you will meet your Creator?”
“No, I don't fear anything, you bastard! By the way, are you now the father of Jiddah's children or something?”
Both Uncle Yahaya and Umma stared at Abba in absolute horror.
Umma's voice trembled violently as she broke into tears. “Alhaji, are you out of your mind? Are you really hurling such disgusting insinuations at us?”
Abba fell completely silent, unable to offer an answer, realizing that pure rage had caused him to commit an unforgivable slip of the tongue.
Uncle Yahaya let out a bitter smile and said, "Don't even bother yourself with his toxic words, Yagana. If he chooses to slander us, that is between him and his Creator, who will ultimately judge us. This doesn't affect me in the slightest because I have never even conceived such a sin in my heart, let alone in reality. Alhaji, just bear in mind that the plight of these innocent servants of Allah is a lesson enough for you, unless you seek their forgiveness and change your ways. Maman Nafisa, here are your medications. I am heading home." As soon as he finished speaking, Uncle Yahaya walked away.
Umma also stood up and retreated into her inner room. Abba quickly followed her inside.
She turned on him instantly and snapped, “Get out of my room, Zakari! If you want me to leave instead, I swear I will walk out of your house right now and leave forever, even if it means I will die with your marriage tie still around my neck!”
He opened his mouth to speak, but seeing her aggressively reach for her hijab, he quickly backed down. "May Allah grant you patience, I am leaving." Without waiting for a response, he rushed out of the house.
Walida and the other girls had overheard everything from the courtyard. They huddled together and wept uncontrollably. Inside her room, the moment Abba left, Umma threw herself onto the bed and burst into heartbreaking, sorrowful tears.
### Part 4: The Confrontation Between Jiddah and Ashir
Ever since Jiddah returned to her section of the house, she could not stop replaying Hajia Deluwa’s words in her head. She was also deeply disturbed by the remarks made by the young man named Ashir, whom she assumed was Deluwa's son. She realized she was in a terrible predicament; everyone in this house came with their own dangerous baggage.
Hearing a sudden movement behind her, she spun around quickly. Her heart dropped into her stomach when she saw Ashir standing right there. He flashed her an unsettling smile and stepped closer to her, raising a single eyebrow. “Greetings of respect to our young stepmother. I just came to pay my respects.”
Jiddah backed away aggressively, her body beginning to tremble with pure terror. Ashir softened his voice, speaking to her as if he were sweet-talking a girlfriend. “Has anyone ever told you how incredibly beautiful you are, baby? You deserve a young, hot-blooded man, baby, not an old man like Dad who is practically falling apart. Come to me, and I will give you all the happiness you deserve, because I am your perfect match. I swear Dad can’t do anything for you anyway; he just has an obsession with endless, meaningless marriages...”
As Ashir rambled on, Jiddah’s body shook violently. She understood his sinister intentions perfectly. She began reciting silent prayers, begging Allah for protection against his evil intent, as tears flooded her eyes. Seeing Ashir lunging forward to grab her, she turned around and ran desperately toward her bedroom, with Ashir hot on her heels…
*(Oh my, what a mess! The father or the son?)*
As Ashir reached out his hand to forcefully grab the doorframe to prevent Jiddah from locking it, Jiddah slammed the door shut with all her might, trapping his hand.
Instantly, Ashir let out an agonizing, bloodcurdling scream as sweat broke out across his entire body.
With her hands shaking wildly, Jiddah quickly released the door and peeked out. Seeing him collapsed on the carpet, weeping in severe agony and clutching his crushed hand, she panicked completely. She wanted to step out to help, but fear gripped her, so she quickly retreated into her room and locked the door shut.
At that exact moment, Hajia Deluwa came sprinting into the apartment, having heard Ashir’s piercing screams all the way from her own section of the house.
"Mami, she’s killed me! She’s crushed my fingers, Mami...!" Ashir wailed, writhing in pain on the floor and holding his hand up to his mother.
Hajia Deluwa grabbed his hand, her body trembling with panic. “Ashir! What did she do to you?!”
“She slammed my hand in the door, Mami! Mami, take me to the hospital before I die!”
Hajia Deluwa lost all composure. She rushed outside, screaming for their driver. With the driver's assistance, they carried a weeping Ashir out of Jiddah's section and into the courtyard.
Jiddah was left inside, utterly distraught and weeping uncontrollably. Hearing the car drive off, she opened her bedroom door, deducing they had gone to the hospital. She stared at the trail of blood Ashir had left behind on the carpet, hot tears of pity streaming down her cheeks. She regretted running away, thinking she should have just stepped outside. *“But if you had stayed, he would have violated and humiliated you,”* a voice inside her head countered.
She collapsed onto the carpet, crying bitterly, offering prayers to God for testing her with such a traumatic life.
This was how Alhaji Garba found her when he walked in. He was holding his grand robe and a few parcels in his hands.
"Jiddah, what on earth is wrong?" he as
