Around 5 a.m., Baba came into her room and woke her up for the dawn (Fajr) prayer. She struggled to get up; he waited until he saw she had stood up and gone to the bathroom, then he left. After finishing the prayer, she could barely walk back to the bed before falling into another deep sleep.
Around 11:30, she woke up again. She felt an unusual sense of comfort in her body. Slowly, she sat up and placed her feet on the ground, looking around her room. Her room was very clean and beautiful—just by seeing it, you could tell it belonged to someone important. She gently got up and walked to the window, opened it, and bright light flooded the room. She closed her eyes briefly, then slowly opened them and stared into their compound.
Her eyes fell on her car parked in the house. Her heart skipped when she saw the front of the car completely damaged. She quickly closed the curtain and shut the window, feeling sad. Only then did she remember what had happened. She went into the bathroom, took a bath, and came out wrapped in a pink towel.
She stood in front of the mirror and looked at herself. Maybe it was because she had slept well—she looked radiant. Her skin was glowing and sparkling. She made a face at herself, then went to her wardrobe, picked out clothes, and wore a pink cotton half gown. Without even tying a headscarf, she just put on slippers and walked out, her heart beating fast.
She stopped near the staircase and looked into the living room. Not seeing Mama there, she quietly turned back and went to her mother’s room. She paused, took a deep breath, and gently knocked. When there was no response—yet she was sure Mama was inside—she slowly opened the door and peeked in.
She met Mama sitting on the couch, reading a prayer book. There was no sign of playfulness on her face. She said firmly, “Get out of my room, Ummulkhair.”
Her eyes filled with tears like she was about to cry. In a soft, childish voice, she said, “Mama, sorry please, you kno—”
“Get out of this room, Khairy.”
She nodded slowly and turned to leave, walking like someone just learning how to walk, thinking about what to do next. Suddenly, Mama heard Khairy gasp deeply and start hitting her chest, stepping backward as if about to fall.
Alarmed, Mama shouted, dropped her book, rushed to her, and held her. “Subhanallah! Khairy, Khairy! Where is your inhaler?”
But Khairy suddenly hugged her tightly and burst into uncontrollable tears.
“Mama please forgive me, I swear I won’t do what I did yesterday again. If you’re angry with me, where will I go? Do you want me to die from this pain? You are my best friend, Mama—you are my happiness. If you abandon me, I will be shattered. Please smile for me, my world’s best Mama…”
She clung to her like a little child. Despite Mama being angry, her heart softened. She gently pulled Khairy away and looked at her face—she had lost weight, and her eyes were full of tears.
Mama wiped her tears and led her to sit on the bed beside her.
“Ummulkhair, I’m not angry with you. I’m only trying to show you your mistakes. You are a woman—you won’t stay in your father’s house forever. One day, you will marry and go to your husband’s house. I want to teach you not just life, but how to live it.
You are a girl. Your father and brothers cannot teach you what I, your mother, can teach you. There is death, illness, and old age—any of these can happen to me. What will you do then?
Have you thought about it? Today you attend one friend’s party, tomorrow another. At weddings, birthdays—you dance excessively. What kind of behavior is that? Just because you’re young? There are girls younger than you who are already married and have children.
Now it has even reached the point where you drive alone at night. If something happens to you, how do you expect me to cope? Do you want to kill me with worry?”
Quickly, she shook her head. “Mama, I won’t do it again, I swear.”
Mama sighed and then smiled slightly, looking at her teary eyes and her long scattered hair.
“You are the only daughter Allah gave me. I want you to calm down and wise up. Anything can happen to me, and I want you to be able to take care of yourself.
Manaf, Mu’az, and Maheer—you will be like their mother. You know I have no one else. Your father found me in an orphanage and married me. I have no family to rely on. That’s why I want you to grow up and take responsibility.”
Khairy burst into tears again.
“Mama, why do you always talk like you’re going to die whenever I make a mistake? I swear I won’t repeat it. I’ll reduce my friends. I love you so much. Please don’t be angry and don’t talk like that. You will live long—you’ll even carry my children.”
Mama smiled and teased her, “Stop crying or I’ll take your picture and send it to your friends so they can see their ‘famous Khairy’ crying at home.”
She quickly wiped her face and smiled.
“Go bring my comb and scarf,” Mama said, “let me fix this your hair.”
Khairy quickly went to get them. Mama watched her, noticing how much she had grown—beautiful and well-shaped.
“Go get breakfast first,” Mama added.
She left the room feeling relieved—she had at least calmed Mama down. Now only Baba and Baffa remained to face.
In the dining room, she took a plate, served chips and sausage (ignoring the eggs), and made tea. She arranged everything on a tray and returned to Mama’s room.
Mama was writing in her diary. Curious, she moved closer to see what she was writing, but Mama quickly closed it and glared at her.
She pouted playfully. “Mama, I was just admiring your handwriting. It’s even better than Baba’s. I wish mine was that beautiful—my writing looks like worms crawling.”
Mama lightly tapped her leg. “You talk too much. Go eat your breakfast so I can do your hair.”
She laughed and went to eat, playing with the food like a child while Mama watched her.
After she finished and cleared the dishes, she returned—and Mama then began braiding her hair.