No one interrupted her until she finished her verse, and no one had spoken until now, as the living room fell into silence.

“Kubra, won’t you change your ways?” Alhaji Mustapha said, addressing Hajiya Kubra. “You’re saying such things in front of the children? Maryam is my wife, just as I married you, and she’s not a servant as you claimed. But this isn’t the kind of talk we should have in front of the children. Be mindful of that moving forward.”

We lowered our heads further, while Saudat and the others seethed with anger, as if they wanted to lash out at their father. Their lips pursed, they muttered under their breath in frustration.

Umma, however, remained silent, offering only a faint smile, with no trace of worry on her face. She knew what she had done wasn’t right. She understood that what Hajiya Kubra called betrayal wasn’t a crime, and anyone who heard the story would agree. But she didn’t feel that was reason enough to overshadow the conviction she held in her heart.

Alhaji Mustapha spoke kind and meaningful words, urging Hajiya Kubra and her children to come together as a family. He didn’t want any tension or chaos in the household, and anyone who caused it would face his wrath. He then ordered us to disperse to our respective rooms, but asked Hajiya Kubra and Umma to stay, as he had something to discuss with them. He also told Ya Ameen not to go to sleep, as he wanted to see him after speaking with his mothers.

We stood to leave.

“Suhan, when are you going back to school?” Alhaji Mustapha’s voice hit my ears just as I was hurrying to leave the living room, feeling weighed down by the constant glares Hajiya Kubra shot my way.

“Tomorrow, God willing,” I replied, my head lowered, pausing my steps and stealing a glance at him.

“May God guide us,” he said, gesturing for me to go, with the same gentle kindness he showed his children.

He reached out and called Ya Ameen, who hadn’t yet stood up. Ya Ameen approached, bowing slightly to listen to his father.

“Go take her shopping for school supplies, and tomorrow, drive her to school yourself. I don’t want her going with a driver,” Alhaji Mustapha said in a low voice, careful to avoid sparking any new trouble.

Ya Ameen stood slowly, saying, “Alright, Dad.” He signaled to Bilal to leave with him.

Bilal also rose, bidding their father goodnight.

“Bilal, Dad says we’re taking the girl shopping,” Ya Ameen said as they left their mother’s section.

“Bros, you guys go ahead. I’m exhausted and want to sleep. I was planning to head home anyway—Ummi isn’t feeling well,” Bilal replied, trying to dodge the errand to avoid interfering with Ya Ameen’s plans.

“Let’s go, and we’ll drop you off,” Ya Ameen insisted.

“Alright then, I’ll wait in the car,” Bilal said, taking the car keys from Ya Ameen.

Ya Ameen turned and headed straight to our section. He found me in the living room, standing with my back turned, my hijab in hand, having already removed it when I entered the section. My heart felt heavy—I didn’t want Hajiya Kubra to hurl more insults at Umma because of me. I wanted to leave with Umma so we could return together, knowing that whatever Alhaji Mustapha said to Hajiya Kubra wouldn’t make her see reason.

Ya Ameen stood behind me for a moment, watching me silently, his hands tucked into his trouser pockets. Slowly, he approached where I stood. The sound of his footsteps behind me sent a wave of panic and fear through me. I spun around, ready to scream, thinking no one else was in our section and knowing I had left Umma in Hajiya Kubra’s section.

In a swift move, he placed his hand over my mouth, gently pulling me toward him to steady me as I stumbled backward, nearly falling.

“Scaredy-cat,” he teased, his eyes scanning my face with a look I couldn’t decipher.

I let out a sigh of relief, stepping back slightly from him. Then I sat on a chair, clutching my head, which was pounding from the fright.

He kept watching me, and seeing I said nothing, he began walking toward the exit of the living room.

“Get ready and meet me at the car now. I’m taking you shopping for school,” he said without waiting for a response, then left the room.

I watched him go, thinking, Oh, Ya Ameen, always with that attitude, doing everything with a hint of reluctance, as if he doesn’t want to. Slowly, I stood, slipping my hijab back on and heading to my room to check my face.

At the car, he found Bilal waiting impatiently.

“Friend, what’s up? Your mind’s back home with Ummi, isn’t it?” Ya Ameen teased in his usual playful tone, settling into the car with one leg still outside, not closing the door yet.

“Honestly, friend, she’s not feeling well. I’m thinking of taking her home to care for her properly. She’s been feeling really heavy lately,” Bilal replied.

“Truthfully, friend, if you think it’s okay, let her go. You don’t have enough time to stay home and look after her,” Ya Ameen advised.

“Yeah, but…” Bilal trailed off.