Late at night, after the Isha prayer, Hajiya Zilai called Annah to discuss what Raslan had told the suitors seeking her hand in marriage. Annah’s heart raced with anger. She immediately apologized to Hajiya Zilai, promising to call her back the next day to discuss the matter further. Without hesitation, Annah stormed toward Raslan’s room, seething with rage. She pounded on his locked door with such force that everyone in the house could hear.
“This boy, you’re truly a shameless troublemaker!” she shouted. “If it’s not mischief, why would suitors come to you, and you humiliate them by saying you know nothing about it? If I don’t get married, are you going to marry me? Or will you sneak her in to stay with you, cuddling like some shameless couple, sleeping in the same room like husband and wife? Who knows what you two are up to? You wretched, foolish boy! By God’s will, this marriage will happen!”
She banged on his door relentlessly, shouting as Raslan lay on his prayer mat inside, ignoring her until she tired herself out. Eventually, she left his door, still hurling insults as she stormed off. Entering her bedroom, Annah called Alhaji Umar, sobbing as she recounted what Raslan had done. Alhaji Umar’s heart sank hearing his mother cry. His voice trembled with anger as he told her he would call Raslan. He tried Raslan’s phone repeatedly, but the calls wouldn’t go through. The next morning, at 11:11 a.m., Alhaji Umar arrived in Katsina.
Raslan was lying down, not sleeping, consumed by thoughts that tormented his life. His father knocked sharply on the door, his voice laced with anger. Hearing his father’s tone, Raslan had no choice but to open the door, visibly shaken. Alhaji Umar entered the room, gave him a piercing look, and saw something was troubling him. He immediately launched into a tirade, demanding to know why Raslan claimed ignorance about the suitors.
Raslan explained, “She said she doesn’t want him. In fact, she doesn’t even know about the marriage proposal, Daddy. You can’t force a marriage now.”
Alhaji Umar dismissed his words, saying it was none of his business. Annah stood nearby, adding her own accusations. Alhaji Umar didn’t leave Katsina until he had confirmed with Farhan’s parents that the wedding would take place in one month and one week. They offered a large sum of money, but Alhaji Umar refused most of it, accepting only 150,000 naira as the dowry. Raslan sat silently, saying nothing, while his father took charge of everything. Alhaji Umar didn’t leave Katsina until the next day.
Annah’s joy was uncontainable. She found KYAUTAR ALLAH (God’s Gift, referring to the bride) in her room, tossed kolanuts at her, and said, “Here’s the kolanut for your big day! Even if you die, you’re getting married. Get ready—one month and one week, God willing.”
KYAUTAR ALLAH, lying down, burst into tears, sucking her thumb. “Annah, honestly, you don’t love me,” she sobbed.
“Love? Arranging your marriage despite your naivety is love. Don’t talk nonsense. Because of you, I swear I fear God and I fear you. If you cause any more trouble, I’ll marry you off to someone else with your nonsense,” Annah snapped, pointing at her.
KYAUTAR ALLAH broke down in louder sobs, her world feeling suffocating. Her father didn’t care for her, and she felt lost, unsure where she could find peace. Annah stormed out of the room, muttering angrily, “I’ve never seen a life like this. From talk of marriage to nearly dying of distress because of this boy. If you two love each other, go ahead and be together. I don’t care, and I don’t agree to this. May God judge between me and anyone who arranged Rukayya’s marriage to Muhammadu. I’ve never heard of such a reckless union! In my hometown, their marriage would be forbidden. May God protect my granddaughter. A marriage in just over a month, and then what? I was hoping to celebrate with my friends, but now…” Annah continued her tirade, twisting her lips and rolling her eyes until she returned to her living room, still muttering.
On the groom’s side, Farhan was ecstatic, almost losing his senses from joy. His father felt the same, especially since he thought Alhaji Umar had forgotten him. Hajiya Zilai even gave alms in gratitude, praying for God to make everything go smoothly. Fatima was overjoyed, thrilled that Aminiya would become her brother’s wife.
As for Raslan, he was utterly broken, as if he’d lost his mother. He grew thin and disheveled, barely eating, surviving only on water. There was no trace of peace in him. Though he usually craved calm, he now felt no desire for anything, overwhelmed by something stronger than his thoughts. He couldn’t pinpoint why he was so distressed over her impending marriage. At 9:00 p.m., he lay on his exquisite Italian bed, dressed in soft, luxurious cream-colored pajamas. His eyes were fixed on the ceiling, his iPhone lying idle despite ringing over thirty times without him answering. Hearing a distinct ringtone, he quickly grabbed the phone, recognizing it as different from the others, and put it to his ear.
From the other end, his mother’s voice came through, scolding him. “What’s wrong with you? What kind of nonsense are you pulling? You turn off your phone, and no one can reach you. Why are you acting like this?”
“Sorry, Ummih,” he said in a cold, subdued voice.
Her heart sank, hearing the unfamiliar coolness in his tone, so unlike his usual self. Concerned, she softened her voice. “Sweetheart, what’s wrong? Are you okay?”
“Nothing, Ummih,” he replied with difficulty, his words strained.
“Why are you lying, my love? I can hear it in your voice—something’s wrong. Do you want to worry me? Whatever’s bothering you hasn’t settled, has it?” she said, her voice filled with worry.
“Yeah,” he mumbled, not wanting to say more.
“Showie, my baby boy, be patient. You know, time heals everything,” she said.
“Okay, Ummih, thanks,” he replied, forcing a smile.
“Have you spoken to Ihsan?” she asked.
“No, we haven’t,” he answered.
“Okay. When are you coming back? I want to see you, darling. And we’ll talk about Ihsan,” she said, her voice full of love.
His heart clenched at the mention of Ihsan. “Okay, Ummih, I’ll come back whenever you want.”
She smiled, pleased by her son’s obedience. “Now?”
“Okay, God willing, I’m on my way,” he said, glancing at the clock as it struck 9:10 p.m.
She laughed, hoping to hear him laugh too. “I’m joking. If you can’t come now, come when you’re ready. I know you’re busy preparing for your sister’s wedding. After it’s done, come rest and relax.”
Her words about the wedding irritated him, and he felt like hanging up. He stayed silent, not responding. “I’ll come back the day after tomorrow, God willing,” he said, his heart heavy with distress.
“Okay, my love, take care,” she said.
“Thanks, dearie,” he replied, about to put the phone down when she added, “Oh, I forgot to tell you—I fixed it.”
He brought the phone back to his ear. “What’s that, Ummih?”
“Yesterday, I was watching a U.S. channel and saw a car I liked. I sent it to your boy, and he said you ordered it last week. I want to gift it to someone,” she said.
When he realized which car she meant, his heart sank, knowing its exorbitant cost. “Okay, Ummih, whatever you decide is fine. But please, don’t give that car away.”
She smiled, amused by his concern. “I’m giving it to Aminiya, and your aunt, Hajiya Hadiza.”
