The door creaked open, and Jahad felt the blood freeze in her veins. The man standing before her carried an expression so utterly devoid of warmth—grim, rigid, and stripped of even an atom of hospitality—that it sent an instinctive shiver down her spine. "Who are you looking for?" his voice rasped, cutting through the heavy silence. Trying to steady her trembling voice, Jahad stammered, "I... I came to see Junaid. I haven’t seen him all day." The man eyed the tray in her hands with cold disdain. "And so you brought him food? Did he tell you he was hungry?" Jahad fell completely silent, unable to offer a response. Her instincts screamed that this man possessed a volatile, deeply malicious temperament. He was, by all indications, an incredibly dangerous person to cross. Stepping aside with a stiff, reluctant movement, he muttered, "Go on inside." As he brushed past her and exited the room, Jahad hurried inward, her entire body shaking with a profound sense of dread. An immediate, deep-seated aversion to the man took root in her heart; he looked nothing like a person of good character or pure intentions.
Act 2: A Quiet Sanctuary
When Jahad finally stepped deeper into the sanctuary of the bedroom, she found Junaid lying on the bed. He was dressed simply in a white shirt and white shorts, his head resting heavily against the pillow with his eyes closed. Moving quietly so as not to startle him, she placed the tray on his bedside table, sat down gently on the edge of the mattress, and softly whispered his name. "Junaid..." Slowly, his eyelids fluttered open, his gaze drifting until it locked onto Jahad's face. He looked visibly drained, his eyes filled with a weary, vulnerable exhaustion that suggested he was far from feeling well. He didn't speak immediately; instead, he studied her features intently, taking his time to distinguish exactly which of the sisters stood before him. Finally, shifting into a sitting position, he murmured, "Jahad, right?" She nodded confirming Safely, "Yes. I didn't see you at all today, which is why I decided to come check on you. I even brought you some food, though I wasn't entirely sure if you'd be hungry." "Thanks for your caring," Junaid said, his voice softening with genuine gratitude. "Nobody else bothered to check on me all day except for you. It really means a lot." As he swung his legs over the side of the bed, he reached out to pour some juice, but Jahad anticipated his movement and gently took the jug first. "Let me pour it for you." He paused, watching as she poured the chilled juice into a cup and handed it to him. He accepted it, lifting the cup to his lips and taking slow, measured sips. Jahad watched him closely, noting how unusually pale and fair he seemed—almost as if the blood had been completely drained from his face. A wave of profound pity washed over her, intertwining with the fierce, deep affection she harbored for him. Before she realized it, he had finished the juice. He turned his head, catching her staring, and Jahad quickly averted her eyes, trying to clear the sudden tension by asking, "You look like you're not entirely well. Are you sick?" Junaid blinked. "What makes you say that?" "Just your demeanor," she replied softly. "You have the look of someone whose health isn't quite at its best." "I'm perfectly fine," he insisted with a faint smile. "It's just that I'm incredibly hungry. That's why I look this way. Once I eat and fill my stomach, I'll be back to my usual self." "If you knew you were starving, why didn't you get up to find something to eat?" Jahad asked gently, pulling a plate closer and beginning to serve him a portion of fried rice. "I’ve been asleep since morning," Junaid explained, shaking his head in mild confusion. "Even I don't understand how I managed to sleep for such an unbroken stretch of time. When I finally woke up, my body felt entirely weak and hollow. That's why I couldn't make it downstairs; a heavy lethargy completely took over me." Jahad paused, a sudden suspicion crossing her mind. "Did you happen to take anything? Like a sleeping aid or medication?" Junaid fell silent for a brief moment, racking his brain before answering. "No, I didn't take anything like that. But... Brother Haroon brought me some tea in a cup around eight this morning and told me to drink it. When I asked him what kind of medicine it was, he told me it was an energy booster. So, I drank it. From that moment on, I lost all consciousness of what was happening around me. Even now, he was the one who woke me up, telling me to get out of bed, take a shower, and get dressed because the Walimah (wedding feast) was about to start." Jahad’s head snapped up, her eyes wide as she looked at him. "That man who just left the room... that was Brother Haroon?" He nodded. "Yes." "Who exactly is he? I've never once seen him around this house." "He’s one of our older brothers," Junaid explained. "He rarely stays at home, which is why you’ve never run into him. But enough about that—I shouldn't overwhelm you with chatter. Let me start eating." He suddenly pulled his hands back, looking down at them coyly. "My hands feel sore and tired." A warm smile broke across Jahad’s face. Reaching out to pick up the spoon, she said playfully, "Alright then, let me feed you." Scooping up the fried rice, she began feeding him bite by bite. They chatted comfortably, sharing a beautiful, lighthearted conversation that brought a vivid spark back into the room. Under her gentle care, Junaid managed to eat a hearty portion. Once finished, he stood up and headed into the bathroom to wash up, explicitly asking her to wait so they could walk downstairs together. The request filled Jahad with an undeniable sense of joy. Slowly but surely, Junaid was beginning to truly open up to her. Bless his soul.
Author's Note:Boss Bature
Act 3: Splendor and Whispered Schemes
Following the Asr prayer, an air of vibrant preparation filled the house as everyone changed into fresh, exquisite attire. Amani took it upon herself to personally handle the makeup for Jahad, Hosana, and Sehrish. All three sisters donned identical, stunning Swiss lace outfits—styled into elegant blouses and skirts—crafted specifically for the day of the Walimah. The attire suited them flawlessly; they were dressed to absolute perfection, radiating a flawless beauty that looked like a million dollars. They sat clustered in their room—the three of them alongside Amal and Amani, making five in total—as Amani meticulously put the finishing touches on their headwraps (ɗan kwali). Deep within the venue, the youth of the household had fully gathered. Azmee and Saude were working tirelessly, moving from table to table to arrange a spectacular spread of diverse dishes. After a prolonged delay, Hayaam finally managed to emerge from her quarters. Her initial movements were hesitant and defensive, bearing the stiff awkwardness of someone carrying a guilty conscience, but she gradually eased up and began assisting Azmee in serving refreshments to the arriving guests. Meanwhile, Aunty Babba’s car glided smoothly into the compound, coming to a stop within the designated parking space. Hafsat turned off the ignition, turning around to look at her mother, who was snoring softly in the passenger seat. She had fallen into a deep slumber the moment they hit the road. Reaching out, Hafsat tapped her shoulder firmly, startling Aunty Babba awake. "Are we already here?" Aunty Babba blinked rapidly, disoriented. "Yes, indeed," Hafsat replied. "We are right inside the compound. You left the entire driving to me while you swept through your sleep." Aunty Babba grimaced, opening her car door with a heavy sigh. "By Allah, I am utterly exhausted. That sleep wasn't nearly enough, and on top of that, I am starving." Stepping to the back of the vehicle, she opened the trunk and pulled their heavy luggage trolley down onto the pavement. Hafsat took a moment to carefully adjust a niqab she had purchased along the way, ensuring her face was fully concealed before stepping out of the car with her small purse in hand. Catching sight of the face veil, Aunty Babba let out a sharp, irritated hiss. "Good heavens, look at this display! You look like a hypocrite harboring secrets. You insisted on wearing that black thing on your face today, looking like a Shi'ite devotee." "Mommy, you simply wouldn't understand," Hafsat replied quietly, turning to lead the way into the main house. Aunty Babba hurried after her, grumbling loudly, "Aren't you going to help me pull this trolley?" "Oh, come on, Mommy! After all the grueling driving I did, I’m expected to haul the luggage too? You should be the one pulling it. You slept through the entire journey while I did all the work. I am exhausted and simply cannot carry it." "Then may Allah ensure you never have to!" Aunty Babba snapped back. Bickering back and forth, they finally crossed the threshold into the main parlor. The moment Hayaam heard Aunty Babba’s familiar voice offering greetings, she let out a dramatic shriek that instantly drew everyone's attention. She rushed forward, throwing her arms around the older woman. "Oh my goodness, Aunty Laila! I've been scanning the horizon for your arrival since forever, but there was only silence. I was almost losing hope, thinking you weren't coming anymore, only to find you were on the way!" Hayaam gushed, finally pulling back with a radiant, beaming smile. Aunty Babba smoothed down her clothes. "What could possibly keep us away? I intended to text you, but by Allah, it completely slipped my mind. Besides, I was sleeping throughout the car ride, which is why I didn't get a chance to call your phone." "I truly missed you both so much," Hayaam said, her eyes shifting over to rest on Hafsat’s veiled figure. Her expression twisted into sudden confusion. "Wait... is that actually Hafsat beneath that niqab?" Hafsat reached up, lifting the veil slightly to reveal her face. "Of course it's me. Your entire focus was so consumed by Mommy that you barely noticed me." Hayaam laughed aloud, stepping forward to embrace Hafsat tightly. "I am so sorry, I honestly didn't recognize you at first! What on earth possessed you to put on a niqab? You look like someone trying to hide a crime." Before they could delve deeper, Azmee’s sharp voice interrupted them. "Welcome to our esteemed guests! It is quite a surprise to see Hajiya Laila in our household today—a rare sight indeed. It seems the heavens might rain ice today!" They all shared a laugh before Aunty Babba responded confidently, "Oh, this visit is an incredibly special one. By Allah, you all will grow thoroughly tired of our presence before we leave." Hafsat nudged her mother sharply, signaling her to stop hinting at a prolonged stay, but wrapped up in the warmth of the reception, Aunty Babba didn't even notice the warning. Azmee smiled knowingly. "Well, the moment I saw you arriving with that heavy luggage trolley, I knew you'd be staying a while. Perhaps you’ll even remain until our children's wedding ceremonies are fully concluded so you can witness it all firsthand." Aunty Babba's heart instantly skipped a beat. A cold spike of panic hit her, and she demanded, "The wedding of which children?" Azmee laughed heartily. "Your children, of course! Abusufyan’s daughters." Aunty Babba’s face hardened into a scowl. "Oh, please. What wedding are you talking about out of nowhere? We are living in total peace, and yet the moment you lay eyes on those girls, you start pushing marriage expectations on them. Exactly how old are they? I highly doubt they've passed eighteen." Before Azmee could counter, Hafsat stepped in smoothly. "Please, can we move inside and sit down? I am truly exhausted, and we haven't even performed our prayers yet." Together, the group moved further into the house. After offering their formal greetings to the extended family members gathered in the grand parlor, Hayaam escorted them to her private bedroom. The moment they crossed the threshold, Hafsat tore the niqab from her face, tossing it carelessly onto the bed before disappearing into the bathroom to perform her ablutions. She was entirely on edge, desperate yet terrified to face Jahad and the others, deeply fearful of how they might treat her if they remembered the torment they had endured at her hands in their old home. From inside the bathroom, Hafsat could clearly hear Hayaam’s voice drifting through the door. "I sent you their photos yesterday! Did you not see them? I even placed a direct call to Hafsat so she could remind you to check your phone." Aunty Babba sighed. "To be honest, I didn't see any photos sent to my WhatsApp. Let’s drop the matter anyway; since I am already inside this house, I will see them with my own eyes without having to go through any stress." "Right now, they are over in their quarters with Amani," Hayaam noted. Aunty Babba’s voice sharpened with deep disdain. "With Amani? What business could possibly connect her to them to the point of entering their room? Good heavens, the sheer audacity and intrusive nature of that woman never ceases to amaze me." "Azmee was actually the one who informed me," Hayaam added. "She said Amani is in their room doing their makeup. But that isn't even what’s bothering me. There is this incredibly beautiful, fair-skinned girl who arrived alongside Amani. I cannot for the life of me figure out who she is, but her face is the absolute spitting image of Amani." Aunty Babba pondered this for a moment. "How strange. Where on earth could she have found such a girl? It's highly probable that Abbas brought her from an orphanage for them to raise, considering everyone knows they've never been able to conceive." "Let me head back out before Azmee notices my absence; I was supposed to be helping her with the preparations," Hayaam said, turning toward the door. Aunty Babba glared at her. "Did I send you to this house to become a laborer? No wonder you look so utterly gaunt and drained. I expected to see you filled out and thriving, but instead, you look like a collection of collarbones—as if you've been battling a severe illness." Hayaam’s face fell into a bitter pout. "You have absolutely no idea what I've been through, otherwise you wouldn't say that. Ever since SGR (Senior Green Room / The Commander) banished me from this house, I haven't known a single moment of peace. I was constantly forced to hide away in my room out of sheer terror that I might cross paths with him. On top of that, I was practically starving. If it weren't for Azmee, I would have perished long ago. She was the one secretly bringing food up to my room. On the nights she forgot, I had to wait until the dead of night when everyone was fast asleep to creep down to the kitchen and scavenge for scraps. I suffered immensely." "That is entirely your own fault, Hayaam," Aunty Babba countered bluntly. "You were living a perfectly comfortable life in this house, yet you chose to intentionally court disaster. Of all the people to target, you chose SGR? By Allah, you should be profoundly grateful to Him that he didn't break you into pieces. I was genuinely shocked when you told me he merely banished you." Hayaam crossed her arms, turning away defensively. "Can we please change the subject? What’s done is done. Besides, he has already forgiven me; can't you see I'm walking around the estate now completely unbothered?" Aunty Babba eyed her skeptically. "Let’s hope he truly has forgiven you. You need to tread with absolute caution until we ensure Allah fulfills our ultimate objective. I came this time with a definitive strategy, and I have no intention of leaving this house until I witness the solemnization of your marriage contract to SGR." Overjoyed, Hayaam covered her face with her palms, letting out a delighted, giddy laugh. "Aunty Laila, do you really think such a thing is possible? Especially with those daughters of Abusufyan around? By Allah, they are not small children anymore by any stretch of the imagination; they are fully mature women. I believe they’ve already crossed eighteen, and their figures are undeniably stunning. Ever since I saw them, I've felt entirely insecure. And since they are blood relatives, the family might easily consider marrying them off within the lineage to strengthen family ties..." Before she could finish her sentence, Aunty Babba cut her off with a fierce, absolute declaration. "Impossible! By Allah, that will never happen! As long as I draw breath, not a single one of them will ever lay a finger on SGR. Omar can have them if he wants, but as for SGR, I declare them utterly forbidden to him, and him to them. By sheer force and absolute turmoil, he will marry you, whether they like it or not! No illegitimate meddler has the power to stop this, by Allah, no one!" Hearing her mother’s arrogant boasting from inside the bathroom, Hafsat could barely suppress her laughter. Her mother was completely blind to the reality of the situation they were in, yet she stood there throwing hollow tantrums and making grand, empty promises. Hayaam, completely under her spell, grinned from ear to ear, placing her absolute faith in Aunty Babba, fully believing the older woman possessed the power to manipulate reality and deliver SGR to her on a silver platter. Once Hayaam exited the room, Hafsat stepped out of the bathroom, her eyes locking onto Aunty Babba, who had comfortably reclined across the bed. "Mommy, you need to go perform your prayers," Hafsat urged. "You know everyone is about to gather for the Walimah very soon. You need to hurry." Aunty Babba turned her face away dismissively. "I highly doubt I can manage prayers right now. I am far too exhausted. I’ll perform them later on, combining them with Maghrib when the time comes." Hafsat merely shook her head, choosing not to press further. It wasn't the first time her mother had neglected her prayers this way. Ironically, it was Hafsat’s past time spent living with Jahad and her sisters that had instilled in her the discipline to start observing her prayers strictly on time.
Act 4: Shadows of the Past, Joy of the Present
Meanwhile, in his private quarters, Abusufyan sat on the edge of his bed, his head buried deeply in his hands, completely overwhelmed by anxiety. Ever since returning from the Asr prayer, he had remained isolated in his room, trapped in a tense, claustrophobic state of worry. The door opened gently, and Abba stepped inside. Looking at his brother, Abba was struck by a profound wave of sympathy. He moved over, taking a seat right beside him. "Didn't I tell you to set your mind at ease?" Abba said softly, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Look at how severely you are torturing yourself." Abusufyan raised his head, his anxious eyes meeting his brother's. His voice was laced with deep vulnerability. "I just don't know what to do, Brother. My mind refuses to find peace, by Allah. I am utterly terrified of whatever judgment Ammi (the matriarch) will pass on me. My greatest fear is that she will refuse to believe that Jahad and the others were born out of a legitimate, lawful marriage. You know how her temperament is, Brother Hussein—she is an incredibly difficult woman to appease." Abba nodded reassuringly. "That is true. But by the grace of Allah, I will exert every ounce of my effort to make her understand. You know very well that I would never allow those children to be humiliated or disgraced before anyone's eyes. Ammi simply requires ironclad, undeniable proof before she accepts anything as truth. We will do everything in our power to present the evidence we hold to guide her understanding. What I need from you right now is to relax your stance. I know that the moment she wakes from her rest, she will come out to the grand parlor. I want you to step out there with confidence and offer her your formal respects. You know it has been a very long time since you last saw each other, and in her eyes, you've carried a long-standing offense." Abusufyan’s face crumpled with sorrow. "That is precisely what intensifies my dread of facing her. In her eyes, I am a perpetual offender. She refuses to even answer my calls. Since I left Nigeria over ten years ago, Mommy has never once picked up the phone to call me, and whenever I try to reach out, she ignores it. I've come to feel as though she simply harbors a deep dislike for me, which is why she treats me this way." Abba squeezed his hand firmly. "What you are thinking is entirely wrong. In fact, I would say she loves you more than anyone else in this family, and she worries about you deeply. The grave mistake you made was refusing to ever disclose the true reason behind your sudden departure from Nigeria. Ammi was left entirely in the dark regarding your flight, and she missed you terribly. There was a time she called me on the phone, and she was practically on the verge of breaking into tears because you had vanished without her knowledge. That is the sole reason she holds this resentment toward you. But now, I am entirely certain that once we reveal the true catalyst behind your departure, she will understand us completely. She will welcome those children with open arms, and she will grant you her full forgiveness." With a tentative, hopeful sigh, Abusufyan murmured, "May Allah make it so. That would make me the happiest man alive." Abba smiled warmly, standing up and pulling Abusufyan up along with him. "Come, let’s head out to the parlor. I happen to know that your triplets are out there right now, fully dressed in their finest attire, eagerly waiting for their Daddy so they can take photos together." At the mention of his three daughters, a bright, genuine smile instantly broke across Abusufyan’s face, the heavy shroud of anxiety lifting from his shoulders. Together, the two brothers stepped out into the grand parlor. At that exact moment, Hajiya Azeema, Gwaggo of Katsina, and Saude had also emerged, each adorned in beautiful festive makeup. Harris and Marshal Omar were already present, standing tall within the space. Then, the three sisters—Sehrish, Jahad, and Hosana—stepped into the room in a flawless row, with Amal and Amani following closely behind them. The moment they crossed the threshold, every single eye in the parlor anchored onto them. They appeared like radiant stars descending into the room. Moving with elegant grace, they walked directly toward Abusufyan, who pulled all three of them into a tight, fiercely protective embrace. When he finally released them, they offered their respectful greetings to Abba and Marshal Omar, who stood nearby. Abba stepped forward, playfully pinching Hosana’s cheek. "Look at the beautiful bride of Omar! Such stunning grace." Blushing furiously, Hosana immediately covered her face with her hands, letting out a shy laugh. Omar averted his gaze slightly, a quiet, subtle smile tugging at the corner of his lips. If given the freedom, there was absolutely nothing that would have stopped him from pulling her into his arms right then and there, so profoundly struck was he by her breathtaking beauty. Colonel Yousouf stepped closer to the group, a teasing glint in his eye. "Uncle, which one of them is going to be granted to me? Since Brother Omar has already staked his claim on his bride, I need to secure mine before I'm left with absolutely nothing!" The room erupted into laughter. Uncle Abusufyan smiled, replying, "You’ll have to join the queue, my boy. Because even if a man possesses all the wealth in the world, he can only receive what is destined for him." Abba chimed in merrily, "Exactly! We shall only bestow them upon those who show absolute dedication to their midnight prayers (Tahajjud)." From behind them, Junaid’s voice suddenly rang out. "Well, that sounds exactly like me then! In this entire household, there is absolutely no one who rises for midnight prayers as consistently as I do." He stepped forward, placing his hands confidently on his hips, a brilliant, sweeping smile gracing his features while his eyes locked directly onto Jahad. The entire room dissolved into a collective roar of laughter. Colonel Yousouf shook his head, scoffing playfully, "Oh, come off it, Junaid! You should instead say that in this entire house, there is no one who can match your record for heavy, unbroken slumber when night falls! A man who can barely be shaken awake for the dawn prayer (Fajr) has the audacity to boast that he surpasses everyone in midnight prayers!" Junaid stamped his foot in an intensely spoiled, childish pout. "Oh, come on, Brother Yousouf! By Allah, you need to stop saying things like that in front of everyone. You’re going to make them lose all respect for me!" "Lose respect? Since when, Junaid!" Colonel Yousouf countered, highly amused. "Right in front of them, you are stamping your feet like a toddler throwing a tantrum, and yet you stand there demanding respect? What kind of woman would ever want to marry such an incredibly pampered, spoiled man?" Junaid’s pout deepened dramatically. Turning his gaze toward Abusufyan, he whined, "Uncle, you'll still give me one of them as a gift, won't you?" Abusufyan laughed warmly. "Why on earth not, Junaid? I wouldn't require a single penny from you. Whichever one of them your heart desires, I shall grant her to you as a gift, entirely free of any bride price." Junaid instantly turned and stuck his tongue out at Colonel Yousouf triumphantly. "See! Uncle said he’s going to give me one, and entirely for free!" The display brought an immense wave of laughter to the family. Jahad stood quietly by, watching Junaid’s completely unrefined, childlike antics play out before her eyes. She marveled silently at the sheer wonder of Allah’s creation, thinking to herself, Is this truly how he behaves? She had never once witnessed this deeply expressive, pampered side of him when they were alone; his behavior here resembled that of an indulged infant. It was a fascinating revelation. As they continued their lively, joyful conversation, General Ishaq and Abbas walked into the main parlor, their faces lit up with radiant smiles. They moved directly toward where Abba and the others were standing. After exchanging formal greetings with Abba, Jahad and her sisters harmonized their voices to greet the new arrivals. Ishaq’s face beamed with pride. "Masha Allah! I am utterly at a loss for words. Are you telling me all of this beauty belongs to our family now?" he asked, gesturing warmly toward Hosana and her sisters. Abba answered him with immense joy, "They are entirely yours, Ishaq. Lawfully and completely, Allah has bestowed them upon this house—all three of them." Abbas sighed with deep gratitude. "Just as Allah has spared our lives and granted us health to witness this magnificent day, it is my profound hope that He brings us together in this exact manner for the day of their weddings..." "Ameen!" Abba and the others echoed in unison. Abusufyan merely lowered his head, a soft, content smile gracing his lips, while Sehrish and Jahad were completely overcome by a wave of shy embarrassment. Abba looked at the girls teasingly. "Unless, of course, you girls don't actually want to get married?" The sisters remained completely silent, desperately trying to suppress their giggles. "As if they even have the choice to refuse!" Ishaq joked merrily. "Look at all their older brothers standing around here as eligible bachelors. They absolutely must cooperate so we can help cover each other’s bachelor vulnerabilities!" His joke sent a fresh wave of laughter through the crowd. At that exact moment, the atmosphere shifted subtly as Aunty Babba and Hafsat stepped fully into the parlor.
The Gathering Storm (Haroon’s Deception)
The door creaked open, and Jahad felt the blood freeze in her veins. The man standing before her carried an expression so utterly devoid of warmth—grim, rigid, and stripped of even an atom of hospitality—that it sent an instinctive shiver down her spine.
"Who are you looking for?" his voice rasped, cutting through the heavy silence.
Trying to steady her trembling voice, Jahad stammered, "I... I came to see Junaid. I haven’t seen him all day."
The man eyed the tray in her hands with cold disdain. "And so you brought him food? Did he tell you he was hungry?"
Jahad fell completely silent, unable to offer a response. Her instincts screamed that this man possessed a volatile, deeply malicious temperament. He was, by all indications, an incredibly dangerous person to cross.
Stepping aside with a stiff, reluctant movement, he muttered, "Go on inside."
As he brushed past her and exited the room, Jahad hurried inward, her entire body shaking with a profound sense of dread. An immediate, deep-seated aversion to the man took root in her heart; he looked nothing like a person of good character or pure intentions.
Act 2: A Quiet Sanctuary
When Jahad finally stepped deeper into the sanctuary of the bedroom, she found Junaid lying on the bed. He was dressed simply in a white shirt and white shorts, his head resting heavily against the pillow with his eyes closed. Moving quietly so as not to startle him, she placed the tray on his bedside table, sat down gently on the edge of the mattress, and softly whispered his name.
"Junaid..."
Slowly, his eyelids fluttered open, his gaze drifting until it locked onto Jahad's face. He looked visibly drained, his eyes filled with a weary, vulnerable exhaustion that suggested he was far from feeling well. He didn't speak immediately; instead, he studied her features intently, taking his time to distinguish exactly which of the sisters stood before him.
Finally, shifting into a sitting position, he murmured, "Jahad, right?"
She nodded confirming Safely, "Yes. I didn't see you at all today, which is why I decided to come check on you. I even brought you some food, though I wasn't entirely sure if you'd be hungry."
"Thanks for your caring," Junaid said, his voice softening with genuine gratitude. "Nobody else bothered to check on me all day except for you. It really means a lot."
As he swung his legs over the side of the bed, he reached out to pour some juice, but Jahad anticipated his movement and gently took the jug first. "Let me pour it for you."
He paused, watching as she poured the chilled juice into a cup and handed it to him. He accepted it, lifting the cup to his lips and taking slow, measured sips. Jahad watched him closely, noting how unusually pale and fair he seemed—almost as if the blood had been completely drained from his face. A wave of profound pity washed over her, intertwining with the fierce, deep affection she harbored for him.
Before she realized it, he had finished the juice. He turned his head, catching her staring, and Jahad quickly averted her eyes, trying to clear the sudden tension by asking, "You look like you're not entirely well. Are you sick?"
Junaid blinked. "What makes you say that?"
"Just your demeanor," she replied softly. "You have the look of someone whose health isn't quite at its best."
"I'm perfectly fine," he insisted with a faint smile. "It's just that I'm incredibly hungry. That's why I look this way. Once I eat and fill my stomach, I'll be back to my usual self."
"If you knew you were starving, why didn't you get up to find something to eat?" Jahad asked gently, pulling a plate closer and beginning to serve him a portion of fried rice.
"I’ve been asleep since morning," Junaid explained, shaking his head in mild confusion. "Even I don't understand how I managed to sleep for such an unbroken stretch of time. When I finally woke up, my body felt entirely weak and hollow. That's why I couldn't make it downstairs; a heavy lethargy completely took over me."
Jahad paused, a sudden suspicion crossing her mind. "Did you happen to take anything? Like a sleeping aid or medication?"
Junaid fell silent for a brief moment, racking his brain before answering. "No, I didn't take anything like that. But... Brother Haroon brought me some tea in a cup around eight this morning and told me to drink it. When I asked him what kind of medicine it was, he told me it was an energy booster. So, I drank it. From that moment on, I lost all consciousness of what was happening around me. Even now, he was the one who woke me up, telling me to get out of bed, take a shower, and get dressed because the Walimah (wedding feast) was about to start."
Jahad’s head snapped up, her eyes wide as she looked at him. "That man who just left the room... that was Brother Haroon?"
He nodded. "Yes."
"Who exactly is he? I've never once seen him around this house."
"He’s one of our older brothers," Junaid explained. "He rarely stays at home, which is why you’ve never run into him. But enough about that—I shouldn't overwhelm you with chatter. Let me start eating."
He suddenly pulled his hands back, looking down at them coyly. "My hands feel sore and tired."
A warm smile broke across Jahad’s face. Reaching out to pick up the spoon, she said playfully, "Alright then, let me feed you."
Scooping up the fried rice, she began feeding him bite by bite. They chatted comfortably, sharing a beautiful, lighthearted conversation that brought a vivid spark back into the room. Under her gentle care, Junaid managed to eat a hearty portion. Once finished, he stood up and headed into the bathroom to wash up, explicitly asking her to wait so they could walk downstairs together.
The request filled Jahad with an undeniable sense of joy. Slowly but surely, Junaid was beginning to truly open up to her. Bless his soul.
Act 3: Splendor and Whispered Schemes
Following the Asr prayer, an air of vibrant preparation filled the house as everyone changed into fresh, exquisite attire. Amani took it upon herself to personally handle the makeup for Jahad, Hosana, and Sehrish. All three sisters donned identical, stunning Swiss lace outfits—styled into elegant blouses and skirts—crafted specifically for the day of the Walimah.
The attire suited them flawlessly; they were dressed to absolute perfection, radiating a flawless beauty that looked like a million dollars. They sat clustered in their room—the three of them alongside Amal and Amani, making five in total—as Amani meticulously put the finishing touches on their headwraps (ɗan kwali).
Deep within the venue, the youth of the household had fully gathered. Azmee and Saude were working tirelessly, moving from table to table to arrange a spectacular spread of diverse dishes. After a prolonged delay, Hayaam finally managed to emerge from her quarters. Her initial movements were hesitant and defensive, bearing the stiff awkwardness of someone carrying a guilty conscience, but she gradually eased up and began assisting Azmee in serving refreshments to the arriving guests.
Meanwhile, Aunty Babba’s car glided smoothly into the compound, coming to a stop within the designated parking space. Hafsat turned off the ignition, turning around to look at her mother, who was snoring softly in the passenger seat. She had fallen into a deep slumber the moment they hit the road. Reaching out, Hafsat tapped her shoulder firmly, startling Aunty Babba awake.
"Are we already here?" Aunty Babba blinked rapidly, disoriented.
"Yes, indeed," Hafsat replied. "We are right inside the compound. You left the entire driving to me while you swept through your sleep."
Aunty Babba grimaced, opening her car door with a heavy sigh. "By Allah, I am utterly exhausted. That sleep wasn't nearly enough, and on top of that, I am starving."
Stepping to the back of the vehicle, she opened the trunk and pulled their heavy luggage trolley down onto the pavement. Hafsat took a moment to carefully adjust a niqab she had purchased along the way, ensuring her face was fully concealed before stepping out of the car with her small purse in hand.
Catching sight of the face veil, Aunty Babba let out a sharp, irritated hiss. "Good heavens, look at this display! You look like a hypocrite harboring secrets. You insisted on wearing that black thing on your face today, looking like a Shi'ite devotee."
"Mommy, you simply wouldn't understand," Hafsat replied quietly, turning to lead the way into the main house.
Aunty Babba hurried after her, grumbling loudly, "Aren't you going to help me pull this trolley?"
"Oh, come on, Mommy! After all the grueling driving I did, I’m expected to haul the luggage too? You should be the one pulling it. You slept through the entire journey while I did all the work. I am exhausted and simply cannot carry it."
"Then may Allah ensure you never have to!" Aunty Babba snapped back.
Bickering back and forth, they finally crossed the threshold into the main parlor. The moment Hayaam heard Aunty Babba’s familiar voice offering greetings, she let out a dramatic shriek that instantly drew everyone's attention. She rushed forward, throwing her arms around the older woman.
"Oh my goodness, Aunty Laila! I've been scanning the horizon for your arrival since forever, but there was only silence. I was almost losing hope, thinking you weren't coming anymore, only to find you were on the way!" Hayaam gushed, finally pulling back with a radiant, beaming smile.
Aunty Babba smoothed down her clothes. "What could possibly keep us away? I intended to text you, but by Allah, it completely slipped my mind. Besides, I was sleeping throughout the car ride, which is why I didn't get a chance to call your phone."
"I truly missed you both so much," Hayaam said, her eyes shifting over to rest on Hafsat’s veiled figure. Her expression twisted into sudden confusion. "Wait... is that actually Hafsat beneath that niqab?"
Hafsat reached up, lifting the veil slightly to reveal her face. "Of course it's me. Your entire focus was so consumed by Mommy that you barely noticed me."
Hayaam laughed aloud, stepping forward to embrace Hafsat tightly. "I am so sorry, I honestly didn't recognize you at first! What on earth possessed you to put on a niqab? You look like someone trying to hide a crime."
Before they could delve deeper, Azmee’s sharp voice interrupted them. "Welcome to our esteemed guests! It is quite a surprise to see Hajiya Laila in our household today—a rare sight indeed. It seems the heavens might rain ice today!"
They all shared a laugh before Aunty Babba responded confidently, "Oh, this visit is an incredibly special one. By Allah, you all will grow thoroughly tired of our presence before we leave."
Hafsat nudged her mother sharply, signaling her to stop hinting at a prolonged stay, but wrapped up in the warmth of the reception, Aunty Babba didn't even notice the warning.
Azmee smiled knowingly. "Well, the moment I saw you arriving with that heavy luggage trolley, I knew you'd be staying a while. Perhaps you’ll even remain until our children's wedding ceremonies are fully concluded so you can witness it all firsthand."
Aunty Babba's heart instantly skipped a beat. A cold spike of panic hit her, and she demanded, "The wedding of which children?"
Azmee laughed heartily. "Your children, of course! Abusufyan’s daughters."
Aunty Babba’s face hardened into a scowl. "Oh, please. What wedding are you talking about out of nowhere? We are living in total peace, and yet the moment you lay eyes on those girls, you start pushing marriage expectations on them. Exactly how old are they? I highly doubt they've passed eighteen."
Before Azmee could counter, Hafsat stepped in smoothly. "Please, can we move inside and sit down? I am truly exhausted, and we haven't even performed our prayers yet."
Together, the group moved further into the house. After offering their formal greetings to the extended family members gathered in the grand parlor, Hayaam escorted them to her private bedroom. The moment they crossed the threshold, Hafsat tore the niqab from her face, tossing it carelessly onto the bed before disappearing into the bathroom to perform her ablutions. She was entirely on edge, desperate yet terrified to face Jahad and the others, deeply fearful of how they might treat her if they remembered the torment they had endured at her hands in their old home.
From inside the bathroom, Hafsat could clearly hear Hayaam’s voice drifting through the door. "I sent you their photos yesterday! Did you not see them? I even placed a direct call to Hafsat so she could remind you to check your phone."
Aunty Babba sighed. "To be honest, I didn't see any photos sent to my WhatsApp. Let’s drop the matter anyway; since I am already inside this house, I will see them with my own eyes without having to go through any stress."
"Right now, they are over in their quarters with Amani," Hayaam noted.
Aunty Babba’s voice sharpened with deep disdain. "With Amani? What business could possibly connect her to them to the point of entering their room? Good heavens, the sheer audacity and intrusive nature of that woman never ceases to amaze me."
"Azmee was actually the one who informed me," Hayaam added. "She said Amani is in their room doing their makeup. But that isn't even what’s bothering me. There is this incredibly beautiful, fair-skinned girl who arrived alongside Amani. I cannot for the life of me figure out who she is, but her face is the absolute spitting image of Amani."
Aunty Babba pondered this for a moment. "How strange. Where on earth could she have found such a girl? It's highly probable that Abbas brought her from an orphanage for them to raise, considering everyone knows they've never been able to conceive."
"Let me head back out before Azmee notices my absence; I was supposed to be helping her with the preparations," Hayaam said, turning toward the door.
Aunty Babba glared at her. "Did I send you to this house to become a laborer? No wonder you look so utterly gaunt and drained. I expected to see you filled out and thriving, but instead, you look like a collection of collarbones—as if you've been battling a severe illness."
Hayaam’s face fell into a bitter pout. "You have absolutely no idea what I've been through, otherwise you wouldn't say that. Ever since SGR (Senior Green Room / The Commander) banished me from this house, I haven't known a single moment of peace. I was constantly forced to hide away in my room out of sheer terror that I might cross paths with him. On top of that, I was practically starving. If it weren't for Azmee, I would have perished long ago. She was the one secretly bringing food up to my room. On the nights she forgot, I had to wait until the dead of night when everyone was fast asleep to creep down to the kitchen and scavenge for scraps. I suffered immensely."
"That is entirely your own fault, Hayaam," Aunty Babba countered bluntly. "You were living a perfectly comfortable life in this house, yet you chose to intentionally court disaster. Of all the people to target, you chose SGR? By Allah, you should be profoundly grateful to Him that he didn't break you into pieces. I was genuinely shocked when you told me he merely banished you."
Hayaam crossed her arms, turning away defensively. "Can we please change the subject? What’s done is done. Besides, he has already forgiven me; can't you see I'm walking around the estate now completely unbothered?"
Aunty Babba eyed her skeptically. "Let’s hope he truly has forgiven you. You need to tread with absolute caution until we ensure Allah fulfills our ultimate objective. I came this time with a definitive strategy, and I have no intention of leaving this house until I witness the solemnization of your marriage contract to SGR."
Overjoyed, Hayaam covered her face with her palms, letting out a delighted, giddy laugh. "Aunty Laila, do you really think such a thing is possible? Especially with those daughters of Abusufyan around? By Allah, they are not small children anymore by any stretch of the imagination; they are fully mature women. I believe they’ve already crossed eighteen, and their figures are undeniably stunning. Ever since I saw them, I've felt entirely insecure. And since they are blood relatives, the family might easily consider marrying them off within the lineage to strengthen family ties..."
Before she could finish her sentence, Aunty Babba cut her off with a fierce, absolute declaration. "Impossible! By Allah, that will never happen! As long as I draw breath, not a single one of them will ever lay a finger on SGR. Omar can have them if he wants, but as for SGR, I declare them utterly forbidden to him, and him to them. By sheer force and absolute turmoil, he will marry you, whether they like it or not! No illegitimate meddler has the power to stop this, by Allah, no one!"
Hearing her mother’s arrogant boasting from inside the bathroom, Hafsat could barely suppress her laughter. Her mother was completely blind to the reality of the situation they were in, yet she stood there throwing hollow tantrums and making grand, empty promises. Hayaam, completely under her spell, grinned from ear to ear, placing her absolute faith in Aunty Babba, fully believing the older woman possessed the power to manipulate reality and deliver SGR to her on a silver platter.
Once Hayaam exited the room, Hafsat stepped out of the bathroom, her eyes locking onto Aunty Babba, who had comfortably reclined across the bed.
"Mommy, you need to go perform your prayers," Hafsat urged. "You know everyone is about to gather for the Walimah very soon. You need to hurry."
Aunty Babba turned her face away dismissively. "I highly doubt I can manage prayers right now. I am far too exhausted. I’ll perform them later on, combining them with Maghrib when the time comes."
Hafsat merely shook her head, choosing not to press further. It wasn't the first time her mother had neglected her prayers this way. Ironically, it was Hafsat’s past time spent living with Jahad and her sisters that had instilled in her the discipline to start observing her prayers strictly on time.
Act 4: Shadows of the Past, Joy of the Present
Meanwhile, in his private quarters, Abusufyan sat on the edge of his bed, his head buried deeply in his hands, completely overwhelmed by anxiety. Ever since returning from the Asr prayer, he had remained isolated in his room, trapped in a tense, claustrophobic state of worry.
The door opened gently, and Abba stepped inside. Looking at his brother, Abba was struck by a profound wave of sympathy. He moved over, taking a seat right beside him.
"Didn't I tell you to set your mind at ease?" Abba said softly, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Look at how severely you are torturing yourself."
Abusufyan raised his head, his anxious eyes meeting his brother's. His voice was laced with deep vulnerability. "I just don't know what to do, Brother. My mind refuses to find peace, by Allah. I am utterly terrified of whatever judgment Ammi (the matriarch) will pass on me. My greatest fear is that she will refuse to believe that Jahad and the others were born out of a legitimate, lawful marriage. You know how her temperament is, Brother Hussein—she is an incredibly difficult woman to appease."
Abba nodded reassuringly. "That is true. But by the grace of Allah, I will exert every ounce of my effort to make her understand. You know very well that I would never allow those children to be humiliated or disgraced before anyone's eyes. Ammi simply requires ironclad, undeniable proof before she accepts anything as truth. We will do everything in our power to present the evidence we hold to guide her understanding. What I need from you right now is to relax your stance. I know that the moment she wakes from her rest, she will come out to the grand parlor. I want you to step out there with confidence and offer her your formal respects. You know it has been a very long time since you last saw each other, and in her eyes, you've carried a long-standing offense."
Abusufyan’s face crumpled with sorrow. "That is precisely what intensifies my dread of facing her. In her eyes, I am a perpetual offender. She refuses to even answer my calls. Since I left Nigeria over ten years ago, Mommy has never once picked up the phone to call me, and whenever I try to reach out, she ignores it. I've come to feel as though she simply harbors a deep dislike for me, which is why she treats me this way."
Abba squeezed his hand firmly. "What you are thinking is entirely wrong. In fact, I would say she loves you more than anyone else in this family, and she worries about you deeply. The grave mistake you made was refusing to ever disclose the true reason behind your sudden departure from Nigeria. Ammi was left entirely in the dark regarding your flight, and she missed you terribly. There was a time she called me on the phone, and she was practically on the verge of breaking into tears because you had vanished without her knowledge. That is the sole reason she holds this resentment toward you. But now, I am entirely certain that once we reveal the true catalyst behind your departure, she will understand us completely. She will welcome those children with open arms, and she will grant you her full forgiveness."
With a tentative, hopeful sigh, Abusufyan murmured, "May Allah make it so. That would make me the happiest man alive."
Abba smiled warmly, standing up and pulling Abusufyan up along with him. "Come, let’s head out to the parlor. I happen to know that your triplets are out there right now, fully dressed in their finest attire, eagerly waiting for their Daddy so they can take photos together."
At the mention of his three daughters, a bright, genuine smile instantly broke across Abusufyan’s face, the heavy shroud of anxiety lifting from his shoulders.
Together, the two brothers stepped out into the grand parlor. At that exact moment, Hajiya Azeema, Gwaggo of Katsina, and Saude had also emerged, each adorned in beautiful festive makeup. Harris and Marshal Omar were already present, standing tall within the space. Then, the three sisters—Sehrish, Jahad, and Hosana—stepped into the room in a flawless row, with Amal and Amani following closely behind them.
The moment they crossed the threshold, every single eye in the parlor anchored onto them. They appeared like radiant stars descending into the room. Moving with elegant grace, they walked directly toward Abusufyan, who pulled all three of them into a tight, fiercely protective embrace.
When he finally released them, they offered their respectful greetings to Abba and Marshal Omar, who stood nearby. Abba stepped forward, playfully pinching Hosana’s cheek. "Look at the beautiful bride of Omar! Such stunning grace."
Blushing furiously, Hosana immediately covered her face with her hands, letting out a shy laugh. Omar averted his gaze slightly, a quiet, subtle smile tugging at the corner of his lips. If given the freedom, there was absolutely nothing that would have stopped him from pulling her into his arms right then and there, so profoundly struck was he by her breathtaking beauty.
Colonel Yousouf stepped closer to the group, a teasing glint in his eye. "Uncle, which one of them is going to be granted to me? Since Brother Omar has already staked his claim on his bride, I need to secure mine before I'm left with absolutely nothing!"
The room erupted into laughter. Uncle Abusufyan smiled, replying, "You’ll have to join the queue, my boy. Because even if a man possesses all the wealth in the world, he can only receive what is destined for him."
Abba chimed in merrily, "Exactly! We shall only bestow them upon those who show absolute dedication to their midnight prayers (Tahajjud)."
From behind them, Junaid’s voice suddenly rang out. "Well, that sounds exactly like me then! In this entire household, there is absolutely no one who rises for midnight prayers as consistently as I do."
He stepped forward, placing his hands confidently on his hips, a brilliant, sweeping smile gracing his features while his eyes locked directly onto Jahad.
The entire room dissolved into a collective roar of laughter. Colonel Yousouf shook his head, scoffing playfully, "Oh, come off it, Junaid! You should instead say that in this entire house, there is no one who can match your record for heavy, unbroken slumber when night falls! A man who can barely be shaken awake for the dawn prayer (Fajr) has the audacity to boast that he surpasses everyone in midnight prayers!"
Junaid stamped his foot in an intensely spoiled, childish pout. "Oh, come on, Brother Yousouf! By Allah, you need to stop saying things like that in front of everyone. You’re going to make them lose all respect for me!"
"Lose respect? Since when, Junaid!" Colonel Yousouf countered, highly amused. "Right in front of them, you are stamping your feet like a toddler throwing a tantrum, and yet you stand there demanding respect? What kind of woman would ever want to marry such an incredibly pampered, spoiled man?"
Junaid’s pout deepened dramatically. Turning his gaze toward Abusufyan, he whined, "Uncle, you'll still give me one of them as a gift, won't you?"
Abusufyan laughed warmly. "Why on earth not, Junaid? I wouldn't require a single penny from you. Whichever one of them your heart desires, I shall grant her to you as a gift, entirely free of any bride price."
Junaid instantly turned and stuck his tongue out at Colonel Yousouf triumphantly. "See! Uncle said he’s going to give me one, and entirely for free!"
The display brought an immense wave of laughter to the family. Jahad stood quietly by, watching Junaid’s completely unrefined, childlike antics play out before her eyes. She marveled silently at the sheer wonder of Allah’s creation, thinking to herself, Is this truly how he behaves? She had never once witnessed this deeply expressive, pampered side of him when they were alone; his behavior here resembled that of an indulged infant. It was a fascinating revelation.
As they continued their lively, joyful conversation, General Ishaq and Abbas walked into the main parlor, their faces lit up with radiant smiles. They moved directly toward where Abba and the others were standing. After exchanging formal greetings with Abba, Jahad and her sisters harmonized their voices to greet the new arrivals.
Ishaq’s face beamed with pride. "Masha Allah! I am utterly at a loss for words. Are you telling me all of this beauty belongs to our family now?" he asked, gesturing warmly toward Hosana and her sisters.
Abba answered him with immense joy, "They are entirely yours, Ishaq. Lawfully and completely, Allah has bestowed them upon this house—all three of them."
Abbas sighed with deep gratitude. "Just as Allah has spared our lives and granted us health to witness this magnificent day, it is my profound hope that He brings us together in this exact manner for the day of their weddings..."
"Ameen!" Abba and the others echoed in unison. Abusufyan merely lowered his head, a soft, content smile gracing his lips, while Sehrish and Jahad were completely overcome by a wave of shy embarrassment.
Abba looked at the girls teasingly. "Unless, of course, you girls don't actually want to get married?"
The sisters remained completely silent, desperately trying to suppress their giggles.
"As if they even have the choice to refuse!" Ishaq joked merrily. "Look at all their older brothers standing around here as eligible bachelors. They absolutely must cooperate so we can help cover each other’s bachelor vulnerabilities!"
His joke sent a fresh wave of laughter through the crowd.
At that exact moment, the atmosphere shifted subtly as Aunty Babba and Hafsat stepped fully into the parlor.