She acted as though she were a robot being controlled by a remote. He was patient enough to wait until she was done crying before he asked again and Muhibbah shook her head at him. Even if she needed help, who would be there to help her? She knew for a fact that none of the women in this area would ever come close to her, because they'd think she might start aiming at their so called husbands.

She wiped at her tears before she mustered the remaining strength left in her and got to her feet, pulling her veil to cover up her entire face, left for the small opening where she could see where she was walking and for air to get through.

"Do you want to go back to Katsina now? I can arrange for that. If not, there's a place I can take you, ma." He said, yet again, his voice so consoling that she felt so pitiful enough to bring more tears to her eyes.

A thought crossed her mind when he said Katsina. She basically had no place to stay in Dutsinma, yet she couldn't go back to Katsina looking like she was. Mama would definitely use this as an excuse to make her quit her job and Muhibbah would rather die than do that. And on top of that, no one will believe her own side of the story about this, no one.

They will all believe that she was the one that made her instances toward Baban Fatima and the thought alone was trying to break her all over. Of all the men in the world, coupled with the ones that wanted her and the ones she believed if she really was into just having a Haram relationship she would have no difficulty in getting, she'd have to stoop so low for Baban Fatima?

"I'd need somewhere to stay for the night, please. Then I'd look for a place tomorrow Insha Allah." Maybe it's because he knew what she was going through at home. Or in better words, a fraction of what she's going through at home, he didn't ask her why or reasoned with her about why she needed to go back home.

He simply nodded his head and waved for a tricycle that stopped almost immediately, as if the driver had been waiting for such command from him. He motioned for her to get into the tricycle and Muhibbah didn't argue with him about that. People were still staring at her. Some young men were even vulgar enough to say they wished they were the ones she had a fancy on, nothing would've stopped them from enjoying their lives.

And Muhibbah felt that she wanted to kill herself at the moment. Baban Fatimah had splattered a paint on her that will take forever to be washed off. Even if he were to come clean and tell the truth himself, she knew a lot of people will still live with this image of her and the truth will never be able to reach them.

She was crying silently as the tricycle moved. She didn't know where he was taking her too, but oddly enough, Muhibbah felt like she could trust him. She felt ashamed that she had slapped him that day simply because he was trying to be there for her through every step, playing the role of Mother Theresa. Because if not for him today, she didn't know what would've happened. Maybe they won't stop beating her until she pass out or something.

When the tricycle stopped, Muhibbah silently walked out and waiting until he paid the man and that was when she remembered that she hadn't taken anything out of the house, her phone included. Even though Mama wasn't calling her for the purpose of checking up on her, she knew she'd call and it would be another issue if she didn't answer the call.

"My phone," she softly whispered. Because by Allah, Muhibbah didn't want to bother him. He was her student for heaven's sake. She was the one that's supposed to take care of him or come through if he was going through something and not the other way round.

"Yes, I'll go and bring everything from the house. You just need to get inside and rest a bit."

She had realized that speaking longer words was a bit hard for him because it looked like he had to work so hard before he formed that long sentence. He motioned at the house and she turned to look at it, wondering whose house it was because she was done staying at a place where married couple were. Words fly by so fast, she wouldn't be surprised if the woman of the house had heard about her already.

All she was praying about was that no one took a picture of her to be broadcasted on WhatsApp. Because that would really break her.

It was a self contained house that looked new and adequately beautiful from the outside. It looked like those houses young men rented and keep their brides, so she turned to look at him for a second.

"It's where I stay, ma. I have no better place to take you at the moment." She wondered how his words carried such an air of enigma and sophistication that she just couldn't shake off.

Slowly, Muhibbah nodded her head and wondered where a student would get the money to rent such a house. Probably two bedrooms, a moderate living room, a kitchen with an adjoined store and a moderate courtyard. But maybe he had rich parents, that was the thought that came through and it was really the only explanation for how he acted, spoke and carried himself around.

She entered the house and wasn't wrong about the details of the house. But of all the things in life, she had never imagined to see the house fully furnished. Not with some local furniture, no. With high standard turkey furniture she was certain had cost a fortune. And right there, she confirmed her thoughts of him having rich parents.

He took her to a room that had the exact bed as the one in Bilkisu's room. And somehow, Bilkisu was Mama's favorite, whom she made sure had all the nicest and most expensive things in the house. In a calm tone, he handed her a nylon and informed her the bathroom had everything she wanted. And that he'd keep food in the living room. She can just lock the house when she's done, he'd go and stay over with a friend.

All these, she figured out from his words, not that he had directly said the words to her. He was about to leave when she found herself whispering a 'Thank you' so low that she wondered if he had heard it. He was still so respectful that Muhibbah was constantly ashamed of how she had treated him the other day in Katsina.

She waited until she heard the sound of the main door being closed before she locked the room and walked further. She opened the nylon and realized it was a set of clothes. A night gown, toiletries and an abaya. She wondered where he had gotten them from and remembered the short stop they had at a plaza and she didn't even bother to look up at.

The abaya was the perfect size and Muhibbah began to wonder how he was able to get the perfect size for her before she reminded herself of how he stared at her and figured even from there, he might likely be able to guess her size. In her heart, Muhibbah was hugely indebted to him. Because he was there for her when she knew no one would be. Even if he didn't believe that she didn't make instances at Baban Fatima, he was still by her side when she knew not even her mother would be.

She wiped at the tears that were rolling down to her cheeks before she walked into the bathroom. She took her bathe, brushed her teeth and walked out of the bathroom. There was a hijab in the nylon, so she brought it out after wearing the night gown and she prayed. And in her last sujood, Muhibbah broke down completely.

She begged Allah to reveal the truth to the entire world in a very short time. And for this never to reach Mama's ears because if it did, she knew she would be better off dead.

It took her hours on the praying mat before her stomach started to grumble and she walked to the living room. Like he had said, there were packs of takeovers on the center table and she walked toward them. It was two different meals, some snacks, yoghurt, drinks and water.

She ate what she could and just stayed in the living room. She was imagining that if this was her marital home, it would be so peaceful. Just staying alone and being by herself with no one to hurt her. Imagine if the husband wasn't so much interested in her? That meant she would be by herself most of the time and it would be so peaceful for everyone. Mama wouldn't have a chance to remind her that she was a spinster at every chance she got. No one would care if she was happy, so long as she stayed married.

She stayed the entire night praying to Allah to reveal the truth. Because she couldn't bear this agony. She knew Allah would fight this battle for her no matter how long it may take. Her entire body pained from how much beating she got from Saratu and Maman Fatima, which she felt was more than about what had happened, they had just been looking for a chance to do so.

Ω

She didn't know she had slept off until she heard the soft knock on the door and that's when she noticed she was still lying on the praying mat. She had prayed Subh and decided to lay down to rest a bit, not knowing she was knackered enough to sleep off without noticing.

She adjusted her hijab and open the door, knowing who she would find staring back. His gaze was scrutinizing her to see if she had any damage done and there was more to it than she could tell. Slowly, he took his eyes off her.

"Good morning, ma'am." He greeted and she nodded her head, still standing by the door. "Your breakfast is in the living room and also your things from that house..." He let go of his words as she began to open the door, she hoped it was everything. She didn't trust Maman Fatima not to take a few of her things.

"Thank you." This time, she said it audible enough for him to hear as they walked to the living room together.

She didn't have much things and with just a look, Muhibbah knew it was everything. She scrutinized the items with her eyes before she turned to him. "Your phone. The car is parked in the courtyard." He handed her the phone and there was only two missed calls from Alhaji Nasir and one from Mama, probably because he felt that she didn't pick his calls, he called Mama to speak to her.

"I have a lecture to attend in thirty minutes. Please check the breakfast, if there's something else that you like, I'll go and bring it for you right away." He hadn't met her eyes since yesterday and she wondered why. Was he disgusted by her? Did he think she had done what they accused her of? Or maybe he was even afraid that she'd try to take advantage of him too?

Suddenly, Muhibbah felt compelled to explain herself to him. Yes, he was her student. Yes, she was older than him. But even if it was Muhammad, she knew she'd feel the urge to explain and clear herself. And he was old enough to have her regard him as a human being worthy of her explanation. Also, he helped her.

"I didn't do it." She whispered, her tears finding their way back to her cheeks.

He looked up and their eyes met for a few seconds before he looked away, shaking his head. What? Muhibbah thought. Was he not going to believe her?

"I really didn't do it. He was the one that tried to..." She shook her head, because the memory was still afresh and she could taste the bitterness in her tongue. "He was lying to his wife. I didn't do..."

"Ma'am, or should I call you Addah? I trust you, okay? And you don't have to explain yourself to me. I know that you didn't do it, I know." Had she ever heard a voice so tender like his? And words so comforting they nearly lulled her to sleep?

Muhibbah didn't know when she slumped on the nearest sofa and softly began to cry. No one had ever said these words openly to her but today. A lot of things had happened. Even though both Sareena and Muhammad had always been by her side, they had never said these exact words to her. And she didn't know she had been craving to hear the words until he said them to her.

"Thank you." That was all she could say. Because really...thank you.

"Please, enough with the tears. If you want, we can go and report him along with his wife and her sister." She shook her head at that. "I knew you wouldn't want that, that's why I didn't even go at it since yesterday." She was silent at that. Realizing how he spoke, the richness of something fascinating in his voice. How he seemed to drawl some words. "Can you please check the breakfast?"

Instead of her to answer him, Muhibbah walked over to her bag and pulled her ATM card. She walked back to where he was and thrusted the card at him. He lifted a single brow in form of an inquiry to what she meant about it.

"I don't know how much you've spent for me since yesterday, take my card and transfer it back to yourself. I'm so thankful that you've help me in this trying time, but spending money as a student is a bit too much. I'll also need your help in getting a new house because I just don't feel like calling agents up and down at the moment. Thank you, but please transfer the amount back to yourself."

She didn't care how much he'd be transferring back to himself because no matter how much it is, she had more than enough. Her father sent her monthly allowances even though he knew she was working, he had never failed to send, not even once. And it was triple her salary and she hardly ever use it. And when he bought her car for her, he gave her a huge sum of money, in his words, for fueling of the car. Mama was so angry that she nearly called and insulted him. In her words? He was boasting about his 'stupid' wealth.

"I don't need your money, Ma'am. Please, take your card back." His voice brought her out of her trance.

"You're a student and all students need is money. I'm not saying I can pay back for what you did to me. I'm simply saying you should transfer it back, it's the middle of the month, it will take at least two months before you can get another allowance sent to you, right?" She was honestly looking out for him.

There was a flicker of smile as he shook his head. "I'd assume the breakfast is okay for you. I'd be back once I'm done with my lectures and then we'd talk about the house."

"Send me your account details then..."

He cut her off gently as he walked toward the door. "Good bye, Ma'am." He didn't wait to hear anything from her when he left and Muhibbah found herself staring earnestly at his retreating back.

'I trust you, okay?' Those words kept repeating themselves in her brain. Oh, what an endearment they were!

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