Jawwad stared at his phone screen, his heart almost stopping when he saw the caller ID. It was his father. He hadn't heard from him in months, and now, out of nowhere, he was calling. Jawwad felt a mix of shock and misperception. Why would his father be calling him now, after all this time?

The call ended before Jawwad could decide whether or not to answer. He let out a sigh of relief, thinking it was over. But just as he started to relax, the phone rang again. The screen lit up with his father's name once more. Jawwad sighed heavily, knowing he couldn't avoid it any longer. He reluctantly picked up the phone and answered.

"Salamu Alaikum," Jawwad greeted softly, trying to keep his voice calm.

His father's voice came through, sharp and demanding. "Why did you shift 10,000 USD from the BukarSherrif & Sons domiciliary account?"

Jawwad's eyes widened in surprise. The accusation came out of nowhere, and he didn't know how to respond at first. The question caught him off guard, sending a jolt of anger through him. How could his father think he was behind this? There were plenty of reasons that made it obvious he hadn't taken the money, but his father was always looking for a reason to blame him.

"I don't understand..." Jawwad started to say, but his father cut him off before he could explain.

"Kai kurma neh? I am asking you why 10k USD is missing from my company account! Did you think I wouldn't notice that you stole money from the company?" His father's words were harsh and blunt, which only drove Jawwad's anger.

Jawwad clenched his teeth, trying to keep his voice steady. "Abbi, if I remember correctly, you disowned me and said you wanted nothing to do with me because I refused to let your son walk all over me. You fired me from the company, which means I have no access to your business anymore. So, how would I steal that money?" Jawwad's voice was controlled, but his anger was simmering just beneath the surface. He didn't want to be rude to his father, but he was tired of being falsely accused all the time.

His father didn't miss a beat. "Then you stole the money?" he demanded.

Jawwad's patience was wearing thin. "You can ask your son. I have no business with your money, Abbi," he retorted, his voice tight with irritation. His heart was burning with anger and disappointment. How could his father think so little of him?

"If I run an investigation and find out you're behind the missing funds, I won't only get you arrested; I'll make sure you go to jail. Sakarai Kawai," his father threatened, and then the line went dead.

Jawwad slowly lowered the phone from his ear, staring blankly at the screen. Naimah's picture appeared as his wallpaper, and he heaved a deep sigh, feeling a painful ache in his chest. His mind was racing with so many thoughts, his emotions swirling in a chaotic mess. He was angry, hurt, and provoked, all at once.

His father's words echoed in his mind, each one like a punch to the gut. His own father had disowned him, choosing to side with his other son, Jhamal, even after everything that had happened.

Just a week before his wedding, Jhamal had been reckless, and because of that, his fiancée lost her life. It was something Jawwad could never forgive, and instead of supporting him, his father had turned his back on him.

Jawwad muttered his prayers for peace and calmness as he finished getting ready for Friday prayers. He stepped out of his room, dressed in a soft white kaftan that flowed elegantly with each step he took, and a matching hat perched perfectly on his head.

On his wrist, he wore a sleek silver Casio GM watch, its polished surface catching the light with every movement. His feet were comfortably settled in a pair of fine white Izmir sandals. As he walked, the air around him was filled with the subtle yet expensive scent of oud, a rich fragrance that left a trail wherever he went, hinting at both luxury and sophistication.

Jawwad made his way to his car, sliding into the driver's seat. As he drove out of the house, his eyes drifted toward Laylah's home. He couldn't help but think about the last time he saw her at their school, just a few weeks ago.

The memory of her humiliating his brother in front of everyone still lingered in his mind. It was shocking how Laylah was living her life, and he couldn't help but wonder if her parents knew what she was up to. He even considered the possibility that they might be the ones leading her down this path. But he quickly shook his head, dismissing the thought. Laylah's life wasn't his concern. He had no business with her, and he intended to keep it that way.

Driving through the traffic and the long distance, he finally arrived at the central mosque. He joined the congregation and performed his Jummah prayers with the community.

After the prayers, he sat quietly, making duas, seeking peace and guidance. As he finished, he felt a gentle tap on his shoulder. He turned to see a man smiling warmly at him.

"Salamu Alaikum," he greeted, sitting beside Jawwad and extending his hand for a handshake.

"Wa'Alaikumus Salam," Jawwad replied, shaking the man's hand, still trying to place the familiar face.

"I was a few feet behind you," he explained. "I saw you when you came in and thought I'd introduce myself after prayers. My name is Umar Dahiru Galadima. I see you every day at the mosque back in our estate."

Jawwad returned his smile. "Yes, na ganeka. You're the soldier man, right? I've seen you wearing your army uniform a few times mostly during Isha or Maghrib time. I'm Jawwad Bukar," he said with a soft smile.

Umar chuckled. "That's right. But it seems like you're new to the estate, isn't it? I've only started seeing you around in the past two months or so."

Jawwad nodded, a polite smile on his face. "Four months, actually," he corrected.

"Oh, that makes sense," Umar said, nodding thoughtfully. "I just returned from Lagos two months ago, so I wasn't around when you moved in. I hope you're finding Paradise Hills to your liking?"

Jawwad hesitated, not particularly in the mood for a long conversation but not wanting to be rude. "Yes, Alhamdulillah. It's been good. How long have you been living there?"

"About five years now. I live with my parents," Umar replied sincerely.

Jawwad raised an eyebrow, surprised. "I thought you were married," he admitted.

Umar laughed. "Can't blame you for thinking that," he said with a chuckle. "But no, I'm not married yet. What about you?"

Jawwad felt a pang in his chest at the question. He glanced away, taking a moment to compose himself before shaking his head. "No, I'm not married," he answered quietly.

Noticing the change in Jawwad's expression, Umar smoothly shifted the conversation. They chatted for about twenty more minutes, discussing everything from the weather to the latest community news. Finally, Jawwad decided it was time to leave.

"I should get going," he said, standing up. "I need to grab something to eat from a restaurant before heading home."

"You're going home?" Umar asked as he stood up as well.

Jawwad nodded. "Yes, but I want to pick up some lunch first."

Umar's face lit up with an idea. "You don't have to do that," he said. "Why don't you come back to my place and eat with us? My mother made masa today, and you mentioned earlier that you love it. She makes the best masa you'll ever taste, and I wouldn't want you to miss out."

Jawwad hesitated. He had never felt comfortable going to other people's houses and eating, preferring the familiarity of his own space. "I appreciate the offer, Umar, but I don't want to intrude," he said politely, trying to decline.

Umar, however, was persistent. "Come on, Jawwad, it's no trouble at all. My mother would be thrilled to have you over."

Still, Jawwad shook his head. "Thank you, but I really should get going," he said firmly.

Seeing Jawwad's reluctance, Umar decided to call in some backup. He pulled out his phone and quickly dialed a number. After a moment of talking on the phone, he smiled and handed the phone to Jawwad. "Here, my mom wants to say something."

Caught off guard, Jawwad took the phone and hesitantly put it to his ear. "Hello?"

"Assalamu Alaikum, Jawwad! This is Umar's mother," a warm, friendly voice came through the phone. "Please, my son, do come over for lunch. I'd love to have you. It would be a pleasure to get to know you better."

Jawwad couldn't help but smile at her kind tone. It was hard to say no to such a heartfelt invitation. "Wa Alaikumus Salam, thank you so much, Ma. I wouldn't want to be a bother," he tried once more, but his resolve was weakening.

"Oh, nonsense!" she exclaimed. "You're no bother at all. In fact, it would make me very happy if you came. Please, don't make me beg," she added with a light laugh.

Jawwad felt his resistance crumbling. How could he refuse such a sweet offer? "Alright, Ma. I'll come," he finally agreed, smiling despite himself.

"Wonderful!" she said, her joy evident in her voice. "We'll see you soon, then."

He handed the phone back to Umar, who grinned triumphantly. "Looks like you're coming for lunch after all," he said with a wink.

He laughed softly, shaking his head. "I guess I am," he admitted, feeling a bit more at ease now. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad after all.

He trailed behind Umar, his curiosity piqued as they drove through the familiar streets. But nothing could have prepared him for the shock that awaited him. As Umar pulled up to the house adjacent to his and honked the horn, Jawwad's eyes widened in astonishment.

This was the same house he had seen Laylah emerge from countless times. The connection hit him like a ton of bricks - Umar was Laylah's brother! Jawwad's mind reeled as he struggled to process this new information. But how has he never seen Umar coming out of the house during prayer time? But then he never actually pays attention to anyone, he only comes out, pray and goes straight back home afterwards.

He let out a deep sigh, feeling a combination of feelings spin inside him. He parked his car outside, not bothering to drive it into his adjoining house. As he stepped into the house compound, Umar did the same, and their eyes met. "Shall we?" Umar asked, his tone casual, but Jawwad's response was laced with faltering at first but he nods.

There was nothing between him and Laylah. Seeing her means nothing even though this likely meeting would be in her house.