"You know, I would feel much better if you were closer to me," Umma said softly, her eyes full of longing. Her words hit Jawwad like a heavy rock. He lowered his gaze, a knot forming in his stomach. Guilt washed over him, making it hard to meet her eyes. He knew how much she missed him, how his distance had pained her.

"I'm sorry, Umma," he muttered under his breath, almost inaudible. Umma just smiled at him, her eyes showing both love and understanding, and then turned her attention to the TV. The flickering screen filled the silence between them, though Jawwad knew her thoughts were far away from the program playing.

After a moment, he cleared his throat. "What did the doctor say about your health?" he asked gently, trying to sound casual but unable to mask the concern in his voice. He needed to know if she was really okay or just pretending for his sake.

"It's nothing serious, really," she replied, her tone light but her eyes betraying a hint of fatigue. "Just stress. Kuma kasan jikin tsufa. But, the doctor prescribed some medication and said I should rest more." She waved her hand dismissively as if it was no big deal. But to Jawwad, it was. Every time she got sick, he felt a pang of worry he couldn't shake off.

He nodded, his eyes drifting back to the TV, though he couldn't care less about what was on the screen. His mind was racing with thoughts. He knew he couldn't stay long.

He had to leave before Abbi got back from work or any of the other family members sees him. The atmosphere was already heavy, and the last thing he wanted was a confrontation.

Just then, the door opened, and his stepsister Hanifa walked in, giving him a strange look, almost a glare. Jawwad's eyes narrowed as he stared back at her. "Keh! Baki iya gaisuwa bane?" he snapped, his voice cold. He didn't have patience for her antics today.

Hanifa pouted, but quickly mumbled, "Ina yini." She then hurriedly dropped the food warmer she was carrying on the table. "Mommy sent this for you," she said to Umma, not meeting Jawwad's eyes. It was clear from her edgy posture that she wanted to get out of there as fast as possible. The tautness between them was almost tangible.

Jawwad watched her leave, his gaze sharp and unyielding. As the door closed behind her, he turned back to Umma, eyeing the food warmer with suspicion. "You're not eating that, right?" he asked, his tone hinting at his distrust.

Umma just chuckled softly, choosing not to answer his question directly. She knew where his concern came from but didn't want to add fuel to the already simmering fire. He sighed, rubbing his forehead. He couldn't do this. He had to go.

"I should leave now," he said, standing up abruptly. Umma sat up from the long couch, her eyes following him with a mix of sadness and longing.

She looked at him for a long moment, as if trying to memorize his face. It was clear she missed having him around, missed the comfort of her only son's presence. But the family's issues, the bitterness that had grown between them, had driven him away.

"May Allah guide and protect you, AbdulJawwad," she said quietly, her voice tinged with a deep sorrow. "Ka cigaba da hakuri, wherever you are. Try to live peacefully with everyone around you." Her words were full of wisdom, a silent plea for him to find a way to be happy despite everything.

Jawwad nodded, swallowing hard. "Thank you, Umma. Allahu yashfiki, My love," he replied, his voice rough. He leaned down to kiss her forehead before turning away and walking out of the living room. He needed to get out before things got more complicated.

He was halfway down the stairs when a door opened to his left. It was Mommy, standing in the hallway, her eyes cold and calculating. She gave him that look—one he was all too familiar with. It spoke volumes, a look that said she wasn't pleased to see him.

"Toh fa, look who finally decided to show up," she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Have you finally gotten tired of running and decided to come home?" Her tone was mocking, each word a jab at his pride.

Jawwad simply greeted her with a curt nod. He didn't want to engage, not with her. He knew exactly where this was going, and he wasn't in the mood for a drawn-out argument. But before he could step past her, the front door swung open, and in walked Jhamal and Abbi.

Abbi's eyes widened ever so slightly at the sight of Jawwad standing there, but he quickly masked his surprise. His gaze raked over Jawwad from head to toe, sizing him up. There was a tension in the air, so thick it was almost suffocating.

Mommy, always the manipulator, seized the moment. "Alhaji, look who's here," she said in that voice of hers, the one that was sweet on the surface but poisoned underneath. "I asked him if he's finally tired of running, but he didn't quite answer me."

Jawwad's jaw clenched, but he forced himself to remain calm. He could feel Abbi's eyes boring into him, the mass of his judgment pressing down like a heavy stone.

"So, have you come to your senses?" Abbi asked, his voice sharp and demanding. "Or is this just another one of your impulsive visits?"

Jawwad met his father's gaze with defiance. "I didn't come back for you," he shot back, his voice steady but carrying an edge of anger. "I came to see Umma."

Abbi's face darkened, his eyes narrowing. "Watch your tone, Jawwad," he warned, his voice dangerously low. "You walk into this house with no respect, no sense of responsibility, and then you dare speak to me like that?"

"I just came to check up on Umma after hearing she was sick," Jawwad said, his voice tight with barely concealed anger. He started walking toward the door again and just as his hand reached for the doorknob, Jhamal's voice rang out behind him, dripping with mockery.

"That's it, keep running," Jhamal sneered, a smirk spreading across his face. He leaned against the wall, arms crossed, looking every bit the troublemaker he had always been. His eyes glinted with malicious satisfaction, like he'd been waiting for this moment.

Jawwad froze in his tracks, his body stiffening. Slowly, he turned around, his eyes blazing with fury. "What did you just say?" he hissed, his voice low and dangerous. He could feel his blood boiling, every nerve in his body screaming at him to lash out. But he knew Jhamal was baiting him, trying to push him over the edge.

"What's the matter? Can't handle the truth?" Jhamal taunted, his smile growing wider. "You've always been so good at running away from your problems, Jawwad. Why stop now?"

Jawwad's hands clenched into fists at his sides. "You know nothing," he spat, his voice trembling with rage. "You're the reason everything went to hell. You, with your lies and your manipulations... your recklessness. You should be rotting in jail for what you did."

Jhamal pushed off the wall, his eyes narrowing. "Oh, spare me the drama," he shot back. "You're always playing the victim, blaming everyone else for your failures. Maybe it's time you looked in the mirror and realized you're the one who's been running away."

"Enough!" Abbi's voice thundered through the corridor, cutting through the heated argument like a knife.

He stepped between them, his face contorted with anger. "Both of you, stop this at once!" He turned to Jawwad, his eyes hard and unforgiving. "And you," he said, pointing a finger at him, "you're the oldest. Why can't you have some patience and let things go? Why can't you have faith and forget what happened?"

Jawwad's eyes widened in disbelief. "Forget?" he echoed, his voice cracking. "You want me to forget what he did? You want me to just sweep it under the rug like it never happened?" He gestured toward Jhamal, his hand shaking with the effort to control his rage. "He wasn't the one who killed Naimah? How can you stand there and say that after everything? You know what he did, and yet you still defend him!"

Abbi's face hardened, his expression turning cold. "Naimah's death was an accident," he said firmly. "Jhamal didn't kill her. She was in the wrong place at the wrong time. You need to stop placing blame on others, Jawwad. It's tearing this family apart."

Jawwad felt like he'd been punched in the gut. His breath hitched, and for a moment, he couldn't find his voice. The room seemed to spin around him as his father's words sank in. All the pain, all the anguish he had been carrying for so long, came rushing back like a tidal wave.

Mommy chose that moment to chime in, her voice cold and dismissive. "Naimah's time was up," she said bluntly. "She died, and nothing can change that. Stop blaming my son for something that was out of his control."

Jawwad's chest tightened as if an iron fist were squeezing his heart. He felt a searing pain shoot through him, both physical and emotional, that left him struggling to breathe. His eyes burned, but he refused to let the tears fall.

Not here.

Not in front of them.

Without another word, he turned and stormed out of the house, slamming the door behind him. Each step toward his car felt like he was moving through a haze. His mind was a whirlwind of emotions—rage, sorrow, betrayal. By the time he reached his car, he was gasping for air, his vision blurring around the edges.

His hands trembled as he fetched for his car key. Finally, he managed to get it out and pressed the unlock button.

Slumping into the driver's seat, he gripped the steering wheel so hard his knuckles turned white. His chest ached with a deep, gnawing pain, the kind that reminded him of his health issues that he thought he had put behind him. It was like that day, all over again—the day he got the news of Naimah's death.

His breaths came out in short, ragged gasps. He pressed a hand to his chest, trying to calm his racing heart, but it felt like it was being crushed. Everything he had bottled up inside him was threatening to break free, to spill out in a flood of agony.

He squeezed his eyes shut, a low, pained groan escaping his lips. Memories of Naimah flooded his mind—her smile, her laughter, the warmth she brought into his life. And then, the cold, harsh reality of losing her, of watching his family twist the truth, protecting Jhamal at all costs.

He slammed his fist against the steering wheel, the sharp pain in his hand barely registering. The ache in his chest was worse, a reminder of everything he had lost and everything he could never get back. The walls he had built around his heart to keep the pain at bay were crumbling, leaving him feeling exposed and vulnerable.

For a moment, he sat there, breathing heavily, his face contorted in anguish. He felt the sting of hot tears threatening to spill over, but he gritted his teeth, fighting them back.

He refused to break down, not now, not when they were so close, watching his every move. He wouldn't give them the satisfaction of seeing him fall apart.

Jawwad took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. Slowly, he released his grip on the steering wheel, flexing his fingers to relieve the chaos. He couldn't stay here. He needed to get away, to clear his head before he lost control completely. With shaky hands, he started the car, the engine's hum filling the silence around him.

As he drove away, leaving behind the house that held nothing but bitterness and heartache.

~~

I've been struggling to keep up with my update schedule of Tuesdays and Saturdays, partly because I've been feeling a bit unmotivated. When I returned to Wattpad, I was hoping for a warm welcome, but I've been a little disheartened by the low engagement—very few votes and almost no comments. Your support and encouragement mean so much to me, and they truly help fuel my writing and updates. I hope to see a bit more interaction from you all in the future.

With love,
Nafisatuu