*Author's Note At The End. Please read. Thanks*

Chapter Eight

               "HUSBAND?"

Rashida Abdullah nodded to her daughter's inquiry like it was the most normal of conversations. Like telling an engaged lady that ending her engagement was the best thing that could happen to her in the world.

Fatiha shut her eyes as she tried to soothe her frustration. She peeled it open when her mother began to speak again.

"I don't think that boy is ready," she declared as she rummaged through her closet, littering the already littered bed. "The both of you have been engaged for years. Who does that?"

"He's still planning. He's still preparing." Fatiha jumped to her fiancé's defense. "Would you want a penniless man to marry me?" She asked her mother although it didn't much matter to her because she knew Faisal was hardworking. If anyone could make it work, it would be him.

"God forbid!" Fatiha's mother exclaimed in Hausa. She pivoted with a much more comfortable cotton gown in her hands and a scowl on her face. "I don't care if he's planning or preparing, end that relationship with him today."

Fatiha groaned silently. "Mommy—" Her hopes of placating her mother failed as the woman warned sternly.

"Listen to me, Fatiha. This kind of relationship is not going to work. Do you know how many of my meeting members have asked me when you'll be getting married? You're getting old. When I was your age I was already pregnant with Zarah. People those days barely knew the men they were getting married to. But, not me though. I looked for a man of my taste. A man that could provide me with comfort and not leave me lacking. Marriages these days are not..."

Fatiha watched her mother as she gesticulated and talked simultaneously, her own lips moving soundlessly to the story her mother had so often told her. Fatiha found her mind trailing to the thought of marrying someone other than Faisal and it was terrible.

She could feel the beginnings of her throat closing up and her palms sweating at the idea of being eternally tied to someone who resented her body fat and shape. Someone who wasn't Faisal. Someone who wouldn't be able to accept her as she was. The thought almost made it hard for her to breathe.

She couldn't do it. Fatiha mentally shook her head. No! She wouldn't do it. Faisal was the only one who had accepted her the way she was.

Fatiha could remember years back when she'd been crushing on a certain classmate of hers in Jss2. His name had been Habib and they were in the same class. He was new in town and was kind and smart and beautiful and funny and Fatiha had really liked him. She had crushed on him through the three terms of Jss2.

During their first term in Jss3, she had doodled on the back page of her notebook; stick figures of a man in a polka-dotted bow tie with a woman in a flowing gown layered with flowers holding hands and at the very top of their heads she had written in bold blue ink Fatiha weds Habib.

Somehow during break period Habib had seen her drawing and had thrown up, literally, at the idea of him marrying an hippopotamus. The entire class had laughed at her and Fatiha who didn't know how Habib had gotten her notebook had torn it from his hands and bolted out of the class.

She remembered wishing she could disappear and how dread had consumed her when she'd had to go back to class because break period had been over. Hippopotamus, that was what he'd called her. That one word had ruined the perfect image of Habib she had engraved in her heart. After that day Fatiha didn't see Habib as kind or beautiful or smart. Instead she had seen how ugly he was and now thirteen years older, she found herself wondering how she had ever liked a jerk like him.

"It is better to marry early and grow old alongside your children. I'll gladly find you a man if you can't do it yourself." Fatiha's mother's grating voice pulled her back to the current situation.

Propping her elbow on her lap, Fatiha cupped her jutted chin in her hand as she stared at a spot on the rug placed at the entrance of the bathroom, pretending to be bored. She felt if her mother saw she wasn't interested then perhaps she would give up her antics. But Fatiha could only wish. Her mother went on, prattled on about the advantages of what early marriage entailed.

"That is why I have spoken to Hauwa. She has two grown up sons who are single and are ready to settle down. Hussaini would make a good husband."

At the mention of the Shagari twins, Fatiha's hand slipped from under her and struck the hard wood of her mother's bed post without warning.

"Ow," she cried, cradling her busted hand to her chest. After rocking it for a minute, she peeped down at the damage and just as she'd guessed, her hand was already marked red.

"Ayyah," Rashida scurried over to her daughter and took the chunky limp in hers as she accessed the injury. Even though Fatiha's light skin showed bright as day that she was hurt, her mother still asked, "Did you wound yourself?"

Biting back the sob that threatened to spill out of her shaky lips, Fatiha couldn't respond to her mother's question. She wished her mother could worry about her mental health and emotions the way she did her physical state. Instead, after sucking in a much required breath, she calmly questioned, "You want me to marry Uncle Shagari's son?"

Her mother who had gone back to her three-mirrored table replied with her back turned to Fatiha. "Yes. What's wrong with it? Hussaini is a good looking boy and he has a stable job."

A sardonic laugh peeled from Fatiha's lips, the sound a sharp contrast to the tears welling up in her dark eyes. "You want me to marry somebody whose brother bullied me and called me a dead cow?"

"That was a long time ago," her mother pronounced coming back to her with a tube of some sort. "And I told you to either ignore them or slim down. You eat too much junk that is why. What they did was just child's play."

A long time ago? Child's play? The hurt that came with those uttered words twisted at Fatiha's wounded heart. "It might have happened a long time ago," she sniffled, "but it does not make it right. Why don't you say something for my own benefit?" She demanded and winced as her mother slathered and massaged the cream over her wrist.

Her mother rolled her eyes. "Fatiha, you can overexaggerate fah. I told you to either forget it or slim down, you did none." She shrugged nonchalantly. "It's not anyone's fault if you're fat but if you want people to admire you then you have to take care of yourself. By the time you get married, you will add more weight and then younger ladies would start pursuing your husband. Ai ba wanda ze so ya auri katuwa."

No man would like to marry a fat woman. The words echoed in the recess of Fatiha's mind until it became numb.

For someone who made sure to highlight and learn the meaning of any new word she came across while reading, Fatiha was at a total loss for what to say. She didn't think she'd ever been at a complete loss of words before. She knew her mother had always complained about her weight but this... Fatiha swallowed back her tears. She wasn't going to cry a.lnd let her mother rub salt on that fragile wound.

"Just marry him. Case closed." She stated, palms open and upturned.

Fatiha drew her brows and bit hard on her lips until she could taste the metallic zing of her blood. "You're telling me to live with the brother of somebody who bullied me? How?" she finally queried.

Clearly irritated by the lack of progress in their conversation, Rashidah's face, so like her daughter's darkened as she pushed up to her feet. Her reasoning tone gone. Her lighter eyes brewing with finality. "I have told you," she began thickly in her tribal tongue. "I have told you that I don't like that boy. You will break off that engagement. If you can stand being with Nooriya then you can stand being with Hussaini. How is that any different?"

But it was different! Fatiha wanted to scream. Although Munir was a pain to be around and she'd declared him her sworn enemy, he was still well mannered and recently he'd been... He'd been what? She caught the thought at the reins before it toppled offtrack.

Her best friend's brother had been acting strange since his return to town. It was a good thing Fatiha had managed to only run into him twice ever since. But when it came to Hussaini Shagari's twin brother? Fatiha knew she wouldn't be able to cope with that one. Hassan Shagari was a loud, arrogant, and ruthless bully, with an even louder laugh. She hadn't seen him since last year, but as someone once said, people never change.

"Hussaini will be in town tomorrow. I gave his mother your phone number, so make sure you prepare well before going to see him. The both of you just need to know yourselves a little bit. Your father has also agreed to it so be expecting his call."

Dread settled slightly in the flustered pit of Fatiha's stomach at the idea of her father getting involved in who her husband would be. A storm of questions brewed in her head as to why the man who always made sure she knew he was on her side would change sides.

"You can go now." Her mother dismissed, her voice bouncing off the walls of the room like thunderclap.

Fatiha didn't need to be told twice. She pushed from her mother's bed and walked outside where she took a huge gulp of clean and fresh air before hurrying to her room.

Through the sea of restless emotions, she could hear the distant sound of her name being called, but she ploughed ahead only stopping when she was in the confines of her room to press her wide back against the wooden door before sinking to the floor. Her arms circled around her as she buried her head between the crook of her arms and placed it on her knees.

She didn't know how long she sat there for, blinking and unable to cry. It wasn't until she felt the soft knock again that she looked up at the glass wall clock hanging above the small book shelf she'd hung with the help of her father in her room that she realized she had half an hour before the adhan for maghrib was called.

Running her good hand wearyingly down her face, Fatiha cleared her throat before asking, more like blurted out, "What?"

There was a few seconds of hesitation before the person on the other end replied. "Will you cook or should I?"

Zarah. Oh, it was Zarah! Fatiha realized regretfully. Among her three siblings, Zarah was the one who took care of the rest. She was the calm and levelheaded one unlike Madinah who cared more about herself than others.

Fatiha licked her parched lips with the tip of her tongue before responding back in a more softer tone. "Sorry, can you do it today? I'm not feeling too well."

Before her sister could respond, another voice chirped from behind the door. The smooth and perfectly drawled out words alerted Fatiha of Madinah's presence. There was hardly any hint of the accent her sister had grown up with. Madinah who had schooled abroad made sure to pitch in the southern accent she'd gotten during her scholarship years in college every chance she got.

"What about movie night?" she asked.

Fatiha opened her mouth to answer but was saved their younger sister who replied on her behalf. "She said she's not feeling fine." Fatiha heard Zarah say, her soft tone barely audible through the thickness of the door.

"But she was fine this morning," Madinah countered, her own voice sharper, causing her accent to slip.

"Who's fine all the time?" Zarah battered back.

"Me! I'm fine every time." The drawl was back.

"Well, good for you." Zarah quipped. "I know why you want to go in there."

"Oh, do you? Well, enlighten me then." Madinah's voice scorned.

"You want to steal makeups."

Madinah gasped like she had been insulted. "And y-you want to steal books. I see behind that demeanor of yours, little sister." She spluttered as comeback.

"That is ludicrous!" Zarah's low voice hitched. "I planned on asking." She defended.

The girls voices, although hushed was still too loud it grated against Fatiha's sensitive hearing. She looked at her wrist and pondered over whether letting the girls in would be better. It might help her get rid of the thoughts swirling in her head. Maybe then she could find a way of getting out of the cage her mother so desperately hoped on locking her in.

She was still making up her mind when Zarah's question to Madinah reached the recess of her mind.

"What do you need the makeup for anyway?"

Fatiha heard her immediate sister scoff playfully before saying in what she thought was a whisper, "To impress someone, of course."

And that was when it clicked. Madinah liked Hussaini! It was perfect!

Struggling to her feet, Fatiha threw her door open, startling her sisters in the process. Her round eyes gleamed with hope as she locked them on her gorgeous and flummoxed sister. "Madinah," she called with urgent plea, "I need your help."

***
Asalamu alaykum guys. It's been a long time, hasn't it? Probably a year now. First of all, I hope you guys have been doing alright.

I originally planned of making this author's note a chapter on its own before an original chapter, but reasoned that the only reason anyone would click that notification bar with Embraced on it would be to find a long awaited chapter and not some sorry excuse about why I haven't updated in a while. So here it is. The long awaited chapter.

However, I do have to apologize and explain myself a bit. There are only two reasons as to why I never updated throughout this period: one was because life happened, and two because I was a lazy ass who only kept on pushing writing with procrastination.

I apologize for going off grid without a word and for coming back so late. Thank you all for staying up till now and I hope like always you enjoy reading the chapter.

This chapter is dedicated to MunirahMahe7 (I hope you're better now), and everyone else who deemed my story worthy enough by to read. Thank you guys so much!

I sincerely hope you all enjoy the chapter and that you continue to support me by sharing and voting. JazakAllahu knair.

Love,
ZainaHijabi 😘