The streets were filled with traffic and commotion as he maneuvered his way towards his father's house in Kano. After a long day, all he needed was a refreshing shower, a healthy meal, and a lot of sleep.

Transitioning between Kaduna and Kano felt easy when he had first gotten a job at the architectural firm he worked for. However, as time passed and the months waned into years, he found it increasingly difficult to keep up with the routine, always contemplating the idea of living in one state instead of spending weekdays in one and weekends in the other. Unfortunately for him, the longest his mother could agree to not having him in Kano was two weeks, and whenever he spent longer than that without coming home, she complained about it.

This week, however, was a special one; he had been in Kano for two weeks supervising a site his firm was working on. Just yesterday, he had left for Kaduna to submit reports. Assuming he would spend the weekend in Kaduna as well as the following week, he had prepared himself for a weeklong break and the workouts he desperately needed.

One phone call; it took only one phone call for his plans to go up in smoke. Not that he was complaining—certainly not. But he hadn't expected a call from his mother asking for his presence in Kano for the weekend despite the fact that she had seen him the previous day. It was Friday. He had no choice but to oblige.

After arriving in Kano, he stopped by to get fruits and vegetables for the family, knowing their penchant for expecting him to bear gifts at all times, and he did so willingly.

Tahir doted on his sisters to the point that they knew exactly how to get away with anything, knowing they had him for support. But at the same time, when it came to discipline, he was the best at enforcing it.

Releasing a sigh of relief, he parked his car in the garage, wondering what the emergency was this time around. Before heading to his parents' section, he took the shower he'd been craving for, offered his Maghrib prayer in the masjid adjoining their home, and walked beside his father into the old man's section.

On their way there, Tahir called one of his six sisters, Muna, to ask her what was for dinner. Excited that he was back, she informed him they were making tuwon shinkafa with miyan taushe and offered to serve him in his living room after he was done speaking with their parents.

Done with that, Tahir greeted his mother, who was watching TV in his father's living room when they arrived. He sat on the carpeted floor, waiting for them to announce the purpose of his summons, and they took their precious time before starting.

His father, Alhaji Ibrahim Aminu, cleared his throat and gave Tahir a pointed stare. "I went to your apartment earlier; everything is complete and good to go, right?" he asked, referring to the building Tahir had designed and built for himself within their home.

In the past year, his father had gifted him the land, and he had used his ideas to create a masterpiece—a four-bedroom apartment for himself, for his family in the future. The old man wanted his son to live closely with the whole family, and they had enough space for both sons—him and his younger brother, Al-Amin, who was the youngest child in their home, a thirteen-year-old with a twin sister, Noor.

Tahir was grateful for the gift, and for the past three months, the house had been a completely finished building. The knowledge that his father had seen the building over a dozen times made the urge to narrow his eyes at his father's words prick at his skin.

Knowing what was coming next—the marriage issue, the whole point of the land gifting—Tahir braced himself for the suggestion or the straightforward question of when he planned to get married, depending on which parent spoke next.

His mother, the one who always knew the right girl for him, took the reins from his father and began speaking. "Oh, we went to see the place together, and Mashaa Allah, soon enough we will have to move elsewhere for our own home to be reconstructed." She beamed proudly at him.

They discussed random things concerning the house for the next ten minutes before his mother swerved the conversation to the inevitable—marriage.

"The only thing missing is a wife to complete it, and you're not growing any younger, you know?"

Tahir's lips curled into a smirk. It was the year 2017, and he was twenty-eight—not a twenty-eight-year-old existing in their own generation. If it were the case, he would have had a child or two already.

"At your age—" oh, he saw that coming, "I had both you and Shukrah. What exactly are you waiting for? You have a well-paying job, a supportive family, a house—what else?"

"Nothing but a wife to complete half of your deen with." His mother agreed, seconding her husband, her lips pursed. "And you know we've interfered enough for you to understand that we're really serious about this marriage issue. Your father and I aren't getting any younger; we want to hold our granddaughters in our arms too, coddle the lovely sweethearts, and dote on them."

"And grandsons," his father quipped in.

The couple shared a look and his mother sighed.

Tahir knew his parents' grandchildren would be a bunch of spoiled, pampered kids, and he had enough sisters to provide them for his parents, not himself alone.

His immediate younger sister, Hafsa Shukrah, was three years younger than him at twenty-five, and her own younger sister, Ummulkhair—whom everyone referred to as Hairi—was twenty-three years old. Even the first set of twins—Haifa and Muna—were ready for marriage at nineteen years old.

Testing the age on his lips, he found it wasn't as young as he had believed it to be, but still young, in a way.

When it came to his sisters, his mother always repeated the same thing: "Oh, don't worry about them; their times will come. No need to rush any girl." But him? He always got the "not getting younger" version, and he wasn't complaining.

Tahir had had the same conversation with his parents a handful of times; it was nothing new. He knew the perfect way to evade and slink his way out of it for the moment, then count down the months until they were ready to repeat it. It had become a routine.

"So, your father and I thought hard about it, and we made a decision this time around," his mother said, a fond smile on her face.

He raised both brows in question, wondering which suggestion or question would come this time, like: which family he would be expected to choose a wife from or who his girlfriend was, or who he loved but couldn't ask out. His mother was quite the spontaneous type when she wanted to be, and yes, she had asked him if he had anyone he liked but was too shy to speak to—not once, but twice. When he asked what she would do if he did, her response was loud and clear, she told him that she would handle it for him. Not your average Hausa woman.

"We expect you to respect our decision, Muhammad," his father stated, using his first name to assert his authority.

Tahir knew right there and then that the decision would be different from the ones they had made in the past. They both transformed into the formidable couple that knew best how to punish their wayward child, and he braced himself for the worst—whatever it was.

"We found you a wife, and unlike all those other times, this time around, it will be different," his mother said, her words making his jaw instinctively clench.

His father continued from where his wife left off, his voice as hard as granite. "She comes from a well-respected family, a family we are well acquainted with. The agreement was finalized by myself and her father. Soon enough, a date will be set."

Tahir felt the hammering in his chest. No, the word was too tame for what was happening—it was galloping as though a horse race had begun and it was aiming for first place. All the blood in his body froze as his parents continued speaking, but in all honesty, his ears had blocked off everything that came out of his father's mouth after mentioning that a date would be set in the near future.

His vision blurred as tension settled deep within him. He wasn't against the idea of marriage, but he also wasn't enthusiastic about it. In the past, he had been in enough relationships to make the thought of spending the rest of his life with one woman taste bitter in his mouth. His friends had teased him for his attitude towards relationships, relationships that almost always ended because he couldn't keep up with the clinginess. And unfortunately for him, he seemed to attract the clingy ones best.

Gulping down a lump that formed in his throat, he raised his head to face his parents, surprised to find them staring at him expectantly, as though awaiting a response from him.

Knowing it was either a "willingly or forcibly agree with us situation", Tahir nodded his head once, words of gratitude escaping his lips as though they were being forced out with a plier.

His tongue felt like a heavy stone in his mouth, and in that moment, Tahir wanted nothing more than the peace that came with sleep or a quick ride into the city to clear his mind. His brain tried conjuring up ideas to deflect and push himself out of the situation, but knowing who had made the decision made everything come to a stop. He respected their decision as his parents.

Sitting before his parents, who had found love in a marriage arranged by their own parents—who were siblings—Tahir accepted his fate. His words of affirmation were barely loud enough for his father to hear; his mother, however, did catch them and smiled widely at him.

"Oh I'm so proud of you Tahir, Alhamdulillah." She gleefully exclaimed.

"You can leave now. Tomorrow morning, we have another important discussion, In Shaa Allah." His father stated, dismissing him.

Tahir nodded, bidding the both of them goodnight and walking out of the room, but not before catching his mother's hushed words, "We should have done this years ago if we knew he was going to comply this easily!"

He scoffed, then crashed into one of his sisters, who wasn't looking where she was going. Sa'eedah, his seventeen-year-old sister, adjusted her ever-present glasses and smiled sheepishly at him. Her smile turned upside down when she read the expression on his face—she believed herself to be a mind reader, and Tahir was inclined to agree, given the number of times she had accurately guessed people's feelings just by looking at them.

"Ya Tahir! It's so good to have you back, but you don't look happy," she said, chewing on her lower lip.

He pointed at the door behind him.

Her eyes quickly followed the direction he gestured, and realization dawned in her eyes, widening to the size of saucers.

"You've spoken with Abba and Ammi?"

"Yes," he responded, staring suspiciously at her.

Her hands flew to her mouth. "You've been informed about the marriage thing?"

Again, he responded affirmatively.

This time, her words came out in a squeak. "Does that mean you've agreed?" She looked ready to bolt, punching mindlessly at her phone screen.

"The choice was yes or yes." The words barely left his lips before a squeal from her rang through the house.

Sa'eedah squealed loud enough to summon all of his siblings before jumping on him for a hug. Without giving him time to recover, she bolted out of the room, screaming at the top of her lungs that "Ya Tahir has agreed to marry Khadijah!"

Oh, that was her name? Tahir thought, finding it ironic that just a few days ago, he had shot down his friend's suggestion regarding his own sister, Khadijah.

How in the world could Sa'eedah have been aware? Another thought slinked into his mind, making him wonder who else knew about the decision his parents had made.

He quickly sent his sister Shukrah a short message, and she responded immediately with "Yes, we all are aware," followed by a wink, a heart emoji, and another emoji he had no idea what it meant.

Shaking his head, Tahir decided to take a drive before all of his sisters came celebrating his impending marriage. Knowing them, he was a hundred percent sure they would come singing and dancing until Haifa or Hairi, the only sensible ones among them, decided it was enough.

Not long after, he found himself roaming the streets of Kano with no destination in mind. His discussion with Mukhtar concerning his friend's sister returned to him, and he fought hard against a grimace. If only he had seen it coming; he would have opted for Khadijah because at least he knew her. She was a comely girl with enough wit for three, and he knew it wouldn't be a terrible thing. But the girl of his parents' choosing? He knew nothing about her—neither her personality nor her character. Nothing but the name he caught flying from his sister's lips.

Finding himself on a street not far from Mukhtar's place, Tahir decided to go there and vent to his friend about the situation. The Adhaan for Isha rang in the air, and Tahir stopped at the nearest masjid to offer his prayer before meeting with Mukhtar. He sent him a message asking about his whereabouts, and Mukhtar responded not long after, stating he was at home, about to watch a Premier League match alone.

Taking a glance at the time, Tahir recalled that he had been anticipating the match but had completely forgotten about it after the unexpected bomb that was dropped right atop his head. Pushing all thoughts out of his mind, he parked his car and headed into the masjid.

After praying, Tahir made his way to Mukhtar's place, hoping to arrive in time for the start of the match. The men exchanged greetings, and Mukhtar suggested watching in the main building instead of the boys' quarters he shared with his younger brother, Bashir.

Mukhtar provided canned drinks for them and settled into a chair, watching Tahir suspiciously. "What's up with you?" he asked, setting aside the remote after finding a channel airing the match.

"Game first, we talk later," Tahir replied.

"It's just the opening kick, we can talk about whatever it is first," Mukhtar said as he settled in.

Tahir nodded, scoffing at his predicament. "Abba and Ammi decided I was wasting their time; they found me a wife," he said, finding it actually amusing now that he was saying it out loud to someone else.

Mukhtar's brows furrowed, then he simply smiled. "This means congratulations are in order. What's your take?"

"No choice," he stated, turning his attention to the TV now that the game had started.

Tahir regarded his friend with furrowed brows. "What? You won't mock and laugh at me?" he asked, knowing that would have been his friend's typical reaction to the news, especially after he had confided in him just a few days ago that he was not ready for marriage at all.

"Khair, In Shaa Allah." Mukhtar said instead, focusing on the TV too.

From then, the room fell silent, save for the sounds coming from the TV and the occasional phrases and curses that escaped their lips. During halftime, Mukhtar lowered the volume, and they began discussing the stats of the match, dissecting it all.

The sound of a song playing from afar caught their attention, and Tahir raised an eyebrow. Mukhtar gestured at the door, muttering his younger sister's name, and Tahir nodded, completely understanding his friend. His own sisters were fond of playing music so loud whenever their parents were out of hearing range, especially when they were busy with house chores.

A heavenly scent filled the room, and once again, Tahir shot a look at Mukhtar. This time, his friend grinned broadly. "Khadijah's probably in the kitchen. Oh, it makes sense now! Amna is around; it's definitely them doing something silly that will end up tasting too good."

Tahir seconded that, he wasn't a stranger to the younger girls' cakes and confectionery. He and his friends often got their share whenever they were around.

Who would blame five bachelors if they spent their free time wandering around, watching football or arguing about it? Jawad was the only married man among them.

Then me next, Tahir thought, feeling like a ball of cotton had been shoved into his mouth.

Minutes later, Tahir found himself laughing with Mukhtar over one of his friend's silly jokes, his worries dissipating for a moment. Suddenly, the door flew open, and a half-dressed Khadijah and Amna burst into the main parlor. Mukhtar's expression shifted to irritation; he glared at them for their inappropriate attire. In a panic, they both shrieked and bumped into each other, forehead to forehead, before scampering away, leaving the door wide open.

The scene made Tahir shake his head in disbelief at their antics. If those two spent a day with his sisters, the house would definitely burn to a crisp.

And Mukhtar was suggesting I marry one of them, Tahir thought, a corner of his lip curling up in amusement at the impossibility of it.

After their little commotion, Mukhtar and Tahir exchanged glances. The latter shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly while Mukhtar mumbled something about "girls and their sleepovers," rolling his eyes dramatically.

Chuckling to himself, Tahir couldn't help but wonder when—no, scratch that—if those girls would ever grow up.

...

Hello Assalamu Alaikum Lovelies. I hope we're all doing well Alhamdulillah? Mashaa Allah

Sorry for the late update.
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NanaAmiinah.
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