MUHAMMAD IMRAN.

"Assalamu Alaikum," his deep voice boomed through the phone.

"Wa Alaikumus Salam, Ya Moh. Where are you?" Sadiq asked, his voice vibrated with barely contained excitement.

"Just got home. Are you already back home?" Muhammad Imran replied, getting down from his car and walking into their house in Kaduna.

"Kind of, just having lunch," Sadiq said, barely suppressing his excitement, then Imran's brows shot up in question.

"MashaAllah, how did the gaisuwa go?" Muhammad Imran asked.

"That's why I called you Ya Moh, something big happened Guess what?" Sadiq said, barely suppressing his jubilation through the phone.

This statement made Muhammad Imran find the closest chair and sink into it. A heavy silence settled between the brothers, thicker than the phone line itself. A flicker of doubt, then a dawning realization, chased across Muhammad Imran's face.

"What happened?" he asked, his voice tight.

"An daura!" (They have tied the knot)

Muhammad Imran chuckled at the "joke", expecting Sadiq to join in and laugh, but he didn't. This made Imran's heart drop. His brows furrowed, and he ran his hands through his beard.

"I am serious. Jadwa is your wife now, your halal," Sadiq said with the most excitement in his voice.

The text notification chimed. He stared at the message, the congratulatory message from Ibrahim blurring at the edges as a wave of emotions washed over him. There wasn't a hint of a joke in Sadiq's voice, and both Sadiq and Ibrahim knew better than to play with him like that.

Before he could respond, another message came in and it was Amirah's father's text message, confirming all his doubts. It was a congratulatory message and a prayer for his "marriage." Muhammad Imran's Adam's apple bobbed up and down before he regained his composure.

"Alhamdulillah," was all he said into the phone, taking his time to process the reality.

"Congratulations, Ya Muhammad. Allah ya bada zaman lafiya," Sadiq prayed.

"Amin, Sadiq, thank you," he smiled, a genuine, unguarded smile bloomed on his face, a sight rarely seen by anyone m. "Have you told Lily and Fatima?" he asked, referring to Sadiq's wife.

"Not yet. Please don't hop on the road right now. You now have a bride who will definitely not want to be widowed," he begged and joked.

His bride. His wife.

Muhammad Imran chuckled at his brother. "Okay, okay!" He sighed, suppressing the urge to drive back to Abuja. "Let me call Amirah's dad. He left me a message," he said.

After he hung up, he dropped the phone beside him with a soft thud, the sound barely registering in his ecstatic state. Sunshine poured through the window, warming the room, but it wasn't even close to the warmth spreading through his chest. A smile, wide and genuine, stretched across his face, crinkling the corners of his eyes. It felt like his cheeks would split if he tried to suppress it.

This was the happiest day of his life. No, it transcended happiness. It was pure, unadulterated elation. This, he realized, was the culmination of his nightly prayers, a whispered dua that had become a constant hum in his heart.

He reached for his phone again, his thumb instinctively navigating to the Photos app. There, nestled in the favorites folder, was a single picture of Jadwa he had paid Anaya a big fee to send to him -a picture of her in that blue dress on Eid. He looked at her picture, his gaze soft yet filled with adoration. It felt like fate, like the unseen hand of Qadr, it was the missing piece clicking into place, a culmination of yearning and hope finally blossoming.

He hadn't even dared to think about this happening, not really, but in a way more beautiful than anything he could've made up: they were married. She was his, his jewel, his Jadwa, his precious treasure, just like he always said she was. She was his completely, as he was hers, undeniably and eternally.

He quickly sent a message to their family group, he directed his sister to get something from his room along with doing more to make up for his absence before calling Amirah's dad and all the other men present there to thank them.

With a heart overflowing with thankfulness, he rose to his feet, a deep sense of gratitude washing over him, and went straight into Sujud al-Shukr.

JADWA
"An daura auranki da Ya Imran," Ahmad said. (They have tied the knot with you and Ya Imran.

Jadwa fumbled with the bag on her lap, the brown paper crinkling in her frantic hands. Her eyes darted to Ammi, searching for a crack in the facade, a smile, anything to suggest this was a cruel joke. But Ammi's face was etched with seriousness, a single tear tracing a glistening path down her cheek with a smile on her face. Her heart hammered a frantic rhythm against her ribs as she slowly turned to Ahmad, her fingers already wrapped so tightly around the bag handles they turned white.

She swallowed, the sound rough and dry in the sudden stillness. Every muscle in her body screamed for him to speak, to explain, but Ahmad remained silent, a statue carved from stoicism. Instead, the door creaked open, revealing Ameerah, Zarah, and Hannan. Their faces, previously buzzing with anticipation, joy and excitement, were now illuminated with a confused joy, like fireflies caught in a downpour.

"Tell me this is a joke," Jadwa pleaded, her voice surprisingly steady despite the tremor that ran through her.

"Jadu, Allah has willed this to be your—" Ahmad began, but she cut him off with a sharp flick of her wrist.

"Was I really just... married off?" she asked, the words catching in her throat. The stark reality of the situation hit her like a slap, the metallic tang of betrayal flooding her mouth. "Just like that?" she whispered, her voice barely audible, her gaze locked on Ahmad's.

The sisters seemed to understand the weight of her question, the joy and happiness dying in their eyes. The excited chatter ceased, replaced by a heavy silence that pressed down on them all. Slowly, one by one, they shuffled out of the room, leaving Jadwa alone with the crushing weight of her new reality.

Ammi reached for her Jadwa, her hand hovering over Jadwa's shoulder for a moment before dropping back to her lap. Jadwa couldn't meet her gaze.

"Ya Ahmad, please answer me," she rasped, her voice trembling. "Did Baba just... give me away? Like a sack of rice?" The words were laced with a raw pain that sliced through the room.

It all made sense now. This wasn't a mere courtship formality, a meeting to discuss her and Imran's potential relationship. It wasn't even an engagement, let alone an introduction. The plan had always been marriage, and she had walked right into her father's trap.

A wave of nausea washed over her, the room tilting at an alarming angle. Her eyes, stinging with unshed tears, locked on Ahmad's filled with anger, hot and searing, pulsed through her veins, setting her hands trembling and her breath hitching.

"Listen, Jadwa, the elders decided—" Ammi began, her voice laced with a placating tone, but Jadwa cut her off with a bark of a laugh, a humorless sound devoid of mirth.

"We're in the same house, Ya Ahmad! You couldn't even come upstairs and ask me if I was alright with this?" she spat, her voice accusatory.

"Jadwa, let me explain—" Ahmad tried to interject, but she shut him down once more, yelling.

"Explain what?!" she shrieked, throwing the paper bag at his chest with a sickening thud. It landed with a soft plop at his feet, the brown paper splitting open to reveal stacks of crisp bills. "That you sat there and watched it happen, happily?" Her voice dropped to a low growl as she grabbed her hair at the roots, as if to yank out the scream threatening to erupt from her throat.

"I thought you said you trusted your father's judgment?" he countered, his voice tight with controlled anger.

"Well, I never said I wanted to get married today!" she yelled again, launching herself at him again, her fists meeting with his chest pushing him.

"Shiga taitayin ki!" (Control yourself!) Ahmad snapped, recoiling a step. He had anticipated resistance, defiance even, but not this raw, unbridled fury and tantrums. "Jadu, do you think we plotted against you? If you would just calm down and listen—"

"Well, you sure as hell did it anyway!" she said, her voice dripping with venom.

"Watch your tone ...he warned, his jaw clenching. A vein pulsed in his temple, betraying the effort it took to remain calm.

She scoffed, the sound harsh and unforgiving. As Ahmad carefully placed "her Mahr" on her dressing table, a small, revolting part of her mind registered the significance of the gesture. But it was quickly overshadowed by the storm raging inside her.

"When you calm down, we will talk," he said, his voice firm but laced with a weariness that mirrored her own exhaustion. "For now, congratulations. Allah ya baki zaman lafiya da mijinki. Idan kin huce, kika shiga hankalin ki sai muyi magana." (May Allah grant you a peaceful life with your husband. We can talk when you are not angry and calm enough to have a conversation.) With that, he turned and left the room, the click of the door echoing in the tense silence.

"Jadu, listen to me, okay?" Ammi pleaded, her voice laced with concern. But Jadwa's eyes remained fixed on a spot on the wall.

"Jadu, this had to happen," Ammi began, her voice adopting a softer, more religious tone. "It was written. This is the Qadr of Allah, and none of us could have changed it even if we wanted to."

"This was going to happen sooner or later, so what's the point of being upset instead of embracing it and thanking Allah?" Ammi continued, reaching out to place a hand on Jadwa's shoulder. Jadwa flinched away, the touch a stark reminder of the life she felt had been stolen from her.

"Ammi," Jadwa choked out, her voice thick with unshed tears.

"I'm here, Jadu," Ammi soothed, her voice laced with a mother's love.

"I'm not ready, Ammi. I'm so scared," she whimpered, clutching her chest as a fresh wave of panic washed over her. There was a physical pain and tightness in her throat, hitching her breath and making each word a struggle.

Ammi's heart ached for her daughter. "My baby, it's Muhammad. He's a good man, he'll take care of you," she said, trying to pull Jadwa into a hug, but again, Jadwa moved away and recoiled.

"Ammi, please leave me alone," Jadwa pleaded, her voice strained. "You're right, maybe it was always going to happen. Maybe you can all accept it, celebrate it even, because he's a good man who can take care of me. But please, just let me be! At least for now." She fought to keep her voice from cracking, the effort etched on her face.

Ammi saw the raw pain and silent rebellion in her daughter's eyes. With a heavy heart, she chose understanding over further explanation.

"Let me explain what happened," Ammi began tentatively, but Jadwa cut her off with a look of utter despair.

"Will it change anything?" she rasped, her voice barely a whisper. "Ammi, wallahil Azeem (I swear by Allah, the Exalted), my head hurts. I feel like I'm going to lose my mind. I can hear the stories later, but right now, please, I just need to be alone." She squeezed her eyes shut, tilting her head back in a silent plea for the tears to stop.

Ammi rose slowly, her own emotions a swirling vortex of worry and sympathy. With a soft sigh, she left the room, leaving Jadwa alone with the deafening silence and the storm raging within her.

Jadwa slumped down from the bed, her body a heavy weight against the cold floor. She hugged her knees to her chest, the scratchy fabric a poor comfort. It was all so surreal, a cruel twist of fate she couldn't quite grasp. She stole a glance at the brown paper bag on the floor.

Picking herself up, she picked the bag and returned to her position on the floor. With trembling hands, she opened it for the third time, the stark reality of the money hitting her like a blow. She was a wife now, Muhammad Imran's wife.

A million questions swirled in her mind. How could her father do this? Why? Why did Muhammad Imran agree so readily? How would she face him, this complete stranger who was now her husband?

Exhausted and overwhelmed, she considered getting up to pray, but she was on her period. She let out a loud sigh and sat there, repeating "Hasbunallahu wa ni'mal wakeel" (Allah is sufficient for me, and He is the Best Disposer of affairs). 

The weight of the day, both physical and emotional, finally pressed down on her. As the last rays of the setting sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the room, Jadwa succumbed to sleep. It wasn't a peaceful sleep, riddled with fragmented dreams and anxieties, but it offered a temporary escape from the harsh reality that awaited her when she woke up.

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