After she managed to drive home yesterday, the house felt like a hollow shell, stripped of its usual warmth and life. The guests had scattered—some still lingering at the event, others already on their way to Maiduguri. The older women had retreated to the guest house, leaving the main house in a heavy, oppressive silence. Jadwa climbed the stairs slowly, each step echoing in the emptiness, her legs trembling beneath her. Her vision blurred with tears, but she could still see him in her mind. His cold indifference, his unyielding silence. It wasn't just his nonchalance that shattered her; it was the finality of his silence, the way it confirmed her worst fears. Something inside her broke, something she hadn't even known existed until now.

She collapsed onto the bed, her body folding in on itself as the floodgates opened. Her cries were raw and guttural, tearing through the stillness of the room. She grabbed the duvet, pressing it against her face to muffle the sound, but it was no use. The sobs wracked her body with such intensity that she felt like she might faint if she tried to hold them back. Her shoulders shook, her chest heaved, and the world around her dissolved into a haze of pain.

"Subhanallah! Jadu?" Ammi's voice cut through the chaos, sharp and urgent. She rushed into the room, her footsteps quick and anxious. "What's happening? Innalillahi wa inna ilayhi rajiun!" Her hand flew to her chest as she approached Jadwa, whose cries only grew louder, more desperate.

"Did something happen?" Ammi asked, her voice trembling. But Jadwa couldn't respond. Her throat felt like it was on fire, each sob tearing through her like shards of glass. She couldn't speak, couldn't breathe, couldn't think.

"Rasuwa akayi?" Ammi tried again, sitting on the edge of the bed, bracing herself for the worst. She had received a call from Ameerah earlier, an urgent message to check on Jadwa, but the call had dropped before she could get any details. She had tried calling back, but there was no answer. Now, seeing Jadwa like this, her heart raced with dread.

"Did something happen to Muhammad?" Ammi's voice wavered as she asked the question, and Jadwa's cries intensified, a piercing wail that seemed to echo through the room. Ammi's hand flew to her chest again, her breath catching. "Innalillahi wa inna ilayhi Rajiun! What happened? Talk to me!!!" she pleaded, her voice rising in panic.

Jadwa shook her head weakly, her face buried in her hands. She couldn't speak, couldn't find the words. Her throat burned, her chest ached, and the air around her felt coarse, almost unbreathable. Ammi stared at her, horror etched across her face. She had never seen Jadwa like this—broken, inconsolable, drowning in her own pain.

"What happened? Did you two fight?" Ammi asked, her voice softer now, though no less urgent. Jadwa shifted away, covering her face with her hands, but she managed a small, barely perceptible nod. Ammi exhaled sharply, a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. But the relief was short-lived. Jadwa's breathing was ragged, her eyes red and swollen, her face pale and drawn. She looked like she was on the verge of collapsing.

"Jadu," Ammi said gently, tapping Jadwa's cheeks as her daughter's face turned ashen. Jadwa was gasping for air now, her breaths shallow and uneven, her body trembling with the onset of a full-blown panic attack. "Jadu, look at me," Ammi urged, blowing softly on Jadwa's face. "Try to breathe, okay? Whatever this is, it'll be resolved. I promise." She spoke in soothing tones, trying to calm Jadwa, to bring her back from the edge. But it wasn't working. Jadwa's breaths came in short, frantic gasps, her chest rising and falling too quickly.

"Jadu, breathe!" Ammi's voice sharpened in a snap, a desperate attempt to snap Jadwa out of it. And maybe it worked, because Jadwa took a sudden, sharp inhale, her body shuddering as she finally drew in a full breath. But then she broke down completely, collapsing into Ammi's chest, her sobs muffled against her Ammi's shoulder.

"Ya Ilahil Alameen! What on earth happened?" Ammi whispered, her voice barely audible over Jadwa's cries. She held her daughter tightly, one hand stroking her hair, the other rubbing her back. She began to whisper prayers, soft and steady, urging Jadwa to repeat them after her. Slowly, gradually, Jadwa's sobs quieted, her breathing evening out, though her body still trembled with the aftershocks of her breakdown.

Jadwa's face remained pressed against Ammi's chest, her tears soaking into the fabric of her mother's dress. Her eyes felt heavy, swollen from crying, and she shut them tightly, not because she was tired, but because the weight of her exhaustion was too much to bear. Even keeping them open hurt.

"Yallah, get up and change out of this dress. I'll get you some water," Ammi said finally, pressing a gentle kiss to Jadwa's forehead. Jadwa nodded weakly, pulling herself up from the bed. She moved mechanically, stripping off her clothes and stepping into the shower. The water was cold, but she didn't care. She stood under the stream, letting it wash over her, trying to numb the pain that still throbbed in her chest. When she stepped out, she grabbed a soft cotton dress from Ammi's wardrobe, slipping it on without a second thought.

Ammi was waiting for her when she returned, a glass of water in one hand and a small pill in the other. She handed both to Jadwa, watching as her daughter swallowed the medication with a sip of water. "I'll lock the door from the outside so no one disturbs you. We'll talk after Subhi," Ammi said, her voice firm but gentle. Jadwa nodded, her movements slow and deliberate, like every action required more energy than she had.

"I'll turn off the lights. Get some sleep," Ammi said, rising from the bed. She paused for a moment, looking down at Jadwa, her heart aching at the sight of her daughter's tear-streaked face. But she knew Jadwa needed rest, needed time to gather herself before they could talk. With a final, lingering glance, Ammi turned off the lights and left the room, closing the door softly behind her.

Jadwa was completely knocked out from the medicine Ammi had given her earlier. Not even the sound of the door creaking open or the sharp clink of keys jingling in Ammi's hand could rouse her. Ammi had to tap her shoulder repeatedly, her touch growing firmer each time, before Jadwa finally stirred, her eyelids fluttering open as she dragged herself out of bed to pray. Her movements were sluggish, her body heavy with the lingering effects of the medication.

She sat on the prayer mat, her hands trembling slightly as she began her salah. The room was quiet, save for the soft rustle of her clothes and the faint sound of her breathing. Just as she finished, Ammi walked back in, followed closely by Ameerah, who cradled little Iman in her arms. The baby's soft coos filled the room, a stark contrast to the tension hanging in the air.

"Jadu, how are you?" Ameerah asked gently, lowering herself to the floor with care, her eyes filled with concern. Ammi took Iman from her arms, rocking the baby gently as she stood nearby, her gaze fixed on Jadwa.

"Alhamdulillah," Jadwa replied, her voice hoarse and barely above a whisper. It was no surprise, given the emotional breakdown she'd had the night before. Her throat felt raw, as though she'd been screaming for hours.

"Are you having a headache?" Ammi asked, her tone softer now, though her eyes still held a hint of worry.

"No, the medicine must have worked. I just feel weak," Jadwa admitted, her fingers absently tracing the fringes at the edge of the prayer mat. She felt drained, as though every ounce of energy had been sucked out of her.

"If you go back to sleep, it'll wear off," Ammi suggested, her voice firm but kind.

"Thank you," Jadwa murmured, her gaze dropping to the floor. The room fell into a brief silence, heavy and uncomfortable, until Ammi broke it.

"What's going on with your marriage Jadu?" Ammi asked, her voice gentle but probing. She sat down beside Jadwa, her eyes searching her daughter's face for answers.

"Ammi..." Jadwa sighed, her voice trembling. "I don't know," she whispered, her words barely audible. She wasn't sure if she had the strength to explain everything, to lay bare the mess she'd made of her life.

"You can talk to us, Jadu. A problem spoken about is a problem half solved," Ameerah chimed in, her voice soothing but insistent. Jadwa bit her lip, her mind racing as she tried to find the right words.

"I was pregnant," Jadwa finally confessed, her voice so low it was almost a whisper. She couldn't bring herself to look at them, her eyes fixed on the floor as she continued. "I didn't know about it at first, not until Maman Rahma and Aunty Rauda pointed it out." Her voice cracked, and she paused, taking a shaky breath before continuing.

Ammi and Ameerah didn't interrupt, their silence urging her to go on. Jadwa spoke haltingly, her words spilling out in a rush as she recounted every detail, from the moment she discovered the pregnancy to the overwhelming fear that had consumed her.

"After I tested, I was panicking because I kept getting this ill feeling, as though what happened to Mommy was my fault and it would happen to me too," Jadwa admitted, her voice breaking. "I know it's stupid and silly, but Ammi, I swear I felt it. I was so scared. I didn't hate the pregnancy, but I just couldn't bring myself to accept it at first. I was so scared that's why I couldn't tell anyone not even you guys." She cleared her throat, the words catching as she struggled to continue.

"I threw out the pregnancy kit, the result, everything... out of fear," she confessed, her voice barely above a whisper. "After he came back from his trip, I couldn't bring myself to tell Ya Imran. He suspected something was off and probably the visible changes and my emotions. He kept asking me again and again, even offered to change my contraceptive or see the gynaecologist again, but..." She sniffed, closing her eyes as tears streamed down her face.

"Every time he asked..." She paused, searching for the right words, different from the one at the tip of her tongue but there was no way to soften the truth. "I lied," she whispered, Recounting the events by saying out loud that she did, brought a forceful wave of accountability, whether she liked it or not. Now, as she told others, she realized the extent of the damage she had caused.

She could feel Ammi's gaze on her, sharp and piercing, and Ameerah's, filled with a mix of shock and pity. But Jadwa couldn't bring herself to look at them. She took a moment to collect herself before continuing, her voice trembling as she recounted the events that had led to her breaking point.

"Again and again," she admitted, her voice barely audible. She continued to narrate every detail, from the panic attack she'd had after Fatima lost her baby to the altercation with Khayrah, and finally, her acceptance of the pregnancy and the plans she'd made to tell Muhammad.

"Then I miscarried," she said, her voice breaking. "I miscarried before I could tell him." She repeated the words as though trying to make herself believe them, her tears flowing freely now.

"I don't know if there's anything I can say to describe what sort of failure I felt," Jadwa continued, her voice cracking. "It was like everything crashed down when I was hoping for it to be right. When I was trying to right my wrongs, it all fell apart. And Ya Imran... he's a smart man," she said, a bitter laugh escaping her lips. "A very intelligent man. He had already bought some tests himself before the miscarriage, but something happened at work that distracted him before he could give them to me."

She paused, her breath hitching as she struggled to continue. "He was there, and he was very patient, to be honest," she cried. "But I couldn't face him when he asked. I was too ashamed of my stupidity, and I just wanted to disappear." Her voice was raw with emotion, her words spilling out in a rush.

"And when he demanded a conversation, an explanation..." She swallowed hard, her throat tight. "I couldn't give one, of course. I just told him I didn't want to talk about it, and he kept asking so I threw so many bitter words at him," she admitted, her voice trembling.
"I told him our marriage wasn't based on love, that we were just fulfilling our responsibilities as partners. I degraded everything. Out of anger, I told him he never loved me, that our marriage meant nothing because he had never said the words. And when he asked if it was about his past, I used it against him."

Her tears poured now, her face buried in her hands. "I feel so stupid," she sobbed.

Ammi and Ameerah remained silent, their shock palpable. They had seen Jadwa's lows, but never like this—never this raw, this vulnerable, this utterly broken. The weight of her confession hung heavily in the air, suffocating them all.

"I tried to apologize, but he pulled away," Jadwa continued, her voice barely above a whisper. "He stopped eating my food. He went out early and came back late. He didn't even give me a chance to talk to him. He completely turned into a man I didn't recognize." Her voice cracked, and she took a shaky breath before forcing herself to go on.

"Ammi, I don't know... it was so hard. I kept calling, apologizing, sending messages, writing letters. But he was so distant. I don't even think he opened a single one, nor did he respond. And when I gave him space and finally apologized, he just said, 'May Allah forgive us all,' and continued with his indifference.

"He didn't show any anger. Any disappointment. He was just... indifferent."

She paused, her breath hitching as she fought back another wave of tears. "And I... I couldn't handle it. Because I didn't know what I had until I lost it," she said, her voice breaking.

Ammi finally spoke, her tone bitter, almost scolding. "I'm happy you realized what you had in the end." Her words were sharp, but the pain beneath them was unmistakable.

Ameerah placed a gentle hand on Ammi's shoulder, silently pleading with her to let Jadwa finish.

"Is that why you left his car so angry yesterday?" Ameerah asked softly, her voice gentle as she moved closer to Jadwa, reaching out to wipe the tears streaming down her sister's face. Her touch was tender, but her eyes were filled with concern, searching Jadwa's for answers.

"No," Jadwa replied, her voice trembling. She took a shaky breath, her hands clutching the edge of her prayer mat as if it were the only thing grounding her. "You know Khayrah and I never got along, right?" she asked, her eyes flickering to Ameerah, who nodded in response.

"Khayrah is a pain to deal with, Subhanallah," Ameerah hissed, her lips tightening in frustration. She had never been fond of Khayrah, and the mention of her name only deepened her scowl.

Jadwa's lips quivered as she continued, her voice breaking with every word. "Ya Imran brought her into the house... into my kitchen. She was cooking for them after he hadn't eaten my food for so long." Her voice rose, the anger and hurt spilling out as tears streamed down her face. "I was so angry, Ameerah. And then she insulted me, so I... I threw the water from the stove at her."

Ammi gasped so loudly that it startled little Iman, who stirred in her arms. "Innalillahi! This girl will not be the end of me! Na shiga uku!" Ammi exclaimed, her voice a mix of shock and exasperation. Ameerah's eyes widened, her hand flying to her mouth as she processed Jadwa's confession.

"Hold Iman for me," Ammi said sharply, thrusting the baby toward Ameerah, who quickly shook her head, refusing to take her. Jadwa shifted back, her body tense as she braced herself for Ammi's reaction.

"Ammi, please, this is not the time to scold Jadwa. Let's finish hearing her out first," Ameerah pleaded, her voice firm but gentle. She reached out to touch Ammi's arm, trying to calm her down.

"Hear what? That the result of the tarbiya I gave this girl flew out the window? I can't stand this!" Ammi snapped, her voice rising as she glared at Jadwa. But Jadwa's painful sob cut through her anger, and Ammi's features softened slightly.

"Ammi, please, I'm sorry," Jadwa cried, her voice raw with emotion. Her shoulders shook as she buried her face in her hands, her tears soaking through her fingers.

Ammi sighed, her anger giving way to concern. "Did you burn her?" she asked, her voice quieter now, almost hopeful that the answer would be no.

"No, I didn't!" Jadwa shook her head vigorously, her voice breaking. "Ammi, he's taking another wife," she whispered, the words barely audible as another sob escaped her lips.

"Ah!" Ameerah's sharp squeal filled the room, her hand flying to her mouth as her eyes widened in shock. Ammi's jaw dropped, her expression a mix of disbelief and horror.

"Ammi, Ya Imran is getting married to another woman," Jadwa cried, her voice trembling with pain. "Another woman will marry my husband, Ammi," she sobbed, her chest heaving as the weight of her words crushed her.

"You're lying," Ameerah said, her voice barely above a whisper, as though saying it out loud would make it untrue. But another gasp escaped her lips as the reality of Jadwa's words sank in.

"Did he tell you?" Ammi asked, her voice sharp, her eyes narrowing as she tried to make sense of the situation.

"When? To who?" Ameerah interjected, her hand pressed against her chest as if to steady her racing heart.

"I don't know," Jadwa admitted, her voice breaking. "But he's talking to someone. I heard him, and when I confronted him he... he confirmed it and I'm so angry, Ameerah. I can't handle it. I'm so angry," she cried, her voice rising as though pleading for someone to do something, anything, to make the pain stop.

"I've been cheated on before, but nothing compares to this," Jadwa continued, her voice trembling with emotion. "My heart feels like it's ripping apart every single minute. I'm just breathing, but I'm not living. The thought of another woman with him is killing me slowly. The way he laughed with her..." She swallowed hard, the lump in her throat making it difficult to speak. "I asked him to divorce me," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

"It's his right," she continued, her voice breaking. "Even if I hadn't destroyed our marriage like that, he has every right. But I fell so hard, and the worst part is... I had no idea I fell this hard." She wiped her tears, her hands trembling as she tried to compose herself. Ameerah, unable to hold back her own emotions, began crying with Jadwa, her tears mirroring her sister in law's pain. Ammi, however, remained silent, her expression unreadable as she watched Jadwa with a mix of sorrow and frustration.

"I love my husband," Jadwa cried, her voice raw and filled with anguish. Despite the heaviness of her tears and the hiccups that shook her body, the word "love" escaped her lips easily, so naturally, because she knew that was what her purpose had become. Loving him.

"I love him so much, I can't stand him bringing in another woman. I'll not be able to handle it," she sobbed, her voice breaking as she clutched her chest, as though the pain were physical. Ammi and Ameerah's limbs seemed to go weak at her words, their own hearts aching for her.

Jadwa sniffed, her tears slowing as the memories of her life with Ya Imran came flooding back. Every moment, every smile, every touch—it all flashed before her eyes, a bittersweet reminder of what she had lost. And in that moment, she realized just how deeply she had fallen, and how much she stood to lose.

The silence in the room stretched thick, heavy with unspoken words. For what felt like an eternity, perhaps half an hour—no one dared to break it. The only sounds were Jadwa's occasional sniffles and the soft rustle of fabric as Ammi adjusted Iman in her arms. Shadows from the rising sun stretched across the room, casting long lines over the prayer mats and the still figures sitting in contemplation.

"Jadu, you made a huge, HUGE mistake," she said, laying it out plainly, her words sharp but not unkind. "And I understand both sides. If Imran was angry at you, he'd have definitely scolded you or punished you for it. But he didn't. He must be hurt, because there's no way your marriage is nothing short of an arranged one, Jadwa." Her tone softened as she reached out to touch Jadwa's hand, her eyes filled with empathy.

Ammi, who had been silent until now, sighed deeply, her voice softer but imbued with the wisdom of years. "Are you truly blind, Jadu?" she asked, her tone a mix of exasperation and sorrow. "Even I, as your mother, can see how much Imran cares for you. Everyone sees it. The way he looks at you..." She shook her head, letting the thought hang in the air.

Ameerah nodded, her expression serious. "I didn't realize just how deep this ran but remembering yesterday afternoon... Do you know how long he waited for you after you went upstairs? Hours, Jadu. Hours. He didn't leave until Maghrib, when Ahmad practically dragged him to go and pray before the dinner."Jadwa looked away, shame creeping up her spine. The image of Imran waiting for her clawed at her chest.

"Fear Allah," Ammi said, her voice firm, unyielding. "Fear Allah's wrath." The words hung in the air, charged with meaning. "This man has given you more than what is due to you. A home, a life, respect and more than what we could have ever given you. And he does it without obligation, without force. He honors you, protects you, and he does it in front of you and behind you. And we are all witnesses to that."

Jadwa swallowed, the lump in her throat growing unbearable.

Ammi's voice sharpened. "Do you think it is righteous to use someone's past against them? Do you know how sinful that is?"

Jadwa nodded weakly, tears slipping down her face.

"If he had reacted like any other man—if he had thrown a fit, if he had taken this to the elders, do you think it would have been a small matter? Do you think your father would have let this slide?"

Jadwa shook her head. No, he wouldn't. It would have been catastrophic.

Ammi leaned forward, her gaze piercing. "What do you take him for, Jadu? A madman? A walking ATM? A credit card you swipe whenever you feel like it?" Her voice softened just slightly, but the weight of her words didn't lessen. "If we are talking about effort, then weigh yours against his. Apart from the basics of being a wife, what have you truly done for this marriage?"

The question struck deep, cutting into the guilt she was already drowning in.

"So, tell me," Ammi continued. "Who should really be wondering if love even exists in this marriage?"

But Ammi wasn't done. "Look, Ameerah here is married to your brother. Ask her if Ahmad would have tolerated these things." She turned to Ameerah, her voice rising slightly. "Answer me, Ameerah. Would Ahmad be so heavenly blinded with love or be awfully patient to not throw a fit or at least report you to Muhammad or Ibrahim?"

Ameerah hesitated, then reluctantly shook her head. "No, he wouldn't. But..." She exhaled sharply, brows knitting together. "I just can't understand how he thinks marrying someone else will fix this. It hasn't even been a year, Ammi."

Ammi scoffed, rolling her eyes. "Of course it's not a solution. But it is his right. And I won't go questioning him about it—not because I'm afraid, but because if I do, and your father finds out you were the reason, you know what will happen. It will not end well. Not for you. Not for me."

She sighed, rubbing her temple as if trying to physically ease the weight of the situation. "What matters now is fixing this. One step at a time."

"Was he serious? SERIOUS?" Ameerah asked, her voice tinged with disbelief.

Jadwa hesitated before nodding.

Ammi clicked her tongue, exasperated.

"Ammi," Ameerah whined, her voice pleading. "Jadwa messed up, but that doesn't change how much weight she's carrying! And this Khayrah—who invited her yesterday? Did you send a special Invitation card to her? Because I didn't. I just know Abdulhakeem came with Ahmad's colleagues, and I explained it to Ya Muhammad."Jadwa sighed, slumping forward as fresh guilt settled over her.

Ammi's tone shifted, quieter now, more measured. "Let me tell you something about in-laws, Jadu. You grew up watching how your father's family treated us. I was no exception. You have no idea how much I struggled when you were children. But let me give you this one piece of advice—there is no reason on this earth to fight word for word with in-laws. No reason." She held Jadwa's gaze, ensuring she understood. "Even when they insult you to your face. Even when they provoke you. There is no benefit in lowering yourself to that level."

Ameerah nodded. "Ammi is right. You have peace with his real family, Jadu—Lily, Rahma, Sadiq, Fatima, Ibrahim, Hajiya... everyone. Hold onto that. Don't waste your energy on Khayrah, Maman Rahma, or Hajiya Raudah."

She exhaled, her voice softening. "And remember—Ya Muhammad isn't blind to these things. But he can't fix what you don't tell him. He's your husband, Jadwa. Talk to him. Let him handle it."

Ameerah nodded in agreement. "Ammi is right. Don't do that injustice to yourself, Jadu. And I know Ya Muhammad—he doesn't joke with them, not even Rahma's mom herself. So use your power. He's your husband! Tell him, and let him handle it." She paused, her voice softening.

Ammi added, "Find peace with him, Jadu. He is not a fool for being patient with you. He's not a fool for agreeing to wait for children until you were ready. If you have fears, speak to him. Marriage is not so fragile. He will listen. And he will provide solutions that even we cannot."

Ameerah reached out, her voice soft but filled with conviction. "For your pain, Allah will heal you, Jadu. For your fears, Allah will erase them. And for the wrong you did, Allah will forgive you too. And if He does, who is Ya Muhammad to not forgive you?" She paused, her eyes searching Jadwa's. "What he feels for you is stronger than what you see it as. As you said, you degraded that before. Don't make the same mistake again."

She leaned back, a small, knowing smile tugging at her lips. "I won't tell you to go and apologize right now. Not with this new issue hanging in the air. Just because you made a mistake doesn't mean you should tolerate disrespect. He needs to fix that first."

Ammi hummed thoughtfully. "This advice of yours..." She gave Ameerah a skeptical glance.

Ameerah smirked. "Trust me, Ammi. I saw him yesterday. Let him come. Let them have a real conversation. We'll go from there."

Ammi nodded slowly. "Zarah will be conveyed tomorrow when they come back from Kaduna to greet her mother with Hanan and the rest."

Jadwa's eyes widened. "I forgot we have to go to Kaduna!"

"Where are you going in this state?" Ammi asked, her voice sharp. Ameerah nodded in agreement. "Stay back and rest, unless you want your husband to carry a corpse," Ammi added, her tone dry but laced with concern. Ameerah chuckled softly, trying to lighten the mood.

"Ammi, I have to. How can you stop me?" Jadwa protested weakly.

"Have you asked your husband?" Ammi shot back, her tone firm as she caressed Iman's cheek.

When Jadwa kept quiet, Ameerah chose to take the question for herself "He finally agreed yesterday, after I said I'd tell you," Ameerah admitted, and Ammi chuckled.

"Stop using my name to do reckless things. My granddaughter is still very much a fresh baby. Come back early tomorrow, okay?" Ammi said, and Ameerah nodded.

They spent a long time going back and forth, offering advice and reassurances, until the medicine Ammi had given Jadwa kicked in again. Her eyelids grew heavy, and they left her to get more sleep, the room finally falling into a peaceful silence.