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Allah’s Messenger (ﷺ) said, “Allah says, ‘I have nothing to give but Paradise as a reward to my believer slave, who, if I cause his dear friend (or relative) to die, remains patient (and hopes for Allah’s Reward). [Hadith; Sahih al-Bukhari 6424]

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July, 2021.

Abuja, Nigeria.

"Dr. Ammah. Your mother called. She said she had been trying to get a hold of you for a while now." A nurse said to the doctor that just stepped out of the operating room, head thrown back, and arms stretched in exhaustion.

Ammah rose her hand to the nape of her neck, then massaged it to soothe the aching muscles there. Being in surgery for five hours had worn her out. She glanced at the nurse, lips set into a tight line, "My mother?" She asked, a brow quirked slightly.

The nurse nodded, "Yes Doctor" She smiled.

"What did you tell her?"

"I told her you're in surgery"

Ammah stared at the nurse for a while, then nodded. "Alright" She muttered, walking past the nurse.

She didn't need to say it, her walking away meant that was the end of the conversation. They had been in the situation so many times that the nurses were slowly getting a hang of it. After all, it's been happening for two years now.

Ammah briefly closed her eyes, as she made her way over to the locker room to change out of her surgical scrubs before she goes for round to see her out-patients. She didn't want to get scolded for walking around in it. The only time she wouldn't scolded for going around in it is if she has her white coat over it.

She knew she should call her mother back, but she doesn't want to. She already knows what the call is about, and frankly speaking, she didn't want anything to do with it. She had told her mother that already, but her mother is just as stubborn as she is.

Like mother, like daughter.

She exchanged pleasantries with the people she met on her way over to the locker room. When she got there, she changed out of the scrubs into the turtleneck top and denim she came to work with along with her black suede heels. She then put her coat over it and tied her hijab back in place. While slipping her phone out of her pocket, it rang again and displayed her mother's ID right across the screen.

Sighing, she doubted whether to answer it or not. She knows her mother though; she could ignore the calls all she wants but it won't stop the woman from calling again till she picks it up. Ammah didn't want to go through that struggle when it's inevitable. She rather just gets it over and done with. Briefly closing her eyes, she swiped across the screen and brought the phone to her ear. "Assalamu alaiki" Her voice came out low.

"Wa alaikissalam. Ammah Yusuf Bawa!"

Ammah flickered her eyes close. She knows she's in deep trouble. Her mother only uses her full name when she's irked. And judging from her tone, she's furious. Ammah blew out a low breath, "Ummi..."

"Get back home right now. And you better be here within the next hour" Came her mother's voice, stern as ever.

Ammah blinked, her head tilting to the side slightly. "But Ummi I can't leave work right now. I am still on duty"

"Ammah?"

Ammah sighed. Her mother's voice sounded calm when she called out her name. So, she knows that considering the situation they are in, there's a storm behind that calmness. "Yes, Ummi"

"Be here within the next hour"

Before Ammah could speak again, her mother ended the call. Though the woman's voice still remained calm, Ammah knew it would be any but if she didn't do as she was asked. Did she really want to upset her mother? No.

But that doesn't mean she still wants to be there. She really didn't see the point.

She exhaled, dropping her hands by her side as her lips tugged into a frown. Sitting down on the bench beside her locker, she kept her phone aside and buried her face between her palms. She has to make a decision, and fast.

Would she do as her mother asks and be there?

Or would she decide to not go? After all, she wants nothing to do with it.

Then again, she didn't want to face her mother's anger. It's the only thing that could match up to her sour mood at the moment.

~*~

Hadiza sniffed, wiping the tears that streamed down her face. Flickering her eyes close shut, she tried to hold back more tears that threaten to spill, but she couldn't. She couldn't stop the tears, nor could she stop the pain she felt at the moment.

She heard the door open softly, as a figure stepped in. She didn't need to turn; she knew there's only one person who could step into the room at the moment. The person stopped, taking note of how the room was dimly lit. There's this dark and gloomy atmosphere in the mood that matched Hadiza's mood. The only difference is that her mood is more saddening than it.

She didn't bother to look away in order to hide the tears from him. What's the point? He had seen her break down countless times already before, that day, it was no exception. She has every right to feel that way, and they all know that.

Hence, why no one tried to judge her. They all felt the same way.

Then again, no pain can match up to hers. Not even her husband's.

Yusuf blew out a low, shaky breath. If the day wasn't enough reminder of the pain they had to constantly live with, his first wife's condition surely is.

He had always hated seeing her sad and in tears. He had hated it before and he still does.

Swallowing down the lump forming in his throat, he made his way over to her. Once he was standing in front of her, he crouched low. His face immediately that of hers stained with tears.

Her bloodshot eyes shot up to meet his. She couldn't hold his gaze for long. So, she looked down immediately as she shook her head. She made no sound, the tears simply fell.

"It's time" He whispered, making her nod slowly.

She sniffed, and wiped her tears.

Meanwhile, Maimunatu sat on a couch downstairs waiting for her daughter's arrival. Her gaze moved to her wrist watch clasped around her wrist, glistening under the chandelier hung amidst of the prodigious debonair living room. The time she gave her daughter is almost up, and she could feel the anger in her resurfacing at the thought of the girl not doing as she asked.

The sound of the front door opening had her snapping her gaze to the direction. Her gaze immediately fell on that of her daughter's, who walked in with a permanent frown etched on her beauteous face. Unconsciously, she released a small sigh of relief.

Deep down, she didn't want to get angry at the girl for not doing as she said, but she had to discipline her. The love she has for her will not blind her from raising the girl right. That's not what good mother's do, and that's not what her mother; the girl's grandmother taught her.

Ammah took off her heels, and then made her way over to her mother. Squatting beside the woman, she greeted her. "I'm here, Ummi" She said, after the greetings were answered by Maimunatu.

Maimunatu nodded, offering her a small smile which disappeared when her gaze fell on the blonde strands of her daughter's hair. She shook her head. She didn't get why the girl decided to dye her hair and change it from the luscious raven color it was to blonde. Why not stick to her natural hair color?

She didn't say anything about it though. She didn't have the energy. She was already feeling down as it is already. They all were, except Ammah apparently who looked like she wants to be anywhere but there.

It was the same last year, and every single day they tried to come up with the topic. Ammah's mood always dampens and gets ruined because of it. She didn't see why they keep bringing it up. The past is called 'past' for a reason. It's meant to be forgotten. That's what most people do.

Why can't they do the same?

Maimunatu blinked, then parted her lips to speak. "Your father will be down any minute along with your Mama. We'll all go together" Her gaze remained fixated in her daughter.

Ammah looked down, releasing a small sigh and resisting the urge to roll her eyes. It would be respectful, she knows that. Hence, why she refrained from doing so. Maimunatu taught her better. "Ummi..." She breathed out. "Do I have to go? It wouldn't matter whether I do so or not"

Maimunatu gulped. She doesn't understand her daughter anymore. It's like she's all whole other person from the girl she gave birth to and raised. Where did her compassion go? Shouldn't she feel sad just like all of them? Shouldn't she also be affected? "Yes you do Ammah. We all have to be there. We're a family"

"Not buts Ammah. Today is the two years' anniversary of your sister's death. Do you not feel sad?" They made it a family tradition starting the year before. On the same day that Ammah's sister passed away, the whole family of four go to orphanages or places where people need help to give out sadaqah in hopes that the reward would go to the deceased. Sure enough, they give out sadaqah regularly seeing as they are well off now, but, they made sure to do so on that day all together.

It is a way they show support to Hadiza for losing her only child.

They all the pain, but they knew its incomparable to hers. Especially for Yusuf who knew that Hadiza had been through something similar before.

Ammah gulped, then looked away. She couldn't bear to hold her mother's gaze because if she does, then her mother would see her answer painted right across her face. And if there's one thing she's sure of, it's that her mother wouldn't like the answer.

Maimunatu, noting her daughter's demeanor shook her head. "Allah ya shirye ki Ammah" She muttered. She could only pray for the girl who seemed to have lost all compassion in her.

She seemed the least affected regarding the death.

Then again, it wasn't like she and the deceased are close. They aren't for some reason.

Before any more sentences could be exchanged between the two, the sounds of footsteps coming down the stairs caught their attention. They both looked up, just in time to see Hadiza and Yusuf coming down the stairs. Hadiza is clad in a grey hijab, and she did nothing to hide her bloodshot eyes and puffy face.

When her gaze fell on Ammah the minute she and her husband stepped into the living room, she offered the girl a small smile. It's the first smile she had mustered up that day and she did it for Ammah.

Even though she lost a child, she's still grateful that Ammah is there. To her, Ammah is her daughter too.

~*~

They spent hours in the orphanage as Hadiza wanted to be around the children for a little while longer. Her husband and co-wife didn't have a problem with it as they understand how she felt, especially Maimunatu who wanted to be there with her co-wife throughout the way.

Only Allah knows how grateful she is to Hadiza. The woman had been nothing but kind to her for the 25 years they had been together. Sure enough, there were times they disagreed and had arguments but the good days they spent together were more. The kind of patience Hadiza has in her is one Maimunatu had never seen before.

And for that, she respects her immensely.

She was mostly thankful for how Hadiza didn't ask Yusuf to cancel her wedding with him at the last minute when she found out that she's pregnant. She accepted her and welcomed her into her home even after knowing that. Had it been the wedding had been canceled, only Allah knows how many people would've shamed her, especially considering the fact that she has strike her 30 years back then still unmarried.

Everyone could tell how elated Hadiza was when she found out she was pregnant. The joy could be seen on her face as bright as ever. Even when Maimunatu found out she's pregnant, she rejoiced along with her. They went through every stage of the pregnancy together even though there's a three months' difference between them.

And when they welcomed their bundle of joys into the world, the two were more elated that the husband was at the time.

Unlike Yusuf and Hadiza, Maimunatu isn't a doctor. Yet, they gave her a job at the hospital they started together which has now flourished into one of the biggest hospitals in the country. It's so successful that they even opened another branch in Kano, and the biggest one yet, in Abuja. Both their kids worked there too as doctors. Even though now, Ammah is the only one working at the hospital since the other is no more.

Surely, Maimunatu is lucky to have a co-wife like Hadiza. Hence, why they loved their kids as one. And that's why Maimunatu felt just as depressed when Hadiza lost her child two years ago.

Qudrah who came along with them, placed her hand on Haidza's shoulder, taking the seat beside her. Hadiza had her eyes fixated on the kids that she had now tucked in to sleep. Kids and their midday naps. That was one of the favorite things she loved to do with her kid back then. She loved tucking the child to sleep and see the peaceful overtake the kid's features. It gave her internal peace.

"She had always loved kids" Haidza muttered, staring blankly at the kids with glossy eyes.

Qudrah nodded softly, her lips tugging into a small smile. "She followed you to the orphanage all the time" She muttered, so as to not wake the kids up with their noise.

Hadiza inhaled deeply, then swallowed hard. She turned around to look at her best friend, "I miss her" She whispered, tears welling up in her eyes.

Qudrah's smile turned into a sad one, "We all do Hadiza. We all do" She whispered back.

Haidza blew out a low breath. "But Allah loves her more" She muttered, looking down. "Do you think I'm being punished for the things I've done in the past?" She asked, her voice came out so low that Qudrah almost missed it.

Shaking her head furiously, she turned around to look at Hadiza. "Don't say that Hadiza, kina jina? Don't ever say that"

Haidza flickered her eyes close, then swallowed thickly. "But Qudrah you know the things I've done. Even if Allah has already forgiven me do you think he would?"

Qudrah sighed, shaking her head. "I don't know Hadiza. I don't know" She can't lie to Hadiza about the things she's unaware of. Only one person could answer that question. Flickering her eyes close, she uttered the one prayer they had all uttered countless times in the past two years. "She is in a better place In shaa Allah Hadiza. Allah ya jikan Kamilah"

~*~

Venice, Italy.

"Mi dispiace (I'm sorry)" She muttered to the person she had impinged on. Ducking her head low, she quickly walked away not wanting to hear the person's response. She'd been in this situation so many times before. Most Italians have little anger control, especially the tourists. That being said, most of the times she bumped into them, it ended up with them screaming stuff in their language at her.

She would've yelled back at them, considering she only has so much patience but she didn't want to get in trouble with anyone. Her mother had warned her countless times before.

Fixing her veil, she kept her head low and hastened her pace, wanting to get as far away from the crowded area as possible. She wasn't fond of being around people, and their chaotic voices. She couldn't handle it, not one bit.

Once she was away from them, her pace steadied. She blew out a blow breath when she spotted the familiar building not too far from where she was. A smile appeared on her face, the corner of her eyes wrinkling due to it. She darted her tongue out and wetted her chapped lips as she ambled over to the building.

The bell chimed once she opened the bookstore door. The man behind the counter, a seemingly middle aged man, looked up. His lips curled into a smile once his gaze fell on her, his mustache rising up slightly. "Ah! Miss bellezza (Miss beautiful). You're here early"

She chuckled lowly, closing the door behind her as she stepped into the bookstore. "Si signore Tonio (Yes Sir Tonio)" She sauntered over to one of the bookshelves, the same spot she had been getting her favorite books. "I'm here to get..." She trailed off, her fingers trailing over the books arranged in order by the same author. Her smiled morphed into a grin once she spotted the book she's looking for, "...this" She picked it up, and the other book beside it.

She then turned around to look at Tonio, the owner of the store, holding both books up for him to see.

He shook his head once she strolled over to the counter, placing the two books on it. He packaged it for her, while she handed him over the money for it. "With those two, you've read all the books by that writer" He chuckled, gesturing to the last two books which she's yet to read.

She glanced at the two books, then rose her head up to look at him, "The books are...intriguing" She shrugged with a slight grin that accentuated her pearly teeth. 'Intriguing' won't even cut just how mind-boggling the books are.

"They are" He nodded in agreement. "That's why they all sell out. It's a good thing you got a copy of those. I'm sure it would be sold out by the end of the week"

"That's why I wanted to be the first to buy it now" She chuckled, "I can't wait for it to be restocked again. That will take ages" She exaggerated, making him roll his eyes.

"Alright just go and read the book"

"Bye Sir Tonio!" She waved at him, turning around and walking out of the bookstore. The minute she's out of the confines of the bookstore, she hung her head low and hurried over to their apartment which was two lanes away from the store.

This time around, she avoided bumping into anyone. She reached the apartment soon enough. Shutting the door behind her, she took off her hijab and walked further in. "Maa!" She called out, "I'm home"

Her mother, a seemingly old woman in her mid-fifties walked out of the kitchen, wiping her wet hand dry. "Kamilah" She grinned.

~*~

Well, the Yusuf Bawas are mourning for Kamilah's death and yet enough, we have a Kamilah here.

Are they the same person? Probably.

But then again she's supposed to be dead, right?

*smirks*😏🤣 and then we start with the questions and plot twists😂 hope you came prepared.

Tag tag tag people to read this😭❤️

What's coming up next? I don't know too.

Stay tuned for the next chapter of Kamilah.

Love, Jannah.