Barka da jumuah.

Friday update as promised. My comments!

SA'ADATU'S POV.

KANO, NIGERIA.

Anty obviously had problem with I going over to Ya Mama for Iftaar. Not to mention since Faiza stayed over the night before for Iftaar at our place, she informed her of Ya Mama's invite to which Anty made a joke about how she did not invite her, only I. We laughed it off, with Faiza promising to extend her message to Ya Mama.

Faiza left after Isha, and since she drove herself over, I did not have to worry about running into a certain man with glasses that might come over to pick her up. We bid each other farewell, and I promised to head over to Ya Mama's early tomorrow so we could enjoy the day together.

And I stuck to my promise. Upon waking up, the first thing I did was check my Whatsapp, wanting to make sure we do not have any classes set which I am not aware of. And yes, my dropping out has been postponed. I refuse to quit because of that man. Once certain there is no classes, I released a relieved breath and continued sleeping, adding a few hours to the rest. One thing I absolutely detest about university is waking up to see there is a class ongoing which has not been announced beforehand, so I would rather not be caught off guard.

After staying up the entire night for Tahajjud, I definitely need as much sleep as I can get to prepare myself for the day ahead. The next time I woke up, it was half past eleven, and though I did not get as much as I wanted, I felt rejuvenated enough. So, I got out of bed, cleared the room off the mess Faiza and I made the night before heading towards the bathroom to shower and get ready for the day.

Afterwards, I rummaged my closet in search for an outfit for the day only to end up with nothing. You know that thing where you have a closet full of clothes, and yet find yourself with nothing to wear? Yeah? That is what I am going through at this moment. Nothing feels right, and I have been staring at it for minutes already.

A paper bag in the corner of the closet caught my attention, and I am reminded of the gift Faiza brought along yesterday. Bringing out the paper bag, I was welcomed by three beautiful abayahs, the gift she had brought, alongside some perfumes and shoes.

Pulling the bag open, a smile made its way on my face, deciding to simply wear one of the abayas. Now the new struggle is picking one out of the three—there is a black one, another in brown, and the other in red. All three are immensely beautiful, and I have fallen in love with each and every one of them so picking one out proved to be a struggle.

After weighing my options for long, I picked out the black one, a closed abaya—it being the simplest of the three. I do not want to wear anything that would give the girl any weird thoughts on whether I am putting too much effort or something—I know she will have such thoughts so the black one seems to be the best.

For the shoes, I paired it up with one of the shoes she brought, a beautiful Amina Muaddi sling heel, matching the black abayah. Satisfied with my choice, I laid the abaya on the bed and the shoes on the carpet, before making my way towards the vanity table to get ready.

I did not bother with any makeup because to be honest, I still have not mastered the art of it, and simply opted for my trusted lip gloss and powder, adding a touch of mascara as well. Once satisfied with my look, I wore the abaya, and rolled my veil. My jewelry as usual consisted of my all-time favorite knuckle rings, coupled with a wrist watch.

Given it is already time for Zuhr, I prayed first before completing my preparation to head out.

I picked up a handbag, putting my essentials in it before slipping into my shoes last. Giving myself one last look in the mirror, I found myself spotting a wide, relieved smile. I could not help but pick out my phone and snapped a mirror selfie, before sending streaks on my snapchat with the caption, "It is giving rich arab wife vibes" I added a laughing and heart emoji, before sending it.

Spraying a little bit of my favorite Tom Ford perfume, I deemed my look good enough, then stepped out. I found Anty in her room, still seated on her praying mat, with a Quran in her hand as she silently recited it. I settled down beside her, my back leaned against the bed as I waited for her to conclude it, which took a couple of minutes more. Once she was done though, she turned around to face me.

"Har zaki tafi ne?" She inquired, her lips slanting into a small smile.

I nodded, "Eh, I promised Faiza I would go early to hang out with Amani."

"Well, if that is the case, ki shafa min kan jikar tawa. And send my regards to Mama as well, kice ni ina gayyatan ta Iftaar since she won't invite me to hers."

I chuckled, but found myself nodding regardless. "In shaa Allah I will tell her." I ascertained. "Ni kuwa Anty, nace has Muazu brought back the car from the mechanic?" The car had a little bit of issues the day before, so I gave it to him after I came back from school and have not heard from him since.

Anty sighed, "Thank you for reminding me. Yazo dazu ya ce wai he will go and retrieve it later, amma I do not think he has gone otherwise he would have brought the key. Kije ya aijye ki kawai da motar hannunsa. Then he will go and pick you up when you are done."

I suppressed a groan. Not Muazu again please. I have been celebrating my freedom from being entangled with him, and now I am back to square one.

Knowing there is no point arguing with him, I simply abided by what she said. Bidding her farewell, and after reminding me to be back soon after Isha, I stepped out in search for Muazu. I found him at the gate, and informed him that he is to take me out.

Guess what he did? The man took his sweet time to finish his conversation with the gatemen, before he decided to come over—twenty minutes later. Even then, I had to check on him again. Mark my words, never in my generation shall there be someone named 'Muazu', ko bayan na mutu ban yafe ba. Nonsense.

Satisfied that he has annoyed me, he finally came over and started the car. I had to repress a hiss, before I got into the backseat and settled down. Soon enough, we were on the road and not for one second did the man shut up. He has been rambling to me about the chicken he has been growing to sell, casually chatting and laughing as if he had not annoyed me.

Badan kar nayi mugunta ba ai da nayi addua a sace. What is my concern with his chickens please? It is not like he will bring them to me or something.

The moment we arrived at Ya Mama's house, I did not waste a second to get down, and unbothered to ask when he will come pick me up, he revved his car away almost immediately. I huffed out an annoyed breath then made my way into the house.

The minute I stepped in, I was welcomed by the familiar scent of bakhoor peculiar to Ya Mama's house, and a smile instinctively made its way on my face. Turaren wuta duniya ne wallahi. The distinct sound of children's screams reached my ears, followed by Ya Mama's voice scolding them, not that it did anything to suppress them.

Following the source of the sound, I found myself in the kitchen, where I am welcomed by Ya Mama and two maids helping her around, Faiza standing by the corner, seemingly complaining of something. They did not notice me, so I made my presence known.

"Assalamu alaikum,"

The four turned around, all smiles the moment our gazes met. Ya Mama was the first to speak though. "Ah ah, Saadatun Hajiya, sannu da isowa. Maraba Maraba." She welcomed, her smile contagious.

I smiled back, making my way towards her, "Ya Maman Anty, barka da rana." I teased back, a habit that we have become used to since our mothers tend to say they have exchanged daughters. I am Saadatun Hajiya, and she is Ya Maman Anty. I do not know who will take Faiza because no one likes that one. Don't tell her I have said that.

"Lafiya qalau. Ya kike, ya gida, Ya Antin tawa kuma?"

"Everything is fine, Alhamdullilah. Anty sends the same message as yesterday. She said she is inviting you over for iftaar since you will not invite her to yours."

Ya Mama's chuckle filled the air, "Nashiga uku. Gaskiya I have to call her and apologize or I will just send you all away and invite her instead."

We all laughed, and Faiza's voice soon followed.

"It is like I do not even exist. Ya Mama is the only one on your mind." She feigned anger, a solid frown marring her features.

Ya Mama hissed, throwing her a quick glare before she shifted her gaze to me, "Do not mind her. She is just upset because some guy vexed her, and she wants to vent it all on us. She has been like that since."

Amused, I settled my questioning gaze on Faiza. "Who is this guy that dared to upset the Faiza Bayero?"

Faiza hissed, evident of her anger yet to fully subside. "Just this random guy I met at the mall earlier. I caught this guy taking pictures of me, and yet he had the nerve to deny it to my face. He was even asking who I think I am." She then hissed, "Such a pervert really." She added in annoyed tone.

For some reason, I could not find myself sharing her annoyance, because her simply being annoyed is funny to be honest. "Toh can you blame him? He is seeing the infamous Faiza Bayero in person, maybe he needs evidence to show his friends or something." I joked.

Faiza rolled her eyes, "If he wanted a picture, he could have simply asked for one. I know I am popular, but sometimes I like my privacy as well."

Ya Mama's hiss came before any of us could react, "Yarinyar nan, this fame you have garnered is making your head swell. Hala ma bai sanki ba. How many men are interested in skincare brands enough to know you are an ambassador of La Belle?"

"If he does not know me, why is he taking pictures of me, huh?" Faiza shot back, her annoyance not seeming as though it will brew down any time soon.

Ya Mama could only shake her head, "Allah ya shirye ki. Take Saadatu to rest please." She stated simply, then focused on her task, guiding her maids to what they are supposed to do.

Faiza made her way towards me, before we made our way out of the kitchen together.

"Where is my daughter?" I asked, the moment we stepped out. I saw Ya Mama's kids, her then fifteen-year-old now three and a half daughter, Amira, and her one year old son in the living room playing, but Amani is nowhere in sight.

Faiza sighed, then shook her head. "She is in the room sleeping. The girl cried herself to sleep."

"SubhanAllah, what happened?"

"What else? Da qiriniya ta tashi. This girl woke and threw a tantrum wai she wants Lulu."

My brows furrowed, "Lulu? What is that?"

"Not 'what', 'who'." Faiza turned around to hold my gaze, "Ya Adnan. That is what they call him. Kawu Lulu for Amira, actually. The man is at work, me zan mata? It is not like I can take her there, she won't allow him to get any work done. So, she finished crying and slept. She better gets used to it though, she won't be seeing him as frequent as she did back then."

"Oh," I did not know what else to say. Truthfully, I could make remarks, but knowing Faiza, she would twist my words and this is not a conversation I am willing to have. So, I left it as that.

When I did not say anything in return, Faiza continued. "Muje dakin, I will wake her up for you. Since Lulu is not here, Atu is here," She offered me a cheeky grin. "It is all the more the same."

"Faiza..." I warned, eyes narrowed slightly. "...don't start."

She laughed, then changed the topic. "You look good in the abaya," She complimented. "You've made the right choice picking this one. It truly fits you."

"I know right," I found myself agreeing with her. "It is giving arab rich wife vibes." I teased, with a slight wiggle of my brows.

She shook her head, chuckling. "I am not sure about the 'arab' part, but the 'rich wife' part? Certainly," She bobbed her head in agreement. "Any plans to return to the marriage mart any time soon?" She inquired casually, the topic going in perfect flow with the topic.

My smile fell, and I found myself shaking my head almost immediately with a slight shiver at the mere thought of it. "No, I am done with that please." I stated earnestly, my tone losing its earlier lark.

Jokes apart, I think I have had enough of the whole marriage concept. And that is my earnest thought on this.

Faiza did not say anything further, instead she offered me a small smile that shows she understands. No words were exchanged between us as we reached her bedroom, and she pushed it open, stepping in first while I followed behind her, closing the door.

The moment we stepped into the room, my gaze fell on the two-year-old peacefully sleeping on the best, and I could swear my heart swelled upon seeing the girl for the first time in person. Faiza made a move to wake her up, but I stopped her.

Instead, I settled on the bed, dropping my bag aside before I leaned down so I could see her up close. Amani turns out to be bigger than I expected really, but way cuter in person as well. Now seeing her up close, she resembles Faiza quite a lot, a young, and innocent version of her.

Instinctively, I extended my pinky finger out to her open palm, and the little girl clasped her tiny fingers around it, shifting in her sleep slightly. She pouted, a slight crease forming between her brows and for a second I thought she is going to wake up, but she did not. She simply continued her sleep.

"Allahumma bareek," I whispered, as a smile made its way on my face as I watched her. She's such a precious thing really. And knowing what her mother went through before bringing her to the world made her become all the more precious, not just to Faiza, but to all of us.

Tilting my head up, I found Faiza staring at her daughter with admiring eyes, the love she has for the little girl speaking volumes in her orbs.

"She's beautiful, tabarakallah masha Allah" I said, my voice low so I would not wake the girl up. "You have done well as her mother. I am sure she will grow up to be a good woman with a heart as beautiful as yours."

Faiza hummed, a sad smile playing across her lips as she shifted her gaze from her daughter to me. "Honestly, Saadatu, as much as I try, I cannot help but fear her growing up."

"Why?"

"Because she won't have a complete family like other kids." Faiza stated solemnly, her tone low. "I have failed her as a mother in that aspect--"

"Don't say that," I cannot say I understand what Faiza is going through, but I do know one thing for sure, Amani is lucky to have her as a mother. "Besides, do you truly have no plans of settling with someone else?" I did not mention getting back with the girl's father, it is not an option it appears.

Faiza has never told me what led to her divorce, and I never asked. I have always believed if it is something she wanted to share, she would. Else, there is no reason for me to prod. Rather, all I can do is to be there for her as her friend.

A sigh escaped her lips, and she shook her head slightly, that sad smile still lingering on her lips. "Honestly, I am not so sure. Not everyone can move fast," Her gaze drifted to her daughter, and she bit her lip, then continued. "Do you know her father remarried a month after we got divorced?"

My brows drew in, my lips slanted into a frown but I did not comment. I have always thought Abubakar must be a scumbag, but I did not know he is this big of a scumbag.

"—he never once cared to call and inquire about her, her health, how she is doing, or anything. He did not care even when they called and informed him I have given birth. He simply waved it off." Faiza's gaze met mine again, and she added, "He does not care one bit about her, you know. How am I supposed to explain to her when she grows up? How can I explain her not getting any fatherly love like others?"

"You don't know that," I tried to reason, but she did not listen.

She simply shook her head again, "Kema kinsani. The way men are nowadays, even if I do marry someone to provide security for her, do you think there is a man that would accept and love a child that is not his? Enough for her to not feel any difference."

"Allah zai kawo," There is nothing else I can say aside from that really. "He is the one that blessed you with her, and He will give you a way to raise her as well, in shaa Allah."

She seems like she wanted to say something, but my statement was enough to chase away all her worries for now. "In shaa Allah," She whispered in agreement. Silence reigned between us, until she broke it with an unexpected chuckle.

I gave her a look.

She explained. "Look at us, trauma bonding. One widow, and one divorcee. Who would have thought?"

I snorted slightly, rolling my eyes. "Certainly, not us from two years ago." If you had told us two years ago that we would end up this way only two years later, I am sure neither of us would believe it.

But, she is right, we are trauma bonding—trauma inflicted by the concept of love, and marriage. Only difference between us is, she has a reason to reconsider marriage—her daughter, and I on the other hand, has no reason to reconsider.

Some wounds are just inflicted too deep that nothing can heal it. As such, they are better left that way. After everything I went through, I have never reconsidered the idea of marrying someone again, and my parents have not imposed anything as well.

They say time heals, but I doubt it because though I try to ignore it, my heart still aches whenever I remember the past. So, I try to not think about it at all.

My conversation with Faiza easily transitioned to something else, leaving a light atmosphere. It did not take long for Amani to wake up, and she immediately threw a tantrum which came to a halt when she saw her mother. It did not take her long to familiarize herself with me, then she came over to my side, forgetting about her mother for that moment.

****

Been on this since morning, safe to say I've dedicated the entirety of today towards writing today's update.

I don't even have anything more to say right now🥲 my tired seff is tired.

Oya you've heard a little about Faiza's marriage, you'll get the rest later.

My girls have truly gone through a lot, I wonder why the writer of this book is so wicked to them.

Soon enough my character go comot for protest as well singing what is it? Haven't you done enough? The pain 😂😂😂😂

Who watches Chinese dramas? Have you watched the double!?!? It's the absolute best. Currently watching the princess royal as well and it's giving too🥹 that who rules the world is not giving o, dropped it at episode four.

Sha anywayssss, stay safe yall.

Love, Jannah Duke Su Xiao Heng Mia🫢❤️