Barkan mu da jumuah, though it does not quite feel so to me tbh but we move🥲

50kkkkkkkk viewssssssssss!!!💃🕺

Oh and I've found the perfect Adnan!
Him as a fine boy🥹

Wereys rest abeg!😂

Faiza did not join us after all, and when I called to check up on her, she claimed more guests came and she had to keep Hajiya company. However, I knew that was merely an excuse, and that she still harbors a grudge against Zaheer.

You see, one thing about Faiza is, she does not know how to get angry. When she does get upset with someone, then she holds a grudge as old as time so I knew from the beginning that this beef of hers with Zaheer was not about to end any time soon, especially since the man involved in the picture as well happens to hold grudges just as much.

Their situation will be difficult to resolve really, but like I said before, I have left it all up to them to handle.

Instead, Zaheer and I took Humaira to watch the durbur as well, and on our way back, he stopped by to get us ice cream—or to be honest, he got it for Humaira and decided to 'be kind to the poor' as well. His words, not mine. Wallahi Zaheer ya gama raina ni. There is no doubt there.

By the end of the day, Zaheer had gotten himself a new fully pledged member of his fan club, in person of Humaira. To be honest, he acted much more of a sibling to her than I was throughout the rest of the day, and that only solidifies my former knowledge of him being exceptionally good with kids.

Speaking of kids, a certain angry bird of a mother will have to see him whether she likes it or not because Zaheer, being the adored person that he is, got invited to Ya Mama's event as well so obviously, he would be there. We simply ended the day on the note that we would meet the next day at Ya Mama's residence.

When the next day came, as I had promised Faiza the day before, I decided to set out early so I could branch by the Bayero mansion and greet Hajiya—a plan Anty agreed to and even encouraged given how close the two have become. So, for the day, I picked out a royal blue lace sewn into a straight gown with a cape that reaches my knees—giving it a faux impression of a shirt and blouse. The cape however, upon its intricate and finesse details, gave the entire look a modest look.

I had already done my make up before putting on the bakhoor smoked outfit, then spent a while trying to perfect my headtie and that was where the wahala began. The first head tie style I made was good, but it felt off so I untied it to redo it in another style, and everything I have made since then only proved to be worse than the last.

At one point, I released a frustrated sigh and simply decided to try the first style again, and luckily for me, it turned out better than the first. It was not what I imagined, but I thought of it good enough.

I picked out a black veil to pair the outfit with, since the sleeves of the gown were done in black Chantilly lace, so a black veil seemed to be the perfect option. At first, I picked a Chantilly veil because it just goes with the outfit perfectly, then remembered how Anty describes it, 'Kin fi qarfin miji'. That is how she calls it. So, to avoid such long conversations I switched it out for another black veil, more decent than the one I had picked.

Slipping into my shoes and picking up my bag in one hand, and in the other—I held the small paper bag with eid gifts I had gotten for Amani and Ya Mama's kids simply to keep the spirit of Eid ongoing in them—and my cars keys followed last before I stepped out.

It was already past one, and I had prayed first before heading out. I am hoping to spend an hour or two at Hajiya—fervently heavy on my prayers that the man with glasses is not at home at the moment, then head to Ya Mama's after Asr prayers since that is when her event would start.

Upon stepping out of my room, the nearer I got to the living room, the more the voices there became prominent. I found myself there in my search for Anty, and upon sighting the guests there, believe me I regretted my decision of going there in the first place. I would have rather waited for them to leave, no matter how long.

However, what is done is done, and they have already sighted me so I did not have another choice than to simply head over. So, I plastered a small, fake smile on my face and stepped into the room with a sallaam, which was answered dully.

I settled down on the carpet by Anty's feet, instinctively looking for some sense of security and protection. Then, I parted my lips to greet them. "Ina yinin ku?"

Their responses came soon after, only their tones were anything but eager.

"Lafiya qalau," Answered the first lady, in a dismissive tone—her expression speaking volumes of that which she does not utter.

The second person, the guy, answered back with a bit less hostility than hers—only with an overbearing tone to match it. "Lafiya Walida. Ya sallah?"

"Sallah Alhamdullilah."

He nodded, then gave me a onceover, his lips then slanting downwards into a deep frown. "Ina kuma zaki? Where are you going to all dressed up like this?" His tone was not teasing—no, rather it was domineering. The type a father has, only this is no father figure, and he is simply crossing the line by acting as such.

But, dare I not say a thing repulsive to ruin his mood—not with both our mothers in sight so I keep my tone composed, then answered.

"Gidan Hajiya," I replied instead, leaving out Ya Mama's house part because I know it would only stir trouble.

Instead of leaving it as so, he continued to question. "Which Hajiya?"

I found myself looking up to throw a questioning look at Anty, a silent question as to whether I am supposed to answer him, and if she understands where this man is headed towards. She gave me a small smile—a silent gesture to just go along with it so it can be over and done with sooner.

I sighed, then met his gaze again, tampering down my brewing annoyance down. "Hajiya Bayero." I said, knowing that is the term they mostly know her with. "Zanje gaisheta ne."

"And you cannot do that over phone call?" He arched a brow, then made a gesture towards his mother. "You did not think of coming over to greet Umma, and yet you are getting all dolled up to go and greet Hajiya Bayero saboda ta fi mahaifiyata muhimmanci. Wai ma, who did you ask permission from before deciding to go out."

I dug my thumb into my index finger, holding back the response at the tip of my tongue. Instead, I forced myself to answer, while that annoyance within me brewed up a notch. "Anty," I answered simply, holding his gaze with my unwavering ones. Once I had noticed he was about to say something again, I added. "I asked permission from Yaaya as well and he permitted me."

The man folded his lips, his expression cold, and his eyes steely. Unmoved by my response, he still thought of another way to implicate me. "And you did not think to call and inform me first? Ni na baki permission ki fita ne?"

I did not think at all, my sharp tongue worked ahead of me, and I found myself throwing out a response, my annoyance getting the best of me.

"Akan meyasa zan tambaya ka?" I bite back. "For what reason?" I have always had a low tolerance level for nonsense like this, and I was trying to hold back for the sake of our mothers—for the sake of knowing what is at stake.

And yet, my careful considerations was ruined by those statements, and from it rose the phoenix of trouble I had been trying to avoid.

"Lallai ma!" His mother exclaimed, and I found myself closing my eyes knowing what is about to follow. "Badriyya," She directed her words towards Anty. "Is this how you teach your daughter to act? Tarbiyyan kenan?"

Anty did not gave her a sharp response, and instead, spoke in a calm manner, trying to soothe it before things could escalate. "It is not like that. Hassan's questions are too much as well. They are not yet married after all."

"Ba wanin nan! You did not teach her to respect her husband and her husband's family, thinking you have a way out of this. This is no doubt the reason why her first marriage failed—batayi wa mijin ta biyayya, how can he not take another wife?"

Excuse me, what?

I found myself staring at her, my lips parted slightly in disbelief. Did she perhaps not get the memo that my husband was already married when we met? Or is she simply twisting the words to fit her situation as she pleases?

She carried on, clearly intent on not stopping until she has uttered all that she wants to. "You think by teaching her to disrespect us this marriage will be cancelled?" She scoffed, her lips curling into a mocking smile, "Badriyya kenan, ai aurenta da Hassan kaman an riga anyi ne. When you refused the first time ba gashi ta dawo gida ba? Bazawara ce yanxu! A widow at a young age. If not that my son decided to be kind enough and marry her who else would marry someone that was already with someone else? Yo zaurawa har wani kima ne da su? Da ita da banza du daya!"

"Ah ah, Yaya Asabe ya isa," Anty's voice came, losing its usual calm, and instead taking a sharp edge as she warned. I am honestly too stunned to react, not because the proposed marriage with Hassan is a new thing, I have known of it for long I just did not think it is something I should worry about. I will not marry him, I have already made up my mind.

However, with the way his mother is speaking...it is as if they had already decided for me, without even asking me. Not to mention the degrading insults.

Laifi ne zama bazawara? Is it my fault my husband passed away? Is it my fault I am left a widow? Is this a choice of mine? If not then why am I insulted for it? What did I do wrong?

"—There is no need for the insults, haba! Sai kace Saadatu ba yar ki bace kema?" I could tell Anty was trying to keep herself calm, and not say anything that will blow things out of proportion given Hassan's mother's importance in my father's life as his elder sister.

If she goes along with her and ends up fighting, then things might not work well in our favor—especially not for me, not with the ongoing proposed marriage fiasco.

"Does she take me as so?" Baba Asabe inquired, her tone sharp and her eyes narrowed in my direction. "Or does she consider my son a husband that she respects?" 

"Yaya Asabe, the kids are not married yet. He does not have any power over her, not now."

"Ohh," Baba Asabe dragged in a dramatic way, "Ashe dai da gaske you are the one influencing her to act out of place. Because you do not want my son to marry her. Toh tsaya kiji, Hassan already has an obedient wife, he is merely helping this useless daughter of yours by trying to marry her. Who wants a wayward for a wife even? This girl has been sauntering around the streets of Kano with that useless boy—her ex-husband's brother is it? Just yesterday, Jummala suka ce mun they saw her at the Eid grounds with him. Who knows what the two have done beyond the eyes of everyone By the time she spends another year at home, no one would marry her, yanxun ma ko masallaci aka kai sadaka albarka."

With every word she utters, my heart grows heavier, feeling as though something is weighing it down. She simply reminds me of the words I had heard over the past year so much that I had tried to build a wall around myself. About how I am a widow at a young age, and that no one would want me.

But to be honest, did I tell them I want to be with someone? I had grown to hate the idea of being with someone entirely, I do not wish to be with anyone so why can I not hear the end of it?

"Saadatu," Anty's words came, cutting through my train of thoughts. I swallowed down a lump, then lifted my head to fix my gaze on her. Her expression was stern when she held my gaze. "Tashi ki tafi abunki. Go."

I nodded, though my entire body feels heavy as I lifted myself to get on my feet. I could not take even a couple of steps when his voice suddenly came, halting the action.

"Anty she is not going anywhere," He said, his tone firm. He then fixed his gaze on me, his expression deadpanned as he added. "Go back to your room, Walida."

My lips parted in disbelief, wondering where exactly he bought his audacity from.

Before I could react though, Anty's voice came, sounding as though she is about to lose her calm as well. "Hassan," She called out incredulously. "Na bata permission ina and you are claiming otherwise. Miye hakan?"

He shifted his gaze to hers, his expression unwavering as he answered, staring right back into her orbs with no hint of shying away whatsoever. "Honestly, Anty, what Umma said is true. You have failed to teach this girl manner well."

"I have failed to teach my daughter manners, Hassan?" The shock in her tone was evident—and I am sure the look on my face matched it well enough.

He did not take his words back, not seeming to find any fault in his words and action in the slightest bit. "It is true, else this girl will not be acting anyhow like this. Wallahi Anty laifin ki ne. Then again, I do not expect much from you to be honest."

That did it. I did not know when a scoff escaped my lips, and I found myself turning around to face him completely, "Amma bakada hankali." The statement escaped my lips without much thought but do I regret it?

Of course...not.

I could swear the room became pin drop silent then, everyone in the room seeming to have heard what I had said, originally meant to stay in my mind yet somehow, slipped out.

I could feel the gazes that shifted in my direction, however, my gaze remained fixed on a particular man, the receiver of the message I had not planned to send out, yet I do not regret doing so exactly.

I noticed the way his expression hardened, eyes turning cold as steel as they narrowed. "Me kika ce?" He inquired, as if he could not believe what had escaped my lips, yet the underlying fury brewing did not go unnoticed.

I am supposed to keep my lips shut, huh? This should be the point where I act like a good girl and apologize. This is the point where I should just stand and watch someone disrespect my mother while I try to uphold the image of the perfect little lady.

But the thing is, I happen to have a sharp mouth—especially when it involves my parents. His words, his expression and the way he carries himself as a whole simply acted to add to my fury, and at the point, I really could not care less what happens afterwards. Maybe I would regret it, but I would regret simply watching my mother be insulted even more.

I found myself turning around to look at him completely, then repeated, my words clear as day. "Ba kada hankali," I repeated, my tone loud enough for him to hear. From one statement slipping out, the others just followed, and I cared not to stop it. I then scoffed humorlessly, shaking my head. "To think you dare to speak of someone being mannerless. Did you take a good look in the mirror today?"

Anty's voice came, firm. "Walida..." She warned.

But, I was far too gone, especially not when he rose to his feet, coming to stand in front of me, seething. "Saka maimaitawa," He dared, pointing a finger at me as he gritted the words out. "Repeat it in bakida hankali."

"Bakada hankali, Hassan, na fada!" All sense of rational thoughts had evaded me, and in its awake, I was left fuming, seeing nothing but bloody red.

"Wallahi zan saba miki kamanni, shashasha kawai!" His voice could probably be heard from outside, he was all out mad. "Useless girl! Look at how disrespectful she allowed you to become, ta daura ki akan tarbiyya ta banza da wofi."

But, so was I. "In ka fasa," I stood my ground, refusing to back down. "Do you think you can just waltz into my home and act anyhow? You can insult me all you want but wallahi idan ka sake zagin mahaifiyata bazanyi shiru ba. If I am disrespectful, then what are you? Huh?"

"I will teach you manners when I marry you," He clicked his tongue, shaking his head in a way that showed whatever malicious thoughts he had ongoing in his mind. "You think you escaped me by marrying that useless husband of yours ko? Yanxu yana ina? How did he treat you at the end? Less than trash!"

"God forbid!" The disgust in my expression must have been evident. "Allah ya sawwaqe in aure ka Hassan. I did not before, I will not now." I knew my gut feelings were right when I decided to not marry Hassan.

I could not tell why before, but it is obvious now. Hassan is not the type of man one would marry—heck I will not wish for my enemy to marry him even. I now pity his wife more than anyone really.

The rest of his words sank in my head, and I found myself offering him a bitter smile, "And wallahi Khalil will forever be the man you cannot be. He is a much better than you are, he will forever be. Let that sink in your head. Kuma ba abunda zai sa in aure ka walllahi. I would rather die alone." Honestly, I have been ignoring it but it seems everyone has decided to speak of Khalil anyhow in my presence.

They insult, and degrade him anyway they want, and just because I ignore it does not mean it does not annoy me. Yes, he did something wrong, but who does not? And besides, ni yayi ma laifi. If I can forgive him, then who is everyone else to hold grudges against him?

Nothing will change the fact that Khalil was my husband, and the best man I have ever known regardless. I do not think I have it in me anymore to tolerate anyone speaking ill of him anymore really.

What I did not expect in that moment was for Hassan to laugh.

He actually threw his head back and laughed.

Dumbfounded and still irked to the core, I could only stare at him.

When the laughter died down, he stared at me with what seems to be a mocking grin. "Do you truly think you have a choice in this marriage?" His gaze strayed to his left, his look directed in the direction where Anty stood, "Baki gaya mata bane?" Silence ensued, but it was anything but comforting.

I could not bring myself to look in her direction, afraid what I might meet would not be something I would like. The silence enough was enough to have my heart pounding, my insides twisting in uncomfortable knots.

His grin widened, "I guess not..." He slanted his gaze back in my direction, his expression ever so cocky. Then, he took a step closer to me, and my eyes narrowed even more if possible. He ignored it, then offered me an unsettling smile. "...well, for your information, aure na da ke kaman anyi ne. Our parents had already agreed, an mana baiko." His smile widened. "Barka da sallah, matata. I truly cannot wait," He stressed that particular word out, his expression sinister and his voice dropping, "for you come into my hands."

My knees weakened, and it took everything in me to keep myself still standing. If Anty's silence did anything at that moment, it certified his words. The mere thoughts repulsed me...

They had me engaged to Hassan without my knowledge. Inna lillahi wa inna ilahi rajiun.

~*~

See you next week Friday, maybe. Tbh I might be MIA for a while though. I am pretty occupied now so...there is that. Cut me some slacks abeg abeg. No come include me for your prayers o, unless it is to pray i become a billionaire abeg🤑💸😂

Nonetheless, I no too like peace so no more peace again! 🙅‍♀️🙂‍↔️🚫

I don't like how everyone dey shine teeth in this book, ah ah! Is it not my book again? Why are you all smiling? WHY??😒 *shakes head in I've become soft* I need to dust my broom and become a witch for real really😒

Thank you Malan Hassan for returning. By the time you go come marry this girl, them go stop shining teeth. In fact, chop knuckle seff my guy, aikin ka na kyau mutumin. Wreck havoc well ehen!🔥🔥😂 wuta gayeennn balbale su 🔥😂 faya faya fayaaaa!!!

Toh an mana baiko ashe ashe. Toh Adnan sai asan tayi, mukam su Hassan in bashi ba sai rijiya tsundum, swimming swimming💀😐.

Someone should tell Aminu Saira to stop with that nonsensical plot of a storyline. I have never seen a mad woman like Maryam wallahi. The show dey vex me like this. Shirme kawai. Gwara Yaya Mujaheed ya cigaba da shan kunu, why hard guy go smile? Lmao😂😂😂💀

Have a good night. Stay safe matan Hassan😂

Love, Jannah Mia🫶🏽💕