Death comes when you least expect, Allah sa mu cika da Imani.

SAADATU'S POV.

KANO, NIGERIA.

"I'm telling you this guy is unbelievable. Wai kinsan, sai da na gama shiri, harda kwalliya na wai ni zanje bikin qawata. Ina baki labari, ina fitowa, ya hada fuska, he even crossed his legs o and said, 'Ba inda zaki', with full confidence!" Faiza exclaimed from the other end of the call, her frustration hard to miss as she ranted.

I chuckled, unable to help myself. God knows how many times I've laughed since I called this girl up like I promised I would. She's making my car ride with Muazu back home much more interesting than I thought I would be, effectively making me forget about all that has happened in the hospital.

"Habu said that?" I found myself asking, "This is why people say men do all that they want once they get married. I bet even he found himself funny then." I could already imagine him saying those exact words, and the image in my mind had me laughing again.

Faiza hissed, obviously not finding it amusing in the slightest. "Which kind funny? Kinga yadda ya maze ne? Kaman ba shi ba. Kinsan wallahi haka gayen nan ya hani ni fita? It pains me o! After all that time and energy I put into dressing up, I ended up not going anywhere because my husband says otherwise." I could feel her pain really; I can't imagine how she must've felt in the moment.

At this point, I really wished it was face chat I called her, just so I can see her exact face at the moment. I know it'll be priceless, and I just could not help the urge to want to call and tease her even more.

She then hummed again, reminiscing it all in her mind no doubt with growing frustration and annoyance. "Wato ba, maza na abunda suka ga dama after marriage. I did not believe it before, but I do now." She lamented, and the clear picture of her shaking her head as she kisses her teeth to accompany the words played in my mind.

My laughter died down, and I found myself exhaling a breath as my shoulders slumped. "Well, I guess that is what marriage is after all, huh?"

"Do not remind me." She hummed. "You will understand how I feel soon enough when you join the married woman geng." Her tone turned teasing, the tables officially turning.

I rolled my eyes, sinking back in my seat as I groaned. "God abeg." Is it wrong to say I enjoyed her misery a bit too much that I forgot about that tiny, but huge matter of my marriage hanging in the air. "I honestly have forgotten I am the bride without a groom."

"Because you chose that!" She was quick to cut me off, "I very much presented my brother to you on a silver platter. What's more? You loved the man."

"Had a crush on the man, do not use the word 'love' here." I corrected her, because the mere thought of the word 'love' and Adnan and I in the same sentence makes me want to shudder. I believe the word will fit better in a sentence where the subject is 'Adnan' and the object 'Dr. Amal'. That will be much better if you ask me. "And besides, how many times do I have to make myself clear that your brother and I will not work out. So, remove him out of the picture. I want nothing to do with him...no offence."

"Umhmm." She hummed, in a way that screamed 'I hear you' which in Nigerian terms automatically translates to 'I do not believe you'. Then, before I could respond, she continued. "I understand you want to be stubborn, but let us be honest, he is your best choice here."

"He has never been my choice." The moment I said those words, I could imagine her giving me a look that screamed have I forgotten my stand up until a few months ago? I shook my head, then added. "He is no longer an option, and to be honest, he never truly was and you know it." I corrected myself.

Having a crush on someone is one thing—we say we want to marry them and all but it does not automatically translate to us actually wanting that. To be honest, to me, the moment the person I have a crush on expresses interest in me, that's it. The feelings die. A crush is best left as that before one crashes.

That is the category where I will place Adnan. Even in this situation, he is really not an option. Faiza may not know this, but what I saw and heard at the hospital earlier pretty much eradicates him from even the imaginary list he never made, as if his words a few days ago did not already.

"You are so stubborn." Faiza sighed, and I could picture her shaking her head to accompany the words.

"I am reasonable." I corrected her. "Trust me, your brother does not want any part in this as well." I was meant to add in my head, but I ended up muttering it and she may, or may not have heard.

Even if she did, she did not address it, which I could not be any more grateful for. Instead, I heard voices in the background from her end, followed by her words to me. "Girl, I got to go. My husband is back." She added the last part in a song like tone.

I could not but scoff at the duality. Was she not the woman complaining of the man just a few minutes ago and now he is back to 'my husband?'. Oh, Allah. "Muma dai we will get this husband adaina oppressing in mu." I said, not giving much thought to it.

"Whatever." Faiza waved it off with a chuckle. "Until you get that husband, I will oppress you die."

"Get out." I hissed, stunned by how fast this sis is ditching me for a dude. "Send my regards to Habu anyways. Kice nace aikin sa na kyau."

"I won't." With an annoyed hiss, she ended the call, leaving me with a smile on my face.

Dropping the phone aside, a small sigh escaped my lips as the car came to a stop due to the go-slow. Kano's damned traffic, I seemed to have forgotten how it is usually during rush hour. Knowing it will be a while before we get out and actually get our way back on the road, I picked up my phone again and just aimlessly scroll through my socials to pass the time—jumping from one app to another without any important task in mind.

~*~

My evening was going just well, not perfect albeit, but like I said, well enough when the door suddenly opened, and I was met with the sight of Anty's beloved last born, my youngest sister, Aisha or Humaira as we call her. Her small frame, a bit too small for a child of nine years old given a lot will mistake her for a child no older than six came into the room.

I watched her from where I was on the bed, laying on my side with my laptop in front of me, watching an episode from the live action of Avatar The Last Airbender. She came to a stop by the foot of the bed, then she parted her lips to utter the words that had my heart stopping.

"Ya Walida, wai kizo inji Yaaya." She announced, and believe me, my heart did cease to stop beating. "Yana parlor."

I found myself at loss for words other than the utterance of literally every prayer that comes to mind. A few seconds passed, and I composed myself enough to part my lips and answer. "Shi da waye ne?" I do not even know why I asked that. Perhaps, to vet how bad enough the situation is.

"Shi da Anty ne." She responded.

That does not calm me in any way it is supposed to. Swallowing thickly, I released a small breath and then nodded. "Okay, ga ni nan zuwa." I said, and pushed myself to sit up. Then, I realized she was still standing there giving one of those supposed to be cute smiles of her that I downright find creepy because this little girl's mind is a web of wonder believe me. She can legit say something and leave you speechless and wondering whether she is actually nine or not. "Miye ne?"

Her smile widened, and I knew she wanted something right away. "Dan Allah zaki samin cartoon?" She inquired, her voice low and her smile wide as ever.

Letting out a small scoff under my breath, I could not even find it in myself to scold her for the meekness when she could have outright said what she wanted. "Yeah, sure." I left the bed and gestured for her to get on.

She excitedly got on, laying on her stomach as I leaned down and picked the first cartoon in sight—the animated version of Avatar because I just cannot be bothered. She does not seem to mind and I will be lying if I said I was not envious of her young age at that moment. Kids, all they worry about is cartoons and stuff while we adults deal with issues I believe I am too young for.

But, who am I to complain when I have had my own fair share of childhood? Doesn't stop me from wanting a piece of someone else's generation though.

Filled with dread and dejected knowing I cannot do anything to escape this, I picked up a hijab and donned it, before making my way to the living room, all the while muttering any prayer that comes to mind. I hesitated upon reaching the entry way, thinking of bolting the other way and not returning, but I dispelled that thought as quick as it came for there was no use delaying the inevitable.

With that thought in mind and with more prayers uttered than I thought one was capable of in a matter of seconds, I stepped into the living room with a salaam, which got answered by the two most important people in my life. Keeping my head low, I went and sat by the edge of the chair Anty is settled on by her feet, then went on to greet Yaaya.

"Yaaya, ina wuni."

"Lafiya qalau, Sa'adatu." He was quiet for a while, and the silence seemed to drag longer than ever in my entire existence, before he followed it with the much dreaded news. "Well, I presume you know why your mother and I called for you, right?"

I wanted to say no, because this can possibly be about anything else, but I know it is wishful thinking all the same. So, I nodded instead, and he continued, deeming it enough of an answer.

"Well, my mother and I had discussed further on your marriage. And coincidentally, ko dake if Allah wills for something to happen, it will, a proposal came through for you." I could swear I ceased to breathe the moment those words escaped his lips, for I found it hard for me to comprehend them entirely. Did he just say propose? Propose what? "He is someone from a respective family that your mother and I know, and he has expressed his interest in you. It came in the form of an official request, though I expressed the need to ask you for your consent before we agree to anything."

In simple terms, someone's child had decided he wants to wife me. Wow. This is actually serious. Alright. It is okay. There is nothing to freak out about. To be honest, I do have a single person in my mind whom I could imagine would ask for my hand in marriage, there is no one I interact with in that sort. The only one with a similar stance is a particular someone whom I hope with every fiber of my being that he is not the one.

"It is not Hassan," Anty's voice came, as if knowing the thoughts in my head. That is what I was worried about, that it is Hassan for he is the only one that came to mind. "This is someone we have known for a while, and are very much satisfied with him, and his family background as well." She added, and it does not take a genius to tell that she is happy with this person—whoever he is that came out of the blue and decided to whisk poor me away. "Of course, the decision is up to you. But, as your parents, we are letting you know our thoughts on him. He is a good man really."

"And we both have no qualms with him," Yaaya took over, "You know your mother and I will never set you up with someone shady. "We can set up a meeting for you with him if you want before you decide." He offered, "That will help you make your decision."

I found myself shaking my head softly, though my eyes remained planted on the carpet for I could not bring myself to look them in the eyes. "It is okay," My voice came out so low, I could barely hear it. But somehow, they did. "If you both are satisfied with him, then I am too." That is my gentle way of saying I would rather not see him lest I make up 50 reasons why I do not like him.

"Are you sure?" Yaaya asked to confirm. "You do not have to feel pressurized or anything."

"I am sure." I nodded. If I am getting married, then there is nothing I can do to change it. Might as well accept it and trust my parents' choice, whoever he is.

"Allah ya miki albarka. Allah kuma ya nuna mana. Allah ya baku zaman lafiya ya sa albaraka."

"Ameen."

***

Here's the update I owe you guys, I don't have much to comment on it.

But subhan Allah I found out earlier today that a friend of mine passed away months ago and I didn't even know. My heart is heavy rn and I still find it hard to believe amma deep down I know it's true.

As you are reading this, please say a prayer for Arabi. Allah ya gafarta masa ya Kai haske kabarin Shi. Allah sa mu cika da Imani Muma. Allah ya sa Shi a dawlaar jannatul Firdaus.

Death is a scary thing really and lots of people are dying rn. Allah sa muyi kyakkyawar qarshe.

Stay safe y'all out there.

Love, Jannah Mia💕