Among the four of them—Sa'ahar, Nadeeya, Toufeeq, and the head housemaid Fadeela—not a single person managed to enjoy a sound, peaceful night's sleep. Nadeeya's mind was in utter disarray, her heart flooded with questions as she desperately sought to understand the sudden and abrupt reason behind Sa'ahar's departure. Compounding her confusion was the sheer look of raw, deep-seated anger she had witnessed on Ya Moha’s face, especially if her ears had correctly processed what he had bluntly told Fadeela: "Let her go. You will continue to live your life with or without her." Turning over once again to lie flat on her stomach, Nadeeya continued to analyze the situation. From the way her eyes had closely studied Ya Moha, there seemed to be a subtle hint of a past connection or familiarity between them. But where on earth did he know her from, or how did they know each other? That was the piece of the puzzle she simply could not solve. She forcefully exhaled a breath through her mouth, silently praying to Allah that whatever had transpired between them wasn't anything as terrible or toxic as what had happened with Ameesha. She quickly shook her head, whispering a firm "No" to herself. Despite her heavily swollen eyes due to lack of sleep, and a creeping headache that was threatening to flare up, she did not let that stop her from entering the kitchen to assist Maama in preparing Doctor's breakfast. She quietly carried out her chores, completely silent today, a stark contrast to her usual habit of chatting and laughing with the housemaids. Afifa had left for the hospital since the early hours of the morning due to an influx of emergency patients who had been involved in a severe car accident during the night. She met Maama in her bedroom and informed her that she was done with the preparations. "Go and arrange everything on the dining table in your father's section," Maama instructed. "He is heading out today because he has guests to receive. I will join you in that section shortly." She politely responded in the affirmative and turned to leave, Maama's eyes following her retreating figure. Ever since Maama had welcomed her back yesterday following her return with Afifa, she had noticed a heavy cloud hanging over her daughter. However, she knew her daughter's character all too well—she possessed an incredibly deep, reserved nature (zurfin ciki). Besides, Maama knew she could rely on Afifa to eventually unearth whatever the issue was. On many occasions, she was able to confide in Afifa about worries she could never bring herself to tell her own mother—a deep spiritual connection and bond of kinship that ran far deeper between the two girls than even with their own parents. Just as she finished setting up the table neatly and turned to leave, the dignified voice of Dr. Girema reached her ears as he offered his Islamic greetings upon entering the living room. Her heart instantly skipped a beat, but pulling every ounce of her composure together, she responded to his greeting and bowed respectfully to welcome him. "Sit down, let us talk," he said to her, searching for a place to sit himself. She glided down and sat near him, keeping her gaze respectfully lowered toward the floor. "I was informed yesterday that you had returned," he began. "I hope this means you are back for good, because you will not be traveling anywhere else again. The reward and blessings of the service you rendered elsewhere, may Allah make it beneficial." Politely and respectfully, she replied: "Yes, I am back for good, Abba. I am deeply grateful for the wonderful opportunity I was given." "That is not the way I wish to receive your gratitude, my dear Ummi," he said, adjusting his posture comfortably and resting his arm on the handrest of the chair. "My heart has completely found peace and trust in that young man. Therefore, I am letting you know that if you give me your direct consent—just as Islam mandates that we seek the explicit permission of a woman who has been previously married—I will immediately grant his elders the permission to come forward. We will initiate and finalize everything so we can move past this stage, allowing you to settle your mind in one place." "I have given you my absolute consent, Abba," she stated directly without hesitation, her heart hardening in that moment. She felt that she no longer had any hiding place left; her running away had officially reached its end, and there was nothing left for her to fight with. MAHMUD GANA had won. Dr. Girema fell silent for a moment, closely observing her face. The sheer speed with which she had accepted his proposition baffled him slightly, as he had mentally prepared himself for her to put up at least some form of resistance or hesitation. Yet, for the very first time, there was no pushback or argument; she had simply surrendered. He nodded his head slowly. "Very well then, you may go. May Allah bless you. Whatever the progress is, I will have your mother inform you." "Ameen, Abba," she answered as she stood up. Every single joint in her body felt entirely weak and numb; all her courage and internal strength had completely dissolved. At the end of it all, whatever was destined to happen to her would now unfold. With great effort, she gathered her composure and took a shower. She utterly loathed the profound anger, misery, and depression she kept finding herself trapped in. Furthermore, thoughts of Fadeela weighed heavily on her heart; every slight movement around her felt like the distinct echo of Fadeela’s voice calling out her name. Driven by this emotional weight, she dressed up and sought permission from Maama to go out. She drove down to Ya' Muhyi’s house and picked up Khalifa; from there, they proceeded to Ya' Saifullahi’s house to pick up Fadeel; finally, she stopped by Ya' Zaid’s house to pick up Zaahid. She deeply hoped that surrounding herself with the children would serve as a powerful distraction to lift her spirits. Even though they were all boys rather than girls, she harbored a strong conviction that their presence would strip away her overwhelming sorrow and cure her lonely isolation. He kept his large, piercing eyes entirely locked onto her, repeatedly guiding the spoon of food toward her mouth in a strict, authoritative manner while tightening his sharply tailored, handsome face. This stern expression only heightened his unapproachable aura and commanded an intimidating presence. Every single time she was meant to accept the food, she would look straight into his eyes first. He would bring the spoon closer to her lips again, but she stubbornly refused to part her mouth or accept it. Instead, a fresh stream of tears silently rolled down her cheeks. Setting the spoon down, he stared her down intently. "What is it this time?" "Anty N," she whimpered, the tears cascading even faster from her eyes. His heart flared with intense irritation and pain, because he utterly loathed hearing that specific name cross Fadeela's lips. "If you ever mention her name to me again... I will whip your lips thoroughly," he threatened, narrowing his eyes in a clear, menacing warning. "Oya, get up!" Sajjad's voice suddenly cut through the heavy tension between them as he stepped forward, extending his hand toward Fadeela. She quickly grabbed his hand, her trapped tears pouring out fully as he pulled her up to her feet. He said to her: "Come on, let's go tell sister Nadeeya to change your clothes. Leave him here to rot in his own thoughts by himself. Oh Allah... I deeply beseech You to afflict him with an excruciating, inescapable love for her, just so I can see how he will survive with this rigid stubbornness and hot temper of his." He tossed the words over his shoulder as he walked away. He felt a burning urge to leap up, grab Sajjad, and beat him to a pulp. The prayer Sajjad had just uttered felt no different from a man begging for your immediate, agonizing demise. Sajjad knew exactly how provocative his words were, which was why he swiftly scooped Fadeela up in his arms and bolted out of the section at a frantic pace, his voice still echoing from a distance as he playfully invoked more romantic curses upon him. He ran his hand through his hair, forcefully exhaling a sharp breath. He tried to calm his racing heart by reinforcing the absolute conviction that there was no earthly way he could ever love another woman again. No woman would ever possess the power to break through his defenses and reach his heart ever again; his soul and heart had already been utterly shattered once before, and he would never allow himself to be vulnerable to such ruin a second time. In fact, he felt that the very concept of "LOVE" no longer existed; it was far better termed as mere lust or selfish desire. Only then did he find the resolve to go into the bathroom to take a shower. Despite how much he usually enjoyed the exquisite meals that Jacob routinely prepared and set out for him, today he could not bring himself to put a single morsel on his tongue. Fadeela's non-stop crying over the past few days heavily oppressed his soul; today she was demanding something he knew he could absolutely never give her. Added to that was Nadeeya's complete lack of joy; the entire household had turned into an incredibly silent, depressing space. Sorrow filled his heart, physically draining his energy and vitality. While he was in the middle of reviewing some work files on his laptop—having entirely ignored the food Jacob had served him hours ago—he was informed that Baaba Ramatu was requesting an audience with him. Dropping his feet to the floor, he granted her permission to enter. She stepped inside with her characteristic grace and poise. He gestured toward a chair, and she quietly took a seat. "Good afternoon," Baaba Ramatu greeted. Respectfully, he replied: "Good afternoon. How is the work going?" "Alhamdulillah," she replied with a gentle smile. "If it isn't a bother, I actually came here to offer a piece of advice," she stated calmly, looking directly at him. He simply nodded his head, signaling for her to proceed. She cleared her throat softly, carefully weighing the words she was about to utter. "I was thinking... why don't you please have patience and reconsider your decision regarding firing Fadeela's nanny? Because in this life, one must learn to tolerate the varying characters and behaviors of the people we live with. It is completely impossible for anyone to do exactly what you want one hundred percent of the time. In the few short months that young girl spent here, she performed duties that absolutely no one has ever managed to do for Fadeela. She possesses immense care, caution, and an innate talent for nurturing. If it isn't too much trouble, please have patience for the sake of Allah and bring her back to continue caring for Fadeela." He lifted his head to look at her, but then quickly averted his gaze back to his laptop screen. Acting as though he wasn't going to reply at all, he finally spoke in a clipped tone: "She will never return. She is gone for good. So, teach Fadeela how to have patience and move on. After all, she didn't grow up with her from the beginning. She will just have to learn to live her life without her presence." The moment Baaba Ramatu heard him speak with such finality, she knew with absolute certainty that Sa'ahar was gone forever. He was a man of absolute single-mindedness (kaifi daya); no amount of pressure or difficulty could ever make him alter his decisions or backtrack on his word. She quietly stood up and exited the room, harboring a deep sense of loss and regret over letting a rare, exceptional girl like Sa'ahar slip through their fingers. She was entirely convinced they would never find anyone like her again. It was quite late in the evening when Sajjad finally brought Fadeela back. Even after their return, she completely refused to step foot into Toufeeq's section. She remained curled up closely against Nadeeya, and before anyone could realize what was happening, a violent, aggressive fever completely seized the little girl's body, causing her to shiver uncontrollably from a severe chill. Terrified, Nadeeya immediately picked up her phone and alerted Toufeeq. He rushed back straight from the mosque. Ever since this bitter conflict over Sa'ahar's departure had erupted, he hadn't been going out anywhere either; he spent his entire day indoors, conducting all his corporate operations remotely through his laptop. His anxiety was far greater than anyone else's in the house, but he possessed that rigid, masculine pride that refused to let any vulnerability show. He quickly carried her to the car, instructing Baaba Ramatu to pack a few essentials and join them so they could rush her to the hospital. Nadeeya remained behind, wiping away flowing tears long after they had driven out. Her spirit was completely broken. She knew with absolute certainty that Fadeela's sudden, severe fever was deeply linked to how intensely she had bonded with Sa'ahar and the agonizing grief of her absence. Unable to endure the anxiety any longer, she stood up, walked into her bedroom, picked up her phone from the dressing table, unlocked it, and sat on the edge of the bed as she searched for Sa'ahar's phone number. At that very moment, Sa'ahar was sitting in the living room with Afifa, neatly prepping a fruit salad for dinner. Over the past few days, she too had become completely silent, lacking even a shred of her usual vibrancy. Despite how heavily Fadeela weighed on her mind, she strictly refused to let her emotions break her resolve. Deep down, she believed the decision she had made to walk away was entirely correct—there would be no running back and no hesitation. She believed that deep emotional attachment was merely a trap for fools (sabo turken wawa ne); if she just maintained her patience, her heart would eventually heal and adjust, to the point where it would feel as though she had never even lived with Fadeela or any member of that household. On the other hand, her ears remained highly sensitive to the unfolding drama and movements within her own family house. Even though she had surrendered her entire fate to Allah, she knew that since she had given Dr. Girema absolute authority over her life regarding Mahmud, an impending marriage between them was an absolute certainty. The most terrifying thought shaking her soul was the painful memory of her past marriage to Adam—a destiny so bitter it had destroyed all her dreams, shattered her hopes, and stripped away any desire to ever experience marriage or life again. ...So, how would this impending marriage to Mahmud turn out for her? That single question threatened to shatter her mind every time it crossed her thoughts. She knew perfectly well that she and Mahmud would merely live a life of forced tolerance, but there was absolutely no way he would ever receive the genuine affection or submission he desired from her. She had stated this to him clearly and repeated it firmly, and he had explicitly accepted it, claiming he was fully prepared to tolerate her and live with her under whatever conditions she set. Yet, a dark corner of her mind constantly reminded her daily: THEY ARE A SPECIES OF LIARS, A BREED OF BETRAYERS. Everything they tell you before marriage completely vanishes once the vows are exchanged. Deception, betrayal, and broken promises entirely shrouded their hearts and tongues. She couldn't conceive of any words of love, attraction, or deep lifelong devotion that Adam hadn't passionately whispered to her in the past—yet look at how disastrously that had ended. What kind of marriage was she entering now? Was it merely a marriage of absolute obedience (auren biyayya)? After all, she certainly hadn't reached the age where she should be treated like a helpless elder whose bathwater has to be carried to the bathroom for them. In the middle of these heavy reflections, her phone suddenly began to vibrate. She turned her gaze calmly toward the screen to see who was calling. Her heart instantly whispered that it must be Mahmud—a man she had truly begun to despise along with everything associated with him. He had taken to incessantly calling her under the guise of being "caring"—a routine care she utterly loathed, because every single action of his made her feel as though he was merely retracing Adam's exact footprints. To her utter surprise, the name flashing on the screen was Nadeeya. It wasn't that Nadeeya never called her; rather, from the very day she had walked out of that estate, for seven consecutive days, there hadn't been a single day where Nadeeya hadn't called her repeatedly, begging her to return. The day Nadeeya had vowed never to call her again was out of pure frustration, right after Sa'ahar had firmly localized her stance that she would never return and that they should just do their best to take care of Fadeela. True to her word, Nadeeya hadn't called her since that day, though she still left a "Good morning" text message on her WhatsApp every single day. Setting her kitchen knife down, she reached out, picked up the phone, pressed answer, and pressed it to her ear. Her heart instantly dropped into her stomach when she heard the sound of Nadeeya weeping bitterly on the other end. She quickly invoked the holy names of Allah before finding the courage to ask: "Sister Nadeeya, what happened?" "It's Fadeela..." Nadeeya choked out, her voice suddenly cutting off. This sent a wave of terrifying panic through Sa'ahar's chest, causing her to rapidly invoke Allah's names again. "Please do not tell me something terrible has happened to her!" HUGUMA TABARMAR KASHI_6 Book 02 Page 02 "Isn't this exactly what you and her father secretly wanted anyway?" Nadeeya cried out bitterly. "Right now, she is admitted to the hospital, and whatever happens to her, the blame rests entirely on both of your shoulders!" With that final accusation, she abruptly disconnected the call, leaving Sa'ahar standing frozen with the phone in her hand. "She spoke the absolute truth," Afifa intervened, standing up from her spot. "What on earth did that innocent little girl do to deserve you people stepping into her life only to completely traumatize her? Just because you had a falling out with her father, you completely snapped and abandoned the poor child so abruptly?" "He doesn't have the power to snap me or control me! He lacks that kind of authority over my life. The only thing I know is that I can absolutely never live in the same environment as him, breathing the exact same air!" Sa'ahar defended fiercely. "Well, if the two of you end up killing her, that's on your own conscience," Afifa snapped in pure frustration as she walked away. In truth, Afifa had become completely fed up with both of them. They acted like two enemies who knew each other's deepest secrets; they couldn't occupy the same space without flaring up at one another like venomous cobras. From the exact moment Nadeeya called her until the break of dawn, Sa'ahar could not find a single moment of peace. Every few minutes, she found herself checking her phone; she desperately wanted to call Nadeeya back, yet she deeply feared doing anything that would break her emotional resolve. Even during the night, her sleep was completely fractured; the little sleep she did manage to catch was plagued by vivid, heartbreaking nightmares of Fadeela weeping inconsolably. This combined weight completely crushed her spirit, stripping away any trace of joy or energy. Consequently, by morning, she remained curled up in her bedroom, unable to venture anywhere out. The only thing her heart yearned to see at that moment was Fadeela's face—to wrap the little girl tightly in her arms just as they used to do. But how could she? She fiercely rejected subjecting herself to further insults and degradation, making it absolutely mandatory—no matter how painful or bitter—to completely distance herself from anything connected to MT JARMA. By late afternoon, her wall of endurance and patience completely crumbled. Having spent the entire day locked in her room alone—especially since Afifa was away working a full shift at the hospital—she glanced at the clock. It was nearly five o'clock. This specific time was exactly when she and Fadeela used to sit down for their daily lessons. What was the state of her studies now? No matter how hard she tried to suppress her emotions, tears completely flooded her eyes as she remembered the sacred promise she had made to the little girl: that they would study together until her final exams were completed. Fadeela had only two exams left when Sa'ahar abandoned the house; she had no idea who had stepped in to help her prepare for those remaining tests. Without even realizing what she was doing, she found herself searching through her call logs, selecting Nadeeya's number, and dialing. With his hands buried deep inside the pockets of his silky trousers, which perfectly complemented the short-sleeved shirt he wore, he walked with a calm, measured stride, as if the quiet corridor leading toward the hospital’s AMENITY wing had been built exclusively for him. These luxury private suites were fully equipped with every premium comfort imaginable, making it feel exactly like a high-end home. Even if you didn't know him, one look at his face revealed a pure, deeply embedded anger. However, his profound composure blended seamlessly with his intensely unapproachable, quiet nature (miskilanci), making it difficult for an ordinary observer to notice it directly. The only thing echoing repeatedly in his mind was the strict medical breakdown given by Dr. Anwar, who had firmly emphasized that Toufeeq absolutely must uncover the root cause behind Fadeela's severe depression. He was told he had to aggressively secure whatever would grant her peace of mind and restore her vibrant health, especially considering her underlying chronic medical condition—which had actually drastically improved and minimized compared to the past. Dr. Anwar himself confessed that he occasionally forgot about her condition entirely, due to how steadily it had receded during the months Sa'ahar had been in her life. If he analyzed this deeply, it meant that her return into their lives was entirely non-negotiable. Did this mean she had completely won? Had her entire strategy successfully paid off? He exhaled a hot, furious breath, his heart burning with an intense, bitter resentment toward that girl. From the exact day he had drawn a strict, permanent boundary between himself and the female gender, no woman had ever managed to violently disrupt his life and stand in his way quite like she had. The moment he reached the door of the private suite, he extended his hand, turned the handle, and pushed it open. However, before he could even step inside, the distinct, fragile voice of Fadeela—who hadn't stopped weeping—reached his ears as she spoke into a phone, crying out: "Anty N, please for the sake of Allah, come back! By Allah, I won't eat or stay here either if you don't come back. You made a promise to me, so why didn't you keep it? I cry every single day, but Abby says I can't come to you, that I must stay here, and that you should stay away too." Neither Fadeela nor Nadeeya noticed his silent intrusion, nor did Baaba Ramatu, who was deeply engrossed in her prayers on the prayer mat. Without a single word, he walked directly over, snatched the phone straight from Fadeela's ear, turned around calmly, and walked right out of the room, his soul burning with rage. "Hello... hello, Nadeee..." the soft, gentle texture of her voice flowed directly into his ear as he pressed the phone to his side. He closed his eyes tightly, feeling a wave of absolute disgust. "How much money do you require to be paid to return to the life you so calculatedly forced your way into, fully anticipating this exact outcome?" Sa'ahar's entire world instantly ground to a halt. In sheer shock, she pulled the phone away from her ear to look at the screen, confirming yet again that it was indeed Nadeeya's number. She had never saved his personal number on her phone. She simply lowered the phone away from her face and disconnected the call, refusing to grant him the satisfaction of an audience. She collapsed back onto her bed, her heart beating in rapid, panicked thuds. She had completely erased the memory of his deep, husky voice from her mind, only to be forcefully confronted by it today. She shut her eyes tightly, two distinct sounds violently battling for dominance between her chest and her ears: the heartbreaking voice of innocent little Fadeela, and his deep, gravelly tone. He bit his lower lip hard the moment he realized she had hung up on him—an action he absolutely loathed above anything else in his life. Fueled by a fresh wave of arrogance and fury, he aggressively dialed her number again. The loud ringing of her phone for the second time forced her eyes open. She stared at the screen, initially debating whether to ignore it, but seeing it was still Nadeeya's line, she swiped the green button and placed the call on speakerphone. "The very next time you dare hang up on me, I will make you regret it thoroughly. I will personally march straight into your family home to confront you. Now, name your price: how much do you want to be paid to return to your job?" He delivered the words with an immense aura of absolute power, pride, and total arrogance. Instantly, she recalled her true standing in life, her dignity, and her supreme value as a woman. This realization injected a powerful surge of confidence into her veins. She sat up straight on her bed and countered: "I am never coming back!" She stated it clearly and directly, pausing to see how he would react. Her soft yet unyielding voice—devoid of even a shred of fear or intimidation—struck him right to the core of his brain. "You absolutely must return to finish the game you started plotting!" he spat out in a heated, furious tone. "You must return because I want to see the absolute limit of your little game and completely crush your strategies, so you can thoroughly learn the massive difference in status between the two of us!" She immediately disconnected the line, unable to handle how his deep voice was heavily vibrating through her mind, traveling down her nerves and making it feel as though he was physically standing right inside her bedroom. She didn't just stop at hanging up; she powered off the phone completely. She lay flat on her stomach again, keeping her eyes tightly shut, though his authoritative voice continued to echo relentlessly in her head. One thing she re-confirmed about him was his unmatched arrogance, mocking attitude, and towering pride. Yet, she had also clearly detected a profound undertone of intense distress within his voice—a distress undeniably linked to Fadeela's critical illness, which had thrown their entire family into panic. He desperately wanted her to return to care for Fadeela, even though his own rigid pride loathed the idea. But he simply lacked the emotional intelligence or humility required to gently implore someone he needed a favor from. Did he truly expect her to return under such conditions? No. Even if he had approached her with gentle pleadings and humility, she doubted she would have agreed to return, let alone now when he approached her with such toxic pride and arrogance. She adjusted her sleeping posture, her mind locked in a fierce tug-of-war between two powerful emotions: deep pity for innocent Fadeela, and absolute disgust for his arrogant words. He angrily tossed his hands in the air, a wave of bitter regret washing over him for ever stooping to call her and demanding her return. Throughout his entire existence, no human being had ever dared to treat him with such blatant disrespect. He felt a burning impulse to shatter the phone against the wall, turning it over slowly in his hand as he glared at it. "She treated you exactly the way you deserved. And your behavior clearly demonstrates that you are not genuinely prepared to secure your own daughter's health and survival," the calm, commanding voice of Dr. Jarma suddenly cut through the air. Toufeeq spun around rapidly, staring at his father in complete shock. He had absolutely never expected to see him here, especially since they had bidden each other farewell just last week when his father departed for a high-level business trip to China, scheduled to last at least a full month before his return. Lowering his stance respectfully, Toufeeq greeted: "Welcome back, Father." "It is you who needs to be welcomed back to your senses, Muhammadu," Dr. Jarma countered coldly. Without adding another syllable, he turned his back on him and began walking away. Toufeeq quickly hurried after him, his youthful stride easily closing the distance until they walked shoulder to shoulder. He bowed his head slightly again, offering his formal greetings as they stepped onto the veranda leading directly toward the private suites. "I hear you. How is the struggle?" his father replied with a layer of heavy sarcasm. Before Toufeeq could formulate a response, Nadeeya stepped out of the private room holding Fadeela by the hand. The little girl was walking entirely on her own two feet, her face completely bright and lit up with an enormous smile—looking absolutely nothing like the devastated, tear-stained child he had left behind moments ago. "Excellent. You girls head straight to the car and wait for me there. I will join you shortly," Dr. Jarma instructed, heading directly toward the chief physician's consulting office. Toufeeq stood frozen, his mind completely fractured in two.
AMINIYA KO KISHIYA BOOK COMPELET BY OUM HAIRAN
Among the four of them—Sa'ahar, Nadeeya, Toufeeq, and the head housemaid Fadeela—not a single person managed to enjoy a sound, peaceful night's sleep. Nadeeya's mind was in utter disarray, her heart flooded with questions as she desperately sought to understand the sudden and abrupt reason behind Sa'ahar's departure. Compounding her confusion was the sheer look of raw, deep-seated anger she had witnessed on Ya Moha’s face, especially if her ears had correctly processed what he had bluntly told Fadeela:
"Let her go. You will continue to live your life with or without her."
Turning over once again to lie flat on her stomach, Nadeeya continued to analyze the situation. From the way her eyes had closely studied Ya Moha, there seemed to be a subtle hint of a past connection or familiarity between them. But where on earth did he know her from, or how did they know each other? That was the piece of the puzzle she simply could not solve. She forcefully exhaled a breath through her mouth, silently praying to Allah that whatever had transpired between them wasn't anything as terrible or toxic as what had happened with Ameesha. She quickly shook her head, whispering a firm "No" to herself.
Despite her heavily swollen eyes due to lack of sleep, and a creeping headache that was threatening to flare up, she did not let that stop her from entering the kitchen to assist Maama in preparing Doctor's breakfast. She quietly carried out her chores, completely silent today, a stark contrast to her usual habit of chatting and laughing with the housemaids. Afifa had left for the hospital since the early hours of the morning due to an influx of emergency patients who had been involved in a severe car accident during the night.
She met Maama in her bedroom and informed her that she was done with the preparations.
"Go and arrange everything on the dining table in your father's section," Maama instructed. "He is heading out today because he has guests to receive. I will join you in that section shortly."
She politely responded in the affirmative and turned to leave, Maama's eyes following her retreating figure. Ever since Maama had welcomed her back yesterday following her return with Afifa, she had noticed a heavy cloud hanging over her daughter. However, she knew her daughter's character all too well—she possessed an incredibly deep, reserved nature (zurfin ciki). Besides, Maama knew she could rely on Afifa to eventually unearth whatever the issue was. On many occasions, she was able to confide in Afifa about worries she could never bring herself to tell her own mother—a deep spiritual connection and bond of kinship that ran far deeper between the two girls than even with their own parents.
Just as she finished setting up the table neatly and turned to leave, the dignified voice of Dr. Girema reached her ears as he offered his Islamic greetings upon entering the living room.
Her heart instantly skipped a beat, but pulling every ounce of her composure together, she responded to his greeting and bowed respectfully to welcome him.
"Sit down, let us talk," he said to her, searching for a place to sit himself. She glided down and sat near him, keeping her gaze respectfully lowered toward the floor.
"I was informed yesterday that you had returned," he began. "I hope this means you are back for good, because you will not be traveling anywhere else again. The reward and blessings of the service you rendered elsewhere, may Allah make it beneficial."
Politely and respectfully, she replied:
"Yes, I am back for good, Abba. I am deeply grateful for the wonderful opportunity I was given."
"That is not the way I wish to receive your gratitude, my dear Ummi," he said, adjusting his posture comfortably and resting his arm on the handrest of the chair.
"My heart has completely found peace and trust in that young man. Therefore, I am letting you know that if you give me your direct consent—just as Islam mandates that we seek the explicit permission of a woman who has been previously married—I will immediately grant his elders the permission to come forward. We will initiate and finalize everything so we can move past this stage, allowing you to settle your mind in one place."
"I have given you my absolute consent, Abba," she stated directly without hesitation, her heart hardening in that moment. She felt that she no longer had any hiding place left; her running away had officially reached its end, and there was nothing left for her to fight with.
MAHMUD GANA had won.
Dr. Girema fell silent for a moment, closely observing her face. The sheer speed with which she had accepted his proposition baffled him slightly, as he had mentally prepared himself for her to put up at least some form of resistance or hesitation. Yet, for the very first time, there was no pushback or argument; she had simply surrendered. He nodded his head slowly.
"Very well then, you may go. May Allah bless you. Whatever the progress is, I will have your mother inform you."
"Ameen, Abba," she answered as she stood up. Every single joint in her body felt entirely weak and numb; all her courage and internal strength had completely dissolved. At the end of it all, whatever was destined to happen to her would now unfold.
With great effort, she gathered her composure and took a shower. She utterly loathed the profound anger, misery, and depression she kept finding herself trapped in. Furthermore, thoughts of Fadeela weighed heavily on her heart; every slight movement around her felt like the distinct echo of Fadeela’s voice calling out her name. Driven by this emotional weight, she dressed up and sought permission from Maama to go out. She drove down to Ya' Muhyi’s house and picked up Khalifa; from there, they proceeded to Ya' Saifullahi’s house to pick up Fadeel; finally, she stopped by Ya' Zaid’s house to pick up Zaahid. She deeply hoped that surrounding herself with the children would serve as a powerful distraction to lift her spirits. Even though they were all boys rather than girls, she harbored a strong conviction that their presence would strip away her overwhelming sorrow and cure her lonely isolation.
He kept his large, piercing eyes entirely locked onto her, repeatedly guiding the spoon of food toward her mouth in a strict, authoritative manner while tightening his sharply tailored, handsome face. This stern expression only heightened his unapproachable aura and commanded an intimidating presence.
Every single time she was meant to accept the food, she would look straight into his eyes first. He would bring the spoon closer to her lips again, but she stubbornly refused to part her mouth or accept it. Instead, a fresh stream of tears silently rolled down her cheeks.
Setting the spoon down, he stared her down intently.
"What is it this time?"
"Anty N," she whimpered, the tears cascading even faster from her eyes. His heart flared with intense irritation and pain, because he utterly loathed hearing that specific name cross Fadeela's lips.
"If you ever mention her name to me again... I will whip your lips thoroughly," he threatened, narrowing his eyes in a clear, menacing warning.
"Oya, get up!" Sajjad's voice suddenly cut through the heavy tension between them as he stepped forward, extending his hand toward Fadeela. She quickly grabbed his hand, her trapped tears pouring out fully as he pulled her up to her feet. He said to her:
"Come on, let's go tell sister Nadeeya to change your clothes. Leave him here to rot in his own thoughts by himself. Oh Allah... I deeply beseech You to afflict him with an excruciating, inescapable love for her, just so I can see how he will survive with this rigid stubbornness and hot temper of his." He tossed the words over his shoulder as he walked away.
He felt a burning urge to leap up, grab Sajjad, and beat him to a pulp. The prayer Sajjad had just uttered felt no different from a man begging for your immediate, agonizing demise. Sajjad knew exactly how provocative his words were, which was why he swiftly scooped Fadeela up in his arms and bolted out of the section at a frantic pace, his voice still echoing from a distance as he playfully invoked more romantic curses upon him.
He ran his hand through his hair, forcefully exhaling a sharp breath. He tried to calm his racing heart by reinforcing the absolute conviction that there was no earthly way he could ever love another woman again. No woman would ever possess the power to break through his defenses and reach his heart ever again; his soul and heart had already been utterly shattered once before, and he would never allow himself to be vulnerable to such ruin a second time. In fact, he felt that the very concept of "LOVE" no longer existed; it was far better termed as mere lust or selfish desire.
Only then did he find the resolve to go into the bathroom to take a shower. Despite how much he usually enjoyed the exquisite meals that Jacob routinely prepared and set out for him, today he could not bring himself to put a single morsel on his tongue. Fadeela's non-stop crying over the past few days heavily oppressed his soul; today she was demanding something he knew he could absolutely never give her. Added to that was Nadeeya's complete lack of joy; the entire household had turned into an incredibly silent, depressing space. Sorrow filled his heart, physically draining his energy and vitality.
While he was in the middle of reviewing some work files on his laptop—having entirely ignored the food Jacob had served him hours ago—he was informed that Baaba Ramatu was requesting an audience with him. Dropping his feet to the floor, he granted her permission to enter. She stepped inside with her characteristic grace and poise. He gestured toward a chair, and she quietly took a seat.
"Good afternoon," Baaba Ramatu greeted. Respectfully, he replied:
"Good afternoon. How is the work going?"
"Alhamdulillah," she replied with a gentle smile. "If it isn't a bother, I actually came here to offer a piece of advice," she stated calmly, looking directly at him.
He simply nodded his head, signaling for her to proceed. She cleared her throat softly, carefully weighing the words she was about to utter.
"I was thinking... why don't you please have patience and reconsider your decision regarding firing Fadeela's nanny? Because in this life, one must learn to tolerate the varying characters and behaviors of the people we live with. It is completely impossible for anyone to do exactly what you want one hundred percent of the time. In the few short months that young girl spent here, she performed duties that absolutely no one has ever managed to do for Fadeela. She possesses immense care, caution, and an innate talent for nurturing. If it isn't too much trouble, please have patience for the sake of Allah and bring her back to continue caring for Fadeela."
He lifted his head to look at her, but then quickly averted his gaze back to his laptop screen. Acting as though he wasn't going to reply at all, he finally spoke in a clipped tone:
"She will never return. She is gone for good. So, teach Fadeela how to have patience and move on. After all, she didn't grow up with her from the beginning. She will just have to learn to live her life without her presence."
The moment Baaba Ramatu heard him speak with such finality, she knew with absolute certainty that Sa'ahar was gone forever. He was a man of absolute single-mindedness (kaifi daya); no amount of pressure or difficulty could ever make him alter his decisions or backtrack on his word. She quietly stood up and exited the room, harboring a deep sense of loss and regret over letting a rare, exceptional girl like Sa'ahar slip through their fingers. She was entirely convinced they would never find anyone like her again.
It was quite late in the evening when Sajjad finally brought Fadeela back. Even after their return, she completely refused to step foot into Toufeeq's section. She remained curled up closely against Nadeeya, and before anyone could realize what was happening, a violent, aggressive fever completely seized the little girl's body, causing her to shiver uncontrollably from a severe chill. Terrified, Nadeeya immediately picked up her phone and alerted Toufeeq.
He rushed back straight from the mosque. Ever since this bitter conflict over Sa'ahar's departure had erupted, he hadn't been going out anywhere either; he spent his entire day indoors, conducting all his corporate operations remotely through his laptop.
His anxiety was far greater than anyone else's in the house, but he possessed that rigid, masculine pride that refused to let any vulnerability show. He quickly carried her to the car, instructing Baaba Ramatu to pack a few essentials and join them so they could rush her to the hospital.
Nadeeya remained behind, wiping away flowing tears long after they had driven out. Her spirit was completely broken. She knew with absolute certainty that Fadeela's sudden, severe fever was deeply linked to how intensely she had bonded with Sa'ahar and the agonizing grief of her absence. Unable to endure the anxiety any longer, she stood up, walked into her bedroom, picked up her phone from the dressing table, unlocked it, and sat on the edge of the bed as she searched for Sa'ahar's phone number.
At that very moment, Sa'ahar was sitting in the living room with Afifa, neatly prepping a fruit salad for dinner. Over the past few days, she too had become completely silent, lacking even a shred of her usual vibrancy. Despite how heavily Fadeela weighed on her mind, she strictly refused to let her emotions break her resolve. Deep down, she believed the decision she had made to walk away was entirely correct—there would be no running back and no hesitation. She believed that deep emotional attachment was merely a trap for fools (sabo turken wawa ne); if she just maintained her patience, her heart would eventually heal and adjust, to the point where it would feel as though she had never even lived with Fadeela or any member of that household.
On the other hand, her ears remained highly sensitive to the unfolding drama and movements within her own family house. Even though she had surrendered her entire fate to Allah, she knew that since she had given Dr. Girema absolute authority over her life regarding Mahmud, an impending marriage between them was an absolute certainty. The most terrifying thought shaking her soul was the painful memory of her past marriage to Adam—a destiny so bitter it had destroyed all her dreams, shattered her hopes, and stripped away any desire to ever experience marriage or life again.
...So, how would this impending marriage to Mahmud turn out for her? That single question threatened to shatter her mind every time it crossed her thoughts. She knew perfectly well that she and Mahmud would merely live a life of forced tolerance, but there was absolutely no way he would ever receive the genuine affection or submission he desired from her. She had stated this to him clearly and repeated it firmly, and he had explicitly accepted it, claiming he was fully prepared to tolerate her and live with her under whatever conditions she set.
Yet, a dark corner of her mind constantly reminded her daily: THEY ARE A SPECIES OF LIARS, A BREED OF BETRAYERS. Everything they tell you before marriage completely vanishes once the vows are exchanged. Deception, betrayal, and broken promises entirely shrouded their hearts and tongues. She couldn't conceive of any words of love, attraction, or deep lifelong devotion that Adam hadn't passionately whispered to her in the past—yet look at how disastrously that had ended. What kind of marriage was she entering now? Was it merely a marriage of absolute obedience (auren biyayya)? After all, she certainly hadn't reached the age where she should be treated like a helpless elder whose bathwater has to be carried to the bathroom for them.
In the middle of these heavy reflections, her phone suddenly began to vibrate. She turned her gaze calmly toward the screen to see who was calling. Her heart instantly whispered that it must be Mahmud—a man she had truly begun to despise along with everything associated with him. He had taken to incessantly calling her under the guise of being "caring"—a routine care she utterly loathed, because every single action of his made her feel as though he was merely retracing Adam's exact footprints.
To her utter surprise, the name flashing on the screen was Nadeeya.
It wasn't that Nadeeya never called her; rather, from the very day she had walked out of that estate, for seven consecutive days, there hadn't been a single day where Nadeeya hadn't called her repeatedly, begging her to return. The day Nadeeya had vowed never to call her again was out of pure frustration, right after Sa'ahar had firmly localized her stance that she would never return and that they should just do their best to take care of Fadeela. True to her word, Nadeeya hadn't called her since that day, though she still left a "Good morning" text message on her WhatsApp every single day.
Setting her kitchen knife down, she reached out, picked up the phone, pressed answer, and pressed it to her ear. Her heart instantly dropped into her stomach when she heard the sound of Nadeeya weeping bitterly on the other end. She quickly invoked the holy names of Allah before finding the courage to ask:
"Sister Nadeeya, what happened?"
"It's Fadeela..." Nadeeya choked out, her voice suddenly cutting off. This sent a wave of terrifying panic through Sa'ahar's chest, causing her to rapidly invoke Allah's names again.
"Please do not tell me something terrible has happened to her!"
HUGUMA
TABARMAR KASHI_6
Book 02 Page 02
"Isn't this exactly what you and her father secretly wanted anyway?" Nadeeya cried out bitterly. "Right now, she is admitted to the hospital, and whatever happens to her, the blame rests entirely on both of your shoulders!" With that final accusation, she abruptly disconnected the call, leaving Sa'ahar standing frozen with the phone in her hand.
"She spoke the absolute truth," Afifa intervened, standing up from her spot. "What on earth did that innocent little girl do to deserve you people stepping into her life only to completely traumatize her? Just because you had a falling out with her father, you completely snapped and abandoned the poor child so abruptly?"
"He doesn't have the power to snap me or control me! He lacks that kind of authority over my life. The only thing I know is that I can absolutely never live in the same environment as him, breathing the exact same air!" Sa'ahar defended fiercely.
"Well, if the two of you end up killing her, that's on your own conscience," Afifa snapped in pure frustration as she walked away. In truth, Afifa had become completely fed up with both of them. They acted like two enemies who knew each other's deepest secrets; they couldn't occupy the same space without flaring up at one another like venomous cobras.
From the exact moment Nadeeya called her until the break of dawn, Sa'ahar could not find a single moment of peace. Every few minutes, she found herself checking her phone; she desperately wanted to call Nadeeya back, yet she deeply feared doing anything that would break her emotional resolve. Even during the night, her sleep was completely fractured; the little sleep she did manage to catch was plagued by vivid, heartbreaking nightmares of Fadeela weeping inconsolably. This combined weight completely crushed her spirit, stripping away any trace of joy or energy. Consequently, by morning, she remained curled up in her bedroom, unable to venture anywhere out. The only thing her heart yearned to see at that moment was Fadeela's face—to wrap the little girl tightly in her arms just as they used to do. But how could she? She fiercely rejected subjecting herself to further insults and degradation, making it absolutely mandatory—no matter how painful or bitter—to completely distance herself from anything connected to MT JARMA.
By late afternoon, her wall of endurance and patience completely crumbled. Having spent the entire day locked in her room alone—especially since Afifa was away working a full shift at the hospital—she glanced at the clock. It was nearly five o'clock. This specific time was exactly when she and Fadeela used to sit down for their daily lessons. What was the state of her studies now? No matter how hard she tried to suppress her emotions, tears completely flooded her eyes as she remembered the sacred promise she had made to the little girl: that they would study together until her final exams were completed. Fadeela had only two exams left when Sa'ahar abandoned the house; she had no idea who had stepped in to help her prepare for those remaining tests. Without even realizing what she was doing, she found herself searching through her call logs, selecting Nadeeya's number, and dialing.
With his hands buried deep inside the pockets of his silky trousers, which perfectly complemented the short-sleeved shirt he wore, he walked with a calm, measured stride, as if the quiet corridor leading toward the hospital’s AMENITY wing had been built exclusively for him. These luxury private suites were fully equipped with every premium comfort imaginable, making it feel exactly like a high-end home. Even if you didn't know him, one look at his face revealed a pure, deeply embedded anger. However, his profound composure blended seamlessly with his intensely unapproachable, quiet nature (miskilanci), making it difficult for an ordinary observer to notice it directly.
The only thing echoing repeatedly in his mind was the strict medical breakdown given by Dr. Anwar, who had firmly emphasized that Toufeeq absolutely must uncover the root cause behind Fadeela's severe depression. He was told he had to aggressively secure whatever would grant her peace of mind and restore her vibrant health, especially considering her underlying chronic medical condition—which had actually drastically improved and minimized compared to the past. Dr. Anwar himself confessed that he occasionally forgot about her condition entirely, due to how steadily it had receded during the months Sa'ahar had been in her life. If he analyzed this deeply, it meant that her return into their lives was entirely non-negotiable. Did this mean she had completely won? Had her entire strategy successfully paid off? He exhaled a hot, furious breath, his heart burning with an intense, bitter resentment toward that girl. From the exact day he had drawn a strict, permanent boundary between himself and the female gender, no woman had ever managed to violently disrupt his life and stand in his way quite like she had.
The moment he reached the door of the private suite, he extended his hand, turned the handle, and pushed it open. However, before he could even step inside, the distinct, fragile voice of Fadeela—who hadn't stopped weeping—reached his ears as she spoke into a phone, crying out:
"Anty N, please for the sake of Allah, come back! By Allah, I won't eat or stay here either if you don't come back. You made a promise to me, so why didn't you keep it? I cry every single day, but Abby says I can't come to you, that I must stay here, and that you should stay away too."
Neither Fadeela nor Nadeeya noticed his silent intrusion, nor did Baaba Ramatu, who was deeply engrossed in her prayers on the prayer mat.
Without a single word, he walked directly over, snatched the phone straight from Fadeela's ear, turned around calmly, and walked right out of the room, his soul burning with rage.
"Hello... hello, Nadeee..." the soft, gentle texture of her voice flowed directly into his ear as he pressed the phone to his side. He closed his eyes tightly, feeling a wave of absolute disgust.
"How much money do you require to be paid to return to the life you so calculatedly forced your way into, fully anticipating this exact outcome?"
Sa'ahar's entire world instantly ground to a halt. In sheer shock, she pulled the phone away from her ear to look at the screen, confirming yet again that it was indeed Nadeeya's number. She had never saved his personal number on her phone. She simply lowered the phone away from her face and disconnected the call, refusing to grant him the satisfaction of an audience.
She collapsed back onto her bed, her heart beating in rapid, panicked thuds. She had completely erased the memory of his deep, husky voice from her mind, only to be forcefully confronted by it today. She shut her eyes tightly, two distinct sounds violently battling for dominance between her chest and her ears: the heartbreaking voice of innocent little Fadeela, and his deep, gravelly tone.
He bit his lower lip hard the moment he realized she had hung up on him—an action he absolutely loathed above anything else in his life. Fueled by a fresh wave of arrogance and fury, he aggressively dialed her number again.
The loud ringing of her phone for the second time forced her eyes open. She stared at the screen, initially debating whether to ignore it, but seeing it was still Nadeeya's line, she swiped the green button and placed the call on speakerphone.
"The very next time you dare hang up on me, I will make you regret it thoroughly. I will personally march straight into your family home to confront you. Now, name your price: how much do you want to be paid to return to your job?" He delivered the words with an immense aura of absolute power, pride, and total arrogance.
Instantly, she recalled her true standing in life, her dignity, and her supreme value as a woman. This realization injected a powerful surge of confidence into her veins. She sat up straight on her bed and countered:
"I am never coming back!" She stated it clearly and directly, pausing to see how he would react.
Her soft yet unyielding voice—devoid of even a shred of fear or intimidation—struck him right to the core of his brain.
"You absolutely must return to finish the game you started plotting!" he spat out in a heated, furious tone. "You must return because I want to see the absolute limit of your little game and completely crush your strategies, so you can thoroughly learn the massive difference in status between the two of us!"
She immediately disconnected the line, unable to handle how his deep voice was heavily vibrating through her mind, traveling down her nerves and making it feel as though he was physically standing right inside her bedroom. She didn't just stop at hanging up; she powered off the phone completely. She lay flat on her stomach again, keeping her eyes tightly shut, though his authoritative voice continued to echo relentlessly in her head.
One thing she re-confirmed about him was his unmatched arrogance, mocking attitude, and towering pride. Yet, she had also clearly detected a profound undertone of intense distress within his voice—a distress undeniably linked to Fadeela's critical illness, which had thrown their entire family into panic. He desperately wanted her to return to care for Fadeela, even though his own rigid pride loathed the idea. But he simply lacked the emotional intelligence or humility required to gently implore someone he needed a favor from. Did he truly expect her to return under such conditions? No. Even if he had approached her with gentle pleadings and humility, she doubted she would have agreed to return, let alone now when he approached her with such toxic pride and arrogance. She adjusted her sleeping posture, her mind locked in a fierce tug-of-war between two powerful emotions: deep pity for innocent Fadeela, and absolute disgust for his arrogant words.
He angrily tossed his hands in the air, a wave of bitter regret washing over him for ever stooping to call her and demanding her return. Throughout his entire existence, no human being had ever dared to treat him with such blatant disrespect. He felt a burning impulse to shatter the phone against the wall, turning it over slowly in his hand as he glared at it.
"She treated you exactly the way you deserved. And your behavior clearly demonstrates that you are not genuinely prepared to secure your own daughter's health and survival," the calm, commanding voice of Dr. Jarma suddenly cut through the air.
Toufeeq spun around rapidly, staring at his father in complete shock. He had absolutely never expected to see him here, especially since they had bidden each other farewell just last week when his father departed for a high-level business trip to China, scheduled to last at least a full month before his return. Lowering his stance respectfully, Toufeeq greeted:
"Welcome back, Father."
"It is you who needs to be welcomed back to your senses, Muhammadu," Dr. Jarma countered coldly. Without adding another syllable, he turned his back on him and began walking away.
Toufeeq quickly hurried after him, his youthful stride easily closing the distance until they walked shoulder to shoulder. He bowed his head slightly again, offering his formal greetings as they stepped onto the veranda leading directly toward the private suites.
"I hear you. How is the struggle?" his father replied with a layer of heavy sarcasm.
Before Toufeeq could formulate a response, Nadeeya stepped out of the private room holding Fadeela by the hand. The little girl was walking entirely on her own two feet, her face completely bright and lit up with an enormous smile—looking absolutely nothing like the devastated, tear-stained child he had left behind moments ago.
"Excellent. You girls head straight to the car and wait for me there. I will join you shortly," Dr. Jarma instructed, heading directly toward the chief physician's consulting office.
Toufeeq stood frozen, his mind completely fractured in two.