Since this morning, I have been reflecting on my life and the burden I’ve placed on myself to care for my mother. Suddenly, as if in a dream, I heard my mother’s voice calling me urgently: "Sumayya! Sumayya!" Before she could call a third time, I hurried up, threw a small veil over my clothes, and went out.
“Mama, I’m here!”
She looked at me inquisitively and asked, “What is wrong with your eyes?”
"Nothing, what do you see?" I replied, throwing a question back at her.
"I don’t want any nonsense. What happened to you?" she demanded sternly.
"I have a headache, and I lay down but couldn't sleep," I said, my eyes welling up with tears.
"Have you taken medicine?" she asked.
I pouted because I didn't like taking it. "I'll take it later," I said shortly.
Mama just nodded and changed the subject.
“Go to your father at the shop and tell him there is no food.”
I just stood there; I didn't move, and I didn't say anything.
"I am talking to you! Do you hear me?" Mama repeated when she saw me hesitate.
"Okay," I finally said and turned away.
Mama already knew what the answer would be, so why bother? I grumbled to myself as I walked. Just as I expected, he was lying down.
“Assalamu Alaikum, Baffa. Good afternoon.”
He frowned before replying, “Fine.”
I frowned too and said, “Mama said there is no food.”
Without softening his expression, he replied, “Tell her I have no money. The month is far spent, and I haven't gone to work!”
I said nothing and turned back, having already anticipated that answer. As I walked, my mind was racing, wondering where I could get money today. Before I reached home, I came up with a solution I thought would save me. When I entered the house, I went straight to the room where Mama was.
“Mama, he said he has no money.”
She said nothing. I went back to my room, took my phone, and without much thought, searched for a contact saved as **"Boss Lady."** I called her, closing my eyes as it rang.
"Besty, you are so mean!" she said as soon as she picked up, skipping any greetings.
“Oh, Besty, I swear it’s not like that. You are always on my mind! How are you?”
"Alhamdulillah. So you remembered me today?" she asked.
“It’s not like that. Besty, where are you now?”
“I'm at Ni’ima Hotel. Are you coming over?”
I took a deep breath. "Yes, I'm coming. I need money urgently," I said, my voice betraying my desperation.
"Okay, no problem. Just come. But I swear, if you stand me up, we’ll fight. I don't care about your 'monster' [boyfriend/father]," she said sharply, knowing I was prone to backing out.
I gave a small smile. “You're too much. Let me get ready; you'll see me in an hour, Insha Allah.”
After hanging up, I sat in silence, feeling weak. I eventually showered, put on a long hijab and a face mask, and headed out.
"Mama! Mama! Mama!" I called out.
"What is it? Why are you calling me like a blind person?" Mama answered crossly.
"I’m going to Kwari market, I’ll be back soon," I said, heading for the door.
“What are you doing at Kwari?”
“I'm going to see our 'brother' to pick up a message.”
She paused. “Alright, don't stay long.”
I took a taxi straight to the gate of Ni’ima Hotel. I called her; she came out, paid the driver, and we went inside. It wasn't my first time in a hotel, but my heart raced with fear every time.
She turned to me. “Are you ever going to stop being afraid of this man?”
"You don't understand. It's not fear; I love him, and I'm not ready to lose him from my life," I said sincerely.
"Well, he’s right behind you, looking at you," my Besty said.
My body began to shake, and my heart hammered in my chest. I froze, unable to turn around. I heard his footsteps approaching.
I let out a massive sigh of relief when I heard him speak. “The 'Little Arab' is at our place today.”
I turned around weakly, forcing a smile. “Greetings, Manager. Are you well?”
"Alhamdulillah. And you?" he asked, eyeing me like a predator.
"I'm fine," I said, looking away.
"So, you came to visit me today?" he asked, looking at Boss Lady, knowing I wouldn't say much.
"Ugh! I see the way your legs shake when you see this girl," Besty said, rolling her eyes.
He laughed. “Anyway, can I borrow her for a bit?”
"What's in it for me?" Boss Lady asked playfully.
"Don't worry, you know we’re good. Now, let’s talk." Boss Lady took my hand and we headed into the hotel.
The manager cut us off. “Don't do this to me. You know how she is; she might change her mind any second.”
Before Boss Lady could speak, I interrupted: “I can't stay long. I told Mama I'd be back soon.”
"See? I told you!" the manager said.
Boss Lady laughed. “Leave her alone. Let’s just go quickly.”
We went to his office. He brought water and soda, but I ignored them. Only God knows what I was thinking. He tried to chat with me, but I couldn't relax, even though we had met before.
"Besty, I’ll wait for you at the reception," Boss Lady said. “Don't be long.”
Once she left, he moved closer. I moved away. He laughed. “I hope the day comes when you stop acting like a stranger. You're always like a newcomer in this business.”
I remained silent. When he kept talking, I said, “I have to go. I'm in a hurry.”
"Wait, please. Let's go inside," he urged.
After some hesitation, I followed him. He knew my ways—he knew I wouldn't take off my clothes. He moved gently, not wanting to upset me. Every time he touched me, I flinched as if he were touching me with hot coals. He whispered sweet nothings, but I was in tears, covering my face, wondering if this was how my life would end.
When he was finished, I pushed him away and went to the bathroom. I didn't shower; I just washed my face and body. I came out, put on my hijab, and said, “I'm leaving.”
He pleaded for a "second round," offering more money, but the look on my face stopped him.
"Give me your account number," he said.
“I don't have one. Give me cash.”
He gave me the money. I left without a word, feeling a surge of anger toward him—as if he had forced me, even though I had come of my own accord.
I found Salma (Boss Lady) on her phone. "Are you done already?" she asked.
“Yes. I'm going home.”
“Wait, how can you do that? Someone else is waiting for us in a room!”
I glared at her. “I'm going home so Mama won't be angry.”
She begged me to go with her, and I eventually agreed on the condition that I would only stay for 30 minutes. We went to another room and knocked. A young man opened the door. He hugged Salma and tried to move toward me, but I dodged him.
"Masha Allah! Boss Lady, where do you find such beautiful girls?" he said, leering at me.
Salma just laughed and left us, saying she’d wait at the reception.
"Hey, what's your name?" he asked. The name he used made my heart skip a beat. I looked up from my phone. He repeated it. "Don't ever call me that name again. I don't like it," I warned him.
He fell silent. "I'm in a hurry!" I snapped.
"Okay," he said, turning off the lights. He tried to get me to undress, but I refused, claiming I wasn't feeling well. He settled for romance instead. Afterward, I rushed to the bathroom to wash. My mind was entirely on my home.
When I came out, I saw him and Salma (Boss Lady) on the bed, kissing. I scoffed and said I was leaving. He offered to drive me, but I refused, fearing what people in my neighborhood would say. He gave me money, and I left without saying goodbye to Salma.
I took a taxi and walked the rest of the way. As I reached the house, my heart sank. What would I tell Mama?
I entered with a greeting. Humaira asked where I had been. "Where you sent me, 'mother'," I replied sarcastically. I performed my ablutions and prayed. Afterward, I told Mama I was hungry.
"The place you went didn't give you food?" she asked suspiciously.
I remained silent for a while before saying, "Mama, it was a shop, and I couldn't talk to him until they were going to prayer. He barely gave me 3k." I showed her the money. She said nothing. I sent Salim to buy pasta, and I cooked.
Later that night, Boss Lady called. “You're so lucky! Abdool said he loves you!”
"Who is Abdool?" I asked, though I knew who she meant.
"You and your pride!" she said, annoyed.
"Whatever," I replied.
“When will you meet him again?”
"Never," I said flatly.
“Please, you'll get money!”
"Find him someone else. He won't see anyone like me again." I hung up and went to sleep.
I stretched that money as far as it would go. Meanwhile, Boss Lady and Abdool were persistent. Eventually, I agreed to meet him on a Saturday. I pretended to go to Islamic school, packed an extra hijab, and left. We agreed to meet at his empty house near Kofar Nasarawa.
I changed my hijab in an alley and took a taxi. He was waiting for me. I was terrified—I usually only met in hotels, never at a man's house. We exchanged brief greetings. He dropped me near the house for safety. I got lost and had to call him for directions.
Inside, I saw three men sitting. I froze. He came and told me to go upstairs. He brought food and water, but I couldn't eat. We sat for 15 minutes until there was a loud, violent banging at the door.
"Who is that?" I asked, terrified.
"Stay calm, let me check." He went out. After 30 minutes of silence, I got a text: “Find a place to hide! It's the **HISBAH**!”
"Hisbah! Hisbah!" I repeated. "Innalillahi wa inna ilaihir raji’un!" (To Allah we belong and to Him we shall return).
### **Part 02**
I am finished! What will I tell them? How can I explain being at a boyfriend's house? How can I look at him? My mind was full of questions I couldn't answer. I burst into tears. I wasn't thinking about my home; I was thinking about my love, Khaleel. If he found out, it was over.
"Oh, my love! Oh, my dear!" I wailed.
I realized I couldn't fit under the bed or in the wardrobe. I saw a pile of laundry and hid inside it. I heard women entering and searching, but they found nothing. In my terror, I accidentally revealed myself, crying.
"Look at this beautiful girl! Why would you do this?" they asked.
I begged them not to tell my family, claiming my mother was ill. One held me while another covered my face with a hijab. Outside, a crowd of onlookers had gathered. We went to a house where a Hisbah official lived. They took my phone.
"You should be ashamed! Walking around in a school uniform! We have to call your parents," one official said.
I glared at her through my tears. We sat there for a long time before they took us to the Hisbah office. It was already past Maghrib prayer, and I was supposed to be home by 5:30. My only fear was that Khaleel would find out.
At the office, they separated me from Abdool. They pelted me with questions. Eventually, my fear turned into defiance, and I began arguing with them. One official, annoyed by my attitude, swore I would spend the night there.
“Give us your father's number!”
I gave it to him. I was terrified of my father, but I had no choice.
At 9:00 PM, my father arrived. I started crying when I saw him. They told him what happened. I stood before him, head bowed. His first question was about the boy. When he saw Abdool, he realized it wasn't the boy he expected. He swore, “If it were that other boy, I would marry you off to him right now!”
"Abba, you know I love him!" I blurted out. He moved to strike me, but they held him back.
In my mind, I thought, *If only it were Khaleel, we could be married and I’d be at peace.* I even let out a small smile despite the situation.
They made us sign papers saying we’d return in the morning. Since my father was a known figure, they let us go around 11:00 PM. I walked quickly, terrified that my father might beat me. At home, Mama and Humaira were waiting.
“Mama, believe me, I didn't do anything! I just went to see him, and this happened!”
Mama just stared at me. Then my father entered. “This girl wants to ruin my reputation! She left in a school uniform but went to a boyfriend's house. None of my children have ever disgraced me like this.”
Mama began to cry, which made Humaira and me cry too.
"I am marrying you off. Bring a husband!" my father declared.
"Abba, I want **KHALEEL**!" I shouted.
Both my father and mother snapped that he would never marry me. I insisted he would, crying all the while. They kept arguing, but my mind was elsewhere. Why did everyone say Khaleel wouldn't marry me?
That night, I didn't sleep, dreading the return to the Hisbah office and the words everyone said about my love. Mama spent the night praying.
At 8:00 AM, we left the house without eating or bathing. We met Abdool's parents at the office. My father stood up and addressed the officials: “Among you who serve Allah, if there is anyone who wants my daughter Sumayya, she is yours. Just pay the dowry, and the marriage is done!”
"Marriage...!!???" I repeated in shock. My tears flowed like a fountain. My heart raced as I saw the Hisbah men surrounding me, everyone saying they wanted me. They began debating who should have me.
*I regret ever knowing you, Abdool. You brought me nothing but trouble. Now I am going to lose Khaleel because of you.*
"Sumayya! What are you thinking about?" my father’s shout brought me back to reality.
Since this morning, I have been reflecting on my life and the burden I’ve placed on myself to care for my mother. Suddenly, as if in a dream, I heard my mother’s voice calling me urgently: "Sumayya! Sumayya!" Before she could call a third time, I hurried up, threw a small veil over my clothes, and went out.
“Mama, I’m here!”
She looked at me inquisitively and asked, “What is wrong with your eyes?”
"Nothing, what do you see?" I replied, throwing a question back at her.
"I don’t want any nonsense. What happened to you?" she demanded sternly.
"I have a headache, and I lay down but couldn't sleep," I said, my eyes welling up with tears.
"Have you taken medicine?" she asked.
I pouted because I didn't like taking it. "I'll take it later," I said shortly.
Mama just nodded and changed the subject.
“Go to your father at the shop and tell him there is no food.”
I just stood there; I didn't move, and I didn't say anything.
"I am talking to you! Do you hear me?" Mama repeated when she saw me hesitate.
"Okay," I finally said and turned away.
Mama already knew what the answer would be, so why bother? I grumbled to myself as I walked. Just as I expected, he was lying down.
“Assalamu Alaikum, Baffa. Good afternoon.”
He frowned before replying, “Fine.”
I frowned too and said, “Mama said there is no food.”
Without softening his expression, he replied, “Tell her I have no money. The month is far spent, and I haven't gone to work!”
I said nothing and turned back, having already anticipated that answer. As I walked, my mind was racing, wondering where I could get money today. Before I reached home, I came up with a solution I thought would save me. When I entered the house, I went straight to the room where Mama was.
“Mama, he said he has no money.”
She said nothing. I went back to my room, took my phone, and without much thought, searched for a contact saved as **"Boss Lady."** I called her, closing my eyes as it rang.
"Besty, you are so mean!" she said as soon as she picked up, skipping any greetings.
“Oh, Besty, I swear it’s not like that. You are always on my mind! How are you?”
"Alhamdulillah. So you remembered me today?" she asked.
“It’s not like that. Besty, where are you now?”
“I'm at Ni’ima Hotel. Are you coming over?”
I took a deep breath. "Yes, I'm coming. I need money urgently," I said, my voice betraying my desperation.
"Okay, no problem. Just come. But I swear, if you stand me up, we’ll fight. I don't care about your 'monster' [boyfriend/father]," she said sharply, knowing I was prone to backing out.
I gave a small smile. “You're too much. Let me get ready; you'll see me in an hour, Insha Allah.”
After hanging up, I sat in silence, feeling weak. I eventually showered, put on a long hijab and a face mask, and headed out.
"Mama! Mama! Mama!" I called out.
"What is it? Why are you calling me like a blind person?" Mama answered crossly.
"I’m going to Kwari market, I’ll be back soon," I said, heading for the door.
“What are you doing at Kwari?”
“I'm going to see our 'brother' to pick up a message.”
She paused. “Alright, don't stay long.”
I took a taxi straight to the gate of Ni’ima Hotel. I called her; she came out, paid the driver, and we went inside. It wasn't my first time in a hotel, but my heart raced with fear every time.
She turned to me. “Are you ever going to stop being afraid of this man?”
"You don't understand. It's not fear; I love him, and I'm not ready to lose him from my life," I said sincerely.
"Well, he’s right behind you, looking at you," my Besty said.
My body began to shake, and my heart hammered in my chest. I froze, unable to turn around. I heard his footsteps approaching.
I let out a massive sigh of relief when I heard him speak. “The 'Little Arab' is at our place today.”
I turned around weakly, forcing a smile. “Greetings, Manager. Are you well?”
"Alhamdulillah. And you?" he asked, eyeing me like a predator.
"I'm fine," I said, looking away.
"So, you came to visit me today?" he asked, looking at Boss Lady, knowing I wouldn't say much.
"Ugh! I see the way your legs shake when you see this girl," Besty said, rolling her eyes.
He laughed. “Anyway, can I borrow her for a bit?”
"What's in it for me?" Boss Lady asked playfully.
"Don't worry, you know we’re good. Now, let’s talk." Boss Lady took my hand and we headed into the hotel.
The manager cut us off. “Don't do this to me. You know how she is; she might change her mind any second.”
Before Boss Lady could speak, I interrupted: “I can't stay long. I told Mama I'd be back soon.”
"See? I told you!" the manager said.
Boss Lady laughed. “Leave her alone. Let’s just go quickly.”
We went to his office. He brought water and soda, but I ignored them. Only God knows what I was thinking. He tried to chat with me, but I couldn't relax, even though we had met before.
"Besty, I’ll wait for you at the reception," Boss Lady said. “Don't be long.”
Once she left, he moved closer. I moved away. He laughed. “I hope the day comes when you stop acting like a stranger. You're always like a newcomer in this business.”
I remained silent. When he kept talking, I said, “I have to go. I'm in a hurry.”
"Wait, please. Let's go inside," he urged.
After some hesitation, I followed him. He knew my ways—he knew I wouldn't take off my clothes. He moved gently, not wanting to upset me. Every time he touched me, I flinched as if he were touching me with hot coals. He whispered sweet nothings, but I was in tears, covering my face, wondering if this was how my life would end.
When he was finished, I pushed him away and went to the bathroom. I didn't shower; I just washed my face and body. I came out, put on my hijab, and said, “I'm leaving.”
He pleaded for a "second round," offering more money, but the look on my face stopped him.
"Give me your account number," he said.
“I don't have one. Give me cash.”
He gave me the money. I left without a word, feeling a surge of anger toward him—as if he had forced me, even though I had come of my own accord.
I found Salma (Boss Lady) on her phone. "Are you done already?" she asked.
“Yes. I'm going home.”
“Wait, how can you do that? Someone else is waiting for us in a room!”
I glared at her. “I'm going home so Mama won't be angry.”
She begged me to go with her, and I eventually agreed on the condition that I would only stay for 30 minutes. We went to another room and knocked. A young man opened the door. He hugged Salma and tried to move toward me, but I dodged him.
"Masha Allah! Boss Lady, where do you find such beautiful girls?" he said, leering at me.
Salma just laughed and left us, saying she’d wait at the reception.
"Hey, what's your name?" he asked. The name he used made my heart skip a beat. I looked up from my phone. He repeated it. "Don't ever call me that name again. I don't like it," I warned him.
He fell silent. "I'm in a hurry!" I snapped.
"Okay," he said, turning off the lights. He tried to get me to undress, but I refused, claiming I wasn't feeling well. He settled for romance instead. Afterward, I rushed to the bathroom to wash. My mind was entirely on my home.
When I came out, I saw him and Salma (Boss Lady) on the bed, kissing. I scoffed and said I was leaving. He offered to drive me, but I refused, fearing what people in my neighborhood would say. He gave me money, and I left without saying goodbye to Salma.
I took a taxi and walked the rest of the way. As I reached the house, my heart sank. What would I tell Mama?
I entered with a greeting. Humaira asked where I had been. "Where you sent me, 'mother'," I replied sarcastically. I performed my ablutions and prayed. Afterward, I told Mama I was hungry.
"The place you went didn't give you food?" she asked suspiciously.
I remained silent for a while before saying, "Mama, it was a shop, and I couldn't talk to him until they were going to prayer. He barely gave me 3k." I showed her the money. She said nothing. I sent Salim to buy pasta, and I cooked.
Later that night, Boss Lady called. “You're so lucky! Abdool said he loves you!”
"Who is Abdool?" I asked, though I knew who she meant.
"You and your pride!" she said, annoyed.
"Whatever," I replied.
“When will you meet him again?”
"Never," I said flatly.
“Please, you'll get money!”
"Find him someone else. He won't see anyone like me again." I hung up and went to sleep.
I stretched that money as far as it would go. Meanwhile, Boss Lady and Abdool were persistent. Eventually, I agreed to meet him on a Saturday. I pretended to go to Islamic school, packed an extra hijab, and left. We agreed to meet at his empty house near Kofar Nasarawa.
I changed my hijab in an alley and took a taxi. He was waiting for me. I was terrified—I usually only met in hotels, never at a man's house. We exchanged brief greetings. He dropped me near the house for safety. I got lost and had to call him for directions.
Inside, I saw three men sitting. I froze. He came and told me to go upstairs. He brought food and water, but I couldn't eat. We sat for 15 minutes until there was a loud, violent banging at the door.
"Who is that?" I asked, terrified.
"Stay calm, let me check." He went out. After 30 minutes of silence, I got a text: “Find a place to hide! It's the **HISBAH**!”
"Hisbah! Hisbah!" I repeated. "Innalillahi wa inna ilaihir raji’un!" (To Allah we belong and to Him we shall return).
### **Part 02**
I am finished! What will I tell them? How can I explain being at a boyfriend's house? How can I look at him? My mind was full of questions I couldn't answer. I burst into tears. I wasn't thinking about my home; I was thinking about my love, Khaleel. If he found out, it was over.
"Oh, my love! Oh, my dear!" I wailed.
I realized I couldn't fit under the bed or in the wardrobe. I saw a pile of laundry and hid inside it. I heard women entering and searching, but they found nothing. In my terror, I accidentally revealed myself, crying.
"Look at this beautiful girl! Why would you do this?" they asked.
I begged them not to tell my family, claiming my mother was ill. One held me while another covered my face with a hijab. Outside, a crowd of onlookers had gathered. We went to a house where a Hisbah official lived. They took my phone.
"You should be ashamed! Walking around in a school uniform! We have to call your parents," one official said.
I glared at her through my tears. We sat there for a long time before they took us to the Hisbah office. It was already past Maghrib prayer, and I was supposed to be home by 5:30. My only fear was that Khaleel would find out.
At the office, they separated me from Abdool. They pelted me with questions. Eventually, my fear turned into defiance, and I began arguing with them. One official, annoyed by my attitude, swore I would spend the night there.
“Give us your father's number!”
I gave it to him. I was terrified of my father, but I had no choice.
At 9:00 PM, my father arrived. I started crying when I saw him. They told him what happened. I stood before him, head bowed. His first question was about the boy. When he saw Abdool, he realized it wasn't the boy he expected. He swore, “If it were that other boy, I would marry you off to him right now!”
"Abba, you know I love him!" I blurted out. He moved to strike me, but they held him back.
In my mind, I thought, *If only it were Khaleel, we could be married and I’d be at peace.* I even let out a small smile despite the situation.
They made us sign papers saying we’d return in the morning. Since my father was a known figure, they let us go around 11:00 PM. I walked quickly, terrified that my father might beat me. At home, Mama and Humaira were waiting.
“Mama, believe me, I didn't do anything! I just went to see him, and this happened!”
Mama just stared at me. Then my father entered. “This girl wants to ruin my reputation! She left in a school uniform but went to a boyfriend's house. None of my children have ever disgraced me like this.”
Mama began to cry, which made Humaira and me cry too.
"I am marrying you off. Bring a husband!" my father declared.
"Abba, I want **KHALEEL**!" I shouted.
Both my father and mother snapped that he would never marry me. I insisted he would, crying all the while. They kept arguing, but my mind was elsewhere. Why did everyone say Khaleel wouldn't marry me?
That night, I didn't sleep, dreading the return to the Hisbah office and the words everyone said about my love. Mama spent the night praying.
At 8:00 AM, we left the house without eating or bathing. We met Abdool's parents at the office. My father stood up and addressed the officials: “Among you who serve Allah, if there is anyone who wants my daughter Sumayya, she is yours. Just pay the dowry, and the marriage is done!”
"Marriage...!!???" I repeated in shock. My tears flowed like a fountain. My heart raced as I saw the Hisbah men surrounding me, everyone saying they wanted me. They began debating who should have me.
*I regret ever knowing you, Abdool. You brought me nothing but trouble. Now I am going to lose Khaleel because of you.*
"Sumayya! What are you thinking about?" my father’s shout brought me back to reality.