“Did Sahal really divorce her? Could he actually divorce her?”
Although she understood that he had grown tired of her, she never imagined that his weariness would lead them to such a disastrous end.
She never once thought that if they were to separate, it would happen in this manner. She assumed he would discreetly and respectfully part ways with her, blaming destiny.
Instead, he divorced her in a humiliating way and taunted her with words capable of raising one’s blood pressure. Still, she thanked Allah that she too struck him with words that pierced his heart. If a mouth knows how to speak, it must also know how to respond.
No matter how deeply the divorce wounded her, she bravely swallowed the pain in front of him.
With a smile, she kept saying,
“Alhamdulillah! Alhamdulillah! My Lord, I thank You for what You have done for me, I thank You for what You are doing for me, and I thank You for what You will do for me in the future.”
She looked at him and saw what seemed like sudden regret wash over him. His whole body weakened and slumped.
Meanwhile, she could not understand anything.
He went back to lie down. For a long time she sat listening to his breathing as he slowly drifted to sleep, her mind blank.
Unable to sleep by 2 a.m., she performed ablution and began voluntary prayers. In prostration she wept, praying for Allah to protect her children and grant them a good life filled with faith and good health.
She remained seated until dawn, lost in endless thoughts.
Only now did she realize the magnitude of the challenge before her.
She cried and prayed for her parents and for Yaya Sulaiman.
When the call to prayer began, he woke up. He performed ablution and also prayed voluntary prayers.
After finishing, he said,
“Bilkisu, I advise you to withdraw the words you threw at me. And I command you to apologize to me, because I don’t want you to leave in anger when I know you have nowhere to go.”
Bitterness rose in her throat. She felt like hurling countless insults at him out of the pain swelling inside her. But she pretended he wasn’t speaking to her, because if she opened her mouth she would surely insult him—and that is not the character of a complete, educated woman.
So she remained silent.
Even when the dawn prayer call began, she did not respond.
He left for the mosque saying,
“Think carefully before I return.”
She watched him in disbelief. Perhaps he did not understand the depth of humiliation he had inflicted on her. Did he not realize that saying she had nowhere to go was an insult? Had he forgotten the words he used when divorcing her?
“Go back to your selfish parents. I divorce you, divorce number two.”
Her heart pounded violently. She cried openly—not because of the divorce itself—but because of the degradation and humiliation Sahal subjected her to. And now it still wasn’t enough; he had come again to demean her. Was she nothing but a woman with no refuge except his house? Was that why he fed her humiliation after humiliation while she endured patiently, excusing him over and over?
She shook her head and said,
“Even if all my family were gone, I will never live under your authority again—even if it means sleeping on the streets. Besides, Allah has already covered me.”
She cried deeply—not from the pain of divorce, but because her family home in Funtua had become empty. If only Baba Babba were alive, she could have stayed in his section of the house until she regained stability.
But now?
Should she go to Maiduguri and stay with Ansari’s wife’s daughter? Or go to Kano and stay with Yaya Hamida? But that too was not really her place, since Yaya Hamida herself was under a husband’s authority.
“Where will I go?” she whispered through trembling tears.
Then she remembered—she had houses in Katsina.
She did not want to live in the house she once shared with him; it felt too large for a divorced woman living alone. She remembered her two-storey house where tenants lived downstairs while the upstairs had been vacant for three months after the previous occupant was transferred to Jigawa State.
She called the manager of her properties and asked if the renovations were completed. He informed her the painting was done, only the kitchen sink remained to be installed.
She instructed him to finish everything before noon.
After hanging up, she felt slight relief. The house was in a good neighborhood, government-allocated land, though it lacked running water—only a well in the compound. She would hire a young boy to fetch water daily.
She decided she would go with Alti and Alawiyya.
But her greatest worry was Amrah and Farouk.
What would they do when they woke up and found her gone?
She collapsed on the bed, weeping for her children.
She knew she would not remain in Sahal’s house. But the thought of her children tormented her.
When Sahal returned, he found her like that.
He sat on the bed and said,
“Stop crying, Bilkisu. I myself feel weak. But your words hurt me. Withdraw them and repent, and I will take you back.”
Through tears she replied calmly,
“Our marriage is over. I realized long ago you do not love me or desire me. I have been praying for a solution between us. You found your solution—I did not. Perhaps now mine has come.”
He swore he still loved her. He confessed he loved her more than Hawwah but lacked desire for her. He even suspected spiritual interference. After listening to a lecture stating that a man’s desire for his wife could be removed even if love remained, he concluded he was weak in that area.
He said he almost allowed her to remarry but could not bear the thought of seeing her belong to another man. Yet her insults forced him to divorce her.
She wiped her tears and said firmly,
“The marriage is over.”
He demanded she apologize. She refused.
“I have done nothing warranting an apology. I did not deserve to have my parents insulted while divorcing me.”
He accused her of pride. She ignored him.
When he asked about the children’s future, her motherly weakness surfaced—but she swallowed it.
“If I died, what would they do? I will leave them in their father’s house. I cannot drag them to suffer on the streets.”
She forgave him for all the wrong he had done for the sake of the children. She left the house—built with her wealth—entirely to him, forgiving him completely.
He was deeply moved and asked her to stay.
She swore by Allah their marriage was finished forever.
In a heated moment, she picked up a sharp knife and declared she would rather die than continue enduring his torment.
Seeing her seriousness, he finally said,
“I divorce you, Bilki. May Allah grant you something better.”
Both wept bitterly.
He allowed her to remain temporarily in the house, promising to respect boundaries. But she insisted she would leave the next day.
She forgave him again, sincerely.
He acknowledged he had lost a priceless woman.
Later, she informed the children she would return to her own house soon while they would remain with their father.
Amrah cried.
Farouk, though holding back tears, exposed painful truths—how their father treated Hawwah better, buying her things and driving her around while neglecting their mother.
Bilki broke down completely.
The next morning, moving trucks arrived.
She left quietly at dawn to avoid emotional chaos.
Before leaving, she spoke respectfully to Hawwah, entrusting the children to her care and urging patience and kindness.
Hawwah secretly felt pleased to take full control of the house.
Sahal lay in bed burning with fever—not from illness, but from emotional collapse.
Bilki drove herself to her new house.
Once there, she lay on her bed—neither asleep nor awake—lost in thoughts of her children.
For three days she barely ate.
Alti grew worried and informed Basma, who eventually took Bilki to the hospital for medical attention.
“Did Sahal really divorce her? Could he actually divorce her?”
Although she understood that he had grown tired of her, she never imagined that his weariness would lead them to such a disastrous end.
She never once thought that if they were to separate, it would happen in this manner. She assumed he would discreetly and respectfully part ways with her, blaming destiny.
Instead, he divorced her in a humiliating way and taunted her with words capable of raising one’s blood pressure. Still, she thanked Allah that she too struck him with words that pierced his heart. If a mouth knows how to speak, it must also know how to respond.
No matter how deeply the divorce wounded her, she bravely swallowed the pain in front of him.
With a smile, she kept saying,
“Alhamdulillah! Alhamdulillah! My Lord, I thank You for what You have done for me, I thank You for what You are doing for me, and I thank You for what You will do for me in the future.”
She looked at him and saw what seemed like sudden regret wash over him. His whole body weakened and slumped.
Meanwhile, she could not understand anything.
He went back to lie down. For a long time she sat listening to his breathing as he slowly drifted to sleep, her mind blank.
Unable to sleep by 2 a.m., she performed ablution and began voluntary prayers. In prostration she wept, praying for Allah to protect her children and grant them a good life filled with faith and good health.
She remained seated until dawn, lost in endless thoughts.
Only now did she realize the magnitude of the challenge before her.
She cried and prayed for her parents and for Yaya Sulaiman.
When the call to prayer began, he woke up. He performed ablution and also prayed voluntary prayers.
After finishing, he said,
“Bilkisu, I advise you to withdraw the words you threw at me. And I command you to apologize to me, because I don’t want you to leave in anger when I know you have nowhere to go.”
Bitterness rose in her throat. She felt like hurling countless insults at him out of the pain swelling inside her. But she pretended he wasn’t speaking to her, because if she opened her mouth she would surely insult him—and that is not the character of a complete, educated woman.
So she remained silent.
Even when the dawn prayer call began, she did not respond.
He left for the mosque saying,
“Think carefully before I return.”
She watched him in disbelief. Perhaps he did not understand the depth of humiliation he had inflicted on her. Did he not realize that saying she had nowhere to go was an insult? Had he forgotten the words he used when divorcing her?
“Go back to your selfish parents. I divorce you, divorce number two.”
Her heart pounded violently. She cried openly—not because of the divorce itself—but because of the degradation and humiliation Sahal subjected her to. And now it still wasn’t enough; he had come again to demean her. Was she nothing but a woman with no refuge except his house? Was that why he fed her humiliation after humiliation while she endured patiently, excusing him over and over?
She shook her head and said,
“Even if all my family were gone, I will never live under your authority again—even if it means sleeping on the streets. Besides, Allah has already covered me.”
She cried deeply—not from the pain of divorce, but because her family home in Funtua had become empty. If only Baba Babba were alive, she could have stayed in his section of the house until she regained stability.
But now?
Should she go to Maiduguri and stay with Ansari’s wife’s daughter? Or go to Kano and stay with Yaya Hamida? But that too was not really her place, since Yaya Hamida herself was under a husband’s authority.
“Where will I go?” she whispered through trembling tears.
Then she remembered—she had houses in Katsina.
She did not want to live in the house she once shared with him; it felt too large for a divorced woman living alone. She remembered her two-storey house where tenants lived downstairs while the upstairs had been vacant for three months after the previous occupant was transferred to Jigawa State.
She called the manager of her properties and asked if the renovations were completed. He informed her the painting was done, only the kitchen sink remained to be installed.
She instructed him to finish everything before noon.
After hanging up, she felt slight relief. The house was in a good neighborhood, government-allocated land, though it lacked running water—only a well in the compound. She would hire a young boy to fetch water daily.
She decided she would go with Alti and Alawiyya.
But her greatest worry was Amrah and Farouk.
What would they do when they woke up and found her gone?
She collapsed on the bed, weeping for her children.
She knew she would not remain in Sahal’s house. But the thought of her children tormented her.
When Sahal returned, he found her like that.
He sat on the bed and said,
“Stop crying, Bilkisu. I myself feel weak. But your words hurt me. Withdraw them and repent, and I will take you back.”
Through tears she replied calmly,
“Our marriage is over. I realized long ago you do not love me or desire me. I have been praying for a solution between us. You found your solution—I did not. Perhaps now mine has come.”
He swore he still loved her. He confessed he loved her more than Hawwah but lacked desire for her. He even suspected spiritual interference. After listening to a lecture stating that a man’s desire for his wife could be removed even if love remained, he concluded he was weak in that area.
He said he almost allowed her to remarry but could not bear the thought of seeing her belong to another man. Yet her insults forced him to divorce her.
She wiped her tears and said firmly,
“The marriage is over.”
He demanded she apologize. She refused.
“I have done nothing warranting an apology. I did not deserve to have my parents insulted while divorcing me.”
He accused her of pride. She ignored him.
When he asked about the children’s future, her motherly weakness surfaced—but she swallowed it.
“If I died, what would they do? I will leave them in their father’s house. I cannot drag them to suffer on the streets.”
She forgave him for all the wrong he had done for the sake of the children. She left the house—built with her wealth—entirely to him, forgiving him completely.
He was deeply moved and asked her to stay.
She swore by Allah their marriage was finished forever.
In a heated moment, she picked up a sharp knife and declared she would rather die than continue enduring his torment.
Seeing her seriousness, he finally said,
“I divorce you, Bilki. May Allah grant you something better.”
Both wept bitterly.
He allowed her to remain temporarily in the house, promising to respect boundaries. But she insisted she would leave the next day.
She forgave him again, sincerely.
He acknowledged he had lost a priceless woman.
Later, she informed the children she would return to her own house soon while they would remain with their father.
Amrah cried.
Farouk, though holding back tears, exposed painful truths—how their father treated Hawwah better, buying her things and driving her around while neglecting their mother.
Bilki broke down completely.
The next morning, moving trucks arrived.
She left quietly at dawn to avoid emotional chaos.
Before leaving, she spoke respectfully to Hawwah, entrusting the children to her care and urging patience and kindness.
Hawwah secretly felt pleased to take full control of the house.
Sahal lay in bed burning with fever—not from illness, but from emotional collapse.
Bilki drove herself to her new house.
Once there, she lay on her bed—neither asleep nor awake—lost in thoughts of her children.
For three days she barely ate.
Alti grew worried and informed Basma, who eventually took Bilki to the hospital for medical attention.