As soon as they stepped outside, Salim headed straight toward where Abba Abbas and the others were standing. He was determined to plant the seeds of resentment and anger deep within Abbas's heart. Without showing a hint of worry, Salim smoothly began feeding him a skewed version of what Naja'atu had done. He claimed she had locked the door from the inside, threatening to commit suicide simply because she wasn't allowed to marry the man she actually loved, which was the exact reason they had to break the door down. He even added a fabrication—that the moment Naja'atu saw him, she had tried to lunge forward to embrace him, and it was only her older brother, Magaji, who stepped in to stop her. Salim then put on a masterclass in false humility, lowering his voice and saying, "Wallahi, Kawu (Uncle), I gave up on that girl a long time ago. The moment I heard about your marriage arrangement with her, she completely left my heart. I know my place, and I know I am in no position to compete or match strides with a man like you. But the problem is, she won't stop disturbing me. She bombards me with phone calls day and night! Even earlier today, she called me in the morning saying she was going to run away from town. I was the one who stopped her. I told her that if her love for me was truly genuine, she should channel that respect toward you instead. I made it clear to her that as things stand, you are a thousand times more important to me than she is. Now that she is officially your wife, I strictly look at her as my Aunt (Anti)." This fabricated tale deeply unsettled Abbas and raised his anxiety to an extreme level. The specific detail about Naja'atu supposedly trying to embrace Salim ignited a fresh wave of raw fury inside him. He had never imagined that the girl’s hatred and resistance toward him ran this deep. To think she would have successfully fled the town by now had Salim not stopped her! There was no doubt about it now—he would have to severely tighten security and strict surveillance over her. Meanwhile, the moment Baba Malam stepped outside, he confronted Abba Abbas with an uncompromising directive: Naja'atu must officially move into her matrimonial home tonight. Since the marriage contract (Dauren Aure) had already been solemnized, Baba Malam argued that there was absolutely no reason to delay or drag things out any further. Abba Abbas tried to reason with him, explaining that he wasn't rejecting the decision but merely wanted to make a few quick renovations and structural adjustments to the house first, which was why he had initially requested a two-week grace period. However, Baba Malam flatly refused to compromise. He wouldn't hear of any renovations, declaring stubbornly, "I do not agree to any changes or delays. Naja'atu will go and live in her late sister's quarters exactly as it is." Not wishing to engage in a prolonged, disrespectful argument with the elder, Abba Abbas simply conceded and accepted the terms. It wasn't until after he had performed his night prayers (Isha'i) at Kofar Na'isa that Abbas finally drove back to his main house. Inside, Halisa was seated comfortably in the living room. She was heavily made up and dressed in an incredibly expensive, lavish lace fabric, adorned with striking gold jewelry gleaming on her wrists, neck, and ears. She looked undeniably beautiful. She was sitting with the children watching television, but one look at Saddiqa and the other kids made it obvious they were deeply terrified; they sat stiffly, barely moving or breathing naturally. The moment their father walked into the room, the children let out a collective sigh of relief and chorused their welcomes, "Sannu da zuwa, Abba." He murmured a brief reply, making his way toward his bedroom. Halisa instantly rose from her seat and followed close behind him. He stood in the room, working on taking off his heavy traditional Shadda robe. Acting completely out of character from her usual abrasive self, Halisa stepped in gracefully to help him slide the robe off his shoulders. She neatly folded the fabric, set it on the edge of the bed, and then looked up at him, fluttering her eyelids with calculated, seductive charm. "Bridegroom," she teased in a sweet, syrupy tone, "you carry yourself with such a heavy, regal scent tonight!" A faint amusement brushed through him, though he kept his face strictly neutral. "Do I look like a joyful bridegroom to you in this state?" She smiled, playfully pouting her lips. "Very much so! Look at you, your forehead is practically glowing with prosperity." He let out a low chuckle, looking at her intently. "That is not how a true bridegroom looks. A real groom is filled with vibrant energy, laughter, and a sense of fresh beginnings where everything around him is brand new. But look at me—I haven't even put on new clothes. And how could my forehead glow when I have yet to find true peace of mind with you?" She rolled her eyes coyly and countered, "You will find all the peace of mind you desire with me, provided you do not infringe upon my rights. In return, I will give you a level of care and pampering that far exceeds anything I've shown you in the past." "Alright, I hear you," he replied seriously. "And I pray that Allah grants me the strength and guidance to maintain absolute fairness and justice between the two of you. However, I am also asking you to overlook and stay above whatever happens from this moment onward. I want you to treat this young girl with absolute sincerity, honesty, and protectiveness. You are the senior wife, the mature adult here, so carry yourself with that dignity. If you do, I promise I will surprise you greatly; I will never turn my back on you." Hearing these reassuring words filled Halisa's heart with an immense surge of satisfaction. She quickly hurried into the bathroom, prepared a warm bath for him, and waited. After Abbas showered and changed into a fresh, cream-colored Jallabiya, they walked back out into the living room together. Halisa was now treating him like fragile glass, hovering over him and doting on him excessively. She served him a heavily spiced, traditionally medicated meal, which he sat down to eat after reciting a quiet Bismillah. It was only after he finished eating that he finally broke the news to her: Naja'atu would be moving into her quarters tonight, as that was the explicit directive given by her father. Attempting to forcefully suppress the raging fire of jealousy exploding inside her chest, she asked, "So, does this mean you will be spending the night over there tonight?" "Yes," he replied directly, offering no apology. Halisa lowered her head, feeling a bitter wave of resentment so intense it felt as though it might kill her on the spot. Abbas looked at her and added, "If you feel that you would also like to settle into your own space without waiting for renovations, you are perfectly free to move back into your quarters tomorrow." "No," she rejected quickly. "I am in no rush. I prefer that you completely replace the sofas, curtains, and bedding for me first. I want everything that is currently lacking over there to be fully installed before I officially move back in." "Do not worry," he assured her calmly. "Insha Allah, everything will be fully completed within the coming week." By around 10:30 PM, Abbas finally left the main house. Halisa felt a desperate urge to hold him back and keep him with her, but she knew she had no leverage. She had no choice but to let him go, retreating to her bedroom consumed by heavy frustration and bitter worry. Meanwhile, back at the other house, Naja'atu had wept until her eyes were completely dry after the few wedding guests finally dispersed. A suffocating terror gripped her heart; the entire house felt ghostly and distorted, playing cruel tricks on her mind. Everywhere she looked, she felt as though the phantom presence of her late sister was about to materialize before her. She was too terrified to even make a significant movement, curling into a tight, shivering ball on the floor of the room, completely paralyzed by fear like a cornered owl, overthinking her grim reality. Driven by panic, she forced herself up, rushed to the door, turned the key sharply in the lock, and left it in the keyhole. She wanted to ensure that even if Abbas entered the house, he wouldn't be able to easily gain access to where she was. She huddled back onto the bed, weeping bitterly as she repeatedly called upon the names of Allah, constantly jumping in fright whenever the memory of her late sister flashed across her mind. Outside, Abba Abbas drove into the compound. He steered the vehicle toward the parking space, pulled the handbrake, and stepped out. The security guard immediately approached, stretching out his hand to offer respectful greetings. "Alhaji, I heard that the marriage has been formalized," the guard said warmly. "May Almighty Allah bless the union with endless goodness, and may He grant the late Hajiya eternal rest and mercy." Abbas responded with polite gratitude and parted ways, walking toward the main entrance. The interior of the house was enveloped in a heavy, echoing silence, illuminated only by the bright glow of the living room lights. He found a sofa, sat down heavily, and lapsed into silence, feeling a strange, unnameable sensation wash over his entire being. This was the exact house where he had built a life with Halimatu—and today, he was set to live in it with her younger sister, a young girl he had never, in his wildest dreams, imagined he would ever marry. He sat there lost in his thoughts for nearly twenty minutes before finally forcing his drained body up, walking toward the bedroom where he assumed she was. He gently gripped the door handle and twisted it, intending to open the door, but found it firmly locked. He tried turning it with more force, only to confirm that the key had been turned from the inside. He knocked lightly on the wood with his knuckles. Inside, Naja'atu bolted upright in sheer panic, her eyes darting around wildly in terror. He knocked again, louder this time, calling out her name clearly. Recognizing his deep voice, she let out a loud, sharp hiss of irritation and threw herself back down onto the bed, ignoring him. He continued to call her name, tapping rhythmically and gently against the door. Forcing herself up once more, her voice trembling violently, she demanded, "Who is it?" Abbas let out a long, heavy sigh of relief at the sound of her voice; his mind finally settled knowing for a fact that she was safe inside the house. He said, "Open the door and take this food so you can eat." "I'm not eating anything!" she shot back bluntly, burying herself back under the covers. He stood frozen at the threshold, thinking rapidly. He tapped the wood once more, calling her name. "Abbah, for Allah’s sake, just leave me alone and go away!" she screamed, her voice cracking with thick emotion. "Is it by force that I must eat? I do not want or need a single thing that comes from your hands!" "Alright, I hear you," he said calmly. "But at least open the door. I need to speak with you." She hissed loudly again. "I am not opening any door for you. Just leave!" He let out another deep breath. "Okay. Fine. So you are explicitly giving me permission to turn around and go back to where I just came from, correct?" "Yes!" she fired back without a second thought. "That would bring my mind a lot more peace." Abbas shook his head in quiet frustration, stepping away from the locked door. He placed the food bag down on the center table, turned on his heel, and walked out of the living room. As he stepped through the main front door, he pulled a set of keys from his pocket, locked the main living room door securely from the outside, and walked straight to his car.
[Author's Subscription & Notice Details Omitted]
Chapter 16
Upon leaving Naja'atu's residence, Abbas drove straight back to his family home, as he had nowhere else to go. His security guard swung the gates open, and Abbas drove inside, parking the car smoothly. He stepped out and walked into the house. The living room was dead silent; it was clear that Halisa had long since gone to sleep. He headed directly into his private bedroom, deciding that keeping to himself was the wisest course of action for the night. Without wasting a single moment, he unfastened his Jallabiya, leaving himself in just a singlet and shorts, climbed onto the bed, and pulled the blanket over his body. Within minutes, a heavy, exhaustion-induced sleep claimed him completely. No matter how deeply tired he was or how comfortable the sleep felt, Abbas’s internal clock was deeply conditioned; his body automatically alerted him the moment the dawn approached. He woke up at exactly 4:15 AM, hurried into the bathroom to perform his ablutions (Alwala), and emerged to slide back into his Jallabiya. He stepped onto his prayer mat to perform the two voluntary dawn units (Raka'atanil-Fijir). Upon concluding, he offered a brief, heartfelt prayer, stood up, and left the room. He walked over to Halisa’s bedroom to wake her up for prayers, finding her fast asleep. Standing over her, he tapped the edge of the mattress firmly while calling her name. Halisa bolted awake in a daze, staring up at him in complete shock. "Did you just get back into the house just now?" she asked, her voice thick with confusion. He shook his head, already turning to leave the room. "No, I slept right here at home. You were already fast asleep when I returned. Get up and perform your prayers." He opened the door and stepped out. Halisa sat there, completely bewildered by his words. He slept here? How on earth did that happen? she wondered. Could it be that the young brat threw a massive tantrum and drove him out? A triumphant, gleaming smile slowly spread across her face, and a surge of intense joy filled her heart as she headed toward the bathroom. This is an incredible, golden opportunity for me, she thought maliciously. By around 5:10 AM, Abbas walked back into the house from the mosque and headed straight to his children's room. Seeing them still locked in deep sleep, he woke them up immediately, directing them to perform their ablutions and pray before leaving the room. Meanwhile, Halisa had taken a thorough bath, performed her ablutions, and completed her prayers in a rushed manner, barely offering a proper post-prayer supplication before rising from the mat. She actively searched through her wardrobe and pulled out an incredibly revealing, tightly fitted nightgown that left practically nothing to the imagination. She liberally sprayed herself with nearly ten different varieties of perfumes. She then took out a traditional herbal vaginal tightening paste (Maganin Mata), scooped a small amount onto her finger, and just before applying it internally, she muttered, "Maliki yaumi dini" (Master of the Day of Judgment)—an utterly misplaced holy verse for such an act—before pushing the medicine deep inside her private parts. She hid the medicine container back in its secret spot, threw a large hijab over her body, and glided toward her husband's bedroom. Abba Abbas was sitting on his sofa quietly checking his phone when she entered. The suffocatingly sweet scent of her perfumes instantly filled the entire room. His expression relaxed, and he warmly accepted her Islamic greeting. She came to sit extremely close to him, offering her morning pleasantries, which he answered calmly before asking how the children had slept. "They slept perfectly well," she replied softly. With a fluid, calculated motion, she shed the large hijab from her shoulders and set it aside. Abbas’s eyes locked onto her, staring intently. The provocative nightgown had effectively transformed her, making her look like a fresh, young girl. Halisa possessed a very full, prominent bust; because she hadn't breastfed extensively over the years, her breasts remained incredibly firm and upright. Within seconds, Abbas felt his self-control fracturing entirely. He had been forcefully restraining his desires all morning, and now his eyes flared, turning a deep, bloodshot red. Halisa pressed her body flush against his, whispering sweet, suggestive words into his ear, explicitly asking why he hadn't spent the night at the new bride's house. Forcing himself out of his lingering hesitation, Abbas admitted bluntly, "She locked her door from the inside. That is the sole reason I came back here." Halisa twisted her lips in a silent, smug gesture but chose to say nothing. Instead, she began running her hands masterfully over his body. Grabbing her hands, Abbas stood up, and they moved directly toward the bed. Halisa displayed her array of seduction entirely, completely surrendering her body to him and deploying every single new, calculated intimacy technique she had prepared to secure her absolute hold over him. For a virile, powerful man like Abbas, it felt as though Halisa had been blessed with an entirely renewed, extraordinary level of passion and tightness tonight; her body was responsive and completely saturated. Abbas—who historically despised men who lost control during intimacy and considered making desperate noises or screaming to be utter foolishness—found himself completely overwhelmed. He broke his own strict rule, letting out ragged, uncontrolled groans and heavy exclamations as he gasped for air, completely lost in the intensity of the moment. They did not stop or let each other go until nearly 9:00 AM. By then, the children had already bathed and dressed, sitting awkwardly in the living room with absolutely no breakfast prepared for them. Meanwhile, on Naja'atu's side of town, the reality after Abba Abbas’s departure the previous night had been a living nightmare. She had buried herself completely beneath the heavy blankets, wrapping her body tightly while reciting frantic prayers. The moment she closed her eyelids, her late sister’s face would materialize vividly in her mind. To make matters worse, the very blanket wrapped around her was heavily infused with Halimatu’s signature perfume. In a fit of near-madness and hysteria, she violently ripped the blanket off her body, bolted out of the room, and ran into the living room. She curled herself into a tight knot on one of the sofas, weeping bitterly, but even there, she kept seeing fleeting hallucinations of Halimatu gliding past her, her voice echoing clearly in her ears. Clamping her hands tightly over her head, she sobbed, "Innalillahi wa'inna ilaihi raji'un! I am utterly doomed!" She sprang up in a blind panic and rushed into Abba Abbas’s bedroom. Miraculously, when she turned the handle, the door opened. She scrambled inside, slammed the door shut, locked it, and threw herself onto his large bed. Pulling his blanket tightly over her trembling frame, she spent the remainder of the night shivering violently, weeping as though a faucet had been turned on in her eyes, constantly jolting awake in terror. When the dawn arrived, she performed her prayers inside his room, opened the door, and walked straight toward the main living room exit. She twisted and yanked at the front door handle repeatedly, but it refused to budge. Realizing she was locked in, she collapsed entirely against the base of the door, burying her head between her knees, and let out a long, piercing shriek of absolute despair. Abbas was privately astonished by the massive amount of time he had just spent in bed with Halisa. Moving quickly, he showered, dressed in a hurry, and stepped out into the living room, finding the children eating a makeshift breakfast. Halisa had briefly stepped out earlier to order Saddiqa to cook whatever was available, even if it was just instant noodles. Seeing him enter, the children instantly greeted him. His face was bright, filled with a relaxed, cheerful energy. He looked at Mufida and asked, "Where is your mother?" "She went back into her room not too long ago," Mufida replied. Without offering any further comment, Abbas turned toward the exit. The children chorused, "Abba, may you return safely." He acknowledged them as he unlocked the door and stepped out. Inside the bride's house, the moment Naja'atu heard the distinct sound of someone unlocking the main front door, she jolted upright in terror. The tears had dried in stiff tracks across her face, and the prominent veins on her forehead throbbed violently—a stark testament to her prolonged, exhausting weeping. She stared unblinkingly at the door, her heart hammering wildly against her ribs. Abba Abbas pushed the living room door open and stepped inside. In a flash of pure desperation, she sprinted across the room, threw her arms tightly around his torso, and buried herself against him, weeping hysterically while her entire frame shook with violent tremors. Abbas raised a single hand, resting it against her back, his eyes sweeping across the silent living room. It was far from the first time Naja'atu had held him or embraced him; throughout her childhood and teenage years, she had hugged him countless times, and he had never felt a single inappropriate stir in his heart or body. But today, things were drastically different. He felt his entire body shudder with a strange, heavy vibration—especially as the soft, distinct curve of her breasts pressed firmly against his chest. He let out a sharp, ragged breath. Gently but firmly, he pried her away from his body, looking down at her face. It was completely disheveled, hollow, and masked in absolute trauma and fright. Clearing his throat roughly before finding his voice, he said, "Dota (Daughter)... so you still haven't stopped crying? Tell me exactly what is terrorizing your life." Sniffling loudly, she pressed herself right back into his chest, her eyes darting frantically around the empty living room. In a cracked, raspy voice, she pleaded, "Abbah... it's Sister Halimatu. She keeps coming to me, she keeps speaking to me! For Allah's sake, please help me. Tear me away from this horrific nightmare I’ve been thrown into. Take me back home to my parents. I swear to Allah I cannot survive in this house! Please help me, Abbah... my life is shattering into complete madness!" She kept gripping his clothes desperately as the words poured out of her. He took her hands firmly within his own, deliberately softening his tone to soothe her. "Calm your heart, Dota. A person who has passed away can never return to this world. You have simply allowed absolute terror to take root in your mind, which is why you cannot find peace in this house." She fell completely silent, aggressively wiping the tears from her face as he led her directly into his master bedroom. The moment they stepped inside, Abbas noticed the chaotic state of his bed—the sheets were violently tangled, and his main blanket was crumpled onto the floor. He looked at her with a calculating, analytical gaze. "Did you sleep in this room last night?" Fresh tears instantly flooded her face. "Yes. Everywhere else felt terrifying, so I ran in here to sleep. But even in here, I couldn't stop panicking and jolting awake." He went silent, his eyes scanning the perimeter of the room before he spoke. "There is absolutely nothing to fear in this house, and you know that better than anyone. We lived a perfectly peaceful, healthy life within these walls. I truly believe you are simply obsessing over the memory of Halimatu, and that heavy grief is what is triggering these panic attacks. I need you to calm your mind, compose yourself, and accept the reality that the dead do not return. This terror and anxiety you are harboring is entirely self-inflicted." She shook her head violently, clutching his hand with a tight, iron grip. "Abbah, I cannot stay here! For Allah’s sake, take me back to our family house. Look at the state I am in... have mercy on my life!" He stared at her, deeply perplexed by her phrasing. Have mercy on her life? What other form of mercy or care could he possibly show her beyond what he was already providing? He sighed gently. "For now, go and take a proper bath first. I can tell you haven't even eaten breakfast, correct?" She nodded faintly. "I cannot step back into that other bathroom. I am too terrified." "Fine," he replied directly. "Then use the bathroom inside my room here." "But my clothes are all over in the other wing," she protested. "Stay here, I will fetch them for you," he said, turning to exit the room. Naja'atu stood alone, her eyes darting around warily as she surveyed the bedroom. Truthfully, even this room of his filled her with an underlying sense of dread. As she stood there frozen, he walked back in, carrying a beautiful set of matching Atamfa Super wax print fabric—the exact type of high-quality material he always custom-tailored for them. Placing the clothes gently onto the bed, he looked at her. "You haven't stepped into the shower yet?" She turned and walked slowly, submissively toward the bathroom door. Abbas’s eyes tracked her heavy, deliberate steps, his gaze filled with a complex, unreadable depth of emotion. After she closed the bathroom door, he picked up the crumpled blanket from the floor, neatly rearranged it on the bed, and sat down on the edge. He pulled out his phone, scrolling through it absentmindedly. Suddenly, a piercing, blood-curdling shriek echoed from inside the bathroom! Before Abbas could even process the sound or make a move to stand up, the bathroom door flew open. Naja'atu sprinted out in absolute hysterics. Her body was completely covered in thick, white soap suds, and she had frantically wrapped his large bath towel around her frame—but it was slipping, dangerously close to falling off her body entirely. Abbas sprang to his feet, deeply shaken. He demanded to know what was wrong as she screamed hysterically, pointing a trembling, sudsy finger back at the bathroom. He grabbed her hands firmly, instantly reciting protective prayers over her. Naja'atu began to sway heavily on her feet, completely disoriented like a person under a severe spell, her body going entirely limp as she began to collapse. Without a moment's hesitation, Abbas caught her securely, pulling her full weight tightly against his chest. In a state of intense panic and deep distress, he guided her toward the edge of the bed, sitting down while holding her closely in a protective embrace. He could feel her entire body vibrating with a violent, unnatural shudder, shaking as though she were burning with a severe, malignant fever. There was no doubt about it—she was completely consumed by terror. He continuously blew prayers over her skin, his eyes locked entirely onto her face. In her distressed, twisted expression, she bore a striking, undeniable resemblance to her late sister, Halimatu. Abbas found himself utterly entranced, staring deeply into her face as she seemed to morph right before his eyes, blurring the line between her and the wife he had lost. It was only then that she managed to regain a fragment of consciousness. Her eyelids fluttered open, her lips moving as she weakly whispered, "Innalillahi wa'inna ilaihi raji'un." Realizing she was lying completely vulnerable and exposed against his bare chest—and that the towel had slipped significantly, leaving her breasts entirely uncovered and bare to his sight—she violently bolted backward out of his embrace. Abbas quickly adjusted his own posture and gaze, but a single look at him made it patently obvious that his pulse was racing; his system had gone completely online. He cleared his throat roughly, attempting to restore a sense of authority. "Sannu (Take it easy)," he muttered. "You need to increase your prayers and remembrance of Allah. Since it's clear you are completely terrified of staying in this particular wing of the house, I will give orders to have my old private quarters fully renovated and prepared for you, so you can relocate over there instead." Clutching the slipping towel tightly against her chest, she stepped further away from him. She reached for the dry clothes lying near him on the bed, desperately wanting to dress herself, but felt a deep, biting sense of shame and embarrassment under his gaze. Abbas looked at her and reasoned, "How can you put on those clothes when your skin is still covered in soap suds?" In a trembling, cracking voice, she replied, "I am not stepping foot back into that bathroom. While I was showering, I distinctly heard a voice calling my name out loud." He looked at her, his mind flooded with a mixture of confusion and pity. Standing up, he reached out and took her hand. "Come, let me walk you back in. I will stand guard right there while you finish your bath." She aggressively shrugged her shoulders, stepping backward away from him. "No! I don't want to bathe anymore." He shook his head firmly. "No, that is completely improper. You are a new bride; you cannot go about sitting in dirt. You will end up inviting bad spirits (Ba'ki) if you stay like this." Naja'atu stared at him, her eyes wide with a mixture of shock and utter revulsion at his wording. "Abbah..." she whispered, her voice laced with deep pain. "Whose bride exactly am I?" He raised his hand, pointing a finger directly at his own chest. "My bride, of course." A devastating wave of agony and pure fury sliced through her heart. Tears violently erupted from her eyes, spilling down her soap-streaked face. "Curse that word coming from you, Abbah!" she screamed bitterly. "Curse that filthy statement exiting your mouth! I am not your bride. I am your daughter!" The moment the furious words left her lips, she violently ripped her hand away from his grip and stormed out of the bedroom. A sudden, defiant resolve washed over her—she completely stopped feeling afraid of the empty house or the ghosts in the rooms. Sitting in his bedroom and hearing him refer to her as his "bride" was a million times more repulsive; she would rather face whatever phantom or danger awaited her outside than stay in his presence. Abbas remained frozen in his bedroom for a long time, his mind an chaotic storm of conflicting thoughts and intense frustration. When he finally walked out into the living room, he found her curled into a tight, defensive ball on one of the sofas, her tears still flowing silently and endlessly. A deep resentment flared inside him, sparked by the biting, disrespectful words she had hurled at his face. He turned directly toward the front exit, refusing to spend another minute inside the house. He knew that if he stayed, his rising temper might push him to do something drastic to her. He had fully realized that despite whatever youth or innocence she supposedly possessed, there was a profound streak of insolence and disrespect embedded deeply within her character—in fact, her defiance was entirely excessive. He could clearly see that she utterly looked down on him, stripping away every ounce of respect she once held for him as an elder. This hostile, degrading behavior of hers was starting to destroy his patience...
YARO DA KUDI
BINTA UMAR ABBALE
As soon as they stepped outside, Salim headed straight toward where Abba Abbas and the others were standing. He was determined to plant the seeds of resentment and anger deep within Abbas's heart.
Without showing a hint of worry, Salim smoothly began feeding him a skewed version of what Naja'atu had done. He claimed she had locked the door from the inside, threatening to commit suicide simply because she wasn't allowed to marry the man she actually loved, which was the exact reason they had to break the door down. He even added a fabrication—that the moment Naja'atu saw him, she had tried to lunge forward to embrace him, and it was only her older brother, Magaji, who stepped in to stop her.
Salim then put on a masterclass in false humility, lowering his voice and saying, "Wallahi, Kawu (Uncle), I gave up on that girl a long time ago. The moment I heard about your marriage arrangement with her, she completely left my heart. I know my place, and I know I am in no position to compete or match strides with a man like you. But the problem is, she won't stop disturbing me. She bombards me with phone calls day and night! Even earlier today, she called me in the morning saying she was going to run away from town. I was the one who stopped her. I told her that if her love for me was truly genuine, she should channel that respect toward you instead. I made it clear to her that as things stand, you are a thousand times more important to me than she is. Now that she is officially your wife, I strictly look at her as my Aunt (Anti)."
This fabricated tale deeply unsettled Abbas and raised his anxiety to an extreme level. The specific detail about Naja'atu supposedly trying to embrace Salim ignited a fresh wave of raw fury inside him. He had never imagined that the girl’s hatred and resistance toward him ran this deep. To think she would have successfully fled the town by now had Salim not stopped her! There was no doubt about it now—he would have to severely tighten security and strict surveillance over her.
Meanwhile, the moment Baba Malam stepped outside, he confronted Abba Abbas with an uncompromising directive: Naja'atu must officially move into her matrimonial home tonight. Since the marriage contract (Dauren Aure) had already been solemnized, Baba Malam argued that there was absolutely no reason to delay or drag things out any further.
Abba Abbas tried to reason with him, explaining that he wasn't rejecting the decision but merely wanted to make a few quick renovations and structural adjustments to the house first, which was why he had initially requested a two-week grace period.
However, Baba Malam flatly refused to compromise. He wouldn't hear of any renovations, declaring stubbornly, "I do not agree to any changes or delays. Naja'atu will go and live in her late sister's quarters exactly as it is."
Not wishing to engage in a prolonged, disrespectful argument with the elder, Abba Abbas simply conceded and accepted the terms.
It wasn't until after he had performed his night prayers (Isha'i) at Kofar Na'isa that Abbas finally drove back to his main house. Inside, Halisa was seated comfortably in the living room. She was heavily made up and dressed in an incredibly expensive, lavish lace fabric, adorned with striking gold jewelry gleaming on her wrists, neck, and ears. She looked undeniably beautiful. She was sitting with the children watching television, but one look at Saddiqa and the other kids made it obvious they were deeply terrified; they sat stiffly, barely moving or breathing naturally.
The moment their father walked into the room, the children let out a collective sigh of relief and chorused their welcomes, "Sannu da zuwa, Abba." He murmured a brief reply, making his way toward his bedroom.
Halisa instantly rose from her seat and followed close behind him. He stood in the room, working on taking off his heavy traditional Shadda robe. Acting completely out of character from her usual abrasive self, Halisa stepped in gracefully to help him slide the robe off his shoulders. She neatly folded the fabric, set it on the edge of the bed, and then looked up at him, fluttering her eyelids with calculated, seductive charm.
"Bridegroom," she teased in a sweet, syrupy tone, "you carry yourself with such a heavy, regal scent tonight!"
A faint amusement brushed through him, though he kept his face strictly neutral. "Do I look like a joyful bridegroom to you in this state?"
She smiled, playfully pouting her lips. "Very much so! Look at you, your forehead is practically glowing with prosperity."
He let out a low chuckle, looking at her intently. "That is not how a true bridegroom looks. A real groom is filled with vibrant energy, laughter, and a sense of fresh beginnings where everything around him is brand new. But look at me—I haven't even put on new clothes. And how could my forehead glow when I have yet to find true peace of mind with you?"
She rolled her eyes coyly and countered, "You will find all the peace of mind you desire with me, provided you do not infringe upon my rights. In return, I will give you a level of care and pampering that far exceeds anything I've shown you in the past."
"Alright, I hear you," he replied seriously. "And I pray that Allah grants me the strength and guidance to maintain absolute fairness and justice between the two of you. However, I am also asking you to overlook and stay above whatever happens from this moment onward. I want you to treat this young girl with absolute sincerity, honesty, and protectiveness. You are the senior wife, the mature adult here, so carry yourself with that dignity. If you do, I promise I will surprise you greatly; I will never turn my back on you."
Hearing these reassuring words filled Halisa's heart with an immense surge of satisfaction. She quickly hurried into the bathroom, prepared a warm bath for him, and waited. After Abbas showered and changed into a fresh, cream-colored Jallabiya, they walked back out into the living room together. Halisa was now treating him like fragile glass, hovering over him and doting on him excessively. She served him a heavily spiced, traditionally medicated meal, which he sat down to eat after reciting a quiet Bismillah.
It was only after he finished eating that he finally broke the news to her: Naja'atu would be moving into her quarters tonight, as that was the explicit directive given by her father.
Attempting to forcefully suppress the raging fire of jealousy exploding inside her chest, she asked, "So, does this mean you will be spending the night over there tonight?"
"Yes," he replied directly, offering no apology.
Halisa lowered her head, feeling a bitter wave of resentment so intense it felt as though it might kill her on the spot.
Abbas looked at her and added, "If you feel that you would also like to settle into your own space without waiting for renovations, you are perfectly free to move back into your quarters tomorrow."
"No," she rejected quickly. "I am in no rush. I prefer that you completely replace the sofas, curtains, and bedding for me first. I want everything that is currently lacking over there to be fully installed before I officially move back in."
"Do not worry," he assured her calmly. "Insha Allah, everything will be fully completed within the coming week."
By around 10:30 PM, Abbas finally left the main house. Halisa felt a desperate urge to hold him back and keep him with her, but she knew she had no leverage. She had no choice but to let him go, retreating to her bedroom consumed by heavy frustration and bitter worry.
Meanwhile, back at the other house, Naja'atu had wept until her eyes were completely dry after the few wedding guests finally dispersed. A suffocating terror gripped her heart; the entire house felt ghostly and distorted, playing cruel tricks on her mind. Everywhere she looked, she felt as though the phantom presence of her late sister was about to materialize before her. She was too terrified to even make a significant movement, curling into a tight, shivering ball on the floor of the room, completely paralyzed by fear like a cornered owl, overthinking her grim reality.
Driven by panic, she forced herself up, rushed to the door, turned the key sharply in the lock, and left it in the keyhole. She wanted to ensure that even if Abbas entered the house, he wouldn't be able to easily gain access to where she was. She huddled back onto the bed, weeping bitterly as she repeatedly called upon the names of Allah, constantly jumping in fright whenever the memory of her late sister flashed across her mind.
Outside, Abba Abbas drove into the compound. He steered the vehicle toward the parking space, pulled the handbrake, and stepped out. The security guard immediately approached, stretching out his hand to offer respectful greetings.
"Alhaji, I heard that the marriage has been formalized," the guard said warmly. "May Almighty Allah bless the union with endless goodness, and may He grant the late Hajiya eternal rest and mercy."
Abbas responded with polite gratitude and parted ways, walking toward the main entrance. The interior of the house was enveloped in a heavy, echoing silence, illuminated only by the bright glow of the living room lights. He found a sofa, sat down heavily, and lapsed into silence, feeling a strange, unnameable sensation wash over his entire being. This was the exact house where he had built a life with Halimatu—and today, he was set to live in it with her younger sister, a young girl he had never, in his wildest dreams, imagined he would ever marry. He sat there lost in his thoughts for nearly twenty minutes before finally forcing his drained body up, walking toward the bedroom where he assumed she was.
He gently gripped the door handle and twisted it, intending to open the door, but found it firmly locked. He tried turning it with more force, only to confirm that the key had been turned from the inside. He knocked lightly on the wood with his knuckles.
Inside, Naja'atu bolted upright in sheer panic, her eyes darting around wildly in terror.
He knocked again, louder this time, calling out her name clearly. Recognizing his deep voice, she let out a loud, sharp hiss of irritation and threw herself back down onto the bed, ignoring him.
He continued to call her name, tapping rhythmically and gently against the door.
Forcing herself up once more, her voice trembling violently, she demanded, "Who is it?"
Abbas let out a long, heavy sigh of relief at the sound of her voice; his mind finally settled knowing for a fact that she was safe inside the house. He said, "Open the door and take this food so you can eat."
"I'm not eating anything!" she shot back bluntly, burying herself back under the covers.
He stood frozen at the threshold, thinking rapidly. He tapped the wood once more, calling her name.
"Abbah, for Allah’s sake, just leave me alone and go away!" she screamed, her voice cracking with thick emotion. "Is it by force that I must eat? I do not want or need a single thing that comes from your hands!"
"Alright, I hear you," he said calmly. "But at least open the door. I need to speak with you."
She hissed loudly again. "I am not opening any door for you. Just leave!"
He let out another deep breath. "Okay. Fine. So you are explicitly giving me permission to turn around and go back to where I just came from, correct?"
"Yes!" she fired back without a second thought. "That would bring my mind a lot more peace."
Abbas shook his head in quiet frustration, stepping away from the locked door. He placed the food bag down on the center table, turned on his heel, and walked out of the living room. As he stepped through the main front door, he pulled a set of keys from his pocket, locked the main living room door securely from the outside, and walked straight to his car.
[Author's Subscription & Notice Details Omitted]
Chapter 16
Upon leaving Naja'atu's residence, Abbas drove straight back to his family home, as he had nowhere else to go. His security guard swung the gates open, and Abbas drove inside, parking the car smoothly. He stepped out and walked into the house. The living room was dead silent; it was clear that Halisa had long since gone to sleep.
He headed directly into his private bedroom, deciding that keeping to himself was the wisest course of action for the night. Without wasting a single moment, he unfastened his Jallabiya, leaving himself in just a singlet and shorts, climbed onto the bed, and pulled the blanket over his body. Within minutes, a heavy, exhaustion-induced sleep claimed him completely.
No matter how deeply tired he was or how comfortable the sleep felt, Abbas’s internal clock was deeply conditioned; his body automatically alerted him the moment the dawn approached. He woke up at exactly 4:15 AM, hurried into the bathroom to perform his ablutions (Alwala), and emerged to slide back into his Jallabiya. He stepped onto his prayer mat to perform the two voluntary dawn units (Raka'atanil-Fijir). Upon concluding, he offered a brief, heartfelt prayer, stood up, and left the room.
He walked over to Halisa’s bedroom to wake her up for prayers, finding her fast asleep. Standing over her, he tapped the edge of the mattress firmly while calling her name.
Halisa bolted awake in a daze, staring up at him in complete shock. "Did you just get back into the house just now?" she asked, her voice thick with confusion.
He shook his head, already turning to leave the room. "No, I slept right here at home. You were already fast asleep when I returned. Get up and perform your prayers." He opened the door and stepped out.
Halisa sat there, completely bewildered by his words. He slept here? How on earth did that happen? she wondered. Could it be that the young brat threw a massive tantrum and drove him out? A triumphant, gleaming smile slowly spread across her face, and a surge of intense joy filled her heart as she headed toward the bathroom. This is an incredible, golden opportunity for me, she thought maliciously.
By around 5:10 AM, Abbas walked back into the house from the mosque and headed straight to his children's room. Seeing them still locked in deep sleep, he woke them up immediately, directing them to perform their ablutions and pray before leaving the room.
Meanwhile, Halisa had taken a thorough bath, performed her ablutions, and completed her prayers in a rushed manner, barely offering a proper post-prayer supplication before rising from the mat. She actively searched through her wardrobe and pulled out an incredibly revealing, tightly fitted nightgown that left practically nothing to the imagination. She liberally sprayed herself with nearly ten different varieties of perfumes. She then took out a traditional herbal vaginal tightening paste (Maganin Mata), scooped a small amount onto her finger, and just before applying it internally, she muttered, "Maliki yaumi dini" (Master of the Day of Judgment)—an utterly misplaced holy verse for such an act—before pushing the medicine deep inside her private parts. She hid the medicine container back in its secret spot, threw a large hijab over her body, and glided toward her husband's bedroom.
Abba Abbas was sitting on his sofa quietly checking his phone when she entered. The suffocatingly sweet scent of her perfumes instantly filled the entire room. His expression relaxed, and he warmly accepted her Islamic greeting. She came to sit extremely close to him, offering her morning pleasantries, which he answered calmly before asking how the children had slept.
"They slept perfectly well," she replied softly. With a fluid, calculated motion, she shed the large hijab from her shoulders and set it aside.
Abbas’s eyes locked onto her, staring intently. The provocative nightgown had effectively transformed her, making her look like a fresh, young girl. Halisa possessed a very full, prominent bust; because she hadn't breastfed extensively over the years, her breasts remained incredibly firm and upright.
Within seconds, Abbas felt his self-control fracturing entirely. He had been forcefully restraining his desires all morning, and now his eyes flared, turning a deep, bloodshot red. Halisa pressed her body flush against his, whispering sweet, suggestive words into his ear, explicitly asking why he hadn't spent the night at the new bride's house.
Forcing himself out of his lingering hesitation, Abbas admitted bluntly, "She locked her door from the inside. That is the sole reason I came back here."
Halisa twisted her lips in a silent, smug gesture but chose to say nothing. Instead, she began running her hands masterfully over his body. Grabbing her hands, Abbas stood up, and they moved directly toward the bed.
Halisa displayed her array of seduction entirely, completely surrendering her body to him and deploying every single new, calculated intimacy technique she had prepared to secure her absolute hold over him. For a virile, powerful man like Abbas, it felt as though Halisa had been blessed with an entirely renewed, extraordinary level of passion and tightness tonight; her body was responsive and completely saturated. Abbas—who historically despised men who lost control during intimacy and considered making desperate noises or screaming to be utter foolishness—found himself completely overwhelmed. He broke his own strict rule, letting out ragged, uncontrolled groans and heavy exclamations as he gasped for air, completely lost in the intensity of the moment. They did not stop or let each other go until nearly 9:00 AM. By then, the children had already bathed and dressed, sitting awkwardly in the living room with absolutely no breakfast prepared for them.
Meanwhile, on Naja'atu's side of town, the reality after Abba Abbas’s departure the previous night had been a living nightmare. She had buried herself completely beneath the heavy blankets, wrapping her body tightly while reciting frantic prayers. The moment she closed her eyelids, her late sister’s face would materialize vividly in her mind. To make matters worse, the very blanket wrapped around her was heavily infused with Halimatu’s signature perfume.
In a fit of near-madness and hysteria, she violently ripped the blanket off her body, bolted out of the room, and ran into the living room. She curled herself into a tight knot on one of the sofas, weeping bitterly, but even there, she kept seeing fleeting hallucinations of Halimatu gliding past her, her voice echoing clearly in her ears.
Clamping her hands tightly over her head, she sobbed, "Innalillahi wa'inna ilaihi raji'un! I am utterly doomed!"
She sprang up in a blind panic and rushed into Abba Abbas’s bedroom. Miraculously, when she turned the handle, the door opened. She scrambled inside, slammed the door shut, locked it, and threw herself onto his large bed. Pulling his blanket tightly over her trembling frame, she spent the remainder of the night shivering violently, weeping as though a faucet had been turned on in her eyes, constantly jolting awake in terror.
When the dawn arrived, she performed her prayers inside his room, opened the door, and walked straight toward the main living room exit. She twisted and yanked at the front door handle repeatedly, but it refused to budge. Realizing she was locked in, she collapsed entirely against the base of the door, burying her head between her knees, and let out a long, piercing shriek of absolute despair.
Abbas was privately astonished by the massive amount of time he had just spent in bed with Halisa. Moving quickly, he showered, dressed in a hurry, and stepped out into the living room, finding the children eating a makeshift breakfast. Halisa had briefly stepped out earlier to order Saddiqa to cook whatever was available, even if it was just instant noodles.
Seeing him enter, the children instantly greeted him. His face was bright, filled with a relaxed, cheerful energy. He looked at Mufida and asked, "Where is your mother?"
"She went back into her room not too long ago," Mufida replied.
Without offering any further comment, Abbas turned toward the exit. The children chorused, "Abba, may you return safely." He acknowledged them as he unlocked the door and stepped out.
Inside the bride's house, the moment Naja'atu heard the distinct sound of someone unlocking the main front door, she jolted upright in terror. The tears had dried in stiff tracks across her face, and the prominent veins on her forehead throbbed violently—a stark testament to her prolonged, exhausting weeping. She stared unblinkingly at the door, her heart hammering wildly against her ribs.
Abba Abbas pushed the living room door open and stepped inside.
In a flash of pure desperation, she sprinted across the room, threw her arms tightly around his torso, and buried herself against him, weeping hysterically while her entire frame shook with violent tremors. Abbas raised a single hand, resting it against her back, his eyes sweeping across the silent living room.
It was far from the first time Naja'atu had held him or embraced him; throughout her childhood and teenage years, she had hugged him countless times, and he had never felt a single inappropriate stir in his heart or body. But today, things were drastically different. He felt his entire body shudder with a strange, heavy vibration—especially as the soft, distinct curve of her breasts pressed firmly against his chest. He let out a sharp, ragged breath. Gently but firmly, he pried her away from his body, looking down at her face. It was completely disheveled, hollow, and masked in absolute trauma and fright.
Clearing his throat roughly before finding his voice, he said, "Dota (Daughter)... so you still haven't stopped crying? Tell me exactly what is terrorizing your life."
Sniffling loudly, she pressed herself right back into his chest, her eyes darting frantically around the empty living room. In a cracked, raspy voice, she pleaded, "Abbah... it's Sister Halimatu. She keeps coming to me, she keeps speaking to me! For Allah's sake, please help me. Tear me away from this horrific nightmare I’ve been thrown into. Take me back home to my parents. I swear to Allah I cannot survive in this house! Please help me, Abbah... my life is shattering into complete madness!" She kept gripping his clothes desperately as the words poured out of her.
He took her hands firmly within his own, deliberately softening his tone to soothe her. "Calm your heart, Dota. A person who has passed away can never return to this world. You have simply allowed absolute terror to take root in your mind, which is why you cannot find peace in this house."
She fell completely silent, aggressively wiping the tears from her face as he led her directly into his master bedroom. The moment they stepped inside, Abbas noticed the chaotic state of his bed—the sheets were violently tangled, and his main blanket was crumpled onto the floor.
He looked at her with a calculating, analytical gaze. "Did you sleep in this room last night?"
Fresh tears instantly flooded her face. "Yes. Everywhere else felt terrifying, so I ran in here to sleep. But even in here, I couldn't stop panicking and jolting awake."
He went silent, his eyes scanning the perimeter of the room before he spoke. "There is absolutely nothing to fear in this house, and you know that better than anyone. We lived a perfectly peaceful, healthy life within these walls. I truly believe you are simply obsessing over the memory of Halimatu, and that heavy grief is what is triggering these panic attacks. I need you to calm your mind, compose yourself, and accept the reality that the dead do not return. This terror and anxiety you are harboring is entirely self-inflicted."
She shook her head violently, clutching his hand with a tight, iron grip. "Abbah, I cannot stay here! For Allah’s sake, take me back to our family house. Look at the state I am in... have mercy on my life!"
He stared at her, deeply perplexed by her phrasing. Have mercy on her life? What other form of mercy or care could he possibly show her beyond what he was already providing?
He sighed gently. "For now, go and take a proper bath first. I can tell you haven't even eaten breakfast, correct?"
She nodded faintly. "I cannot step back into that other bathroom. I am too terrified."
"Fine," he replied directly. "Then use the bathroom inside my room here."
"But my clothes are all over in the other wing," she protested.
"Stay here, I will fetch them for you," he said, turning to exit the room.
Naja'atu stood alone, her eyes darting around warily as she surveyed the bedroom. Truthfully, even this room of his filled her with an underlying sense of dread. As she stood there frozen, he walked back in, carrying a beautiful set of matching Atamfa Super wax print fabric—the exact type of high-quality material he always custom-tailored for them.
Placing the clothes gently onto the bed, he looked at her. "You haven't stepped into the shower yet?"
She turned and walked slowly, submissively toward the bathroom door. Abbas’s eyes tracked her heavy, deliberate steps, his gaze filled with a complex, unreadable depth of emotion.
After she closed the bathroom door, he picked up the crumpled blanket from the floor, neatly rearranged it on the bed, and sat down on the edge. He pulled out his phone, scrolling through it absentmindedly.
Suddenly, a piercing, blood-curdling shriek echoed from inside the bathroom!
Before Abbas could even process the sound or make a move to stand up, the bathroom door flew open. Naja'atu sprinted out in absolute hysterics. Her body was completely covered in thick, white soap suds, and she had frantically wrapped his large bath towel around her frame—but it was slipping, dangerously close to falling off her body entirely.
Abbas sprang to his feet, deeply shaken. He demanded to know what was wrong as she screamed hysterically, pointing a trembling, sudsy finger back at the bathroom. He grabbed her hands firmly, instantly reciting protective prayers over her. Naja'atu began to sway heavily on her feet, completely disoriented like a person under a severe spell, her body going entirely limp as she began to collapse.
Without a moment's hesitation, Abbas caught her securely, pulling her full weight tightly against his chest. In a state of intense panic and deep distress, he guided her toward the edge of the bed, sitting down while holding her closely in a protective embrace.
He could feel her entire body vibrating with a violent, unnatural shudder, shaking as though she were burning with a severe, malignant fever. There was no doubt about it—she was completely consumed by terror. He continuously blew prayers over her skin, his eyes locked entirely onto her face. In her distressed, twisted expression, she bore a striking, undeniable resemblance to her late sister, Halimatu. Abbas found himself utterly entranced, staring deeply into her face as she seemed to morph right before his eyes, blurring the line between her and the wife he had lost.
It was only then that she managed to regain a fragment of consciousness. Her eyelids fluttered open, her lips moving as she weakly whispered, "Innalillahi wa'inna ilaihi raji'un."
Realizing she was lying completely vulnerable and exposed against his bare chest—and that the towel had slipped significantly, leaving her breasts entirely uncovered and bare to his sight—she violently bolted backward out of his embrace.
Abbas quickly adjusted his own posture and gaze, but a single look at him made it patently obvious that his pulse was racing; his system had gone completely online. He cleared his throat roughly, attempting to restore a sense of authority.
"Sannu (Take it easy)," he muttered. "You need to increase your prayers and remembrance of Allah. Since it's clear you are completely terrified of staying in this particular wing of the house, I will give orders to have my old private quarters fully renovated and prepared for you, so you can relocate over there instead."
Clutching the slipping towel tightly against her chest, she stepped further away from him. She reached for the dry clothes lying near him on the bed, desperately wanting to dress herself, but felt a deep, biting sense of shame and embarrassment under his gaze.
Abbas looked at her and reasoned, "How can you put on those clothes when your skin is still covered in soap suds?"
In a trembling, cracking voice, she replied, "I am not stepping foot back into that bathroom. While I was showering, I distinctly heard a voice calling my name out loud."
He looked at her, his mind flooded with a mixture of confusion and pity. Standing up, he reached out and took her hand. "Come, let me walk you back in. I will stand guard right there while you finish your bath."
She aggressively shrugged her shoulders, stepping backward away from him. "No! I don't want to bathe anymore."
He shook his head firmly. "No, that is completely improper. You are a new bride; you cannot go about sitting in dirt. You will end up inviting bad spirits (Ba'ki) if you stay like this."
Naja'atu stared at him, her eyes wide with a mixture of shock and utter revulsion at his wording.
"Abbah..." she whispered, her voice laced with deep pain. "Whose bride exactly am I?"
He raised his hand, pointing a finger directly at his own chest. "My bride, of course."
A devastating wave of agony and pure fury sliced through her heart. Tears violently erupted from her eyes, spilling down her soap-streaked face.
"Curse that word coming from you, Abbah!" she screamed bitterly. "Curse that filthy statement exiting your mouth! I am not your bride. I am your daughter!"
The moment the furious words left her lips, she violently ripped her hand away from his grip and stormed out of the bedroom. A sudden, defiant resolve washed over her—she completely stopped feeling afraid of the empty house or the ghosts in the rooms. Sitting in his bedroom and hearing him refer to her as his "bride" was a million times more repulsive; she would rather face whatever phantom or danger awaited her outside than stay in his presence.
Abbas remained frozen in his bedroom for a long time, his mind an chaotic storm of conflicting thoughts and intense frustration. When he finally walked out into the living room, he found her curled into a tight, defensive ball on one of the sofas, her tears still flowing silently and endlessly.
A deep resentment flared inside him, sparked by the biting, disrespectful words she had hurled at his face. He turned directly toward the front exit, refusing to spend another minute inside the house. He knew that if he stayed, his rising temper might push him to do something drastic to her. He had fully realized that despite whatever youth or innocence she supposedly possessed, there was a profound streak of insolence and disrespect embedded deeply within her character—in fact, her defiance was entirely excessive. He could clearly see that she utterly looked down on him, stripping away every ounce of respect she once held for him as an elder. This hostile, degrading behavior of hers was starting to destroy his patience...