"What do you mean?" Hafsa asked, puzzled. "I don't want that baby, mum. Please just take him away from me. Give him away to anyone you want, I don't care, but I can't keep that baby with me," Zynah's voice cracked with a raw emotion that sent shivers down Hafsa's spine. "Do you even know what you're saying?" Hafsa boomed, startling the poor baby who instantly began to wail. "This is your child, Zynah!" "He. Is. Not. My. Baby," Zynah enunciated, each word hitting Hafsa like a wave. Hafsa looked at Zynah in absolute disbelief. In her arms was the tiny baby, crying for his mother's comfort, yet Zynah's gaze remained remained distant. "You must be out of your mind. Instead of thanking God for this blessing, you're here denying him. Are you alright at all?" "I'm perfectly fine," Zynah replied, her voice a monotone. "But I won't be if I keep seeing that baby. I'm pleading with you, please, mum, take him away. I need to sleep and he is just...disturbing me." Hafsa was taken
Hafsa stormed into the room, her face flushed with frustration. "Aliyu, will you please talk to Zynah? This madness needs to stop!" Mr. Aliyu barely looked up from his newspaper. "What has she done this time?" He mumbled, flipping through the pages of the newspaper and showing total disinterest in what his wife had to say. "Ever since Zynah was discharged from the hospital, she has refused to look at the baby, let alone breastfeed him. I thought all these was going to stop the moment she holds the baby for the first time, but it seems to have gotten worse. I'm beginning to get seriously worried for the poor child. He has been crying for hours now and Zynah has refused to soothe him no matter what I do." Finally raising his head from the newspaper, he lowered it on his laps. "What do you want me to do about it? She has the right to do whatever she wants." Being shocked by her husband's reply was an understatement. Hafsa's jaw clenched. "She has the right to do whatever she w
Storming out of the house, Bilal furiously got into his car and sped straight to Zynah's house. Ignoring decorum, he parked in front of the house and stalked towards the gate with the intention of barging into the house and looking everywhere for his wife. Unfortunately for him, Hafsa emerged. She let out an involuntarily gasp, but quickly composed herself. "What do you want?" Her voice was flat. "My wife," he replied. "I came to take back my wife Wherever you're hiding her, bring her out. The game of hide and seek is finally over." Hafsa's breath hitched. After everything he did to Zynah, he had the effrontery to appear in front of their house. Indeed the man before her was a beast cloaked in human skin. "She isn't here," Hafsa lied, her voice quivering. Bilaal chuckled humorlessly. "And what makes you think I will believe you? Don't insult me with lies!""Leave!" Hafsa yelled, disgust dripping off her tone. "You're trespassing.""Of course I will, but not until I have taken ba
Hafsa had just finished feeding the baby with formula and was settling him in his cot, when she heard the doorbell ring. "I'm coming. Just wait a second." She boomed, heading towards the door in a steady pace. But before she got there, Mr. Aliyu had already ushered the visitors in. Hafsa's brows furrowed as she watched the visitors walk in. She was bewildered to see a lady dressed in a nurse's uniform and some other people she had never seen in her home. She couldn't help but wonder what they wanted or whom they visited. Her unasked questions were answered when Zynah appeared and greeted them warmly. "Mr. Aliyu called us earlier," the lead lady explained. "About a newborn you're finding hard to take care of and would like us to take to the orphanage with us. Is that correct?" Hafsa gasped. She was totally taken aback. It seemed almost as if her ears were deceiving her. Zynah, she knew, disliked the baby, but this inviting social workers to take the baby? That was simply uncall
Three years had spun by, leaving their mark on the Aliyu household. Almost everything and everyone had changed. Mr. Idris had retired from work and allowed his children to take over. He entrusted his company overseas to Zynah as she now lived there and the one in the country to Ramlah. Hafsa, however, remained the same. A loving housewife and a mother. With Ramlah busy with work, and Rashida married, she singlehandedly raised Zynah's son, Adnan — a name she had chosen for him with so much love. She made sure to provide him with everything he needed, both material things and affection. She treated him more like a son, than a grandson and he grew up believing she was indeed his mother. Rashida, now a married woman, remained estranged. After her marriage to Omar, she had moved to Lebanon with him. Her wish to live faraway from her mother had been granted. She still held a grudge against her Hafsa and Ramlah for taking Zynah's side during the argument that led to her leaving the h
Zynah cleared her throat awkwardly, then averted her gaze back to the papers on her desk. For some inexplicable reason, she felt this strange feeling surge into her whenever he gazed at her like that. It made her feel uncomfortable. She hated the feeling because it lessened her level of confidence. "Fine," She mumbled. "You can sit over there." She added, gesturing towards the couch across the room. As he walked towards the couch, a wave of relief washed over her. She let out a shaky breath she hadn't realized she had been holding and forced her attention back to the paperwork on her desk. Why was she suddenly feeling uncomfortable? • Approximately three hours later, Zynah was finally done with her work for the day. Her gaze darted to Ibrahim who was sprawled on the office couch, asleep. Pity prickled at her conscience. He was sleeping in the most uncomfortable position imaginable. Definitely, his body would ache later. Closing the folder in front of her, she crept close
Taking a last look at her reflection in the mirror, Zynah smiled. She was clad in a sky blue abaya and a white hijab wrapped around her head. She looked breathtakingly beautiful. Satisfied at the image staring back at her, she took her handbag from the bed and ambled out of the house. To her utmost surprise, Ibrahim was standing just outside her gate, with a bouquet of flowers in his left hand. Her eyes almost bulged out of their sockets. She raised her hand, taking a swift look at her wrist watch. "What are you doing here?" She whisper yelled. "So early?" "Good morning to you too," He replied sarcastically, a smirk playing on his lips. "I hope you had a good sleep." Zynah rolled her eyes. "Don't you have somewhere more important to be? The office for example?" "You keep asking me this," He scoffed. "To answer your question, nope," He shook his head. "I don't have anywhere more important to be. I took a day off yesterday." Zynah rolled her eyes. "Okay, why are you
A light-skinned, average-height young lady of barely twenty three was in a mall — in the men's section — shopping, alongside a man whose back was turned on her as she searched through the ranks for a shirt. "I think this shirt will look good on you, baby. We should totally get it," She said, showing the emerald colored shirt to him. Without even taking a look at the shirt, a nonchalant shrug was his response before he muttered. "Okay." His back still turned on her, and his focus remained on his phone. Undeterred, she switched tactics, picking up a blue shirt, her voice high-pitched. "Baby, how about this? Do you like it?" "Yes." He gave yet another nonchalant reply. "Come on, baby!" She whined, stretching the words into an annoying singsong. "Just take a look at it for even a second and tell me what you think. Pleaseeee?" "I will be fine with anything you choose," he said dismissively. "No. This won't do! Why did you bring me along then if you knew you were going to