*"Afrah, dear?" His voice came from the stairs."Yes?" Afrah dropped the remote she had been holding and hurried in the direction of his voice.
*Afrah always liked the feel of the wind in her hair. It made her feel lighter, as though she didn't have any care in the world. There were times when she imagined a powerful gust of wind blowing through the earth and lifting her off her feet, into the oblivion which lay just beyond her reach.It was a typi
*Barely a few minutes after joining her mother in the kitchen, Afrah began to smell like the spices and seasonings she was using in the food. For this precise reason, she had chosen to leave the veil in her room, having wrapped her favorite and very casual-looking black scarf around her hair instead.
*It was a Saturday just like any other, and an ordinary man in his ordinary car had just dropped off his extraordinary daughter at the gates of his brother's house, on a very ordinary afternoon."Remember to behave yourself, Afrah," he had said to her as she looked up at the house. "Remember your manners, and don't do anything that would make me or Umma angry. Do you understand?" 
*Amina stepped into the room silently, pausing when she saw Afrah blinking at the ceiling. The latter briefly glanced at her before she resumed her pointless stare."How are you feeling?" Amina asked, moving towards her.
*"So," Fahad said the moment he shut the door behind him, "apparently you're my cousin."Afrah didn't reply as she walked towards the car, her heart threatening to burst from her chest.
*There was something about Kano that always made Afrah smile. For the better part of her life, she'd tried to figure out why she always felt giddy and excited whenever she found herself drawing closer and closer to the city. Alas, the mystery remained to be unravelled.Perhaps it was the simplicity in
*Monday - the bane of Afrah's existence - came so swiftly that she was left wondering where the time had flown to. It seemed just like yesterday when she was returning to her parent's home, and yet here she was now, driving into the gates of Bayero University Kano."Good morning, miss," the security m
*The drive to the beach took longer than any of them had anticipated. The weather was dry, with the heat rising to a dangerous level. Twice, they had to stop to fix a punctured tyre. "Are we there yet?" "Just a little further," he replied, wading through the traffic. "It won't be long now."They had left his uncle's house early that morning, with a picnic basket which they filled along the way. They had hoped to beat the traffic by leaving early, but even so they only managed to cover eighteen miles in an hour. By the time they finally reached the beach, it was a few minutes past noon. The sun was high up in the sky, and their shadows had disappeared underneath them. There was a small crowd gathered on the sand, which surprised him as it was a weekday. "Come," he said to her, offering his right hand while he took the basket in the other. "I know the perfect spot for us."He led her away from the crowd, keeping his hold on her tightly. He recognized the group as students from the
* Azra was a bright-eyed, polite, little eleven year old who couldn't meet anyone's eyes when she was brought to the house by Adnan. Afrah, who had been discharged three days prior, watched from her window as he drove into the house with the little girl sitting beside him. Looking at him, she still didn't know what exactly she felt. Of course she still despised what he'd done, but she didn't necessarily hate Adnan himself. Forgiving him was hard. It was probably the hardest thing she would ever learn to do. But it would be worth it if they would learn to live happily for the rest of their lives. Azra's mother had been much too happy to let her go. They had been struggling to provide for the little girl with her new husband, who was significantly less-wealthy than Adnan. Layla knew the girl would have a better future with her biological father. When she got the call from Adnan, a part of her wanted to hang up on him. But since it concerned his daughter, she'd listened to his plea a
*Carpets and curtains. She dreamt of them both, not as separate entities, but as one. Throughout her existence, Afrah had been surrounded by carpets and curtains, each lending its own unique addition to the story of her life. They were always silent, never considered but ever present. She recalled the carpets in her bedroom, how soft and flat it was. Twice a year, the carpets would be taken out so they could be washed and returned. The curtains were washed every month, and Afrah remembered sitting in the middle of her room one time when both carpets and curtains were removed, and she simply stared at the barrenness of her room. Strange how something as insignificant as carpets and curtains could change the entire appearance of her bedroom. She recalled the carpets in her father's room, the plush cream color stretching from wall to wall. His curtains were white, which she remembered complaining to her mother about once. "Why can't I have white curtains as well?" she'd asked. "Bec
*Afrah didn't know she was capable of doing it until she'd done it. Spontaneous action was never her area of expertise, knowing fully well that she was more of a reactive person than a proactive one. But the sight of Fahad falling to the floor jolted her to action. It was like a spark had awakened in her, grinding the gears in her brain. She began by lunging for the gun. Yusuf wasn't expecting her to move. Neither did he hear her move, since the carpet muffled her footsteps. He was still pointing the gun at Fahad's twitching corpse when Afrah's hands suddenly wrapped around the gun and yanked it out of his hands. He staggered back, bewildered by her action. And then she brought the gun to his chest, looking him dead in the eye. Time seemed to freeze in that moment. Neither he nor she dared to move. Between them was their hateful glare, separated by the barrel of the gun. His breathing was calm, while hers was irregular, coming in short bursts. In that moment, their roles were rev
*Every movement caused Afrah to jump; every second his eyes spent watching her made her skin crawl. She didn't sit. Instead she remained where she was standing, her arms folded in front of her. Yusuf meanwhile had leaned back into the seat, sighing comfortably. "What would you like to have?" he asked nonchalantly. "Some water, perhaps? I have some orange juice which still happens to be fresh. Or would you prefer a coke? I have some wine as well, but then knowing how close you and Adnan are, I'm sure he's taught you to stray away from fine wine. So, which would you prefer to have?""I would like to have my daughter back," Afrah replied. Yusuf studied her for a few seconds before he chuckled. "Of course," he said. "It's why you're here, is it not? As for me, I'd like a Bloody Mary."He stood up then, stretched with a slight groan before he left the room. Afrah remained where she was, awkwardly staring at the stained walls with nothing but a single wall clock hanging on them. She tho
*"I remember it like it was yesterday," Halima said. "And I know how cliché that sounds, but it really does feel like yesterday even though it was almost thirty years ago."Adnan tilted his head to the side, trying to detect a hint of deception in her words. "I was a little girl, so foolish and ignorant. I guess I've always been like that. But we can say that my ignorance and foolishness were somewhat exaggerated at that point in my life. Before I tell you how it happened however, I think you should understand the beginning of it all. I believe I was on my way to my uncle's house that day. I'm sure your father told you all about the village we grew up in.""Bakura," he replied indifferently. "Yes," Halima replied, twisting her hands. "It's a small settlement, and we grew up so close that everyone knew the name of everyone else. It was so small that it was impossible to leave home without everyone being able to give a detailed account of where you went. Your paternal grandfather and
*Adnan couldn't bring himself to do it. All through the flight to Kano, he kept staring at his mother in-law's phone number, debating whether he should do it or not. He couldn't. What exactly would he say?'Hello, yes I was just wondering if you have a hand in kidnapping my daughter and I was just wondering if you knew where she was so I can get her back?'Stupid. He couldn't tell Afrah either. Not when it involved her mother. She would be heart broken if she found out. But then Zainab might be lying. She was a pathological liar after all. Why wouldn't she lie to him? It didn't make any sense. Surely she must have just said that to throw him off their scent. And stupid as he was, he'd left the state knowing that she'd been pardoned by the governor. Now she was free; free to wreak her havoc over them once again. He was trapped between a rock and a hard place. When they landed in Kano, Adnan's first stop was the police station. The sergeant was eager to help, and very soon all t
*Some say terror brings an overwhelming sense of confusion, so sharp and painful that the person isn't able to decipher his left from his right. It robs the mind of its tact, and ensnares the person in its claws. For Afrah, terror brought an overwhelming sense of calm. In the seconds after Adnan spoke to her on the phone, her senses heightened, and something inside of her seemed to snap. She was neither aware of walking out of the hospital, nor was she aware of hopping into her car and driving off. Her heart was racing, and the wailing of a thousand exhausted cars desperately trying to maneuver around each other was lost to her. All she heard was silence, so pure and complete that even her breathing was faint, almost nonexistent. And then she screamed.No one heard her, of course. No one heard the anguish in her voice, or the desperation in her every breath. The pain came from within her, seeping out of her pores and wrapping her in a dreadful blanket. Remarkable however, was the f
*Hafsah grew rapidly. It was almost as if one day she went to sleep a baby, and woke up the next day with a vocabulary of over five hundred words. Her growth spurt happened right around the time that Afrah and Adnan moved to Kano. Amina called it their migration, while everyone else called it a relocation. Like birds which migrated south for the winter, Amina told everyone who listened that they'd migrated north for The Long Winter, one which would stretch on for years if care was not taken. Adnan was much too happy to move. Knowing they were leaving the danger of Abuja behind was the only thing which finally made him able to sleep. That, and the knowledge that Zainab was serving a life sentence. The charges leveled against her would have easily amounted to culpable homicide punishable with death, but an unknown party was said to have bribed the judge and reduced the charges to culpable homicide not punishable with death. Adnan had been ready to appeal, but Afrah assured him that