Professor Bello's Pov:
For a moment, she remained unmoved, her lips pursed, her gaze unwavering. The weight of tradition, of duty, pressed down on all of us like an invisible force. But I couldn't give up—not when Humaira's future was at stake.
"I understand the family's concerns," I continued, my tone measured but insistent. "But forcing her into this marriage now will only bring resentment. Let her build a future for herself first. If marriage is meant to happen, it will happen in due time."
A tense silence settled over the room. Humaira stood beside me, gripping the edge of her scarf, her knuckles white. She didn't speak, but her eyes pleaded for mercy.
After what felt like an eternity, Hajiya Zaliha's expression softened just a fraction. She exhaled slowly, the steel in her eyes giving way to something more uncertain.
"We will reconsider our decision," she finally said, her voice quieter now. "But you will need to discuss this further with her uncles. They are the ones who arranged the marriage."
A spark of hope flickered within me. It wasn't a victory, not yet. But it was a step forward.
I nodded, understanding the weight of what lay ahead. "We will go see them tomorrow, Insha Allah," I promised, my voice steady despite the uncertainty curling in my chest.
Hajiya Zaliha gave a curt nod, her expression unreadable. "Good," she said simply, before rising to her feet. "But be prepared. They will not be easily swayed."
I stole a glance at Humaira. Her shoulders were tense, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. I knew she was afraid—how could she not be? But for the first time since this conversation began, I saw something else in her eyes. Not just fear, but a glimmer of defiance.
No matter how difficult tomorrow's meeting would be, I vowed to stand by her side. She deserved to fight for her future. And I would fight with her.
Humaira's Pov
I fidgeted nervously in the living room, my hands twisting in my lap. My mother's presence beside me was the only thing keeping me grounded. She chatted with Uncle Shamsudeen's third wife, their conversation a soft murmur in the background.
Outside, Professor Bello's deep voice carried through the open window as he spoke with Uncle Shamsudeen. I couldn't make out their words, but the weight in their tones was unmistakable—firm, serious, the kind of discussion that decided fates.
I clenched my fingers together, willing myself to stay calm. My fate was being decided just beyond those walls, and all I could do was sit here and wait. My heart pounded so loudly I was sure the others could hear it.
Then, unexpectedly, a burst of laughter rang out. I blinked, startled, and turned toward the window just in time to catch a glimpse of Professor Bello's smiling face. Uncle Shamsudeen was grinning too, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he clapped a hand on Professor Bello's shoulder. The shift in atmosphere was so sudden that I wasn't sure what to think. Had they reached a decision? And more importantly, was it a good one?
The tension in my chest eased slightly, but I didn't dare get my hopes up just yet. Moments later, Uncle Shamsudeen stepped inside, his gaze landing on me and my mother. He beckoned us toward the door with a warm smile. "Come outside," he said, his voice carrying an air of finality.
With hesitant steps, I followed, my mother's reassuring presence beside me. The evening air was cool against my skin, carrying the faint scent of jasmine from the garden. Professor Bello stood with his hands clasped behind his back, his expression calm. Uncle Shamsudeen's smile grew wider as he looked at me.
"It's settled then," he said, his eyes twinkling with something that looked like satisfaction. "Your marriage is off, Humaira, and you are free to pursue your education."
For a moment, I couldn't move. I couldn't breathe. The weight that had been crushing me for weeks suddenly lifted, leaving me feeling lightheaded. Relief crashed over me in waves, so overwhelming that I thought my knees might give out.
Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes as I turned to Professor Bello, my voice trembling with emotion. "Thank you, sir," I whispered, barely able to find the words to express my gratitude.
He nodded, his expression unreadable. "No need for thanks, Humaira," he said. "Just make good use of the opportunity you've been given."
I wiped at my damp cheeks and nodded earnestly. "I will," I promised.
My mother placed a hand on my back, her touch warm and reassuring. "Professor Bello, I cannot thank you enough for this," she said.
He inclined his head slightly. "She deserves a chance to shape her own future."
I turned to Ummah then, fresh tears filling my eyes. "You never stopped fighting for me."
She pulled me into a tight embrace, pressing a kiss to my forehead. "Of course not, my dear. You are my daughter. I will always fight for you."
For the first time in what felt like forever, hope bloomed in my heart. The road ahead would not be easy, but at least it was mine to walk. And for that, I would be forever grateful.
Professor Bello's Pov
The next morning, I pulled up to the house in my car, the engine purring softly as I waited for Hajiya Zaliha and Humaira to come out. We were headed to Mallam Shamsudeen's house, a modest bungalow nestled in a quiet neighborhood.
As we set off, the silence in the car was palpable. Hajiya Zaliha sat beside me, her eyes fixed on the road ahead, while Humaira sat in the back, her gaze lost in thought. I glanced at them occasionally, wondering what was going through their minds.
Hajiya Zaliha turned to me with a serious expression. "Alhaji Bello, I must warn you about my brother-in-law," she said, her voice low and cautious. "He's a stubborn man, very traditional and set in his ways. He won't give up his plans to marry Humaira off."
Humaira nodded in agreement, her eyes wide with concern. "Yes, Sir, Uncle Shamsudeen can be very strict and unyielding. He's always saying that a woman's place is in the home, and that education is unnecessary for girls."
I nodded thoughtfully, my expression solemn. As an elderly man, I had seen many like Mallam Shamsudeen before - men who clung to tradition and resisted change. But I had also learned that even the most stubborn minds could be swayed with patience, understanding, and a gentle approach. I steeled myself for the challenge ahead, determined to find a way to reason with him and secure a better future for Humaira.
Mallam Shamsudeen's house loomed before us, its modest facade a testament to his humble nature. But I knew better. He was Humaira's father's eldest brother, the family patriarch, and a man known for his strong sense of tradition and family values. His word was law, and I worried that he might not take kindly to our attempts to change his plans.
As we arrived at the residence, a sense of apprehension settled within me. This was the moment of reckoning. Would Mallam Shamsudeen heed our entreaties, or would he remain resolute in his stance? I drew a deep breath, preparing myself for the outcome.
On our arrival, I could see Mallam Shamsudeen sitting in the courtyard, surrounded by some of his children. His eyes narrowed as he looked up at us, a mixture of curiosity and hostility etched on his face. "Assalamu alaikum," I greeted him, trying to sound respectful. His response was curt: "Wa alaikum assalam."
Hajiya Zaliha greeted him warmly before explaining the purpose of our visit.
I took a deep breath, preparing myself for the difficult conversation ahead. I knew that I had to persuade him to change his mind about Humaira's marriage, but I also knew that it wouldn't be easy.
Mallam Shamsudeen's expression remained stern as he gestured for me to sit on the mats spread under the shade of the courtyard. A young boy brought a tray with kunu aya, a creamy tiger nut drink and sweet dates, but the atmosphere remained formal and tense. Mallam Shamsudeen's actions seemed more out of obligation than warmth, and the silence that followed was heavy with unspoken expectations.