Humaira's Pov
As she stood to leave, a small part of me felt lighter—like, for the first time since arriving, I wasn't entirely alone.
That night, after praying Isha, I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. The events of the day played in my mind— Ya Hanifa's coldness, Aunty Fatima's kindness, the feeling of being in an unfamiliar place.
As I adjusted my pillow and let out a quiet sigh, my body finally began to relax. Just as sleep started to creep in, a soft knock on the door pulled me back.
"Who is it?" My voice was barely above a whisper.
"It's me Nana," came the reply. Then she stepped in, a small phone in her hand. "Your mother is on the line," she said with a gentle smile.
My heart leaped. "Ummah?" I quickly reached for the phone.
"My dear," my mother's warm voice filled the room, wrapping me in an invisible embrace. "How are you? How was your journey?"
A smile spread across my face. "It was fine, Ummah. I'm settling in."
We talked for a while, her asking about my room, the people in the house, and if I had eaten well. The warmth in her voice made my chest ache with longing, but for the first time that day, I felt truly at peace.
"Someone wants to say hello," Ummah said playfully, and before I could respond, a loud, excited voice came through.
"Ya Humaira!" my youngest brother Qasim shouted. "How is Abuja now? Has it become even more beautiful?"
I chuckled. "It's still as bright and lively as ever. The roads, the lights, everything... it's like the whole city never sleeps."
Another voice chimed in, it was Abdulkareem. "Don't forget us when you become a big Abuja girl," he teased, his laughter ringing through the phone.
"I could never forget you two," I laughed. "Be good for Ummah, okay?"
After a few more playful exchanges, my mother came back on the line. "Take care of yourself, my love," she said softly. "And remember, you are never alone. Always be prayerful, and Allah will be with you."
"Ameen," I whispered.
I blinked back the sting in my eyes. "I know, Ummah. I miss you."
"I miss you too my dear."
As the call ended, I handed the phone back to Nana with a grateful smile. "Thank you."
Nana nodded and quietly left the room. I lay back down, the warmth of my family's voices still lingering in my heart. For the first time since arriving, I felt a little more at home.
I shifted under the soft covers, letting out a quiet sigh as I stared up at the ceiling. The room was silent now, save for the faint hum of the air conditioner. My mother's words echoed in my mind, a soothing reminder that no matter how far I was from home, I was never truly alone.
I closed my eyes, picturing Ummah's warm smile, my brothers' playful voices, and the familiar scent of home. A small, content smile tugged at my lips.
For the first time since arriving, the tension in my chest eased. Wrapped in the warmth of my family's love, I let sleep take me, feeling safe, even in a place that was still so new.
---
A Next Day
The distant call of the Adhan stirred me from sleep. The melodious voice of the muezzin echoed through the early morning air, carrying with it a sense of peace and purpose. Blinking against the dim light filtering through the curtains, I stretched lazily before sitting up.
For a moment, I remained still, letting the serenity of the morning wash over me. The events of the previous day felt like a blur—new faces, unfamiliar surroundings, and the comforting voices of my family over the phone. But today was a new day, and with it came new possibilities.
I slipped out of bed and made my way to the bathroom, the cool tiles against my feet grounding me. After performing my wudu, I spread my prayer mat, facing the qibla. As I bowed in prayer, whispering verses that had been a source of solace for as long as I could remember, I felt a quiet strength settle within me.
Once I finished, I sat for a moment, my hands cupped in supplication. Ya Allah, guide me through this new chapter.
The soft knock on my door pulled me from my thoughts. "Humaira?" Nana's gentle voice followed.
"Na'am, I'm awake," I replied, rolling up my prayer mat. The door creaked open, and Nana poked her head in. "Just wanted to wake you up. Good morning," she said with a smile. I returned the greeting, thanking her, and she closed the door again, leaving me to start my day.
As I stood up, I took a deep breath, steeling myself for the day ahead. "Today, I'll take things one step at a time," I said to myself, the quiet affirmation a reassuring reminder that I could face whatever lay ahead.
Afterward, I washed up, dressed, and made my way downstairs to start the day. The house was already alive with quiet movement—the maids busy with their morning chores, the soft clatter of dishes echoing from the kitchen. A warm, savory aroma drifted through the air, guiding me toward the source.
I stepped into the kitchen and found Teni, expertly flipping masa on a hot griddle while a pot of miyan gyada simmered beside her. A mix of emotions swirled inside me, Ummah and I had been selling this food for a while now, and the stress of it had drained my appetite for it. Yet, watching Teni work with such enthusiasm made me smile.
I greeted her warmly, then asked, "Can I help?" Rolling up my sleeves, I prepared to dive into whatever task needed attention.
Teni's face lit up. "Of course! You know how to make masa?"
I chuckled. "I could probably do it in my sleep."
As we worked together, Teni's playful nature was a breath of fresh air. She chatted about her morning routine, shared the latest gossip, and made me laugh more than I had in a long time. It felt oddly comforting—like a slice of normalcy I hadn't realized I needed.
At some point, I hesitated, eyeing the masa and miyan gyada. "Is there kunun tsamiya and kuli kuli?" I asked.
Teni glanced at me curiously. "You don't like masa?"
I shrugged. "I've eaten it too much. I'm tired of it."
She laughed, nodding in understanding. "Fair enough. I'll make the kunu for you."
Grateful for the opportunity to help, I assisted Teni in finishing up the preparations, and together, we set the dining table. As I placed the last set of cutlery, an idea struck me, and I turned to Teni with a small grin. "Actually... can I make something too?" I asked, my eyes sparkling with excitement.
Teni's face lit up with interest. "What did you have in mind?"
"I was thinking of frying some dankalin Hausa to go with my kunu," I replied, enthusiasm creeping into my voice.
Teni nodded enthusiastically. "That sounds delicious! Let's do it."
We headed back to the kitchen, and as we worked, I asked Teni about the family's morning routine. "Why is everyone still asleep?" I inquired, curiosity getting the better of me.
Teni chuckled. "It's a weekend, so they like to sleep in. It's a normal thing here."
Just then, Teni's expression turned serious, and she lowered her voice. "You know, Humaira, Alhaji's son will be back home in a few days' time."
I raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Really?"
Teni glanced around the kitchen, ensuring we were alone. "Nuhu. He's been away for a long time, but he's coming back soon."
I raised an eyebrow. "Really?"
She nodded, wiping her hands on a kitchen towel. "I'm sure Alhaji will be excited to see him again. It's been over a year since he was last here. The whole house will be buzzing when he arrives."
I pressed my lips together, letting the news settle. I didn't know much about Nuhu, but from the way Teni spoke, his presence carried weight in this household. Would his return bring any changes? Just like Hanifa was making the house uncomfortable for me, I wondered.
Once we finished frying the sweet potatoes, I headed to my room with my food and settled down to eat. The meal was warm and satisfying, but before I could finish, a sharp, angry voice cut through the quiet.
"Humaira!" Ya Hanifa's voice rang through the house, laced with fury. My hand froze mid-bite, my heart hammering in my chest. A shiver of fear crept down my spine. Before I could even react, the door burst open, slamming against the wall.