He was squatting on his feet, his head bowed toward the ground, while his beautiful eyes were tightly shut. The place was crowded with people, all making noise and commotion. Every face was filled with happiness—except for one man. Even his sadness and worries did not show on his face, but his heart was undoubtedly burdened with intense distress.
He squeezed his long eyelashes tightly again, feeling his head spin and his heart pound strangely. The noise from the crowd around him was seriously disturbing his mind. He was not someone who liked too much noise at all; whenever there was excessive noise around him, he would suffer from severe headaches. Right now, only he knew what he was feeling. He felt like opening his mouth and screaming at the top of his lungs, just to find some relief from what he was experiencing.
“ALHAMDULILLAH, A MARRIAGE HAS BEEN CONDUCTED TODAY, SATURDAY! THE WEDDING OF THE VICTORIOUS SOORAJ AND HIS BRIDE, AISHATU KABEER, HAS BEEN SOLEMNIZED. WE CONGRATULATE THE GROOM!”
That was what a praise singer was loudly announcing.
Those words from the praise singer were what brought Sooraj, who was squatting, back to his senses. He swallowed bitter saliva, and at the same moment his eyes turned red. He tried to stand up. Quickly, a handsome young man beside him grabbed his hand and said in a low voice, “Please, Sooraj, don’t do this. We’re in public, and you know that since we came here, everyone’s eyes are on us.”
Sooraj hissed, forcefully pulling his hand away from the young man’s grip. He glanced toward his father, and their eyes met briefly before Sooraj quickly lowered his head.
Gradually, the crowd gathered at the gate of Alhaji Kabeer’s house began to thin out, everyone heading their own way. Seeing this, Sooraj stood up and headed toward where his car was parked. He didn’t even raise his head, let alone let the remaining people notice the state he was in. He placed his hand on the car door handle to open it when he heard Mas’ud’s voice pierce his ears.
“Where are you going?” Mas’ud asked.
Sooraj turned and shot Mas’ud a glare, his anger boiling intensely. He felt a deep resentment toward Mas’ud, believing that everything that had happened involved Mas’ud’s hand in one way or another. Frustration gripped his heart again. He merely hissed, opened the car door, and got in. As Mas’ud tried to move around to the passenger side, Sooraj started the car and sped off, splashing dust on Mas’ud and the nearby people. Everyone followed him with their eyes, including his father, who was standing aside talking with the bride’s father.
Soft sobs echoed inside a small, modest room. A young girl was slumped against the wall, curling herself inward. From the way she repeatedly sighed deeply, it was clear she had cried her heart out. Her eyes, swollen and red from crying, slowly opened as she lifted her gaze upward.
“O Allah!” she whispered in a weak, helpless voice, clearly desperate for help.
She truly believed that when a girl loses her mother, she loses the greatest blessing in life. A mother is everything—the pillar of life. Just as water is essential to the world, so is a mother to every child. At a young age, one’s mind and thoughts cannot fully grasp life’s problems, but due to the harshness of life, everything had changed for her. Her life was darkness; her life was hardship. She constantly searched for LIGHT, with hope and dreams of someone who would help her.
“Daughter of your father, what are you doing in this room? You black-hearted hypocrite! May Allah disgrace you! I truly hate your behavior—you wicked girl with an evil heart! Will you come out now, or should I come in and deal with you myself?”
This was shouted by a woman standing at the doorway of the room, her hips swaying aggressively.
Hearing Inna Ma’u’s voice ringing in her ears terrified her greatly. Her body trembling, she moved toward the exit of the room.
As she came out, Inna Ma’u followed her with a harsh stare.
“By Allah, I hate you, Ziyada. I hate even hearing your name. I’m only forced to live with you in this house. You and your mother have already become a TRIAL for me—shameless girls with innocent-looking faces!” Inna Ma’u said bitterly.
The girl called Ziyada remained silent, lowering her head. Her chest felt like it was about to burst—she knew exactly who Inna Ma’u was, and she feared another beating worse than the last one.
“Take this twenty naira and quickly go buy grinding spices for me. And by Allah, if you don’t return quickly, today I’ll burn that useless face of yours, you witch-faced brat!”
As Inna Ma’u said this, she shoved Ziyada hard, slamming her head against the wall. The pain from the blow and the shove was intense, but she didn’t have the strength to cry. She took the twenty naira and, with a subdued expression, headed out of the house.
As she left, Inna Ma’u scoffed and added,
“By Allah, you won’t complete another two full weeks in this house. Even killing you would be better so I can have peace. You’ve taken everything your witch of a mother owned…”
He was driving at high speed along the main road. After covering a long distance, he finally parked by the roadside. He slammed his hand against the steering wheel and exhaled sharply. He pulled open a drawer inside the car, took out a bottle of water, twisted off the cap, and raised it to his mouth. He drank more than half the bottle before lowering it, breathing out slowly.
He felt heaviness in his chest. He lifted his head and looked into the rearview mirror, then quickly turned away. A deep wave of self-pity washed over him, and he felt his heart break in a strange way. He leaned his head against the steering wheel, not knowing what to do with his life, nor how to explain his pain and worries to his parents. They only ever thought of themselves; not even once had they given him the chance to tell them his problems. All they ever talked about was marriage. Their only desire was for him to get married—they didn’t care to understand how he truly felt.
He lifted his head from the steering wheel, his eyes reddening again as if pepper had been thrown into them. He didn’t feel capable of being with any woman in this world. Deep inside, he felt he was not meant for marriage. His life was filled with DARKNESS, with no LIGHT in sight.
“When will they understand this?” he asked himself.
He stayed silent for a few minutes before starting the car again. This time, he drove slowly, unlike before. Yet his heart was filled with countless thoughts. He knew he would inevitably do what he was used to doing—despite knowing it was wrong and that Allah disapproved—but he felt he had no other choice.
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He was squatting on his feet, his head bowed toward the ground, while his beautiful eyes were tightly shut. The place was crowded with people, all making noise and commotion. Every face was filled with happiness—except for one man. Even his sadness and worries did not show on his face, but his heart was undoubtedly burdened with intense distress.
He squeezed his long eyelashes tightly again, feeling his head spin and his heart pound strangely. The noise from the crowd around him was seriously disturbing his mind. He was not someone who liked too much noise at all; whenever there was excessive noise around him, he would suffer from severe headaches. Right now, only he knew what he was feeling. He felt like opening his mouth and screaming at the top of his lungs, just to find some relief from what he was experiencing.
“ALHAMDULILLAH, A MARRIAGE HAS BEEN CONDUCTED TODAY, SATURDAY! THE WEDDING OF THE VICTORIOUS SOORAJ AND HIS BRIDE, AISHATU KABEER, HAS BEEN SOLEMNIZED. WE CONGRATULATE THE GROOM!”
That was what a praise singer was loudly announcing.
Those words from the praise singer were what brought Sooraj, who was squatting, back to his senses. He swallowed bitter saliva, and at the same moment his eyes turned red. He tried to stand up. Quickly, a handsome young man beside him grabbed his hand and said in a low voice, “Please, Sooraj, don’t do this. We’re in public, and you know that since we came here, everyone’s eyes are on us.”
Sooraj hissed, forcefully pulling his hand away from the young man’s grip. He glanced toward his father, and their eyes met briefly before Sooraj quickly lowered his head.
Gradually, the crowd gathered at the gate of Alhaji Kabeer’s house began to thin out, everyone heading their own way. Seeing this, Sooraj stood up and headed toward where his car was parked. He didn’t even raise his head, let alone let the remaining people notice the state he was in. He placed his hand on the car door handle to open it when he heard Mas’ud’s voice pierce his ears.
“Where are you going?” Mas’ud asked.
Sooraj turned and shot Mas’ud a glare, his anger boiling intensely. He felt a deep resentment toward Mas’ud, believing that everything that had happened involved Mas’ud’s hand in one way or another. Frustration gripped his heart again. He merely hissed, opened the car door, and got in. As Mas’ud tried to move around to the passenger side, Sooraj started the car and sped off, splashing dust on Mas’ud and the nearby people. Everyone followed him with their eyes, including his father, who was standing aside talking with the bride’s father.
Soft sobs echoed inside a small, modest room. A young girl was slumped against the wall, curling herself inward. From the way she repeatedly sighed deeply, it was clear she had cried her heart out. Her eyes, swollen and red from crying, slowly opened as she lifted her gaze upward.
“O Allah!” she whispered in a weak, helpless voice, clearly desperate for help.
She truly believed that when a girl loses her mother, she loses the greatest blessing in life. A mother is everything—the pillar of life. Just as water is essential to the world, so is a mother to every child. At a young age, one’s mind and thoughts cannot fully grasp life’s problems, but due to the harshness of life, everything had changed for her. Her life was darkness; her life was hardship. She constantly searched for LIGHT, with hope and dreams of someone who would help her.
“Daughter of your father, what are you doing in this room? You black-hearted hypocrite! May Allah disgrace you! I truly hate your behavior—you wicked girl with an evil heart! Will you come out now, or should I come in and deal with you myself?”
This was shouted by a woman standing at the doorway of the room, her hips swaying aggressively.
Hearing Inna Ma’u’s voice ringing in her ears terrified her greatly. Her body trembling, she moved toward the exit of the room.
As she came out, Inna Ma’u followed her with a harsh stare.
“By Allah, I hate you, Ziyada. I hate even hearing your name. I’m only forced to live with you in this house. You and your mother have already become a TRIAL for me—shameless girls with innocent-looking faces!” Inna Ma’u said bitterly.
The girl called Ziyada remained silent, lowering her head. Her chest felt like it was about to burst—she knew exactly who Inna Ma’u was, and she feared another beating worse than the last one.
“Take this twenty naira and quickly go buy grinding spices for me. And by Allah, if you don’t return quickly, today I’ll burn that useless face of yours, you witch-faced brat!”
As Inna Ma’u said this, she shoved Ziyada hard, slamming her head against the wall. The pain from the blow and the shove was intense, but she didn’t have the strength to cry. She took the twenty naira and, with a subdued expression, headed out of the house.
As she left, Inna Ma’u scoffed and added,
“By Allah, you won’t complete another two full weeks in this house. Even killing you would be better so I can have peace. You’ve taken everything your witch of a mother owned…”
He was driving at high speed along the main road. After covering a long distance, he finally parked by the roadside. He slammed his hand against the steering wheel and exhaled sharply. He pulled open a drawer inside the car, took out a bottle of water, twisted off the cap, and raised it to his mouth. He drank more than half the bottle before lowering it, breathing out slowly.
He felt heaviness in his chest. He lifted his head and looked into the rearview mirror, then quickly turned away. A deep wave of self-pity washed over him, and he felt his heart break in a strange way. He leaned his head against the steering wheel, not knowing what to do with his life, nor how to explain his pain and worries to his parents. They only ever thought of themselves; not even once had they given him the chance to tell them his problems. All they ever talked about was marriage. Their only desire was for him to get married—they didn’t care to understand how he truly felt.
He lifted his head from the steering wheel, his eyes reddening again as if pepper had been thrown into them. He didn’t feel capable of being with any woman in this world. Deep inside, he felt he was not meant for marriage. His life was filled with DARKNESS, with no LIGHT in sight.
“When will they understand this?” he asked himself.
He stayed silent for a few minutes before starting the car again. This time, he drove slowly, unlike before. Yet his heart was filled with countless thoughts. He knew he would inevitably do what he was used to doing—despite knowing it was wrong and that Allah disapproved—but he felt he had no other choice.