The room had been alive with laughter and chatter only moments before, until Ash burst in, her voice bright and commanding.
“Oya, Fateenah, girls, get up let’s go and—”
Her words died halfway.
The sight before her froze her in place. The circle of girls gathered tightly around me, their voices hushed, their movements careful, as if I might shatter. Without thinking, she flung aside her veil and rushed forward, pushing past a few of them just to reach me.
“Fateenah, what’s wrong? Are you okay? Why are you holding your head like that?”
But even as she spoke, fear had already taken root in her heart. A sharp, cold fear.
Oh God… don’t tell me Fadima has found out who she’s been married off to.
Ash had been outside earlier when the grooms arrived. That was when she saw him. Mahmood. They had casually pointed him out as Fadima’s husband.
In that instant, her stomach dropped. Panic hit her so suddenly that she had to rush to the toilet, her body reacting before her mind could even process it.
When she came out, still unsettled, she ran into Suhaima, who had also been called to join the photo session with the grooms. But the moment Suhaima saw him, she froze. She blinked hard, again and again, as if her eyes were deceiving her.
It was him.
Not just a resemblance. Him.
Her steps turned urgent as she rushed back inside to tell her sister, only to collide with Ash on the way.
“What is it with you?” Ash asked, grabbing her arm. “Why are you running like this without even looking where you’re going?”
Breathless and shaken, Suhaima replied, “Aunty Ash… do you know who I just saw as Yaya Fadima’s groom? It’s him. Mubarak’s friend from Kano. Engineer Mahmood… you remember him, right?”
Ash let out a hollow laugh. “I saw him too. I swear, just seeing him sent me straight to the toilet. I almost lost control out of fear.”
Both of them stood there, confusion and dread thick in the air.
“But how?” Suhaima whispered. “Did he always love her? And how did he convince his mother to accept her when she clearly disliked us from the very first meeting, especially Yaya Fadima? And where is Mubarak in all this?”
Ash shook her head slowly. “All those answers… we’ll get them from the man himself. But for now—”
“Suhaima! What are you both doing here?” A voice cut sharply through their tension. “People are waiting outside in the sun for pictures!”
It was Aunty Hajaar.
Without another word, Ash pulled Suhaima away, slipping past her and heading outside. The moment they stepped out, they came face to face with Mahmood.
He smiled at them. Calm. Confident. Almost too calm.
They exchanged a quick glance. Ash leaned in and whispered something into Suhaima’s ear. Suhaima forced a smile, then walked toward the others for the photos, careful not to show even a hint of recognition or shock.
Ash, however, turned back toward Fadima’s room, her thoughts racing.
She hoped. Desperately.
She hoped Fadima would create a scene like she had done days ago. Anything to stop her from coming out. Because if she saw Mahmood now, everything could fall apart.
And yet, when Ash entered the room and saw Fadima’s condition, a strange mix of relief and unease settled in her chest. This was not how she wanted it to happen, but at least it delayed the inevitable.
Back in the room, I finally managed to speak, my voice weak.
“Ash… I suddenly have this terrible headache…”
“Subhanallah,” she murmured, placing her hand on my neck.
Then her eyes widened.
“Fateenah, your body is burning. You have a fever.”
Before anything more could be said, Aunty Hajaar’s voice cut in, sharp and dismissive.
“Rubbish. All this just because I asked you to come out for pictures?”
Ash frowned. “Aunty, please, come and feel her body yourself before saying that.”
“Keep quiet!” she snapped. “Both of you are the same. No manners, no decency.”
Then she turned to me, her tone even harsher.
“Fadima, I’m no longer surprised by your behavior. Only afraid. I have never seen a bride like you. When they came to greet you, you sulked. Now, just because you’re asked to take pictures, you suddenly fall sick. Or is it that you don’t want this marriage at all?”
Tears burned behind my eyes.
“Aunty, please,” Ash said, her voice tightening with anger, “just leave before you make things worse.”
“Oh, I will leave,” she replied, turning toward the door. “But listen well, Fadima. Whether you’re pretending or truly sick, you are going to your husband’s house today. You said you loved him, didn’t you? Now you will live with him. The marriage is done. Soon, they will come to take you.”
She stormed out.
Silence followed.
Then the tears came.
Hot. Unstoppable.
Nothing about this felt real.
The photos were taken without me. My fever worsened, forcing Madam Iyabo, the nurse, to give me two injections. People joked that it was just a bride’s emotional fever, the kind that comes from leaving home.
But inside, I was drowning.
Ash warned Suhaima not to reveal the truth to me. Not yet. Let her find out when she reaches his house. By then, she would have no choice but to accept it.
Meanwhile, whispers floated around me.
“The bride of Mahmood Nakowa…”
Nakowa?
Who was that?
Little did I know, that name had been carefully chosen to hide the truth from me.
Mahmood himself barely stayed. He took only one picture before leaving with his group. There was no point staying when the one he wanted wasn’t there.
By late afternoon, the call came.
They were coming to take the bride.
“Fadima, get ready,” Mama Jamila said gently. “They’re on their way.”
My heart pounded.
“Mama… where are they taking me?”
“To Kano,” she replied. “That’s where his family is. Later, he’ll bring you back here to Zaria, to your home.”
Kano.
The word hit me like a blow.
Tears spilled instantly. “No… I don’t want to go to Kano. Just take me to my house.”
She laughed lightly, misunderstanding completely. “What kind of bride are you? Don’t be shameless. Of course you’ll go to his family first. That’s tradition.”
Frustration burned inside me.
She didn’t understand.
None of them did.
“Mama, I’m sick,” I tried again.
“You’ll get better there,” she said firmly. “And even if death comes, better it meets you in your husband’s house. There is honor in that.”
Her words shattered something inside me.
“Mama, please… just go. I’ll get ready.”
She left, satisfied.
My friends laughed softly, teasing me, unaware of the storm inside my chest.
Ash helped me dress in a beautiful light brown Swiss lace, decorated with navy blue floral designs.
On the outside, I looked like a perfect bride.
On the inside, everything was falling apart.
