Part I: The Sanctuary of Sanusi

The orphanage was heavily secured, featuring a massive iron gate and an imposing outer wall whose towering height caught the eye of anyone passing by. The interior of the compound was incredibly vast, housing numerous structures that included administrative staff offices, children's dormitories, and facilities catering to their every essential need.
Wherever one looked, children could be seen gathered in distinct social clusters. Some were playing active games, others were engrossed in deep conversation, while a few went about their routine daily chores.
Off to the far side, sitting entirely by themselves, were two young women who appeared to be roughly 23 years old.
One of them sat with her chin propped in her palm, completely lost in melancholy. She wore a faded, worn-out hijab over a equally washed-out local atamfa dress. Her companion's clothing was in a similarly tattered, exhausted condition.
"Hafsat, what is the meaning of this deep sorrow?" the second girl asked, gently placing a hand on her friend's shoulder. "Looking at your general demeanor today, you seem entirely out of sorts, almost as if you are physically ill..."
"Wallahi, Amina, my health is perfectly fine," Hafsat replied with a profoundly heavy heart. "I am simply reflecting on our long-term destiny in this home. People rarely look in our direction or care about us. Even the government has completely abandoned our welfare, only remembering our existence once in a very long interval."
"But Hafsat, this is certainly not a new phenomenon to us, considering the massive number of years we have spent within these walls. To this very day, Allah has not brought forward a benefactor to adopt us and take us out of this institution so that we too might become respected individuals with status like everyone else."
"Oh Amina, how could we ever become individuals of high status like everyone else when absolutely no one knows our parentage or background? Allah alone knows our true lineage, so you see, the prospect of us being elevated to high-society daughters is completely out of the question."
"Hmm... it does not matter. Whatever the reality is, Allah is always with us."
"Hey, you young ladies over there! Stand up and come over here!"
The sharp voice of one of the institution's staff members pierced their ears, abruptly cutting off the emotional conversation they were having.
They immediately stood up and walked over to where she was standing.
"Excellent, let's go. That generous servant of Allah has brought you relief materials today, just as he always does."
Without uttering a single word, they quietly followed behind her. All the children of the orphanage had already been gathered and assembled in a central courtyard. Nearby, a large commercial truck was being unloaded, bringing down massive piles of relief items that included large sacks of food commodities and bundles of clothing.
Amina and Hafsat found a spot to stand, staring in absolute awe at the massive, towering quantities of supplies being offloaded.
Deep within their hearts, every single orphan present was silently praying, asking Allah to immensely reward whoever this mysterious benefactor was, for he had been silently sustaining them for a very long time.
The items brought down from the massive vehicle were incredibly abundant. Beyond basic food supplies and wearable clothes, the donation included heavy blankets and brand-new mattresses.
The children remained seated, quietly observing the massive mountain of supplies brought to them. Once the unloading process was completely finalized, the official representative of the anonymous donor stood up to deliver a brief address:

"As we all know and have come to expect, this servant of Allah—whom we best know by his honorific title Baya Goya Marayu (The Ultimate Guardian of Orphans)—is constantly doing everything within his power to elevate the standard of living for orphans, dedicating his vast wealth to charitable causes. As I have repeatedly stated to you over the years, this servant of Allah is actually a very young man, not an elder. Allah has simply blessed him with the wisdom and capacity of great leaders. Therefore, let us continuously pray for him, asking Allah to bless his life, his wealth, and his parents..."

"Amin..."
The entire crowd gathered in the courtyard responded in a joyful unison, for this anonymous servant of Allah was providing an extraordinary level of rescue; within the entire municipality, he was easily the number-one lifeline supporting orphan welfare.
The distribution of the items to the orphans was thoroughly executed under the direct supervision of the representative. After the sorting process was fully completed, the representative of Baya Goya Marayu departed. The children each hoisted their assigned supplies, heading back to their rooms to store them.
This was how they navigated their daily existence within the institution. On many occasions, they could go more than two solid months without receiving any external aid or intervention—unless this specific benefactor sent them provisions. Yet, despite his continuous patronage and financial sponsorship, none of them had ever laid eyes on him, let alone recognized his physical features.

Part II: The Arrogant Millionaire

He walked with an elite, slow cadence, as though his feet were too dignified to touch the raw earth. He was dressed in a fitted red long-sleeve t-shirt, tightly cinched with a red belt that secured the black trousers he was wearing. Even though he was supposedly in a great hurry, it did not cause him to alter his slow, stylized manner of walking.
He casually adjusted the black designer sunglasses shielding his eyes before redirecting his attention to the silver luxury watch strapped around his wrist. As was always the case, his face carried absolutely no trace of a smile or warmth.
Opening the door that led directly into his mother's main living room, he stepped inside. His facial expression was incredibly tense, radiating absolute irritation and annoyance.
Realizing the grand living room was empty, he proceeded further into the interior of the mansion. He eventually located her in a meticulously styled private lounge specifically designed for relaxation. She was seated elegantly on a sofa. Judging by her youthful physical appearance, she could not be more than 45 years old. She was exceptionally fair-skinned, with a slightly full figure, and was dressed in an incredibly expensive lace fabric.
Her neck, wrists, and ears were heavily adorned with high-grade gold jewelry that gleamed brilliantly under the lights; even her fingers were covered in heavy gold rings. Right beside her was a young lady around 23 years old, resting comfortably with her head cushioned on the older woman's lap.
He muttered a brief Islamic greeting (Sallama), but his voice was so low and muffled within his throat that it was highly unlikely they even heard him.
Both women had their undivided attention fixed on a drama series playing on the satellite television channel. It was not until he had fully taken a seat across from them that they finally noticed his presence.
Ummi Sha® HASKE WRITERS ASSO.
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ALWASHI.....! 💍
(The Story of Hafsat)
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UMMI A'ISHA
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Chapter 2
With a face full of genuine delight, his mother looked up at him with a warm smile, whereas he simply sat there silently biting his lower lip, his face completely void of any positive expression.
"Yusleem... you are back already?" his mother inquired, her face radiating maternal warmth.
He tightened his facial expression even further, his eyes remaining glued to the screen of the high-end smartphone in his hands. He offered a minimal response with visible reluctance:
"Yes, Mami..."
Her smile widened as she spoke further:
"I have actually been waiting for your arrival for quite some time now. I need you to secure travel visas for Surayya and me to Cairo, Egypt. I want to take her there for a comprehensive medical check-up."
Yusleem remained completely silent, offering no verbal confirmation as he continued to type on his phone. If this behavior were strange elsewhere, everyone in this household had long grown accustomed to this terrible habit of his—ignoring people completely when spoken to. Even when his own mother addressed him, he would only respond if and when he felt like it, possessing an immense, toxic level of arrogance, behaving as though he were superior to the rest of humanity.
He let more than ten solid minutes pass in absolute silence before finally lifting his large, round eyes. He glanced at his younger sister, Surayya, who was still lounging across Mami’s lap wearing western fashion—a black top and skirt—with her hair completely uncovered.
Without uttering a single word, he immediately redirected his gaze back to his phone screen.
"Mami... actually, there is something I need to tell you."
Mami immediately shifted her entire attention toward him. "Very well, Yusleem, I am listening."
"Mami, I divorced Khadija early this morning."
Mami's eyes widened in sheer shock as she clutched her chest in horror. Surayya bolted upright from her mother's lap, sitting up instantly. Both women stared at him with intense interrogation and deep disbelief.
"I am completely ruined! Innalillahi wa inna ilaihir raji'un (To Allah we belong and to Him we shall return)..." Mami cried out, clapping her hands together in despair.
"For heaven's sake, Yusleem, what manner of human being are you? Has a female jinn possessed your mind? Have you forgotten that your wedding with Khadija took place barely three full months ago? Yet, you walk in here today to casually inform me that you have divorced her?
Yusleem, what exactly do you take marriage to be? Do you view it as a mere game, a joke, or child’s play?
Yusleem, you need to understand that all this immense wealth you pride yourself on will never be able to purchase the dignity and social respect that a stable marriage provides for a man!"
She took a sharp breath and continued her lecture:
"You are a very young man, yet within the span of just five years, you have been married to more than ten different women! For heaven's sake, Yusleem, what kind of terrible, destructive habit is this? You treat divorcing a woman as if it is absolutely nothing—an act that Allah deeply dislikes, yet you have turned it into your personal routine!
To be completely honest with you, I am thoroughly exhausted by this serial marriage-and-divorce lifestyle of yours. Is it utterly impossible for you to remain with a woman for even a single year?"
"Seriously, Big Brother, we are deeply unhappy about this news. You have actually divorced Sister Khadija as well?" Surayya interjected, her eyes welling up with tears. He did not even spare her a glance, let alone give her the courtesy of an answer.
Mami continued to unleash a furious torrent of words, blasting him from every possible angle.
"I am completely at a loss trying to comprehend this character flaw of yours, Yusleem. You possess absolutely zero respect for the sanctity of marriage. You simply have no desire to settle down with a woman. What kind of life is this?
Furthermore, you aren't embarrassing anyone else but me, because I am the one who goes out to arrange these high-profile marriages for you. Is this a fair way to repay my efforts? Did you do the right thing?"
Yusleem leaned back slightly on the couch, keeping his eyes firmly fixed on his phone screen without uttering a single word of defense.
"I am speaking to you, yet you maintain this stubborn silence! Explain your reasoning for this endless cycle of marriage and divorce. Without exaggeration, Yusleem, you have married up to ten consecutive women... Are you mentally unstable or what is wrong with you?"
He gently stroked his well-groomed sideburns before finally looking up at Mami.
"Mami, my health is perfectly fine. Furthermore, I have never once come to you claiming to love any specific woman. Every single woman I have ever married was handpicked and brought to me by you."
"What kind of absurd argument is that, Yusleem? Just because you weren't the one who initially spotted them and fell in love means you shouldn't build a life with them? Is that your justification for treating divorce with such utter triviality?
How many times have I given you the open opportunity to bring forward a woman of your own choice so I could arrange the marriage, only for you to completely ignore the matter? In my view, I have given you the ultimate parental privilege any mother could possibly offer her son. I scouted respectable women for you—women from excellent families, highly educated, and possessing the elite social status that matches yours. Yet, in the end, the outcome is always identical: you divorce them! Look at this poor girl, Khadija, whom you just abandoned. She is a deeply patient, virtuous, well-mannered girl. A beautiful lady from a highly respected lineage, the daughter of my close friend, Hajiya Fa'iza. Your wedding was not even five months ago, yet you cast her aside..."
Mami paused briefly, glaring at him with intense anger. For five unbroken minutes, a heavy silence filled the room as neither of them spoke.
"Yusleem, what exactly is fueling this immense arrogance that makes you treat divorce as if it means nothing?
If it is this exceptional physical beauty of yours that makes you act this way, you need to realize that there are men far more handsome than you who do not treat women with such contempt.
And if it is this massive wealth you possess, you should know that there are multi-millionaires out there who completely dwarf your status as a mere 'young millionaire,' yet they do not practice this regular humiliation you indulge in.
If it is the youthful vanity of your age that is pushing you to commit these offenses, wallahi, you had better wake up immediately from this deep slumber, because your age is steadily increasing every single day, not decreasing!"
Mami stopped speaking, breathing heavily out of sheer anger from the long lecture she had just delivered.
Yusleem slowly stood up from his seat. He spoke softly, his voice barely audible, as if it pained his mouth to speak:
"I am deeply sorry, Mami..."
Without waiting for her to respond, he turned on his heel and walked straight out of the living room, leaving Mami and Surayya to watch him go in absolute silence.

Key Structural & Translation Notes

• Cultural Expressions:
  • Tagumi refers to the specific physical posture of resting one's chin or cheek in the palm of the hand, which in Hausa culture is a universal sign of deep sorrow, worry, or heavy contemplation.
  • Baya Goya Marayu literally translates to "One who does not carry an orphan on their back," idiomatic shorthand for a supreme benefactor who ensures orphans do not suffer or require carrying because their needs are fully provided for.
  • Atamfa is the traditional African wax-print cotton fabric commonly worn by women in Northern Nigeria.
• Character Contrast: This chapter sets up a stark narrative contrast between the structural poverty and humility of the orphanage (Hafsat and Amina) and the toxic, hyper-wealthy arrogance of the male protagonist (Yusleem).
• The Narrative Twist: The text hints at a massive irony—Yusleem is a serial divorcier with a terrible public attitude toward his family, yet he is highly likely the anonymous philanthropic savior (Baya Goya Marayu) keeping Hafsat's orphanage alive behind the scenes.