AUREN WATA TARA (A Nine-Month Marriage)

**WRITTEN BY HAJARA L SADEQ (MISS HAJO)**✍🏿
All thanks to Allah (SWT) for granting me the chance, ability, privilege, and knowledge to write this story. I pray that Allah (SWT) guides me through this journey successfully from beginning to end under His guidance and blessings.
*Copyright Disclaimer: This story belongs solely to me. I do not permit the reproduction or plagiarism of this story in any form without my permission. Doing so is a major violation, and I will take strict legal action if it happens.*🙅🏻‍♀️🤷🏼‍♀️
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons or events is purely coincidental.

Part 1: Introducing Zarah and Her Flawless Beauty

The two young girls were walking home from their Islamic evening school (Islamiya), dressed in their school uniforms, chatting quietly as they made their way through the streets of Jabiri quarters in Funtua.
Suddenly, Asmy gently nudged Zarah and whispered, "Zarah, look! That guy is standing in front of your house again today. By Allah, I know for a fact that he is waiting for you."
The girl named Zarah hissed softly. By nature, her voice was incredibly gentle and calm; everything she did was characterized by a deep sense of composure, modesty, and grace.
She replied, "In that case, I am not going inside our house right now. By Allah, I will wait out here until he leaves."
Taking a closer look at Zarah, she was a tall young lady with a well-proportioned, moderate build. Her skin was a beautiful chocolate complexion—neither overly fair nor dark. She possessed a perfectly round face with a long, elegant nose, and a small, delicate mouth that naturally formed the shape of a heart when closed. She had deep, distinct dimples on both cheeks that were visible even when she wasn't speaking, enhancing the pure, natural beauty that Allah had blessed her with. Her fresh, radiant face was entirely natural, adorned with nothing but a subtle trace of traditional eyeliner (kwalli).
Furthermore, Zarah possessed a stunning, natural hourglass figure—often described as a 'Coca-Cola shape.' Her exceptional poise and striking physique were the primary reasons men were drawn to her. Whenever she walked, her hips moved with a natural rhythm that made people assume she was doing it intentionally, even though she despised the attention. To conceal her figure, she always wore large, floor-length hijabs, but even the oversized garments could not fully hide the beautiful stature Allah had gifted her.
Asmy grabbed her hand tightly. "Let's hurry inside our house," she suggested. They quickly ran into Asmy's house, which was a modest and comfortable home. Once inside, Zarah let out a deep sigh of relief. "I just hope that obsessed man didn't spot us. If he did, he would have followed us here."
Asmy countered fiercely, "I actually wish he had followed you inside! I would have shown him what it means to be thoroughly humiliated. I am not passive like you. He disrespects you and takes you for granted because you are too quiet and reserved—never saying a word to defend yourself! For Heaven's sake, Zarah, you need to tone down this extreme gentleness of yours. You are far too passive! How can a person be so quiet every single day? It is this exact submissive attitude that gives Rabi the audacity to mistreat you the way she does, simply because she knows you aren't a modern, assertive girl. Even at school, I am always the one stepping in to fight your battles. You need to learn how to stand up for yourself. Your patience is simply too much!" Asmy finished her speech, panting with anger.
Asmy's mother, who had been listening to their conversation from the kitchen, stepped out and corrected her daughter. "Zarah, do not listen to her. Continue being exactly who you are. Allah loves those who are patient. Every human being is tested in a different way, and this happens to be your own trial. Strive to endure it with patience, and Allah will surely bring relief to your hardships. Now, come over here and eat your food."
Zarah lowered her gaze, wiping away the tears of self-pity that had begun to pool in her eyes. "Insha Allah, Mama," she murmured softly.
Asmy's mother turned a stern gaze toward her daughter. "You should be encouraging and uplifting her spirit every day, Asma'u, instead of instigating her to react with anger. Do you understand?"
Asmy nodded obediently. "Insha Allah, Mama."
They sat down together to enjoy a delicious meal of rice tuwo (Tuwon Shinkafa) paired with a savory vegetable and peanut soup (Miyar Taushe) that Mama had served for them.

Part 2: The Cruel Stepmother's Tyranny

After finishing their meal, the two girls brought out their Islamic school textbooks to revise their lessons, as their graduation ceremony (Sauka) was fast approaching. Once they concluded their studies, the evening call to prayer (Magrib) began to echo through the neighborhood. They performed their prayers, after which Zarah put on her hijab.
"Let me head home now. Goodnight," Zarah said, bidding farewell to Asmy's mother.
Asmy walked out with her. Their houses were only three buildings apart. Zarah let out a sigh of relief when she noticed that Nura was no longer lurking around.
Standing at her doorstep, Asmy said, "See you tomorrow, Zarah. I'm heading inside."
Zarah looked at her anxiously. "Aren't you going to walk me into our compound?"
Asmy shook her head. "No, I'll see you tomorrow."
"May Allah bring us to tomorrow, my friend," Zarah replied.
She walked into her compound and offered a soft, gentle greeting. Their home was a small compound consisting of four rooms: one belonged to her stepmother (Mama Rabi), one belonged to her father (Baba), the third belonged to Zarah, and the fourth was shared by her younger siblings.
Mama Rabi was sitting in the courtyard. The moment she set eyes on Zarah, she shot her a venomous, hateful glare and began shouting furiously, "You use Islamic school as a cheap excuse to go out and engage in promiscuity! Do you think the ghost of your dead mother is going to cook dinner for this household? Did you leave a servant waiting for you here? Why did you stay out so late?!"
Zarah immediately began to tremble, tears streaming down her face. In her life, nothing hurt her deeper than hearing Mama Rabi insult her late mother. Wiping her tears, she replied in a terrified voice, "I am deeply sorry, Mama."
Rabi hissed loudly, stood up aggressively, and barked, "I am giving you exactly thirty minutes to finish preparing the tuwo and soup for this family, or else your mother will face the consequences!"
"Alright," Zarah whispered, her heart pounding with fear as she rushed into the kitchen.
She struggled to light two firewood stoves, a tedious task since the wood was damp due to the rainy season. Despite the choking smoke, she worked frantically and managed to complete all the cooking and household chores in a short period. She stepped out to wash the dishes while her half-siblings, Habiba and the others, sat nearby playing with their smartphones, completely indifferent to her struggles; not a single one offered to lift a finger to help her.
Once everything was done, Zarah retreated to her room to rest. She changed out of her clothes and tied a simple wrapper around her body due to the intense, humid heat brought about by an impending storm. When she stepped outside to use the restroom, she found Mama Rabi and her children happily eating the dinner she had just slaved over.
Mama Rabi sneered and hissed loudly, mocking her: "Look at her, coming back from her secret wanderings only to wash up and show off her body around the house!"
Zarah ignored the insult, having grown entirely accustomed to such emotional abuse. She performed her ablution for the night prayer (Isha) and returned to her room. She spread her worn-out prayer mat, put on her school hijab, and began her prayers.

Part 3: A Father's Secret Sorrow and Grief

After completing her Isha, Shafa'i, and Wutr prayers, Zarah remained seated on her mat for a long time. Tears rolled down her cheeks as she begged Almighty Allah to forgive her late mother and grant her eternal peace.
"Oh Allah, have mercy on my mother," she wept bitterly. "I mourn her absence every single day, yet I find solace in knowing she passed away peacefully. I never got the privilege to know her or look upon her face, but she should know that I love her deeply and she is always in my thoughts. I know that if she were alive today, I wouldn't be trapped in this agonizing, sorrowful life. But I submit to Your divine will, oh Lord. I thank You for everything, and I pray that my mother has found eternal rest."
She broke down into heartbreaking sobs, buried her face in her knees, and wept over the agonizing loneliness of being a motherless child raised by heartless, unfeeling people.
Her father, Malam Yusuf, walked into the house and overheard his daughter weeping while praying for her late mother. He quietly wiped away his own tears of profound pity. Whenever he remembered his late wife—Zarah's mother—who had been an exceptionally obedient, patient, and loving woman, his heart broke.
He walked into Zarah's room and sat gently beside her. "Zahra'u, please stop crying and have patience, my daughter. By now, you should be accustomed to the hardships of this life. Remember, every trial has a beginning and an end. May Allah bless you, have mercy on your mother, and grant you the fortitude to endure living with Rabi. I pray to Allah that I live to see the day of your wedding. It breaks my heart to see you in this miserable condition; it is never my wish."
Hearing her father's voice, Zarah quickly wiped her tears, desperate to avoid causing him any distress. Forcing a warm smile, she greeted him, "Good evening, Baba."
Malam Yusuf returned her smile affectionately. "Good evening, my dear Zarah. How is school? I spoke with your teacher today, and he mentioned that the graduation fee needs to be paid. Why didn't you inform me about this earlier, Zarah?"
Zarah looked down modestly. "Baba, I knew you were short on cash, and I figured a formal graduation ceremony isn't strictly mandatory since I have already successfully memorized the Holy Quran. That is all that truly matters."
Baba shook his head, deeply moved by his daughter's unique maturity, intelligence, and foresight. She possessed the exact patient and selfless nature of her late mother. He said, "May Allah bless you abundantly, my daughter. Even if we have to go without food, I will ensure that your graduation fee is paid in full. It is only ten thousand naira, and Allah will surely provide it before the deadline."
"Ameen, Baba. Thank you so much," she replied.
"Have you eaten your dinner?" he asked.
"Yes, Baba," she lied, nodding her head.
"Very well then." He pulled out two hundred naira cash and handed it to her. "Take this, hide it safely, and use it to buy whatever you need, alright?"
Smiling warmly, she accepted the money with both hands. "Thank you, Baba. May Allah reward you with goodness."
"Ameen, my good daughter," he said, wishing her a goodnight before stepping out.
After he left, Zarah shook her head, feeling an overwhelming wave of love for her father. She knew he was completely helpless against the toxic dynamics in the house. She hid the 200 naira safely inside her clothing trunk, picked up her Holy Quran, and began reciting the verses in her beautiful, melodious voice until she eventually drifted off to sleep.

Part 4: Domestic Abuse and a Shameless Suitor

As was her daily routine, Zarah woke up at dawn to perform her prayers and immediately began her household chores without going back to sleep. By 8:30 AM, Habiba and the others finally emerged from their rooms, yawning lazily as they picked up plastic kettles to perform their morning ablution.
Zarah shook her head in disbelief; imagine waking up to perform the dawn prayer at such a late hour! In fact, they had actually woken up early today, as they usually slept until 9:00 AM. Zarah kept her mouth shut and didn't utter a word, vividly remembering the severe public humiliation and insults they subjected her to the last time she tried to advise them about delaying their morning prayers.
While Zarah was in the kitchen warming up the leftover food, Khairat—an eleven-year-old girl—peeked inside. She smiled and said, "Good morning, Aunty."
Zarah smiled warmly at her younger sister. Out of everyone in the house, Khairat was the only one who possessed a good heart. "Good morning, Khairat. I hope you slept well?"
"Alhamdulillah," Khairat replied, reaching out to take the heavy cooking pot Zarah was about to lift. "Let me help you, Aunty."
"No, don't worry about it, Khairat. I can handle it," Zarah insisted.
"Please, let me assist you," Khairat pleaded.
While they were working together, Mama Rabi suddenly stormed into the kitchen. Habiba had gone to gossip to her, reporting that Khairat was in the kitchen helping Zarah with the chores. Mama Rabi unleashed a stream of vile, heavy curses that made Zarah's stomach churn with fear, completely paralyzing her. Before Zarah could even look up, Mama Rabi landed a brutal slap across her face.
"You worthless wretch! How dare you make my own biological daughter do your chores for you?! Does she look like your maid?! How many times do I have to warn you that you alone are responsible for every single chore in this house? Out of pure malice, you want the child I carried in my womb to slave away for you!"
Khairat quickly stood up, looking at her older sister with deep pity. "Please, don't be angry, Mama! She didn't ask for my help. I was the one who decided to assist her on my own."
Mama Rabi screamed at Khairat, pointing toward the courtyard. "Shut up and get out of my sight before I turn my anger on you!" Khairat quickly scrambled out of the kitchen, muttering under her breath.
Left alone, Zarah wept silently as Mama Rabi continued to ruthlessly insult and berate her, using incredibly toxic words. Zarah remained completely silent, refusing to utter a single word in self-defense until her stepmother finally exhausted her rage and walked away. Wiping her tears, Zarah stood up and calmly finished her chores. Afterward, she swept her bedroom, tied a towel around her body, grabbed her sponge and soap, and headed to the bathroom to wash up.
When she emerged from the bathroom, she found Mama Rabi and her children greedily devouring the leftover tuwo she had just prepared. Ignoring them, she walked straight into her room and dressed in an old, faded atamfa dress that had seen better days. Her stomach began to rumble aggressively from intense hunger. Unable to endure the pain, she stood up, walked into the courtyard, and stood a short distance away from them, lowering her gaze in absolute silence.
Mama Rabi barked aggressively, "Why are you standing over us like a hovering witch?! What do you want from us?!"
Zarah raised her tear-filled eyes, quickly wiping them away as she whispered, "I just came to get some food to eat."
Mama Rabi let out a loud hiss, glaring at her with pure hatred. "We've eaten everything! The food wasn't even enough for us, let alone a useless mouth like yours!"
Despite her young age, Khairat spoke up. "Mama, let me share my portion with her. I'm already full."
Mama Rabi snapped at Khairat, delivering a painful pinch to her head. "If you are full, I am certainly not full!"
Zarah shook her head in deep sorrow, staring at the abundant food right in front of her. She was the one who had endured the agonizing labor of cooking it, yet she was being actively starved while suffering from severe hunger. Defeated, she turned around and walked back to her room. She pulled out the 200 naira Baba had given her, tucked it safely into her clothes, put on her hijab, and walked out into the courtyard.
Mama Rabi barked a harsh command, "Where do you think you're going now, you shameless girl?!"
"I am going outside to buy something to eat," Zarah replied in a trembling, fragile voice.
"Get back inside this instant! You are going nowhere! You want to go out and complain to the neighbors so they can blame me for starving you?! Everything I do in this house is scrutinized, so you are absolutely not stepping foot outside this compound today!"
"But Mama, you refused to give me food, and now you are forbidding me from going out to buy food with my own money?" Zarah asked, trying to summon a shred of courage.
"Yes! I said you are not going anywhere! Are you going to argue with me, or do you want me to physically force you back inside?!"
Zarah simply shook her head, utterly astounded by Mama Rabi's complete lack of human empathy. She walked back into her room, sat on the floor, and buried her face in her hands, weeping bitterly over her miserable existence. She wondered if she would ever truly get used to the relentless cruelty she faced every single day.

Part 5: The Confrontation at the Doorstep

Later that afternoon, around 3:30 PM, Zarah quickly stood up and put on her hijab. She had been eagerly counting down the minutes for Islamic school to start, as it was her only escape from the toxic house. She brought out her cheap perfume, which cost barely three hundred naira, and sprayed it on her clothes. By nature, Zarah possessed a profound love for smelling good and always maintained an immaculate sense of personal hygiene despite her poverty.
Stepping out into the courtyard, she noticed the area was completely empty. She slipped out of the compound and walked over to Asmy's house. She greeted Asmy's mother respectfully, lowering herself to the ground, and the older woman responded with warmth and immense respect. Asmy's father emerged from his room, and Zarah greeted him as well; he responded with a bright, welcoming smile.
Asmy stepped out of the living room and smirked. "Come on inside. Wow, look at you, completely dressed and ready so early today! Is your wicked stepmother not at home?"
Zarah offered a faint smile and shook her head. "Just hurry up and get ready so we can leave."
Asmy grabbed her hand and led her into their beautifully furnished living room, which featured neat, comfortable sofas and a medium-sized plasma TV mounted on the wall, showing a rerun of a popular show on the Arewa24 channel.
Zarah focused her attention on the TV screen. However, Asmy immediately noticed how hollow and sunken Zarah's eyes looked. She instantly knew her friend hadn't eaten a single thing all day, and she knew for a fact that even if Zarah were on the verge of starving to death, her immense pride and modesty would never allow her to admit it out loud.
Without saying a word, Asmy went into the kitchen and served a large plate of rice and stew. Even though she had already eaten lunch, she brought the plate and placed it directly in front of Zarah. "Sit down, let's eat this food together, my best friend."
"I'm already full," Zarah lied. "Why don't you just eat it so we can head out?"
Asmy glared at her fiercely. "In that case, consider our plans canceled! By Allah, if you don't sit down and eat this food right now, we are going to sit right here and skip Islamic school altogether!"
Knowing her best friend was entirely capable of executing her threat, Zarah relented. "Alright, fine, you stubborn girl! Let's eat quickly."
Asmy smiled in satisfaction. "Now you're talking, my best friend! By the way, have you heard the news? Our WAEC exam results are out! Alhamdulillah, I cleared all my subjects with excellent grades. Now we're just waiting for the NECO results to be released since that's the one you sat for."
Zarah burst into a joyous smile. "Wow! Alhamdulillah, sis! I am incredibly happy for you. May Allah bless your results with success. I'm sure the NECO results will be out very soon too; we just need to keep praying."
"Wallahi, my best friend, I am completely overjoyed!" Asmy beamed. They finished their meal while happily chatting away. Afterward, they performed their afternoon prayers and walked over to their Islamic school, spending the rest of the day immersed in intense preparations for their upcoming graduation ceremony, which was scheduled to take place in two weeks.
By the time they dismissed from school, dusk had already fallen. They walked back together, parting ways at the entrance of their street. The moment Zarah stepped into the entrance alley (Soro) of her compound, she heard the distinct, raspy voice of Salisu, and her heart instantly dropped into her stomach. She felt an overwhelming urge to turn around and run away, utterly terrified of the dangerous neighborhood drunkard.
Mustering up every ounce of courage, she muttered a prayer and stepped into the courtyard. Salisu was sitting comfortably on a wooden mortar, casually smoking a cigarette. The moment Zarah walked in, his eyes locked onto her figure, and he shamelessly licked his lips.
Zarah's face instantly hardened into a tight, icy expression.
Salisu spoke in a slurred, drunken voice, "I've been sitting here waiting for your return for hours, my beautiful future bride!"
Zarah let out a long, loud hiss, completely ignoring him as she turned to walk toward her room. Infuriated by her dismissal, Salisu lunged forward and aggressively yanked her hijab backward.
The physical assault pushed Zarah past her limit. Blinded by a sudden burst of rage, she spun around and delivered a resounding, powerful slap across Salisu's face.
Salisu froze, clutching his burning cheek in utter shock. He pointed an aggressive finger at her, his eyes blazing with malice. "You dare slap me?! By Allah, today you will learn what it means to cross a real street thug from the motor park! You worthless brat! Just because a man honors you by wanting to marry you, you think you can disrespect me?! I swear, from this day onward, you will never have the audacity to lift a hand against anyone again!" He shouted violently, rapidly unbuckling the heavy leather belt from his trousers.
Zarah's blood ran cold. If there was one thing she absolutely despised and feared, it was physical violence and being beaten. Panicking, she dashed into her room, slammed the wooden door shut, and securely slid the iron bolt into place, panting heavily as her chest heaved.
Salisu stormed up to her door, kicking and pounding against the wood so violently it seemed as though the door would shatter into pieces.
Throughout the entire ordeal, Mama Rabi sat in her room in absolute silence, deliberately refusing to intervene. She had been watching them from the window the moment they walked in, and she had secretly signaled Salisu to proceed, hoping he would thoroughly beat Zarah up.
Suddenly, Malam Yusuf walked out of the bathroom. Seeing Salisu violently attacking his daughter's door while screaming profanities, the patient father was pushed into an uncharacteristic, terrifying rage. He let out a deafening roar, thundering at Salisu to stop.
Salisu spun around. Despite his reckless street persona, he harbored a deep, instinctual fear of Malam Yusuf, who possessed an incredibly powerful, commanding aura and strict moral authority. Malam Yusuf began to violently scold Salisu, unleashing an intense reprimand that left the drunkard completely speechless. Realizing he was thoroughly outmatched, Salisu quietly slunk out of the compound and fled into the night.
Malam Yusuf then turned his burning wrath toward Mama Rabi. "By Allah! If I ever see that worthless, degenerate boy step foot into this compound again, you will be the one to suffer the consequences, Rabi! Have you no fear of Allah?! You all gather together to torment and abuse a defenseless orphan child! You need to fear the day you will stand before your Creator, Rabi! Causing profound sorrow and heartbreak to an orphan is a grievous sin in the eyes of Allah, yet you treat it like a game! The divine right of this young girl alone is powerful enough to deny you eternal peace in your grave! Do you think I am blind to your cruel actions?! I see everything you do, and you had better be careful of the final judgment I will pass on this household very soon, because Zarah means far more to me than you or anyone else in this world!"
Mama Rabi let out a loud, defensive hiss and marched back into her room, muttering bitter curses under her breath.
Malam Yusuf shook his head in deep sorrow and performed his ablution, leaving the compound to attend the night congregational prayers at the mosque.
Inside her dark room, Zarah wept silently. Although she felt a wave of relief hearing Salisu flee and listening to how her father had fiercely defended her, she was still too terrified to unlock her door. She knew for a fact that Mama Rabi would ruthlessly take out her frustration over Baba's scolding on her. Furthermore, she desperately needed to step out to perform her evening prayers, but fear kept her paralyzed. She also realized that since she hadn't cooked dinner for the family, she was in severe trouble.
She remained locked inside her room, completely ignoring the torrent of vile insults and screams Mama Rabi kept hurling toward her door.
Eventually, Mama Rabi had no choice but to go into the kitchen and prepare dinner herself. It wasn't until around 11:00 PM that Zarah finally heard the compound go quiet. She quietly unlocked her door, slipped out to perform her ablution, and returned to her room. She performed her combined Magrib and Isha prayers, after which she lay down on her thin mat.
She had no expectations of being given any food, as she was only allowed to eat when her stepmother felt generous, or when Baba was physically present in the compound to oversee the serving. Her stomach twisted in agonizing hunger knots, but she closed her eyes, and eventually, exhaustion pulled her into a deep sleep.

Part 6: An Unwanted Proposal

The following afternoon, it was Thursday, and the girls were enjoying their day off from Islamic school. Zarah was lying down in her room, quietly revising her Quranic chapters, when she suddenly heard a neighborhood child calling out a greeting from the compound entrance: "Someone is outside calling for Zarah!"
Mama Rabi, who was sitting in the courtyard, let out a loud hiss and shouted back, "Go back and tell whoever it is that she is not at home!"
Malam Yusuf happened to be walking into the compound at that exact moment. He looked at the neighborhood boy and countered firmly, "Go back outside and tell them that she is coming right now."
The boy nodded and ran out. Mama Rabi's face bloated with pure fury, her chest heaving with resentment. Malam Yusuf called out to his daughter. The moment Zarah emerged from her room, her father said gently, "Go inside and change into a proper outfit, my daughter. Someone is waiting to see you at the front gate."
"Alright, Baba," she replied softly, keeping her gaze lowered. She was entirely incapable of disrespecting or arguing with her father. She returned to her room, put on her largest, most elegant hijab, and stepped out. Mama Rabi followed her with a venomous glare, burning with intense jealousy and bitterness at the thought of Zarah receiving a respectable suitor for marriage.
Just as Zarah had anticipated, it was Nura. He was dressed in a pristine black traditional fabric (yadi). Given his very dark complexion, the black fabric made him blend entirely into the shadows. Zarah let out a silent hiss of frustration, her mouth puckering into a deep pout as she stopped a considerable distance away from him, completely averting her gaze.
Nura, completely oblivious to her hostility, beamed with immense joy. "How are you doing today, the queen of my heart? Today is truly a monumental day for me, seeing that you finally honored my invitation and stepped out to see me!"
Zarah shot him an incredibly cold, disdainful look and hissed loudly. "Listen to me, Malam! If you are done talking, I need to get back inside. I have an endless mountain of household chores waiting for me."
"Ah, please, have a little patience, my beautiful princess! You know you are an incredibly special woman, and a lady of your caliber needs to be courted with utmost gentleness and care. For the sake of Allah, Zarah, I beg you to accept my declaration of love."
Zarah let out another loud, frustrated hiss. "If you are still trapped in that pathetic delusion, you had better wake up right now! I do not love you, and I will never love you! I have made this clear to you not once, not twice, but countless times! Yet you choose to persist like a person with absolutely no self-respect or shame!" She yelled defensively, letting out one final hiss before spinning on her heel and storming back into the compound, muttering angry words under her breath.
Malam Yusuf noticed her angry, frustrated expression as she walked back into the courtyard. Concerned, he asked, "What is the matter, the precious trust of my heart? Who has upset my beautiful Zarah? I can see your mood is entirely ruined."
Reverting into her naturally pampered and affectionate demeanor—a sweet trait she had possessed since the day she was born—Zarah looked at her father and complained, "Baba, it's Nura..."