In a hurry, the woman opened the car door and rushed into the hospital screaming, “Please help me! Don’t let my daughter die, help me!” Nurses ran after her with a stretcher. From inside the car, they brought out a young lady along with an elderly woman. The girl’s contractions were intense, the baby almost ready to come out. She screamed at the top of her voice, uttering incoherent words. They quickly wheeled her toward the labor room.

Hajiya Karima glanced at Momma and said mockingly, “Well, it’s time to call your oil-rubbed son so he can come and reap what he has sown.”

Momma smiled gently, replying, “Don’t worry, Hajiya. He will come. I already called him before we left. He’ll soon be here, maybe something delayed him.”

Just then, the familiar scent of Azzaro Visit perfume filled the air, announcing his arrival even before they saw him.

Momma’s smile broadened as two men in black-and-ash suits approached. They wore doctor’s coats underneath. One of them stepped closer and said, “Momma, you’ve arrived?”

Smiling warmly, she answered, “Yes, my dear. Go inside, she’s already in there.”

A disdainful “tsssk” came from behind. They turned to see Hajiya Karima glaring at them. With scorn in her voice, she snapped, “Are you just going to stand there chatting? I need to know my daughter’s condition! She’s been inside for a while and no one has told me anything!”

The mood grew tense. Momma held her son’s hand gently and urged him, “Please hurry inside, my son. You can see the state Sakinatu is in.”

With pain and frustration written all over him, he turned around—and oh! What a sight he was: a tall, broad-shouldered man, graceful and commanding. His long, straight nose, perfectly shaped lips that looked as if tinted with gloss, and his calm, piercing eyes gave him an aura of strength. His neatly laid black hair and well-trimmed beard only added to his charm. His fair skin glowed with a touch of rosiness, and a mark of prayer graced his forehead. A thin, elegant pair of glasses sat on his face, enhancing his dignified look. With just one glance, anyone could see he was a man of substance, radiating authority and respect.

This was Dr. Safwan Sale Safana, a renowned gynecologist, and with him was Dr. Tahir, his close friend and trusted colleague at the hospital.

Safwan leaned slightly forward and said in a firm tone, “Welcome, Hajiya…”

But she cut him off angrily: “Wait! I asked you a question—what is happening with my daughter? She’s been in there for so long and I’ve heard nothing!” She shook furiously like a street brawler.

Safwan lowered his head, staying quiet for a long while before he stood, moved slowly toward the labor room, and placed his hand on the door handle. Suddenly, a piercing cry rang out from inside:

“Allah will judge between you and me, Safwan! You impregnated me and left me to suffer. You told me childbirth was easy—look at me now! You abandoned me in pain. The only thing you know is… (insult) like food! I swear I’ll never trust you again!”

His hand froze on the handle. Overcome with grief and regret, he withdrew his hand and turned away. Without looking back, he walked faster and faster until he disappeared from sight.

Hajiya Karima threw her hands up in frustration, shouting, “Oh, Karima! This is too much for me to bear!” Then she stormed toward Momma, yelling, “What kind of mother are you? You saw the humiliation your son gave my daughter and you said nothing! Just because he enjoyed his pleasure and left her with pregnancy, right?” She glared viciously.

Before Momma could respond, Dr. Tahir intervened calmly, “Please, Hajiya, have patience. I promise you, Sakina will deliver safely.” With that, he opened the labor room door and went inside.

Meanwhile, Dr. Safwan dragged himself into his office, burning inside with anguish. He went straight to the bathroom, turned on the shower, and stood fully clothed under the running water. For thirty minutes the water poured over him, but it could not wash away his pain.

He came out drenched, collapsed into the chair in his office, and gasped for breath. His mind tortured him: When will I ever be a real man in Sakina’s eyes? When will she and her mother stop despising me? When will she see me as a husband worth respecting? I don’t know… I don’t know… His voice rose in agony, his eyes reddened.

Minutes passed as he sat in that state, head pounding, veins in his temples throbbing. He pressed his head with both hands, wiping away the dripping water, then leaned back in exhaustion, breathing heavily like a man who had just finished a race.

He shut his eyes, sighing deeply. His chest rose and fell heavily, consumed by bitterness and regret. When he opened his eyes again, his gaze locked on the office door. Memories of the past came flooding back, one after the other, playing before him as though he were watching them on a television screen.