DAREN AURENA 

Her heart felt as though it was about to tear out of her chest as she lay curled up in a blanket on the small bed, her eyes tightly shut. A burning, agonizing pain pierced her chest, and in a soft, trembling voice, she began to speak, "Indeed, I deeply regret ever knowing Jabir in my life. You have betrayed me, you have deceived me, and I will never forgive you for as long as the world exists. Insha Allah, Allah will surely avenge what you have done to me, and..." But she could not finish her sentence, choked by a wave of heavy weeping.

Aunty Murja entered the room with a greeting on her lips, her heart filled with profound pity for her younger sister. Jabir had left a deep, indelible scar on Khadijatullah's heart and entire life—something she would never forget from their very wedding night.

She walked over, sat beside Khadijatullah, pulled her into an embrace, and they wept together. After about five minutes of crying, Aunty Murja swallowed back her own tears to comfort her sister. In a soothing voice, she began, "Khadijatullah, I know there is deep pain in your heart. For what Jabir has done to you, we can only leave it to Allah to avenge, because you know we do not have wealth. We cannot afford to take this matter to court to seek justice for you. Besides, no matter who Jabir is, a case like this nowadays yields nothing because he is wealthy. Please, Khadijatullah, have patience. You know excessive crying can cause you other health problems, and I am terrified of losing you the way we lost our parents. You are the only one I look at and find joy in." She finished her speech with tears streaming down her face.

Khadijatullah spent about ten minutes trying to speak, but the sobbing blocked her words. With great difficulty, she calmed herself slightly and spoke in a choked voice, "Aunty Murja, I know you hate seeing me in this state, but Aunty Murja, I don't think I will ever stop crying. My heart will never stop burning because I have now befriended distress. Aunty Murja, I swear, I think the grief caused by Jabir will kill me." Another fresh bout of crying seized her, and Aunty Murja pulled her closer into an embrace. After about five minutes of weeping, Khadijatullah continued, "Aunty Murja, I swear I hate marriage, and I hate men. If I were given the chance, I would kill every single man in this world. I truly believe the Hausa saying that a man is never a baby you can carry on your back; no matter how well you carry him, one day he will do the unthinkable to you. And if you see a man out in the sun, never think of pulling him into the shade, because if you do, he will push you right into the burning sun. Aunty Murja, a man did something to me that I will never forget for the rest of my life—ON MY WEDDING NIGHT." She spoke all of this while crying, her heart continuing to burn with agony.

Aunty Murja could not say anything; she continued to comfort her sister until sleep finally overtook Khadijatullah. Aunty Murja praised Allah inwardly, relieved that Khadijatullah was finally sleeping, as she had not slept once since her wedding night three days ago.

Jabir's Residence

Jabir was lounging on a reclining chair in the courtyard, a shisha pipe set up before him as he puffed on it slowly. He wore only a pair of shorts, shirtless, with a fair complexion that clearly marked him as of Arab descent. His hair lay flat and glossy. He possessed large, striking white eyes, and a long nose that perfectly matched his small mouth. His phone, resting beside him, began to ring. He picked it up, glanced at the screen, and saw Teemarh Namo calling.

A faint smile crossed his face, and in a soft voice, he said, "Ah, business is calling today." He answered the call without saying anything else. From the other end, Teemarh Namo whined playfully, "Baby, why didn't you come to the club yesterday? I was waiting for you, especially since you know I've missed you so much these past two days."

Jabir waited about five minutes before replying, "I'm so sorry, dear. I swear I went somewhere and couldn't get back early."

Showing blatant jealousy, she demanded, "Where did you go? Did you go to see that old wife of yours?"

Jabir let out a harsh, wicked laugh, saying, "Come on, that one has already expired! Please calm down, her time is long gone."

Teemarh Namo smiled and said, "Alright then, baby. You're coming today, right? You know I've missed you so much—I miss your hug, I miss you so, so much."

Jabir smiled and replied, "I'll drop by tonight. I'm just resting a bit now," speaking as though he were doing a chore under compulsion.

"Okay then, see you tonight. I'll be waiting." "Okay." "I love you." "Thanks, dear."

With that, they both hung up, and Jabir resumed smoking his shisha.

Khadijatullah's Quarters

Khadijatullah had been sleeping in Aunty Murja's arms for about an hour when she suddenly bolted awake as if startled. Her sudden movement woke Aunty Murja, who reached out to hold her. "Khadijatullahi, what is wrong?"

Khadijatullah stared at Aunty Murja, tears pooling in her eyes. "Nothing," she whispered tearfully. Aunty Murja pulled her into an embrace, patting her back while offering words of deep comfort.

From outside, a greeting rang out as someone pushed the door open. "Assalamu alaikum," the visitor announced, stepping inside. Aunty Murja smiled and responded, "Wa'alaikissalam, Amatullahi."

"Good afternoon, Aunty Murja," Amatullahi knelt respectfully to greet her. "I'm fine, how are you?" "Fine, Alhamdulillah."

Amatullahi then turned her gaze to Khadijatullah, who was curled up in Aunty Murja's arms. "My friend, you're still crying? Come on, Khadijatullah, look at how your face has changed and your eyes are sunken from crying. You must realize this is a destiny ordained for us by Allah, and every Muslim should embrace whatever destiny comes their way, whether good or bad."

Khadijatullah remained silent, listening while letting out heavy sighs as tears continued to stream down her face. She knew Aunty Murja and Amatullahi could never fathom the depth of the disaster and terror she was enduring. How could she stop crying when they knew the cruelty Jabir had inflicted upon her? She heard stories on TV and rumors of men disrespecting their wives, but she had never heard of anything remotely matching what Jabir did to her ON HER WEDDING NIGHT. How could she ever forget that night, which she called the "Dark Night," because her wedding night had been a night of supreme misery that still consumed her?

Amatullahi reached out, wiping the tears from Khadijatullah's face. She and Aunty Murja tried to cheer her up with light conversation so she would calm down. Khadijatullah just listened, but this time she forced herself to swallow her tears, realizing that her crying plunged her two loved ones into distress.

Aunty Murja got up, retrieved the food she had cooked in a small silver bowl, brought it over, and opened it to reveal rice with oil and pepper. "Oh! I forgot to fetch spoons," Aunty Murja remarked.

Amatullahi smiled, "Let me get them, Aunty Murja." She walked over to their sparse utensil basket and retrieved two old, slightly bent spoons. Handing them over, she said, "Here you go, Aunty Murja."

Aunty Murja took one and said, "Pull closer so we can eat."

Amatullahi quickly shook her head, knowing the food in the bowl was hardly enough even for Khadijatullah, let alone both of them. "No, Aunty Murja, Alhamdulillah, I ate plenty before I came." She pushed the spoon toward Khadijatullah, saying, "Here, eat."

Khadijatullah shook her head in refusal. With a stern expression, Aunty Murja said, "So you've chosen to starve yourself? Fine, since that's what you want..." She broke down in tears.

Distressed, Khadijatullah grabbed the spoon from Amatullahi. "Aunty Murja, please don't cry, I will eat," she said, dipping the spoon into the food. Aunty Murja stopped crying and began eating as well. After taking five bites, Khadijatullah put the spoon down, slid back onto the large mattress on the bed, and closed her eyes to prevent Aunty Murja from forcing her to eat more. Aunty Murja said nothing.

Amatullahi stood up and announced, "Aunty Murja, I must be going." "Leaving so early today, Amatullahi?" Amatullahi smiled, "Yes, Aunty Murja, my mother and I are going out, so I wanted to drop by and see you before we leave." Aunty Murja blessed her, "May Allah bless you, Amatullahi, thank you so much." "Oh, Aunty Murja, it's nothing at all."

Amatullahi walked over to the head of the bed, stroked Khadijatullah's face, and said, "My friend, I will come back tomorrow if we return early." Khadijatullah merely nodded. Amatullahi bade Aunty Murja goodbye and rushed out of the house. Aunty Murja tidied up the room, lay back down on the bed, and listened to an old, battered radio.

Jabir's Residence (Return)

Jabir was fully dressed in casual wear, looking impeccably handsome. He stood before his dressing table, which looked like a mini-store overflowing with perfumes, spraying himself liberally with one fragrance after another. He picked up a small Dubai comb—a work of art in itself—and meticulously combed his hair as though his life depended on it. After spending about an hour getting ready, he left his room unlocked and walked toward Mami's wing with slow, cautious steps.

Without knocking, he pushed open the door to her parlor and found her watching a Zee World movie. He rushed over, embraced her, and kissed her cheeks. Mami smiled and stroked his hair, "Wow, my son, you look so Masha Allah." Jabir smiled, "Thank you, Mum, I really love you so much." "Me too, my son, I love you so much."

Standing up, Jabir announced, "Mami, I'm heading to the club. I'll stay there overnight because Maghrib has passed and people are looking for me regarding something important." He said this with a whining tone. "Alright, safe journey. But make sure you return early tomorrow because Aliyu is arriving from Dubai on an early flight." With immense joy, Jabir exclaimed, "My brother Aliyu is coming back? Oh, I almost want to skip the club just to see my brother! It's been ten years since I last laid eyes on him." Mami smiled, "He arrives tomorrow, so you should still go to your club matters today. You'll be back by then." Pleadingly, Jabir asked, "Please Mami, don't go to pick him up until I return." Giving a dazzling smile, she replied, "Don't worry, we'll wait for you."

With a joyful leap, Jabir bolted toward the door, shouting, "Yay! Thank you so much, Mami!" She watched him with a calm smile. Jabir headed straight for the parking garage, hopped into the brand-new car his father had sent him, and sped out of the compound as the security guard hastily opened the gate.

He drove straight to the club. Before he even stepped out of his car, cheers erupted. As he emerged, Zee Namo rushed toward him, embracing him and kissing him all over. He scooped her up effortlessly—as he was eager to unwind with Zee—and carried her straight to the club's hotel rooms. The crowd cheered louder, but Jabir ignored them, driven solely by his desire to satisfy his urges with Zee.

Entering the assigned room, he set Zee down on the bed and stripped off her skimpy nightgown, which barely covered her knees and lacked sleeves, leaving half her chest fully exposed. He began kissing her all over like a piece of candy. Zee readily surrendered her body to him, and they indulged in their pleasures (while I, a child of Zaria, pray that Allah guides them both, Amin!).

Around the time of Isha prayer, Jabir finally stepped away from Zee, much to her intense disappointment, as she felt unsatisfied. He headed into the bathroom to shower. Zee followed him inside and found him starting to wash his back. She pressed against him, whispering, "Baby, you aren't done with me yet, because I am not satisfied."

Jabir remained silent, exhausted by Zee's insatiable nature; no matter how long they spent, she always complained she wasn't satisfied. He pulled her around to face him, exchanging wicked smiles. "Baby, let me shower. We'll be together later tonight, remember?" he said in his seductive voice. Melting into his arms, Zee closed her eyes without arguing further. Jabir tried to get her to leave so he could shower in peace, but she clung to him like chewing gum, rubbing against his body.

Eventually, he picked her up, carried her out of the bathroom, laid her on the bed, and dressed. Zee watched him with reddened, half-closed eyes, licking her lips like a predator as she devoured his physique with her gaze. Once dressed, Jabir returned to the bed, fondled her again, and their passions flared once more until sleep overtook them both.

They didn't wake up until around 6:00 AM. Skipping morning prayers, they showered together and emerged. Jabir rushed to get ready because he was desperate to see his brother Aliyu, as Mami had mentioned he was arriving today. He had barely slept, fearing he wouldn't wake up early enough. Teemarh also dressed in a long nightgown.

Together, they left the room, Jabir locked the door, and they headed to the car. Along the way, he dropped Teemarh off, unwilling to drive her near his elite neighborhood. He sped back home, and the security guard threw open the massive gate. As he drove in at high speed, he nearly hit the guard, who leaped aside dramatically, tumbling to the ground and scraping his forehead.

Jabir jumped out of the car and rushed toward the grand parlor. Inside, he found Mami and his two younger sisters, Shahida and Nihal, both under seventeen. Nihal ran up to him, shouting, "Yay, bro! We were just waiting for you, Mami was about to call you." Jabir smiled and hugged his younger sister, "Darling sister, I'm here! Let's hurry and go pick him up before their flight lands." Mami smiled, "Today I see everyone forgetting about me because you're all so excited to see your brother!" Jabir quickly released Nihal and hugged Mami, "Our Mami, how could we ever forget you? You are so special to us." Shahida and Nihal joined in the hug, and Mami beamed with maternal joy. "Thank you so much, my darlings, I love you all. Now let's hurry to the airport before Aliyu lands. They said their flight touches down at 7:00 AM, and it's already 6:30 AM!"

They all piled into a single car and rushed to the airport, arriving right at 7:00 AM just as Aliyu's flight landed. Aliyu emerged with an air of absolute confidence and regal swagger, exuding expensive fragrance. Masha Allah, Aliyu was strikingly handsome—so much so that compared to him, even Jabir looked plain, as Aliyu was twice as handsome and looked like an Arab prince.

Nihal and Shahida ran up and hugged him, squealing, "We really miss you, darling brother!" Aliyu flashed a priceless, charming smile and whispered, "Me too, I really miss you." He then approached Mami, hugged her, and kissed her cheek, "Mum, I miss you so much." "Me too, I miss you, my son."

Jabir stood with his arms crossed over his chest, scoffing, "Well, look at the favorite child today." Only then did Aliyu notice Jabir. "Oh my goodness, Bro Jabir, you came too?" he exclaimed, stepping forward to hug him. Jabir quickly stepped back, glaring at Aliyu. "No, I didn't come for you! With your sheer disrespect, you didn't even notice me? I couldn't sleep just waiting for morning to come see you, and now you're acting stuck-up!" he said, feigning annoyance. "Sorry, brother, please forgive me. You know you're my own flesh and blood," Aliyu laughed. They all smiled, embraced, and got into the car to head home.

Upon arrival, Aliyu found a spread of various dishes waiting on the dining table. Immediately diving in, he heaped fried rice loaded with chicken onto his plate and began eating. Everyone else joined in, sharing a joyful and heartwarming meal.

Two Months Later

Amatullahi sat before Aunty Murja, speaking calmly, "Aunty Murja, I came to show you our school admission letters." She handed over the admission letter with boundless joy. Aunty Murja reacted with astonishment and gratitude, "Alhamdulillah, Masha Allah! May Allah protect you both and grant you success in what you seek." Amatullahi responded happily, "Amin ya Rabbil 'Alamin." "Which school is it? And who got admission with you?" Aunty Murja asked. With a radiant smile, Amatullahi replied, "The Polytechnic in Gidan Kaya, and it's myself and Khadijatullah." Shocked, Aunty Murja asked, "Which Khadijatullah?" Amatullahi pointed at Khadijatullah, who was lying down listening to everything without a word—until now, when her friend brought her such astonishing news. With great effort, Khadijatullah forced herself up, her eyes fixed on Amatullahi to confirm if she was serious or joking.

Khadijatullah asked, "Aunty Murja, is she talking about me?" Amatullahi turned to her and said, "Yes, Aunty Murja, I mean this Khadijatullah. I did this because I realized this is the only way she will stop brooding and crying day and night. By attending school, her trauma will gradually ease."

With tears streaming down her face, Aunty Murja spoke, "I don't even know what words to use to thank you. Truly, you are a rare, good friend. Finding someone like you in this era is nearly impossible. Thank you, thank you so much." Amatullahi reached out and wiped Aunty Murja's tears. "Come on, Aunty Murja, what is there to cry for? I consider you all my own family, so please stop thanking me for anything I do."

Khadijatullah crawled laboriously toward her friend, took both her hands, and wept, "Thank you so much. I truly know you love me so much, and..." Before she could finish, a sudden wave of nausea hit her. Unable to complete her sentence, she scrambled toward the bathroom, where she began violently vomiting. Aunty Murja and Amatullahi rushed to hold her. After she finished vomiting, they cleaned her up and helped her back to bed.

Amatullahi cleaned up the mess in the bathroom and returned to sit beside Aunty Murja, asking with concern, "Aunty Murja, is she ill?" Aunty Murja shook her head with a worried expression, "I swear, Amatullahi, I don't know, because she never told me she was sick..."

Summary

This Hausa narrative explores the starkly contrasting lives of two individuals following a traumatic event. On one side is Khadijatullah, shattered and consumed by profound depression and bitterness on her wedding night due to a devastating betrayal by her husband, Jabir. Confined to a humble home with her caring sister, Aunty Murja, Khadijatullah struggles with suicidal grief and a deep-seated hatred for men, finding solace only in the unwavering loyalty of her steadfast friend, Amatullahi.

On the flip side, Jabir lives a life of unrepentant hedonism, wealth, and moral decay, indulging in clubbing and illicit affairs with women like Teemarh Namo while remaining entirely callous to the ruin he left in his wake. Despite his toxic lifestyle, his family showers him with affection, culminating in a joyful family reunion at the airport for his brother Aliyu's return from Dubai.

The narrative shifts two months forward, showcasing a glimmer of hope when Amatullahi secures polytechnic admissions for both herself and Khadijatullah, aiming to pull her friend out of her psychological prison. However, the story ends on an ambiguous and tense note as Khadijatullah suffers a sudden, violent bout of morning sickness/vomiting, hinting at a hidden physical consequence of her tragic wedding night.

Description

The text is a deeply emotional, character-driven domestic drama written in contemporary Hausa prose. It heavily employs contrasting parallel storylines—juxtaposing the suffocating, grief-stricken poverty of Khadijatullah’s domestic environment with the opulent, reckless, and libertine lifestyle of Jabir's upper-class household. The narrative style relies on rich psychological introspection, dialogue-heavy pacing, and vivid sensory details (such as the contrast between the sorrowful scent of tears and antiseptic cleaners versus expensive Dubai perfumes and shisha smoke). It serves as a social critique of marital betrayal, gender double standards, and the healing power of genuine friendship.

Analytics

• Thematic Architecture:
  • Betrayal vs. Loyalty: The toxic, destructive nature of marital deceit is starkly opposed to the selfless, platonic loyalty displayed by Amatullahi and Aunty Murja.
  • Class and Accountability: Jabir’s wealth shields him from legal and social consequences, highlighting systemic injustice where the rich escape accountability for destroying vulnerable lives.
  • Trauma and Recovery: Explores the stages of grief, moving from catatonic shock, rage, and suicidal ideation toward the therapeutic value of education and social reintegration.
• Character Dynamics:
  • Khadijatullah: Represents the helpless victim whose internal world has been completely inverted by trauma, shifting from bridal anticipation to a hardened misandrist.
  • Jabir: Embodies the archetype of the narcissistic, hedonistic antagonist completely detached from empathy or moral boundaries.
  • Amatullahi: Functions as the narrative catalyst and emotional anchor, pulling Khadijatullah back toward life through proactive friendship.
• Pacing & Structure: The plot utilizes a dual-narrative perspective, cutting back and forth between the miserable squalor of Khadijatullah's room and the vibrant luxury of Jabir's world, eventually converging on a cliffhanger that threatens to blow open past secrets.

Comments

The narrative successfully hooks the reader through high emotional stakes and sharp moral contrasts. The raw depiction of Khadijatullah’s post-traumatic stress is visceral, making her aversion to men and marriage deeply understandable within the context of the story, even if extreme. Amatullahi shines as the ultimate archetype of a true friend—proactive, selfless, and emotionally intelligent.

From a structural standpoint, the transition between scenes is smooth, though Jabir's extensive sequences at the club and airport occasionally slow the immediate momentum of Khadijatullah's gripping emotional arc. However, these scenes effectively establish his character depth and privilege. The concluding twist involving Khadijatullah's sudden vomiting successfully re-engages the suspense, setting up high-stakes conflict for subsequent chapters.

Conclusions

This excerpt delivers a poignant exploration of trauma, resilience, and societal inequality within a domestic drama framework. It effectively establishes the emotional baseline of its primary characters while setting up a compelling trajectory for Khadijatullah's rehabilitation through education. The lingering mystery of her sudden physical illness introduces a potent narrative hook, promising deeper confrontations regarding the true extent of Jabir's actions on their wedding night. Ultimately, the story underscores the redemptive power of sisterhood and friendship in the face of insurmountable personal tragedy.