She didn’t take long before coming out of the bathroom, wrapped in a towel after performing ablution. Her long hair was drenched from washing it with shampoo. She sat before the mirror, drying herself with a smaller towel, then applied body lotion all over her skin. Next, she combed through her thick, silky hair and massaged it with fragrant oils that gave off a delightful, refreshing scent. She then dusted powder on her face and applied lipstick to her lips.

One look was enough to know that Zainab was truly beautiful. Her beauty alone was enough to dazzle young men, for God had blessed her with features that pierced directly into the heart. She was of a warm chocolate complexion, neither tall nor short, with sparkling wide eyes, finely shaped eyebrows, and small lips hiding neat white teeth that brightened her face. Her face was slender, her nose sharp and delicate like a pen. From head to toe, God had given her a perfect figure.

Her body shape was what people called an “eight figure,” with rounded hips and firm curves that could ignite desire in any healthy man’s heart.

After finishing her makeup, she stood up and pulled a long gown from her wardrobe, slipping it on. She used the head-tie of the dress as a veil, then sprayed perfume generously over herself. Returning to the mirror, she gazed at her own reflection, and seeing her breathtaking beauty, tears welled in her eyes. The thought of her late parents struck her suddenly, and she could hardly hold back her sobs. Forcing herself to swallow the pain, she fixed her makeup again, then spread her prayer mat and performed her prayers, asking God to have mercy on her parents.

While she was still seated on the mat making supplications, Aunty Maijiddah entered the room, greeting her. Seeing Zainab deep in prayer, she sat quietly on the edge of the bed until she was done. After finishing, Zainab wiped her face with her hands and turned, speaking softly with utmost respect:

“Good afternoon, Aunty.”

With a smile, Maijiddah replied, “I’m fine, Zeey. How are you feeling now? Any better?”

“Yes, I’m feeling better, Aunty.”

Sighing with sympathy, Aunty Maijiddah said, “That’s what I want to hear. Now, come to the parlour. Doctor Nazeer and Jawaheer’s father are waiting for you there.”

Quietly, Zainab answered, “I’m coming.”

“Alright, I’ll be waiting.” Aunty Maijiddah left and returned to the parlour, where Doctor Nazeer was already seated with a tray of food and fruits before him. She joined them, laughing and chatting warmly.

Inside her room, Zainab composed herself further, ensuring no one would guess at her deep sorrow. She slipped on her hijab over the long gown, wore light-heeled shoes, and left the room, closing the door behind her.

When she reached the parlour, she found little Jawaheer already asleep on the carpet. Their father had retired to his room with Aunty Maijiddah, leaving only Doctor Nazeer. Zainab quietly sat down some distance away, her head lowered. Nazeer’s eyes followed her with burning affection. His heart pounded heavily in his chest, overwhelmed by his love for her. He longed desperately for her to accept him as her husband the second time.

The parlour was silent for a while, each of them lost in thought, until Doctor Nazeer finally broke the silence:

“Zeey, no words from you today?”

Shyly, she lifted her head slightly. “Good afternoon, Brother Nazeer.”

He smiled sadly. “And only after I had to beg for it.”

She stayed silent, unsure how to answer him. There was a quiet authority in his presence, a commanding aura in his eyes that made it impossible for anyone to speak rudely before him. Seeing her hesitation, he smiled again and said gently:

“You’ve gone quiet, my sister.”

“What do you want me to say?” she asked softly.

“How are you feeling now, Zeey?” he asked.

“I feel better.”

“Good. Let me examine you again to see if the pain has reduced.”

Without waiting, he opened his briefcase, brought out his medical tools, and approached her. He began his check-up with tender care. Zainab sat stiffly, unable to move, her heart racing wildly. Being so close to him overwhelmed her with emotions she couldn’t explain.

When he finished, he wrote out a prescription for her and said, “Here are the medicines. With God’s will, once you take them, you’ll recover completely, as though you never suffered this illness.”

In a low voice, she said, “Thank you very much, Brother Nazeer.”

“Don’t thank me,” he replied gently. “You’re someone who deserves all the care.”

Then he added, “Call your elder brother Hayatu. I need to have a word with him before I leave.”

Zainab quickly rose. “Alright, I’ll call him now.” She left the parlour, her heart heavy with sorrow, and went to knock on Hayatu’s door. Aunty Maijiddah’s voice came from inside:

“Who’s there?”

“It’s me, Aunty.”

“What do you want, Zainab?”

“Doctor Nazeer wants to speak with Jawaheer’s father.”

“Oh, he’s finished examining you already?”

“Yes, Aunty.”

“Alright, he’s coming out soon.”

Zainab returned to the parlour and said softly to Doctor Nazeer, “He’s coming.”

Nazeer handed her the prescription. She took it reluctantly, and he said, “You can go now.”

Without replying, she quietly left for her room. He watched her until she disappeared, then turned back to the television.

Soon after, Barrister Hayatu came out in an elegant, expensive robe. He greeted warmly and sat beside Nazeer.

“Sorry for keeping you waiting, Doctor.”

“It’s nothing, my brother,” Nazeer replied.

Hayatu smiled. “Since when do you call me ‘brother’? Is this some new joke of yours?”

Nazeer chuckled. “Not a joke. I mean it, brother Hayatu. Please… help me convince Zee to accept me as her husband. I can’t sleep at night anymore. My love for her only grows stronger, and I can’t understand why she still refuses my proposal.”

Hayatu sighed, deeply moved. “Be patient, Nazeer. If she is truly destined to be yours, nothing can stop it. Whether she agrees or not, you will marry her when the time comes.”

Nazeer shook his head with pain. “You don’t understand, Hayatu. My heart, my very blood is full of love for her. I can’t let go. Please, try to understand—I am deeply in love with Zainab.”

Hayatu placed a hand on his shoulder. “I do understand. But remember, she is still traumatized by her first marriage. Her ex-husband, Laweezi, hurt her badly and left scars on her soul. That’s why she finds it hard to open her heart again.”

Nazeer leaned back, sighing heavily. “What exactly did he do to her, Hayatu, that ruined her life this much?”

“It’s a long story,” Hayatu replied. “I’ll come to your office and explain it all another day.”

Nazeer nodded. “Alright then, Barrister. I’ll be waiting.”

He stood to leave. They walked together to the parking lot, talking like close brothers. Before entering his car, Nazeer said, “Please, keep persuading her for me, Hayatu. I can’t lose her. Loving her is the only thing that keeps me alive.”

Hayatu forced a smile, though pity and sorrow filled his heart. “By God’s will, she’ll be yours, Nazeer. Don’t lose hope—every hardship comes with ease.”

“Amen,” Nazeer whispered. He entered his car, started the engine, and drove away, leaving Hayatu standing, watching until the gate closed behind him.

Later that night, Nazeer parked in his own compound. He sat in the car for a while, overcome with heavy thoughts, until frustration and grief pressed on his chest. Finally, he went inside, bathed, and put on his jalabiya before lying on his bed. His mind was full of Zainab. Closing his eyes, he imagined her before him, longing to pour out his heart.

God had tested him with a powerful love for her—a love he had carried since their youth, before she married Laweezi. Losing her to that man had driven him to marry Khairat’s late mother, who died ten months after giving birth to their second child.

Now, widowed and still haunted by the past, Nazeer found himself consumed again by Zainab—the one woman he had never stopped loving.