They sat in their well-decorated living room, filled with a lovely fragrance and cooled by the air conditioner that added comfort to the atmosphere. The TV was on, and everything in the room was colored red—from the large sofas to the curtains and the plush center carpet in the middle of the room. An elegant elderly woman, probably between forty-five and forty-eight years old, sat in front of a desktop computer. She was dressed in a beautiful and expensive lace outfit. From the way she looked at the system, you could tell she was focused on work.
Beside her sat a handsome little boy who appeared no older than two. He wore a black shirt and trousers that enhanced his light complexion. His hair was sleek and shiny, and he was playing with a toy car. Also in the room was a beautiful young lady, no older than nineteen, wearing a maroon-colored hijab that reached the floor. She was busy typing on her phone, fully engrossed in it.
A pleasant voice greeted them from the doorway. They all responded to the greeting in unison. The man who had greeted them walked in with confidence, dressed in a well-fitting ash-colored suit, black shoes, and holding a briefcase. He was very fair-skinned, tall, with a well-groomed beard. His eyes were naturally half-closed, and he had a sharp nose, a well-shaped mouth with soft pink lips—he was very handsome.
The little boy playing with the car looked up, recognized him, and ran excitedly shouting:
> “Abbi, welcome!”
The man placed his briefcase on the chair, lifted the boy, hugged him warmly, smiling as his dimples pressed into his cheeks. He caressed the boy’s head and said:
> “My son, how is home?”
> “Abbi, I miss you!”
He said in babyish English, his speech not yet fully developed.
The woman working at the system looked up at him. He walked further into the living room and sat on the soft carpet in the middle, resting his head on the woman’s leg.
> “My Ummi, welcome home. How’s work?”
> “Alhamdulillah, Dr. How's your work?”
She asked with concern.
> “Alhamdulillah!”
He replied, running his hand through his shiny, perfumed hair that resembled an Indian's. The young girl sitting nearby looked up without much expression and said:
> “Welcome, Yaya (Big Brother).”
> “Alright,”
He replied briefly, then got up holding the boy and headed toward the dining area through a door. The girl watched them go, then smirked and said:
> “Ummi, I’m going to see Inna.”
> “Alright, greet her for me.”
She walked out gently, barely making noise as she walked. Suddenly, someone snatched the phone from her hand. She looked up with a pleading face. The person who took the phone was a handsome young man, no older than thirty. He was tall, fair-skinned, with a broad chest, sharp features, and a smile that made him even more attractive.
Her face became more pitiful, as if she might cry:
> “Yaa Farouk!”
Farouk looked directly at her. She quickly lowered her gaze and tried to pass by him, but he gently held her hijab and said:
> “You’re walking while pressing your phone. What if you fall and get hurt, or bump into someone and start crying?”
Her eyes widened:
> “Me, Yaa Farouk?”
She said, pointing to herself.
> “Yes, you. Who spoiled you this much? Even Haidar is braver than you.”
She pouted and replied:
> “Hmm, I’m actually braver than that annoying little boy.”
He smiled and said:
> “Is that so? Where are you going now?”
She pointed toward Inna’s side and said:
> “To Inna’s.”
> “I’m going there too. What were you typing on your phone—chatting with your fiancé?”
> “No, Yaa Farouk. I don’t have any fiancé.”
> “Are you sure? If it’s him, let me greet him too.”
> “No, no. It’s just Jawahir I was chatting with.”
> “That Jawahir? I’m tired of hearing about her. Doesn’t she visit people?”
Her eyes widened:
> “Oh please, Yaa Farouk, she came the other day and kept asking about you. You two argue too much, that’s why.”
> “No matter the arguments, I’ll see her one day—unless you're trying to prevent me.”
> “Not at all.”
They finally reached Inna’s section. It was a big compound surrounded by plants, making it more beautiful. They reached Inna’s door, greeted, and entered.
---
Conversations at Inna's and Family Dynamics
The room was medium-sized with ash-colored sofa sets and black entertainment furniture. The curtains and carpet were also ash and black. It was tidy and fragrant. The floor tiles shone like mirrors, and the furniture gleamed like it had just been polished.
Maryam entered first:
> “Inna, I’m here.”
> “Yes, Maryam. Where have you been all day? You didn’t even stop by.”
Inna was an elderly woman, around eighty, dressed in a super print wrapper, with a light touch of makeup. She looked at Maryam with affection.
Maryam sat beside her:
> “I was doing sanitation work in our section.”
> “Alright. Where’s Haidar?”
> “With his Abbi.”
Inna pouted, then looked at Farouk:
> “Will you sit down or just stand like someone who swallowed a stick?”
> “Who knows?” he replied, while fiddling with Maryam’s phone.
Inna smirked:
> “Maybe you’re unwell.”
Maryam laughed:
> “Probably, Inna.”
Farouk sat down and looked at Maryam:
> “You always side with Inna. May Allah guide us.”
> “Then guide her yourself. What are you doing for her? Feeding her, clothing her?”
Inna asked while giving him a side-eye.
> “All of the above.”
He replied, pulling out his phone.
> “We haven’t seen any of that.”
> “Inna, you don’t see everything.”
> “Because I’m blind, right?”
> “I didn’t say that, Hajiya Inna.”
> “You know what I mean.”
Inna turned to Maryam:
> “I made dambun nama earlier, just for you. But you didn’t come.”
> “Among all my grandchildren, none is greedier than you, Umaru. And if I don't let you taste something, you won’t let it go.”
He laughed:
> “I’m your only husband.”
> “Get out of here. You’re no better than that cow-faced Haidar.”
He laughed hard:
> “Ahhh, Inna! I’ll tell him what you said.”
> “He has nothing better to do than start arguments. Now if he hears this, he’ll stop bringing me anything.”
Maryam smiled:
> “He just wants you to call him, and Yaa Aliyu won’t stop him.”
> “The one who stirs trouble is not from Allah.”
Farouk laughed:
> “You’re right, Hajiya Inna.”
His phone rang. He quickly checked it and, seeing Maryam still talking to Inna unaware of his movement, he stepped out while placing the phone to his ear:
> “Hello baby.”
> “Where are you, baby? You said you were coming but I haven’t heard from you.”
> “Maghrib is near. Wait for me after Maghrib.”
> “Okay, I’m waiting.”
He sighed and returned to the room.
Inna turned to Maryam:
> “You look different today. What’s bothering you?”
> “Nothing, Inna. It’s just the weather.”
> “Are you sure? Did Aisha do something to you?”
> “No, Inna. What would Ummi do to me?”
> “You never know.”
> “She did nothing.”
> “What about the one with the sulking face?”
Maryam pouted:
> “That’s just how he is when he returns.”
> “Alright.”
Farouk added:
> “Just give her the money, Hajiya Inna.”
> “How does that concern you? If she wants money, she’ll ask me. Right, Maryam?”
Maryam nodded, resting against the chair. Her phone rang again—it was Jawahir. She answered:
> “Hello, Jawa.”
> “Yes, what’s up with your admission?”
> “I still haven’t heard anything from Ummi and the rest.”
> “Can’t you ask them?”
Maryam stood and walked out:
> “They’re aware. I know that.”
> “Anyway, I’ve received mine. Dad said I should register tomorrow. I hoped we’d go together.”
At the door
of Inna’s room, Maryam turned and said:
> “No, Jawa. You should go. If I’m going, you’ll accompany me next time. Don’t risk your registration.”
> “Alright, but at least tell Yaa Aliyu.”
> “I’ll talk to him. He just got back.”
As she turned, she saw Aliyu standing with Haidar already inside Inna’s room. She quickly lowered her head, walked past, and returned to her room.
Description
A Peaceful Evening at Home
They sat in their well-decorated living room, filled with a lovely fragrance and cooled by the air conditioner that added comfort to the atmosphere. The TV was on, and everything in the room was colored red—from the large sofas to the curtains and the plush center carpet in the middle of the room. An elegant elderly woman, probably between forty-five and forty-eight years old, sat in front of a desktop computer. She was dressed in a beautiful and expensive lace outfit. From the way she looked at the system, you could tell she was focused on work.
Beside her sat a handsome little boy who appeared no older than two. He wore a black shirt and trousers that enhanced his light complexion. His hair was sleek and shiny, and he was playing with a toy car. Also in the room was a beautiful young lady, no older than nineteen, wearing a maroon-colored hijab that reached the floor. She was busy typing on her phone, fully engrossed in it.
A pleasant voice greeted them from the doorway. They all responded to the greeting in unison. The man who had greeted them walked in with confidence, dressed in a well-fitting ash-colored suit, black shoes, and holding a briefcase. He was very fair-skinned, tall, with a well-groomed beard. His eyes were naturally half-closed, and he had a sharp nose, a well-shaped mouth with soft pink lips—he was very handsome.
The little boy playing with the car looked up, recognized him, and ran excitedly shouting:
> “Abbi, welcome!”
The man placed his briefcase on the chair, lifted the boy, hugged him warmly, smiling as his dimples pressed into his cheeks. He caressed the boy’s head and said:
> “My son, how is home?”
> “Abbi, I miss you!”
He said in babyish English, his speech not yet fully developed.
The woman working at the system looked up at him. He walked further into the living room and sat on the soft carpet in the middle, resting his head on the woman’s leg.
> “My Ummi, welcome home. How’s work?”
> “Alhamdulillah, Dr. How's your work?”
She asked with concern.
> “Alhamdulillah!”
He replied, running his hand through his shiny, perfumed hair that resembled an Indian's. The young girl sitting nearby looked up without much expression and said:
> “Welcome, Yaya (Big Brother).”
> “Alright,”
He replied briefly, then got up holding the boy and headed toward the dining area through a door. The girl watched them go, then smirked and said:
> “Ummi, I’m going to see Inna.”
> “Alright, greet her for me.”
She walked out gently, barely making noise as she walked. Suddenly, someone snatched the phone from her hand. She looked up with a pleading face. The person who took the phone was a handsome young man, no older than thirty. He was tall, fair-skinned, with a broad chest, sharp features, and a smile that made him even more attractive.
Her face became more pitiful, as if she might cry:
> “Yaa Farouk!”
Farouk looked directly at her. She quickly lowered her gaze and tried to pass by him, but he gently held her hijab and said:
> “You’re walking while pressing your phone. What if you fall and get hurt, or bump into someone and start crying?”
Her eyes widened:
> “Me, Yaa Farouk?”
She said, pointing to herself.
> “Yes, you. Who spoiled you this much? Even Haidar is braver than you.”
She pouted and replied:
> “Hmm, I’m actually braver than that annoying little boy.”
He smiled and said:
> “Is that so? Where are you going now?”
She pointed toward Inna’s side and said:
> “To Inna’s.”
> “I’m going there too. What were you typing on your phone—chatting with your fiancé?”
> “No, Yaa Farouk. I don’t have any fiancé.”
> “Are you sure? If it’s him, let me greet him too.”
> “No, no. It’s just Jawahir I was chatting with.”
> “That Jawahir? I’m tired of hearing about her. Doesn’t she visit people?”
Her eyes widened:
> “Oh please, Yaa Farouk, she came the other day and kept asking about you. You two argue too much, that’s why.”
> “No matter the arguments, I’ll see her one day—unless you're trying to prevent me.”
> “Not at all.”
They finally reached Inna’s section. It was a big compound surrounded by plants, making it more beautiful. They reached Inna’s door, greeted, and entered.
---
Conversations at Inna's and Family Dynamics
The room was medium-sized with ash-colored sofa sets and black entertainment furniture. The curtains and carpet were also ash and black. It was tidy and fragrant. The floor tiles shone like mirrors, and the furniture gleamed like it had just been polished.
Maryam entered first:
> “Inna, I’m here.”
> “Yes, Maryam. Where have you been all day? You didn’t even stop by.”
Inna was an elderly woman, around eighty, dressed in a super print wrapper, with a light touch of makeup. She looked at Maryam with affection.
Maryam sat beside her:
> “I was doing sanitation work in our section.”
> “Alright. Where’s Haidar?”
> “With his Abbi.”
Inna pouted, then looked at Farouk:
> “Will you sit down or just stand like someone who swallowed a stick?”
> “Who knows?” he replied, while fiddling with Maryam’s phone.
Inna smirked:
> “Maybe you’re unwell.”
Maryam laughed:
> “Probably, Inna.”
Farouk sat down and looked at Maryam:
> “You always side with Inna. May Allah guide us.”
> “Then guide her yourself. What are you doing for her? Feeding her, clothing her?”
Inna asked while giving him a side-eye.
> “All of the above.”
He replied, pulling out his phone.
> “We haven’t seen any of that.”
> “Inna, you don’t see everything.”
> “Because I’m blind, right?”
> “I didn’t say that, Hajiya Inna.”
> “You know what I mean.”
Inna turned to Maryam:
> “I made dambun nama earlier, just for you. But you didn’t come.”
> “Then we’ll enjoy it,” Farouk said, standing up.
> “Among all my grandchildren, none is greedier than you, Umaru. And if I don't let you taste something, you won’t let it go.”
He laughed:
> “I’m your only husband.”
> “Get out of here. You’re no better than that cow-faced Haidar.”
He laughed hard:
> “Ahhh, Inna! I’ll tell him what you said.”
> “He has nothing better to do than start arguments. Now if he hears this, he’ll stop bringing me anything.”
Maryam smiled:
> “He just wants you to call him, and Yaa Aliyu won’t stop him.”
> “The one who stirs trouble is not from Allah.”
Farouk laughed:
> “You’re right, Hajiya Inna.”
His phone rang. He quickly checked it and, seeing Maryam still talking to Inna unaware of his movement, he stepped out while placing the phone to his ear:
> “Hello baby.”
> “Where are you, baby? You said you were coming but I haven’t heard from you.”
> “Maghrib is near. Wait for me after Maghrib.”
> “Okay, I’m waiting.”
He sighed and returned to the room.
Inna turned to Maryam:
> “You look different today. What’s bothering you?”
> “Nothing, Inna. It’s just the weather.”
> “Are you sure? Did Aisha do something to you?”
> “No, Inna. What would Ummi do to me?”
> “You never know.”
> “She did nothing.”
> “What about the one with the sulking face?”
Maryam pouted:
> “That’s just how he is when he returns.”
> “Alright.”
Farouk added:
> “Just give her the money, Hajiya Inna.”
> “How does that concern you? If she wants money, she’ll ask me. Right, Maryam?”
Maryam nodded, resting against the chair. Her phone rang again—it was Jawahir. She answered:
> “Hello, Jawa.”
> “Yes, what’s up with your admission?”
> “I still haven’t heard anything from Ummi and the rest.”
> “Can’t you ask them?”
Maryam stood and walked out:
> “They’re aware. I know that.”
> “Anyway, I’ve received mine. Dad said I should register tomorrow. I hoped we’d go together.”
At the door
of Inna’s room, Maryam turned and said:
> “No, Jawa. You should go. If I’m going, you’ll accompany me next time. Don’t risk your registration.”
> “Alright, but at least tell Yaa Aliyu.”
> “I’ll talk to him. He just got back.”
As she turned, she saw Aliyu standing with Haidar already inside Inna’s room. She quickly lowered her head, walked past, and returned to her room.