Standing before a large framed photo, Amna stared at it without blinking — her expression calm but her heart uneasy. The photo’s light reflected her face, reminding her again that she was the wife in that picture. Yet, seeing it now made her angry, though she dared not show it; one word against it could spark unnecessary conflict.
Just then, the parlor echoed with Aira’s voice calling her repeatedly —
“Aunty Amna! Aunty Amna!! Aunty Amna!!!”
Startled, Amna froze. She was standing right in front of the photo, lost in thought. Aira entered with a playful pout.
“Aunty Amna, I’ve been calling you since I was outside! I shouted from the compound, came all the way in, and you ignored me. Why?”
Amna turned slowly, giving Aira a gentle look. She was a young lady of chocolate complexion, neither fair nor dark. Her lips were small and neatly shaped, her eyes medium-sized and sparkling white, her nose proportionate. Her hair was well styled and shiny, falling over her back. She wore a maroon Ankara blouse and skirt that fit her perfectly.
With her soft voice, Amna replied, “Sorry, my Aira. I didn’t hear you. How are you?”
“You’re still where you always are. Hajiyar Sama is calling you,” Aira said, walking off while tapping on her phone.
Amna left the parlor and entered another section of the house. She gently pushed the parlor door open and greeted. Hajiyar Sama sat reading a newspaper. Amna sat beside her, resting her head on the older woman’s shoulder.
“I’m here, Hajiya,” she said softly.
“I thought I wouldn’t get my tea today,” Hajiya teased.
“Sorry, I got held up. I’ll prepare it right away.”
“Or were you staring at Misbah’s photo again?” Hajiya asked with a knowing smile.
Amna closed her eyes shyly and escaped to the kitchen.
Hajiya chuckled. “Allah ya tabbatar mana — may He bless us. Let me call him. We haven’t spoken today.”
Misbah in Canada and His Hidden Hatred
In a gym in Canada, Misbah emerged wiping sweat from his face — tall, fair, handsome, and well-built. A calm smile sat on his bearded face as his phone rang in his pocket. Seeing who was calling, he smiled and said,
“May Allah grant our Hajiya good health and long life — and may He heal the old lady, my mother-in-law, of her leg pain.”
The people around laughed.
“You naughty boy,” Hajiya replied through the phone. “You didn’t even ask where your wife is before I called you!”
“I’m so sorry, Hajiya,” Misbah laughed. “We were busy today — had a long training session with some top players here in Canada. The match tomorrow is big, so my mind’s been on it.”
“May Allah help you,” she said warmly. “But when are you coming home?”
“Are you missing me already, Hajiya?” he teased. “I’ll be back this week after the final match tomorrow.”
“We all miss you — especially your sister, Amna. She keeps talking about seeing you again.”
Her words pierced him like boiling water. His smile vanished instantly, replaced by deep irritation. In truth, there was nothing in this world Misbah hated more than Amna. The idea of love between them disgusted him. He ended the call abruptly and tossed his phone aside.
The narrator paused — puzzled. Why does Misbah hate Amna so much? This mystery will unfold in the story “Ni da Misbah.”
The Family’s Past and the Root of the Bond
Alhaji Hussain and Alhaji Hassan were two close brothers who loved each other dearly. Their mother, Hauwa — known as Hajiyar Sama because her quarters were upstairs — personally chose their wives. Hussain married Hafsat, and Hassan married Aisha.
A few months later, Hafsat gave birth to a baby boy — Misbah. The entire family celebrated, and Hajiyar Sama took special care of him, raising him with love and attention.
Three years later, Aisha also gave birth to a girl — Amna. Her birth brought great joy. Aisha also cared deeply for Misbah, just as Hafsat showed affection to Amna.
When Amna was three and Misbah five, tragedy struck — Aisha died while pregnant. Her death shook the entire household, especially Misbah, who had been deeply attached to her.
Amna wept endlessly, and Misbah became her comforter. His kindness and protection made her grow attached to him — she began to love him deeply.
Years passed. Amna entered secondary school while Misbah went abroad for further education. Their father, Alhaji Hassan, later remarried with Hajiya’s approval — and, by Allah’s grace, the new wife was kind and not troublesome.
Hafsat, Misbah’s mother, gave birth to three more children, making four in total — the third of them being Aira, the same cheerful girl who had been calling Amna earlier.
Thus, began the complex bond — one of love, misunderstanding, and bitterness — between Amna and Misbah, the two hearts at the center of this story, “Ni da Misbah.”
Description
Amna’s Reflection and Aira’s Call
Standing before a large framed photo, Amna stared at it without blinking — her expression calm but her heart uneasy. The photo’s light reflected her face, reminding her again that she was the wife in that picture. Yet, seeing it now made her angry, though she dared not show it; one word against it could spark unnecessary conflict.
Just then, the parlor echoed with Aira’s voice calling her repeatedly —
“Aunty Amna! Aunty Amna!! Aunty Amna!!!”
Startled, Amna froze. She was standing right in front of the photo, lost in thought. Aira entered with a playful pout.
“Aunty Amna, I’ve been calling you since I was outside! I shouted from the compound, came all the way in, and you ignored me. Why?”
Amna turned slowly, giving Aira a gentle look. She was a young lady of chocolate complexion, neither fair nor dark. Her lips were small and neatly shaped, her eyes medium-sized and sparkling white, her nose proportionate. Her hair was well styled and shiny, falling over her back. She wore a maroon Ankara blouse and skirt that fit her perfectly.
With her soft voice, Amna replied, “Sorry, my Aira. I didn’t hear you. How are you?”
“You’re still where you always are. Hajiyar Sama is calling you,” Aira said, walking off while tapping on her phone.
Amna left the parlor and entered another section of the house. She gently pushed the parlor door open and greeted. Hajiyar Sama sat reading a newspaper. Amna sat beside her, resting her head on the older woman’s shoulder.
“I’m here, Hajiya,” she said softly.
“I thought I wouldn’t get my tea today,” Hajiya teased.
“Sorry, I got held up. I’ll prepare it right away.”
“Or were you staring at Misbah’s photo again?” Hajiya asked with a knowing smile.
Amna closed her eyes shyly and escaped to the kitchen.
Hajiya chuckled. “Allah ya tabbatar mana — may He bless us. Let me call him. We haven’t spoken today.”
Misbah in Canada and His Hidden Hatred
In a gym in Canada, Misbah emerged wiping sweat from his face — tall, fair, handsome, and well-built. A calm smile sat on his bearded face as his phone rang in his pocket. Seeing who was calling, he smiled and said,
“May Allah grant our Hajiya good health and long life — and may He heal the old lady, my mother-in-law, of her leg pain.”
The people around laughed.
“You naughty boy,” Hajiya replied through the phone. “You didn’t even ask where your wife is before I called you!”
“I’m so sorry, Hajiya,” Misbah laughed. “We were busy today — had a long training session with some top players here in Canada. The match tomorrow is big, so my mind’s been on it.”
“May Allah help you,” she said warmly. “But when are you coming home?”
“Are you missing me already, Hajiya?” he teased. “I’ll be back this week after the final match tomorrow.”
“We all miss you — especially your sister, Amna. She keeps talking about seeing you again.”
Her words pierced him like boiling water. His smile vanished instantly, replaced by deep irritation. In truth, there was nothing in this world Misbah hated more than Amna. The idea of love between them disgusted him. He ended the call abruptly and tossed his phone aside.
The narrator paused — puzzled. Why does Misbah hate Amna so much? This mystery will unfold in the story “Ni da Misbah.”
The Family’s Past and the Root of the Bond
Alhaji Hussain and Alhaji Hassan were two close brothers who loved each other dearly. Their mother, Hauwa — known as Hajiyar Sama because her quarters were upstairs — personally chose their wives. Hussain married Hafsat, and Hassan married Aisha.
A few months later, Hafsat gave birth to a baby boy — Misbah. The entire family celebrated, and Hajiyar Sama took special care of him, raising him with love and attention.
Three years later, Aisha also gave birth to a girl — Amna. Her birth brought great joy. Aisha also cared deeply for Misbah, just as Hafsat showed affection to Amna.
When Amna was three and Misbah five, tragedy struck — Aisha died while pregnant. Her death shook the entire household, especially Misbah, who had been deeply attached to her.
Amna wept endlessly, and Misbah became her comforter. His kindness and protection made her grow attached to him — she began to love him deeply.
Years passed. Amna entered secondary school while Misbah went abroad for further education. Their father, Alhaji Hassan, later remarried with Hajiya’s approval — and, by Allah’s grace, the new wife was kind and not troublesome.
Hafsat, Misbah’s mother, gave birth to three more children, making four in total — the third of them being Aira, the same cheerful girl who had been calling Amna earlier.
Thus, began the complex bond — one of love, misunderstanding, and bitterness — between Amna and Misbah, the two hearts at the center of this story, “Ni da Misbah.”