My heart skipped a beat! My body started trembling, and I couldn’t turn around because of the panic that seized me—until I felt as if it were Sadiq’s voice.
But it wasn’t. Tahir didn’t even wait for me to turn; he stepped directly in front of me. In shock, I lifted my head to look at him, my mouth slightly open, wondering why he had followed me. Did he see me leave? Or… did Sadiq send him after me? For a moment, that thought gave me a tiny bit of calmness—but still, fear and anxiety covered my entire face.
He glared down at me, from head to toe, with an expression full of contempt and mockery. I bit my lips, lowered my gaze, and my trembling lips refused to speak.
In a harsh tone, Tahir demanded:
“Tell me the truth—are you still married to Sadiq?”
My chest tightened, my heart pounding. Startled, I quickly raised my head to look at him, shocked at his words. His face grew harder as his voice rose:
“Tell me the truth if you value your dignity. But if you lie to me—I swear—you’ll regret it.”
Shaking, I tried to step back slowly. From the outside, no one would have guessed anything serious was happening—they’d only think he had stopped me for a simple conversation.
But what could I say? Sadiq never gave me permission to reveal our secret. Besides, I couldn’t bring myself to expose what God had concealed for him. Maybe it was best to stay silent—if the truth came out from my lips, it might destroy everything. Perhaps, as Tahir seemed to think, Sadiq had already divorced me long ago.
Lost in thought, Tahir suddenly barked at me:
“Stop wasting my time, woman! Speak the truth, so you may walk away in peace. Otherwise—hmph!”
His jaw tightened as he bit his lip, and my tears welled up. With trembling lips, I whispered:
“N-no… there’s nothing between us.”
His piercing stare forced me to swear:
“Wallahi, that’s the truth…”
“Lies! You’re lying,” he cut me off. “That’s not the truth.”
I froze, eyes darting, struggling to hold back my sobs. I knew he could tell I was lying. He continued in a raised voice:
“Sadiq already told me everything—that you’re still his wife. So this is the first lie you’ve told me, despite my warning.”
He pointed his finger at me sharply. Afraid, I clasped my hands together:
“Please, I beg you, don’t expose me—let me go in peace.”
But Tahir pressed harder:
“You’ll go, but not until you tell me who brought you here. Lie to me again, and I won’t spare you this time.”
In fear, I quickly blurted:
“It was Saliha, my friend. She invited me here.”
“Saliha?” he asked, narrowing his eyes.
“Yes, Saliha—the sister of Sadiq who is married in Ibadan,” I stammered.
Raising an eyebrow, he sneered:
“I see. And how did you even meet her?”
I wiped my nose, nervously recounting how I had first met Saliha and Sadiq’s relatives back in Kaduna. His eyes widened in surprise:
“So—you’re related to Salima’s husband?”
I nodded quickly, wiping away my tears.
With a mocking smile, Tahir said:
“So you knew who Sadiq really was, yet you still came all the way here to see him with your own eyes? Good. At least now you’ve learned that Sadiq is not your match, and his life will never align with yours.”
He gestured towards Sadiq’s family house:
“See that house? See all the people inside? That is the true reality of Sadiq’s life. The one you knew in Zaria was false. The real Abubakar Sulaiman Shinkafi—the one standing in front of you—is from this family, this house, this life.”
I nodded weakly, my heart heavy.
“His parents, his siblings, his wife—this is his truth,” Tahir pressed. “What you had with him was a temporary pity arrangement. He married you only because your mother begged him in tears. But he never loved you. His true wife is Sultana—she has always been his wife. He even promised me he would divorce you after your service year. I don’t know what happened that led to this mess, but know this: you must distance yourself from Sadiq. Wherever you are, he’ll send you your divorce papers.”
I stood frozen, my tears streaming. So it’s true? Sadiq never loved me? He always planned to leave me?
It was as though Tahir read my mind. He explained how he and Sadiq had agreed, the very night of our wedding, that I would be divorced after NYSC—once he gave me financial support.
Tears poured down my cheeks, but strangely, a smile touched my lips. Yes, he gave me capital—valuable capital for my future.
Without another thought, I turned to Tahir and said softly:
“I’ve heard your advice, and insha’Allah, I’ll act on it. Thank you.”
I wiped my tears, slipped past him, and kept walking until I found a rickshaw. As I got in, I noticed Tahir still standing there, as though he wanted to confirm with his own eyes that I was leaving Sadiq’s life for good.
Reflection and Regret
As the rickshaw drove off, my mind replayed everything. Why did I come to Gusau at all? Why did I follow my heart into this mess?
From the moment I set out, Shaytan and my jealousy pushed me. I had called Saliha, asked for Sadiq’s family address, and she happily sent it—without telling my husband or family. I only said goodbye to Mama Suhailat, pretending I was just visiting Amma.
At the park, boarding the Gusau vehicle, I already felt regret but couldn’t turn back. I convinced myself I needed to see with my own eyes—to confirm the truth.
But Amma had always warned me: Don’t dig too deep into matters that are hidden from you. If you insist, you’ll only uncover something that will destroy you.
Indeed, what elders foresee, children cannot—even if they climb a tree.
I cried silently the entire way, until our bus broke down near Funtua at around 10pm. After it was repaired, I called Saliha again, telling her we were on the way. By the time we reached Gusau, it was late night. She and another of Sadiq’s sisters, Saddiqa, came to pick me up and welcomed me warmly.
They introduced me to the family, saying I was Salima’s in-law from Zaria. Everyone treated me kindly, but in my heart, I knew the truth was cutting deep.
I saw his parents, his siblings, his household. I witnessed firsthand that Sadiq was no ordinary man—he was their heir, their pride. Nothing in my small world could compare.
The Lonely Return
By the time I left, I was already broken. In the rickshaw, my sobbing was so loud that the driver turned to look at me. Embarrassed, I quickly wiped my tears.
I thought of the love between Sadiq and Sultana—so real, so undeniable. I knew that if my story ever reached them, they would never accept me.
We arrived at the bus park around Maghrib. I was exhausted but determined to go home rather than stay near Sadiq’s family. Luckily, I found a bus heading to Zaria that very night. On the journey, I covered half my face with my scarf, crying quietly the entire way, my heart aching as though it would burst.
My phone kept buzzing. Saliha was calling, but I couldn’t bring myself to answer. Eventually, I sent her a message: “I’m sorry, my husband called. He didn’t allow me to stay another night, so I had to leave without telling you. Please forgive me.” After sending it, I turned off my phone.
But before I could switch it off completely, a call came in—Sadiq’s number. My hands trembled. I shoved the phone into my bag and hid my face between my knees, crying harder.
We arrived in Zaria around 9pm. I took a bike straight home—everywhere was quiet, the streets asleep.
Unlocking my door, I stepped inside, dropped everything, and collapsed on the tiled floor, sobbing like a child.
I forgot even about my pregnancy until hunger gnawed at me. I dragged myself up, boiled water, made tea, bathed, performed ablution, and prayed Maghrib and Isha that I had missed
Description
The Confrontation with Tahir
My heart skipped a beat! My body started trembling, and I couldn’t turn around because of the panic that seized me—until I felt as if it were Sadiq’s voice.
But it wasn’t. Tahir didn’t even wait for me to turn; he stepped directly in front of me. In shock, I lifted my head to look at him, my mouth slightly open, wondering why he had followed me. Did he see me leave? Or… did Sadiq send him after me? For a moment, that thought gave me a tiny bit of calmness—but still, fear and anxiety covered my entire face.
He glared down at me, from head to toe, with an expression full of contempt and mockery. I bit my lips, lowered my gaze, and my trembling lips refused to speak.
In a harsh tone, Tahir demanded:
“Tell me the truth—are you still married to Sadiq?”
My chest tightened, my heart pounding. Startled, I quickly raised my head to look at him, shocked at his words. His face grew harder as his voice rose:
“Tell me the truth if you value your dignity. But if you lie to me—I swear—you’ll regret it.”
Shaking, I tried to step back slowly. From the outside, no one would have guessed anything serious was happening—they’d only think he had stopped me for a simple conversation.
But what could I say? Sadiq never gave me permission to reveal our secret. Besides, I couldn’t bring myself to expose what God had concealed for him. Maybe it was best to stay silent—if the truth came out from my lips, it might destroy everything. Perhaps, as Tahir seemed to think, Sadiq had already divorced me long ago.
Lost in thought, Tahir suddenly barked at me:
“Stop wasting my time, woman! Speak the truth, so you may walk away in peace. Otherwise—hmph!”
His jaw tightened as he bit his lip, and my tears welled up. With trembling lips, I whispered:
“N-no… there’s nothing between us.”
His piercing stare forced me to swear:
“Wallahi, that’s the truth…”
“Lies! You’re lying,” he cut me off. “That’s not the truth.”
I froze, eyes darting, struggling to hold back my sobs. I knew he could tell I was lying. He continued in a raised voice:
“Sadiq already told me everything—that you’re still his wife. So this is the first lie you’ve told me, despite my warning.”
He pointed his finger at me sharply. Afraid, I clasped my hands together:
“Please, I beg you, don’t expose me—let me go in peace.”
But Tahir pressed harder:
“You’ll go, but not until you tell me who brought you here. Lie to me again, and I won’t spare you this time.”
In fear, I quickly blurted:
“It was Saliha, my friend. She invited me here.”
“Saliha?” he asked, narrowing his eyes.
“Yes, Saliha—the sister of Sadiq who is married in Ibadan,” I stammered.
Raising an eyebrow, he sneered:
“I see. And how did you even meet her?”
I wiped my nose, nervously recounting how I had first met Saliha and Sadiq’s relatives back in Kaduna. His eyes widened in surprise:
“So—you’re related to Salima’s husband?”
I nodded quickly, wiping away my tears.
With a mocking smile, Tahir said:
“So you knew who Sadiq really was, yet you still came all the way here to see him with your own eyes? Good. At least now you’ve learned that Sadiq is not your match, and his life will never align with yours.”
He gestured towards Sadiq’s family house:
“See that house? See all the people inside? That is the true reality of Sadiq’s life. The one you knew in Zaria was false. The real Abubakar Sulaiman Shinkafi—the one standing in front of you—is from this family, this house, this life.”
I nodded weakly, my heart heavy.
“His parents, his siblings, his wife—this is his truth,” Tahir pressed. “What you had with him was a temporary pity arrangement. He married you only because your mother begged him in tears. But he never loved you. His true wife is Sultana—she has always been his wife. He even promised me he would divorce you after your service year. I don’t know what happened that led to this mess, but know this: you must distance yourself from Sadiq. Wherever you are, he’ll send you your divorce papers.”
I stood frozen, my tears streaming. So it’s true? Sadiq never loved me? He always planned to leave me?
It was as though Tahir read my mind. He explained how he and Sadiq had agreed, the very night of our wedding, that I would be divorced after NYSC—once he gave me financial support.
Tears poured down my cheeks, but strangely, a smile touched my lips. Yes, he gave me capital—valuable capital for my future.
Without another thought, I turned to Tahir and said softly:
“I’ve heard your advice, and insha’Allah, I’ll act on it. Thank you.”
I wiped my tears, slipped past him, and kept walking until I found a rickshaw. As I got in, I noticed Tahir still standing there, as though he wanted to confirm with his own eyes that I was leaving Sadiq’s life for good.
Reflection and Regret
As the rickshaw drove off, my mind replayed everything. Why did I come to Gusau at all? Why did I follow my heart into this mess?
From the moment I set out, Shaytan and my jealousy pushed me. I had called Saliha, asked for Sadiq’s family address, and she happily sent it—without telling my husband or family. I only said goodbye to Mama Suhailat, pretending I was just visiting Amma.
At the park, boarding the Gusau vehicle, I already felt regret but couldn’t turn back. I convinced myself I needed to see with my own eyes—to confirm the truth.
But Amma had always warned me: Don’t dig too deep into matters that are hidden from you. If you insist, you’ll only uncover something that will destroy you.
Indeed, what elders foresee, children cannot—even if they climb a tree.
I cried silently the entire way, until our bus broke down near Funtua at around 10pm. After it was repaired, I called Saliha again, telling her we were on the way. By the time we reached Gusau, it was late night. She and another of Sadiq’s sisters, Saddiqa, came to pick me up and welcomed me warmly.
They introduced me to the family, saying I was Salima’s in-law from Zaria. Everyone treated me kindly, but in my heart, I knew the truth was cutting deep.
I saw his parents, his siblings, his household. I witnessed firsthand that Sadiq was no ordinary man—he was their heir, their pride. Nothing in my small world could compare.
The Lonely Return
By the time I left, I was already broken. In the rickshaw, my sobbing was so loud that the driver turned to look at me. Embarrassed, I quickly wiped my tears.
I thought of the love between Sadiq and Sultana—so real, so undeniable. I knew that if my story ever reached them, they would never accept me.
We arrived at the bus park around Maghrib. I was exhausted but determined to go home rather than stay near Sadiq’s family. Luckily, I found a bus heading to Zaria that very night. On the journey, I covered half my face with my scarf, crying quietly the entire way, my heart aching as though it would burst.
My phone kept buzzing. Saliha was calling, but I couldn’t bring myself to answer. Eventually, I sent her a message: “I’m sorry, my husband called. He didn’t allow me to stay another night, so I had to leave without telling you. Please forgive me.” After sending it, I turned off my phone.
But before I could switch it off completely, a call came in—Sadiq’s number. My hands trembled. I shoved the phone into my bag and hid my face between my knees, crying harder.
We arrived in Zaria around 9pm. I took a bike straight home—everywhere was quiet, the streets asleep.
Unlocking my door, I stepped inside, dropped everything, and collapsed on the tiled floor, sobbing like a child.
I forgot even about my pregnancy until hunger gnawed at me. I dragged myself up, boiled water, made tea, bathed, performed ablution, and prayed Maghrib and Isha that I had missed