Whatever’s happening now is for the best. You have to believe that. You might not understand it but if you trust Him, you’ll be rewarded. – Mufti Isma’il Menk.
•••

“Meena!” A voice called from a distance. Meena frowned, eyes closed. Was she still dreaming? “Meena o!” came the call again, getting nearer, but she ignored it. Today was her free day so what was all the calling for?

Then came a knock on the door, too hard to have come from a person’s knuckle. 
“Aunty Amina.” The person called softly.

Meena peeled one eye open and let out a loud hiss.  “Who is that?” She grumbled.

“Ummi is calling you.” It was Bushra, her younger sister and the most stubborn of the twins. Of course, only she would call her Meena. 

“Okay Mummy Bush, I’m coming you hear, shebi you and I have turned mates now?” She said and sat up to wear her pink flip flops beside the bed.

“Sorry,” Bushra replied, but Meena knew she wasn’t.

“Sorry what?” She demanded, standing akimbo. They may not see each other but the seniority was palpable in her voice. 

She heard Bushra’s loud sigh as the door was only a few steps away from her bed. “Sorry Aunty
Meena.”

…

Meena was free from doing the chores, as the twins were at home for their post junior WAEC break.  They finished up and left for their computer lesson, leaving Meena to care for the house — alone — just the way she liked it. 

After freshening up, She headed for the kitchen and dished out a spoonful of scrambled eggs into a white ceramic plate before moving to the standing fridge by the corner to take her share of sliced bread. 

There was a knock on the door. So she kept her food on the coffee table in the living room before answering. “Oh Abu, back so soon?” She asked the seven feet dark skinned man who hurried inside, wearing a light green batik jumper with a black computer bag in his right hand. 

“Yes, I forgot my glasses.” He mumbled.

She shook her head and walked ahead of him to the table where his white glass case sat, awaiting its forgetful owner. She handed it to him as he smiled sheepishly, eye wrinkling at the edges. 

“Shukran Habibti–Thank you my dear.” He said. Meena smiled in reply. But just as she turned away, he added. “I have received his message.”

Meena opened her mouth in shock. That was quick.

“We’ll talk tonight, in sha Allah.”

She could only nod at her father. After he left, she placed her hand on her hand: this man has put me inside trouble o.
…
After serving the evening meal, Meena hovered around the kitchen a bit longer while her folks ate and gisted about their day. 

Nur hadn’t returned her calls her today. She glanced at her phone. But why? Since he had decided to speak to her father without her consent, why was he now avoiding her?

But she didn’t blame him though. It was all her fault. She recalled their previous night's chat.

“Why do I feel as if you don’t want me to meet them?” Nur typed.

“It’s not that,” she replied. “It’s just that… my mother. I know my father won’t have a problem but I still need time.” She typed, adding a pleading emoji for emphasis. She expected his usual ‘Okay, I understand’ reply. But to her surprise, he had vowed to speak to her father while she took care of her mother.

She was too shocked to say anything so she just typed ‘okay’, hoping he would ask her why she didn’t add her an emoji to her post as usual. But he didn’t say anything. And she kept silent too.

But now, as she leaned across the refrigerator and waited for her father's signal. She wished she had said something to Nur. Or most importantly, to her mother. But she didn’t want annoy either of them.

Her phone vibrated in her hand. It was a flash call from her father. She took a deep breath. It was time.

A Yoruba movie was showing on the twenty inches Samsung TV mounted on the green wall when Meena finally joined them in the sitting room. No wonder she had stopped hearing her mum and the twins’ voices. 

She sat on the rug right across her mother while her father was on the yellow three-seater to her left. She caught his eye and he nodded with a smile. 

“Fadilah.” Her father called softly to his wife, who was too hooked to the movie to hear her name, talk more of replying. He turned to Meena with a shake of his head and called out loudly, “Iya Minatu!”

That got her attention, then a frown formed on her round face. She was of dusty brown complexion. “Mi o nife si o–I don’t like that o.” She grumbled. 
Meena smiled. That was exactly why he did it. 

“Please, we have something important to discuss.” He added.

Fadilah raised her brows. “ Se lori owo ni–is it about money?” She asked with a playful glint in her dark brown eyes. 

He gave her a you’re-not-serious-look.

“Then I’m not interested.” Fadilah said and turned away. 

Meena chuckled, watching them admiringly. This is how I want Nur and I to be. She mused, realizing the importance of informing her mother and most importantly, getting her approval.

“Oya stand up.” Fadilah clapped twice, picking up the tv remote beside her. The twins turned to her in shock. 

“Ah ah Ummi, we’re just getting to the best part na.” Bushra squeezed her face like crumpled paper. But one look from Fadilah sent them scurrying away. 

“We can continue on YouTube.” Shukra suggested as they headed to their room. 

Fadilah turned to her husband and first born with full attention. Meena sat up on the arm chair, ready, sort of. 

“So,” her father began; without beating about the bush, he told her mother everything as explained by Nur. Meena listened attentively, hoping Nur had spoken for two. And he had. 

Fadilah’s frown returned, for real this time. She set one leg that was hanging over the arm chair down to the tiled floor and leaned forward. “So let me get this straight, you want to marry an Omo Igbo?” She faced Meena. Of course that was the first question she’d ask.

Meena shared a look with her father before turning to her. “An Igbo muslim, Ummi.” She said quietly. 

“Eh!” Fadilah exclaimed, turning to her husband. “And you’re okay with it?” 

“I didn’t say that, but I’d like us to meet him first, at least.” He started.
Fadilah gaped at him. “ Bayen na?" She gestured by swiping her hands through air. 

“Maami, just meet him first, please.” Meena moved to the edge of her seat, ready to go down on her knees if she had to. 

Fadilah glanced at father and daughter. “What’s the use? it seems you’ve already decided.”  Meena could hear the anger in her voice. 
“Where did you even meet him?” She asked. 

“At Karima’s wedding.” 

“That should be…”  Fadilah tilted her head in thought. “four months ago. Ah, is it not too soon to start talking about marriage?” Her eyes moved from father to daughter again. “How well do you even know him?” 

“He attended the same University with Karima’s husband, they’re very good friends.” 

“And so?” Fadilah bellowed. “that makes it easy for him to just come and seek for your hand, abi?” 

“Fadilah,” Meena’s father called, wringing his hands in exasperation.

“Nobody is talking about marriage now, he only asked to come see us, is that a crime?” 

Fadilah sighed in reply, her elbow resting on the armchair. “ Oda o, jen pada de, a ma reti–Okay o, let him come. We’ll be waiting.”

•••
Assalamu alaikum, all,
If you're just joining us for the ride, I'd advise that you read 'The Juju Lady Next Door' first to get a feel of the three main characters, especially Kauthar.

That being said, I hope you enjoyed the first three chapters.

Which is your favourite part?
Even, which character do you think you'd like?

Don't forget to vote, comment, and share with your friends.

Except my update every Wednesday, in sha Allah.

Do have a good day!

🥰🥰🥰