Hey guys, so sorry for the late update. I hope I write more this night so I can update tomorrow, please don't forget to vote, share and most importantly leave a comment.

God bless you all. Love you!

TheOmoope 💙😊💗

P.s, I write this note last night and fell asleep afterwards. 

Amina got up from her crouch and pulled on the wine jilbab hood that she had taken down to get her hair plaited, it had begun drizzling outside, so she and the older maid who'd plaited her long hair had sat in the family room of her brother's house plaiting in tiny braids that gathered in a shuku style near her nape. 

She squeezed three crisp five hundred naira notes into the woman's hand and rushed out of place trying to evade the woman forcing the money back.  She had thick, dense hair that was long as well, it was such a hassle plaiting it, so when she found someone who genuinely did it without complaining about the size or length, there was no way she would leave without properly rewarding them.

"I-" Amina stopped and realized she'd reached a part of the house that was just one beaded curtain away from the main living room. She'd taken a corner to evade the maid and now was overhearing what AbdulRahman was about to say, her eyes roved around in their sockets, no one had informed her that AbdulRahman had arrived, not even that little traitor, Khalid. 

"Towards your daughter, I have great intentions. Be her husband, a support system that she can rely on, I hope to be a good thing that happens to her. I don't hope for so much." She heard her mother sigh after AbdulRahman's words and stepped back, walking away from the space that allowed her overhear, taking a detour through the kitchen to her own apartment behind the main house. 

She shut the door and pulled off the hood of her jilbab, stopping short of pulling the whole attire off completely but remembered last minute that Zuhr would be called in a few minutes. 

She flopped unto her couch and wondered how she got here. One minute, she was taking each second as it came and thanking her Lord for the strength she found, the other minute she was agreeing to marry someone. 

Was it a great decision? Only Allah could say, He saw and designed all things, made everything good in his own time. No leaf fell off a tree without his consent, much less her, Amina meeting AbdulRahman. Allah surely knew of it and it would all be good in His own time. 

The thought of the fact that she could not have come this far without the consistent love and kindness of her Lord prompted her to get up immediately the Adhaan was called, she performed her ablution, pulling a dark green mat embroidered with black threads to a corner of the room she'd turned to her prayer nook. 

"Ya Allah, Oba Arinu ri ode¹, Whatever it is that is going on here, you know about it all, all I ask is that you keep me away from hurt and pain. Ameen." She said that little prayer after performing her obligatory prayers. She felt a huge difference in the weighted feeling she'd been carrying around all day. 

She leaned over and pulled out her Qur'an from the small shelf it was on, preparing to read a few verses. 

*****

***

"Alhamdulilah." 

Amina sat there alongside the rest of her family and watched as the plane taxied at the private wing of the Ibadan Airport, she waited until she saw the seatbelt sign go off before removing hers gingerly. Khalid did his as well and put his little hand in his aunt's, smiling up at her when they hit the hot pavement. 

"We're going to Grandma's house abi?" He asked for the hundredth time that day and Amina nodded with patience she didn't know she possessed, leaning down to pick him up and set his four year old self on her left hip. He put his head on her shoulder, staying moulded to her for a moment.

Tears sprang to Amina's eyes, and she blinked to let them back, she couldn't cry in front of Khalid, he would ask until she revealed the true reason behind her tears. She definitely could not say the reason she felt like crying was the security Khalid put in her carrying him was the way AbdulKareem used to feel secured in her arms. He would put his little hand on the back of her hijab and stroke it happily, at six months he used to tug on it, when his arms strengthened further, he began to stroke it happily and could fall asleep doing that. 

She wanted to find a cool shade to cry, at the same time the Cold air from the air-conditioning at the lounge dried her eyes and she sent thanks heavenward. She didn't want her mother to worry all over again. 

A convoy of three cars was parked at the carpark, two range rovers and a police escort that was idling. Amina realized her father had to be in one of the cars for the police escort vehicle to be there. 

She walked a little faster to the car, seeing her father's silhouette in the second car, she hastened towards it and when she reached it, the door opened and her father shifted towards the door trying to get off the car, she genuflected slightly in front him and he held her up by her shoulders, stopping her from greeting him. 

"Onikede mi. Khalid! You are here?" Khalid jumped like a little monkey into his grandfather's arms abandoning his aunt's arms almost immediately. Amina shook her head with a roll of her eyes in slight exasperation. 

She watched as they greeted each other warmly, her father patting Khalid's head, pulling out a few naira notes and heading it to the little boy. Amina spied her mother coming in the direction of the car and walked towards her and took the black givenchy bag her mother was holding, helped her into the vehicle beside her husband of over thirty-five years and shut the door behind her. 

She walked around the vehicle, got in, strapped her seatbelt and watched as the vehicles lined out of the airport. 

"This one you came to pick us, shey ko si?²" Her mother started after a few seconds of silence, Amina turned to see her father looking at his wife sheepishly. 

"Iya Oshogbo is around." Her mother slapped one hand over another in appreciation for herself, she must have guessed it for she said, "I knew it. You always at work around this time, nothing can drag you away from that your weekly meeting." 

Her husband chuckled and scratched his head but Amina's heart had not stopped beating with fear since the sentence dropped. Her father's aunt was a terror case, nothing stopped her mouth, she barreled through every situation and said her thoughts, good or bad. 

"I hope she's not here because of Onikede? Because we've not gone far from the airport, she can go back to Abuja, I respect your family but my children are off limits." Her father nodded, mellow, but Amina knew it was all a mirage. Her grandaunt would talk, comparing her to her cousins who had married when they were twenty and had been married for more than seven years with five children each. 

They soon entered their street and Amina's heart beat so loudly she could swear everyone in the car could hear. 

Her mother said an Alhamdulilah as she stepped off the car with no one's help, Amina could clearly see that her mother was pissed at the unplanned visit. 

"You should not have returned o, you should have stayed there. I have no idea what has given you joy that made you pack your bags and go off, that far to attend another person's wedding, yet your own child cannot stay in her own. You're hypocritical!" Those words spoken in Yoruba and they hurt more, was what welcomed them as they walked through the doors. 

"Mama, e kaasan³" The older woman who had a white veil wrapped around her blue Ankara headtie, hissed. The lines of her weathered face went on a journey of that hiss, conveying her disgust. 

One of the maids who'd come to greet them quickly took Khalid in, Amina was glad, at least the little child would be shielded from the harsh words that was bound to be said. 

"Don't greet me. Keep your useless greeting to yourself, it's not as if it would keep Onikede in her husband's house." Amina found a corner to stand while her father sat in a plush sofa, pulling his wife with him. 

"What happened between her and her husband?" Amina rolled her eyes mentally, she knew quite alright that whoever had informed the old woman did not tell the whole story because only her parents and herself knew the story. 

"They didn't tell you?" Amina watched her mother ask, somewhat sarcastically. She swing her head to see her grandaunt shake her head no, it seemed as though the sarcasm had flown over the old woman's head. 

"Her hus- That useless boy used AbdulKareem for rituals. He used the child he seared from his loins and used him for rituals. It's too gory to speak off, so Amina left. Would you rather she'd stayed? Till he used her too?" The old woman who had gasped when her mother had spoken first, grabbed her chest in shock. 

"This big matter why didn't anyone say anything? Dehinde was the one who came to me with the news, who knew it was something so serious." She called Amina closer and held her to herself, scenting of camphor and crushed roses. 

"You should have told me, I'd have fought them till my voice goes hoarse. Those wicked people without a good generation." She cursed at them endlessly in Yoruba, making Amina chuckle silently. Her grandaunt was a case but the good thing was, she always stood on the side of justice. 

"How was Abuja? Did you find a job? There are not many Yoruba men in that place, come and see me in the family house, I'll find a man who comes from good stock for you. Okay?" Amina heard her mother clear her very clear throat before telling her grandaunt that Amina had found someone to marry. 

"What state is he from?" Amina shifted out of arms and told her silently, "Bauchi state." The old woman looked so lost before she asked in Yoruba,

"Nibo niyen?⁴" 

"The north." She hissed loud at Amina's response. 

"You're going from fry pan to fire, I hope you know? Because- did all the men in this land finish that it had to be- Hey!" She addressed Amina's father in the chaos that was her response.

"Don't you people speak to your children? That's how Azeem married that one, thankfully she speaks some Yoruba, this one-," she pointed at Amina angrily. 

"He's a good Muslim, a good man. Maami met him." Her grandaunt seemed to burst at the seams at her last statement. 

"Your mother has not taste. You know it." Amina heard her mother laugh with a scoff before she said, "If I have such bad taste, then I should have not married your son. Abi?" 

If it was an animation, Amina was quite sure tht her mother's response would elicit a long handed slap that would reach the long meters that divided her mother and grandaunt. 

"Tell your wife to stop talking! She's defending her nonsense with faulty logic, Onikede will not marry that boy, whoever he is. I will not allow it." Her father got up and removed the grey agbada he was wearing over a set of buba and sokoto⁵ and got up, carefully clasping the outer dress, he told his aunt, "You cannot stop it. I already agreed. I'm Amina's parent," He stopped speaking and took his wife's hand, walking out of the big living room together, a united front. 

"Did you see that?" The old woman asked Amina who was crouching beside her sat, after being thrown out of her arms earlier. 

"AbdulRahman is a good man. That's all that matters." Amina responded quietly. She felt the need to defend him, he'd done nothing wrong. 

"If he beats you, don't come here go complain o, I won't even listen to you because he doesn't speak our language." Amina rolled her eyes openly. She wanted to say the words that came to her, but she stopped herself and at the last minute said instead, "I've married one Yoruba man and it ended badly, I'm allowed to be scarred and decide to pick my husband from anywhere else. I'm not marrying him because of his tribe, he is really a good man, he's good to his employees, his Deen is good, his character is almost impeccable, he doesn't swear or drink or smoke, why should I turn him down based on ethnicity?"  

The question hung in the air for a long while after it was asked. 

Glossary 

¹ The King Who sees the innermost heart of man. (I've translated it like this, because this is the context with which I used it.) 

² I can't find it because I'm half asleep rn. 

³ Good Afternoon. In this context, it's a greeting for someone older than all of them in the room. 

⁴ Where is that? It could be used sarcastically or not, but in this case it was pure confusion. 

⁵ Buba and Sokoto is the generic name for the kaftan and trousers men wear in Yoruba land. It's also refered to as Sokoto ati ewu, shirt and trousers. But, Amina's father is not wearing a shirt, it's a kaftan that stops near the knees, so it's a Buba. A Kaftan top.