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ZURFIN CIKI (Book 3)
on 15 Dec 2016 - 00:42
Inna Harira said, "May Allah guide us. Stand up, let's head over."
They stood up and directed themselves to Ummi's room. Even though Ummi never previously imagined she would have time for Bishira, now she absolutely had to know the reality of the co-wife living arrangements they were going to maintain. Inna Saratu and the others explicitly told Ummi, "For Allah's sake, no matter what she does, do not pay any attention to her." They advised her to strictly mind her own business and remain obedient to her husband, as that was the best course of action for her.
Ummi replied, "Alright," but in her heart, she had no intention of just sitting back and allowing herself to be disrespected.
As they were leaving, Fatima entered to say her goodbyes. Ummi pleaded, "For Allah's sake, Fati, please stay a little longer. I'm going to be completely alone in this room."
Fati teased, "Who told you not to look for friends?"
Ummi replied, "What friends? A marriage that was tied in a matter of mere minutes?"
Fati laughed, "Today, you will experience exactly what married women experience."
Ummi grabbed Fati's veil. "Look, I am actually feeling very anxious. Is it truly difficult, or are you just teasing me?"
Fati caught Ummi's ear and whispered directly into it. Ummi's eyes widened in utter shock as she gasped, "Seriously?"
Fati burst into a hearty laugh and said, "I'll be back later to hear the full story."
Ummi countered, "It's a secret! How could I possibly tell you my secrets?"
Fati argued, "Oh, so it's okay that I shared mine with you, but you can't share yours?"
Ummi giggled, "It was forbidden (haram) for you to tell me!"
Fati fired back, "And yet you listened to the forbidden, didn't you?" They both burst into shared laughter.
No matter how much Ummi begged Fati to stay, she refused, so they said their final goodbyes. Fati then stopped by Bishira's room to bid her farewell as well.
Bishira snapped, "Fati, get out of my room! I am not in the mood for games with you, especially since I see you have joined the faction of that worthless girl."
Fati walked out, thinking to herself: I will never turn against my own sister just to satisfy your baseless jealousy. With that, she took her leave.
Ummi sat completely frozen, terrified by the things Fati had whispered to her. However, an inner voice comforted her, saying: He doesn't even love you; he probably won't even pay you any attention. Only then did she find a bit of reassurance.
Abba stepped out intending to head straight home, but then he changed his mind and drove to the supermarket instead. He bought sanitary pads, calculating that according to his precise mental calendar, her menstrual cycle (al'ada) was due to start tomorrow. Ever since she began her cycle, he had never once forgotten the dates; even when her cycle shifted timing, he kept precise track of it. He also bought some essential groceries before heading home, though his heart was pounding with anxiety, fearing that perhaps Ummi hadn't even been brought to the house yet.
After parking his car, he walked over to Umma's house and found that all the guests had dispersed. He called out his greetings, and Tsohuwa, who was performing her ritual ablutions, answered him. Umma called out her response from the kitchen.
Tsohuwa grumbled, "What kind of mischief brings you back here, namesake of Malam? Haven't they already delivered her to your house?"
He replied, "Listen to Tsohuwa with her wild talk! Did I say I came specifically to see Ummi? This is my family home too."
She countered, "Just listen to him! Well, my namesake, I don't want to hear of or see any mistreatment. I explicitly told her that if any of you do anything to her, she must come straight back and tell me. That poor girl left this house crying her eyes out."
Umma laughed and chimed in, "Oh, Tsohuwa, if it's about Abba, there won't be any fighting. It's Ummi whose ears need to be pulled."
Tsohuwa snapped, "Drop that talk, Suwaiba, don't even let me start on that."
Abba suggested, "Well, let me come and pack your bags so we can go over there, so nobody claims I am acting out of deep-seated malice. You'd be much better off keeping her company anyway."
She replied, "I can see everything clearly from right where I am."
He asked, "Has Alhaji and the others returned, Umma?"
She replied, "No, they haven't come back yet."
He said, "Alright, let me head home then."
Umma advised, "Alright, Abba. Ummi was escorted there just a short while ago. For Allah's sake, Abba, exercise even more patience than you did before. Also, regarding your first wife, don't ever show favoritism just because Ummi is your relative. Reassure her, treat her with absolute fairness, and never give Ummi the room to disrespect Bishira."
He promised, "I will be careful, Insha Allah. And please, Umma, extend my deepest gratitude to Alhaji once again."
She chided gently, "Come on, Abba, why do you keep talking like that? Alhaji is your father; stop viewing your relationship with him solely through your connection to Ummi."
He agreed, "That is true, but please convey my thanks nonetheless."
Tsohuwa cut in, "He should refuse to thank him! He managed to get a wife handed to him on a silver platter because of his lack of basic human kindness—namesake of Malam didn't even have to provide a single traditional bride-price suitcase (lefe) for her! Just know that you heavily owe her that wedding trousseau."
Abba laughed, "Umma, I am heading out."
Umma smiled, "Alright, Abba."
He added, "Tsohuwa, I am off. If I stay here any longer, we might end up in a physical brawl."
Tsohuwa laughed, "Just go, I have entrusted her to your care." He walked away laughing.
When he reached the house gate, he opened the car, picked up his groceries, and walked inside. Despite his usual stoic bravery, his heart was pounding hard. He had no idea what kind of explosive fury Bishira had prepared for him.
He entered with a greeting. Bishira was sitting right by her doorway with Muhibba strapped to her back, but she completely ignored his greeting. The dusk of Maghrib was setting in, and the call to prayer was just about to sound.
He asked, "Bishira, why hasn't the generator (inji) been turned on yet?"
She snapped, "Since you just arrived, you can turn it on yourself. Before that other one arrived, you never walked in and asked why the generator wasn't on."
Abba looked at her and thought to himself: Women... they forget favors so easily. He set his bags down and went to start the generator.
Bishira immediately marched over to the bags, grumbling, "Look at that, they're already bringing in chicken for her on day one. I guess things won't be the way they used to be. For me, he usually brings things around 9:00 PM; I keep track of everything." She ripped open the bags only to find basic provisions and sanitary pads. She hissed loudly and threw them down in frustration.
He watched her, added fuel to the generator, started it up, and then picked up the bags and walked into her living room (falo).
ZURFIN CIKI (Book 4, Part 2)
Posted by Bashir Sani Fesan on 15 Dec 2016 - 00:44
The living room set had been upgraded to beautiful new sofas, but in his mind, Abba gave them a shelf-life of barely two weeks under Bishira's care. He took off his outer shirt, intending to take a quick shower before the Maghrib prayer call. He quickly pumped some water, went into the bathroom, and when he emerged, he called out loudly to Bishira from the living room.
She snapped, "What is it? Why are you bothering me?"
He asked, "Where were my suitcases taken?"
She replied, "Where else? They're right there in the kitchen."
He quickly walked out, shocked. "The kitchen? Are you serious?" He stood staring at her. "Am I so completely devoid of respect that my clothes have to be dumped in the kitchen?"
She retorted, "Since my room was rejected and I was labeled as dirty and unhygienic, why on earth would I let your things back into my space?"
Without saying another word, Abba went into the kitchen, gathered his suitcases and shoes, and moved them into her living room. Without pausing to change his clothes, he dashed off to the mosque so he wouldn't miss the congregational prayer.
He didn't return from the mosque until after the Isha prayer, and Bishira was still sitting right where he left her.
As for Ummi, she had been unable to bring herself to step out because she felt completely disgusted by the state of the shared bathroom; to make matters worse, her menstrual cycle had started that very afternoon, and she could hear every single interaction between Abba and his first wife.
Abba walked into the house, changed into brand-new clothes, and heavily sprayed himself with his favorite perfumes. Just then, his phone began to ring. It was his friend Salis.
Salis teased, "My friend, even if there's no formal wedding feast, shouldn't there at least be a wave of the hand? You've been handed the literal half of your soul, and even if we weren't invited to escort her, you could have at least said goodbye to us!"
Abba laughed, "I ask for your understanding, my friend."
Salis replied, "Alright, may Allah grant you a peaceful home."
They hung up, and just as he was about to set the phone down, a text message came through. He checked it; it was from Ummi, using the phone he had given her to keep safe. The message read: I have a problem. I need help.
His heart skipped a beat, but then he remembered her cycle was due. He grabbed his cap, picked up the bag containing the sanitary pads, and headed straight to her room.
Bishira was still sitting outside and jeered, "Oh, so the unfair treatment starts already? You've grabbed a bag and you're heading straight to her room?"
He didn't even look back. He knocked and entered with a greeting. She responded, adjusting her veil. They looked into each other's eyes, and a deep sense of mutual peace washed over them.
In a gentle voice, he asked, "What kind of help do you need?"
She closed her eyes and turned her back to him, completely overwhelmed by shyness.
"Here, take it," he said, holding out the bag. She turned around and accepted it with both hands. She was utterly astounded when she saw the sanitary pads. How on earth did he know she needed them? And how did he know her cycle's schedule so perfectly, even when the dates shifted?
She whispered, "Thank you."
He gave a slight smile. "I thank you too." He turned to leave, and just as he lifted the door curtain, she called out, "Um... I wanted to ask..."
He turned back. "What did you say?"
She said, "For Allah's sake, I need some bathroom cleaning chemicals," speaking with visible disgust regarding the filth she had encountered in the bathroom, her eyes welling up with tears.
He smiled. "What kind do you want? Disinfectant (Izal)?" He added, "We have some, but you shouldn't be scrubbing bathrooms right now."
She insisted, "I will wash it myself if it's available."
He replied, "Let me wash it for you."
She quickly objected, "No, Yaya Abba, I will do it."
He went back to the living room, removed his shirt, and began pumping water. Bishira stood up immediately. "Oh, absolutely not! If you are going to empty the well for your precious darling, go ahead, but you better pump an equal amount for me, or else! Just know that whenever I need water from now on, you will have to pump it for me, period."
Ummi stepped out carrying buckets, having overheard the entire exchange. In a soft, gentle voice, she pleaded, "Yaya Abba, for Allah's sake, let me pump the water."
He looked at her, and instantly, all the bitterness Bishira had caused him completely melted away. "You just arrived and you already want to start pumping water?"
Ummi reached for the well rope. "I didn't come here to just sit around, Yaya Abba. I came to earn my place in Paradise (Aljanna), and that takes hard work."
He burst out laughing. Bishira interrupted them, shouting, "Are you trying to display your loose behavior right in front of me?" She grabbed the bucket of water he had just filled and swung it, threatening to throw it squarely at Ummi.
"If you dare splash that water on her, I will make you deeply regret it!" Abba roared. He delivered the warning with such terrifying authority that she froze completely, holding the bucket mid-air. He barked, "Foolish woman with your mindless jealousy!"
He continued pumping water, filling the buckets Ummi had brought out. Bishira set her bucket down and violently kicked it over on the ground, but he didn't even glance her way. He finished filling the water and brought out the Izal and detergent powder (Omo).
Ummi went back to her room and fetched the long broom bought for bathroom cleaning. Abba refused to leave her side; she scrubbed while he continuously poured water for her until the bathroom reached her exact standards of cleanliness.
Still feeling deeply uncomfortable, she gathered her bath items. Yaya Abba was still standing guard by the well. She wanted him to step aside so she could pump her own bath water, but he refused, knowing that Bishira only feared him and would instantly pounce on Ummi the moment he turned his back. He personally filled Ummi’s bath water and stood guard until she finished, emerged completely covered in her hijab, and returned safely to her room. Only then did he rinse himself off, change back into his clothes, and head out.
Bishira remained stationed by her doorway, completely restless, her mouth running non-stop with endless tirades like someone experiencing a fresh bout of madness. She kept shouting, "They better pay me back every single penny I am owed, period! And if that little girl crosses me, I will completely ruin her!"
Inside her room, Ummi cleaned herself up thoroughly, put on brand-new clothes, and heavily applied the sweet-smelling perfumes Umma had bought for her—since she hadn't been given a traditional wedding trousseau suitcase, these were her only clothes. She stretched out on the long sofa. Only now did she realize how incredibly hungry she was; she hadn't eaten anything since breakfast. She rubbed her stomach, wishing intensely: If only Umma would send me some food.
Aloud, she muttered, "Oh, my phone." She pulled it close, thinking of texting Abba to tell him she was hungry, but an inner voice stopped her, warning that such a request wasn't fitting for a dignified new bride. She dropped the idea, opened a game app on her phone, and kept herself distracted.
It was 11:00 PM by the time Abba finally returned and locked up the house. His intention was to head straight to Ummi's room, but then he remembered the roasted chicken he had bought specifically for Bishira. Even though he doubted she would accept it, to his surprise, she was still standing in the middle of the courtyard, still wearing her daytime wrapper tied tightly over her chest. This made it obvious she hadn't prayed her night prayers, let alone showered.
He handed the chicken out to her. She gave him a venomous glare and snapped, "I'm not eating that!"
He turned around without saying a single word to her. She followed closely behind him, demanding, "Pay me the debts you owe me, Mister!"
He marched toward Ummi's room with Bishira trailing right at his heels. Ummi was just about to push the door open from the inside when Abba reached for the handle from the outside, with Bishira aggressively pulling at the back of his shirt to restrain him. He spun around with explosive reflex, raising his hand to deliver a massive slap, but she luckily ducked just in time and scrambled backward out of reach.
He hissed loudly in pure frustration but said nothing else. He pushed the curtain aside and entered Ummi's room with a greeting. Ummi had lightly fallen asleep out of sheer exhaustion, lying on the sofa with her phone still clutched in her hand.
everything that happened tonight. She went and laid her daughter down to sleep, which was the exact moment Abba stepped out to turn off the generator. When she crept back out, she saw him returning to the room. Pretending she just needed to fetch a water kettle (buta), she ducked into the bathroom, and the moment he locked his door from the inside, she pressed her ear firmly against the wood.
Abba's brief exit had given Ummi the chance to quickly change into her nightwear, as she found it impossible to sleep in heavy clothing. Her mind was racing with anxiety: How is this sleeping arrangement actually going to work tonight? She sat on the edge of the sofa, resting her head nervously against the armrest.
Abba also felt the heat intensely and could never sleep fully clothed, preferring to sleep in only his shorts. Ummi tightly closed her eyes when she saw Yaya Abba begin to undress under the bright beam of the flashlight he had switched on. He picked up a pillow, tossed it onto the long sofa, and lay down flat on his back.
Seeing this, Ummi quietly stood up, climbed onto the bed, recited her night prayers, and closed her eyes until sleep finally took her. A peaceful smile graced her face, her heart overflowing with gratitude to Allah that today she was finally in Yaya Abba's room as his lawful wife. The only task left for her now was to teach him how to truly love her.
Abba, too, felt a deep sense of joy. He lay there staring fixedly at the bed, watching Ummi and realizing she was now fully his. The only thing left for him was to teach her how to love him back.
Outside, Bishira couldn't catch any distinct sounds, though her ears strained against the quiet, low murmurs of their breathing. Tears streamed silently down her face. She lost all track of how many agonizing hours she spent pressed against that door before finally retreating to her own room, where she did nothing but toss and turn wildly on her bed. Her beloved Abba was lying right over there with another woman—and not just any woman, but the very enemy she hated most in the world.
One dark thought whispered: Go and pour gasoline all over them right now. Another urged: Wait until morning and stab them both with a knife. Her mind rationalized every horrific scenario imaginable until the very first light of dawn broke.
She lifted her window curtain to spy and see if they would emerge. Right then, Abba stepped out, pumped water into his buckets, took a full shower, and performed his ablutions. She couldn't read whether anything intimate had occurred between him and Ummi, because taking a complete morning shower was his daily habit regardless of ritual purity. He began performing voluntary prayers (nafila), pouring his heart out to Allah to make Ummi love him, and to unite his household in peace. When it was time to leave for the mosque, he chose not to wake Ummi, knowing she was on her cycle and wouldn't be performing prayers anyway.
Bishira marched out, placed a chair directly in front of her door, and sat down. Her aggressive movements woke Ummi up. Whenever Ummi was on her cycle, she preferred to bathe continuously throughout the day because she felt intensely unclean otherwise. She carried her buckets out and filled them completely with water while Bishira glared at her. She scrubbed the bathroom spotlessly a second time before taking her shower.
She rushed to do her makeup and dress up nicely, remembering the strict advice Umma had given her on the morning she was brought to her husband's house: "Never let your husband see you looking disheveled, and never let him catch a foul odor from you." She applied her creams, put on a beautiful pink and cream-colored wrapper gown, tied a perfect headwrap, and sprayed herself with incredibly sweet-smelling perfumes. She then set about tidying up the room, even though it wasn't dirty. She neatly folded the clothes Abba had taken off—since he usually wore a long robe (jallabiya) to the mosque—and then leaned back against a chair to rest.
When daylight fully broke, Abba walked back into the house. Bishira instantly hissed loudly at him instead of returning his greeting, adding sneeringly, "Look at you, an old man who doesn't even know his own age, spending the night with a little child. How shameful! Wallahi, you aren't a true legitimate son, marrying the very girl who got you thrown in a cell and beaten until your bones were broken."
He looked at her coldly. "Is that your definition of an illegitimate son?"
She snapped, "Yes, exactly!"
He replied, "Fine, then accept that I am a bastard, if it's simply because I married Ummi."
She jeered, "Hypocrite! You've loved her all along."
He turned back to face her completely. "Yes, I love her intensely."
Overwhelmed with pure rage, she screamed, "May Allah judge you, you hypocrite!"
He ignored her and walked straight into Ummi's room, who had overheard the entire shouting match. In her heart, Ummi wondered: If only that love were real... She knew he only said it to spite his first wife.
He lifted the door curtain with a greeting. Ummi answered, sitting up from where she was resting. He sat down and closed his eyes, instantly breathing in the rich fragrance of the perfumes she had sprayed. He looked at her face; her lips, which he adored so much, were painted a beautiful shade of pink lipstick. In that single moment, Abba completely forgot every ounce of bitterness and every harsh word Bishira had hurled at him.
From where she sat, she bowed her head slightly out of respect and said, "Yaya Abba, good morning."
"Good morning, my sweet Ummi," he replied. "How is your new home treating you?"
She closed her eyes in pure delight at the affectionate name he used. "Alhamdulillah."
He leaned in closer, looking at her intently. "Mashallah. Now, do you know what?"
She focused her full attention on him. "No, what?"
He said, "Please have patience. I know that in Hausa tradition, a new bride stays a full week without doing a single chore. But you must bear with me; from the moment you arrived yesterday, you started with washing toilets. And right now, I want you to bring out your kerosene stove (risho), assemble it, and fill it so we can make breakfast. You've already seen how the woman of this house handles her jealousy."
Ummi adjusted her posture, recalling her mother's advice: "Whenever you speak to your husband, select your words with absolute care; never just blurt things out carelessly."
She looked into his eyes as he stared back at her and said, "Yaya Abba, is that really why you are asking for my forgiveness?"
He smiled, closing and opening his eyes simultaneously—which in the silent language of romance meant yes. She understood the gesture perfectly and continued, "Yaya Abba, I didn't come here to just sit idly. I came in search of Paradise, and I am ready to do whatever it takes to earn it. So stop apologizing to me; just give me commands."
From the crown of Abba's head down to his very toes, a profound thrill shivered through him, deeply moved by the soft, enchanting tone of Ummi’s voice and her beautiful choice of words. In his heart, he thought: Ummi is truly her mother's daughter; Umma’s upbringing shines differently in her children.
He looked at her warmly. "May Allah bless you."
She whispered, "Ameen."
She stood up, and his eyes followed her as she walked over to the corner where her kitchen utensils were stacked. She pulled out the stove, and he said, "Alright, let's take it to the kitchen..."
She stood up, and he watched her as she retrieved the stove. He said, "Alright, let's go to the kitchen."
Softening her voice, she pleaded, "Yaya Abba, please forgive me, but I really don't want to use that kitchen. Please allow me to set up my stove right outside my bedroom door."
He looked at her and decided not to pressure her, knowing that anyone raised under Umma’s roof was bound to be highly fastidious about cleanliness. He replied, "If that works better for you, go right ahead. Once things settle down later, I'll build a dedicated kitchen space just for you."
She smiled, "Thank you."
He personally took the stove, opened it up, and assembled it for her. She fetched a pot, walked over to the well, rinsed it thoroughly, and filled it with water.
Bishira, who had been eavesdropping on their entire conversation, quickly ran back to her room the moment she realized Abba was coming out with the stove. She paced around like a madwoman, talking to herself: "So Walid's father actually thinks he can mock my jealousy? The very girl he claimed he didn't want, the one forced upon him, is now the one he's running to with gossip about me? He's even pouring blessings on her! Of course, her mother coached her perfectly on what to say, so it makes sense he's blessing her. As for me, he just damns me."
Ummi took the gallon of kerosene from his hands, saying, "Yaya Abba, let me pour it."
He was about to tell her to leave it to him when his phone began to ring. He answered it; it was Aunty. After exchanging pleasantries, Aunty stated that she wanted to speak directly with Bishira. He walked over to hand her the phone, while Ummi proceeded to pour the kerosene, light the stove, and set her pot of water to boil before returning to her room.
Abba stood waiting for his phone. On the line, Aunty questioned, "Bishira, I called to find out if you've prepared breakfast for the new bride who spent her first night in the house?"
Bishira scowled deeply, as if Aunty were standing right in front of her. "Aunty, what on earth should I give her? What business do I have with her anyway? Just moments ago, they were gossiping about me, with him telling her to have patience regarding the kind of woman she has to live with!"
Aunty chided, "You are acting completely insane, and that's exactly why he says those things. Now, stand up right now and make breakfast for them, and do the same for lunch. Do not allow that young girl to touch a cooking pot until a full week has passed, do you hear me?"
Bishira muttered an agreement, not because the advice sat well with her, but solely out of fear that her upcoming trip to Mecca might be canceled if she argued. The moment they hung up, she threw the phone down, muttering viciously, "Even if her mother comes here herself, I am absolutely not cooking a single thing for her."
Ummi washed the tea flask thoroughly and poured the boiled water into it. Abba then went into Bishira's living room to gather the tea ingredients and bread.
Bishira snapped, "Go ahead and take the hot water to her too!"
He retorted, "She already boiled it herself." He finished packing everything up, fully dressed and prepared for work.
Ummi escorted him all the way to the front door. He turned to her and said, "Ummi, I beg of you, even if Bishira insults you, for Allah's sake, do not respond to her. I don't hold any hatred toward her because I know she acts out of her intense love for me. In due time, everything will settle into place."
Ummi reassured him, "Don't worry, Yaya Abba, Insha Allah nothing bad will happen. May Allah protect you."
He smiled, "Ameen, thank you."
He peeked into Bishira's room to collect his phone and asked, "What are we cooking for lunch?"
She glared at him. "What business do I have with food?"
He placed four hundred Naira down on the table. "Here, buy some meat. I know we have all the other ingredients, right?"
She hissed loudly, "You better take your money back! I am absolutely not cooking for hypocrites just so they can eat, feel energized, and continue insulting me."
He looked at her sadly. "May Allah grant you understanding."
She screamed after him, "May He grant understanding to you instead, you traitor! I will make sure I see the end of both of you!"
He simply clicked his tongue in disapproval and walked out without another word.
Ummi carried the heavy suitcases Abba had brought over and arranged them neatly into their permanent spots. She then gathered the cups they used for tea and washed them.
As she returned to her room, she could hear some of Bishira's friends arriving, launching into a loud barage of indirect insults and slanderous commentary (habaici). Ummi firmly chose not to step out, let alone respond to them.
Meanwhile, Bashir was completely consumed by misery. He was utterly restless due to his deep obsession with Ummi. He had manipulated his mother into confronting Sahabi’s household to break off the other marriage proposal, but even after that succeeded, Ummi still slipped completely out of his reach. His intense hatred for Abba made him feel like committing murder. Consequently, he spent every waking moment poisoning his mother's mind against Abba.
Around noon, just as Ummi was beginning to doze off, she suddenly heard the booming voice of Bashir's mother right outside her door, shouting, "Where is that hypocritical, insolent Ummi?"
She ripped the door curtain aside and stood there. Ummi looked up at her.
"What are you staring at, you daughter of sorcerers? You think you will find peace in this house? Your mother can perform all the witchcraft, dog curses, and demon rituals she wants, but you will still be forced out of my son's house! Even if it takes the ultimate power of witch doctors and spirit mediums, you will never know peace here."
Bishira chimed in, "Umma, he is a hypocrite too! He claimed he didn't want her, but just last night they were completely wrapped up in each other."
Bashir's mother defended him, saying, "Bishira, you have to excuse Abba. Whatever he is doing right now is not of his own free will—they have completely bound his mind with spells. Can't you see how dazed and panicked he looks? A spirit medium explained everything to me; right now, we are just looking for the counter-spell."
Bishira added bitterly, "Even so, they say a spell only exposes a person's true underlying nature."
Bashir's mother agreed, "That's true, but he will ultimately pay for his father's sins."
Ummi sat with her head bowed low. The malicious insults didn't bother her in the slightest, but one specific detail shook her to her very core: the mention of black magic (asiri). The terrifying thought of dark spells being driven between her and her husband—even before they had a chance to build real love for one another—filled her with absolute dread.
