TRIALS (Completed)

Thirty

Thirty chapters! 🎉🎉🎉 I couldn't have come this far without you.
So how have you found this story so far?
Whose pov is your favourite?
Who do you like the most?
Who do you dislike the most?
And can you predict the ending for each character?

The first five people to reply will get a chapter dedicated to them!

Happy reading!

...

Mummy, are you traveling? Abdul asked Walida as she placed her underwear in her smallest red trolley. Pausing, she turned to him and smiled, not sure what to say. “Yes. We’re going on a small holiday.” 

“Holiday?” ‘Uthman’s cheery voice cried, standing by her other side. “Where?”

Without thinking, she said, “Hajja Mummy’s place.” 

His eyes widened. “Allah?”

She laughed and nodded. 

“But there is still school.” Abdul pouted, his pink lower lip jutting out as one of his brow rose in uncertainty. Walida froze. He looked just like his father. She shut her eyes and sighed, as though to conjure up Habib’s face. When she opened them, the boys were no longer by her side. They had moved to her shoe rack by the corner of her room: Uthman pointing, Abdul explaining. 

What was she doing? she mused and looked down at her box. She had to, else Shamsu wouldn’t realize his mistake, worse, he wont change! 

Just then, the call for sunset prayer rang through the open widow across her. She closed the box and called out to the boys. “Oya, sallah.” She steered them out of the room, performed ablution with them in their bathroom and prayed with them, right after Uthman fought to lead the prayer. 

After putting Disney Junior for them, she headed for the kitchen warmed up some leftover dry fish stew and put some water to boil, while counting down the minutes to Shamsu’s return.  

She would confront him first. she decided, even though she’d rather just leave. She wondered where all bravery had gone. Why she never did so since last night, when she had sniffed his dirty clothes. She should have said something. She clenched her fists and tried to calm down. To calm her blood that boiled like the water before her. If he was really cheating on her, she’d leave, no questions. 

She nodded. But, how about why, why he did it? She thought. Then she recalled one of Hajja’s sayings: Men are men. They cheat because they can. Because they can get away with it. But not this time. She shook her head. He won't get away with it. She might have inherited her father’s calmness, but she had also inherited her mother’s madness. 

When Shamsu finally returned home, Walida was in the living room, sitting cross-legged, remote in hand, watching the ten o’clock news. On the center table was her box, beside it, her veil. 

“Assalamu alaikum.” Shamsu greeted behind her. She replied quietly, eyes glued to the TV, ears on the alert at his every movement. 

“Ah ah, Uwargida.” She felt his presence behind her seat, standing above her. Without turning, she replied, “Sannu da dawowa.” She took a deep breath. The air still carried a faint scent of fish and damp air. He was clean. 

“Yauwa.” He perched on the arm of her seat, first glance on the tv, where an arrested kidnapper was being interviewed, then at her. “Uwargida sarautan mata.” He said in appraisal while she tried not to grimace. 

She pursed her lips, waiting for him to comment on the box. Instead, he reached for the remote next to her. She stiffened, but he didn’t notice. 

Was this some sort of joke? She fumed, still refusing to look at him. She folded her arms across her chest. Didn’t he notice that she wasn’t putting on her night gown? Lallai ma!