YOU BELONG TO ME

CHAPTER SEVEN : NEVER AGAIN

Ashmaan sauntered into the grand villa, his movements unhurried yet purposeful. He was dressed casually in a jet-black hoodie and matching sweatpants, the ensemble complementing his effortless demeanor. The soft glow of the chandelier overhead illuminated his path as he made his way through the marble-floored corridors that led to his mother’s room.

Reaching her door, he knocked once and waited. Moments later, he was ushered inside.

Hajiya Sa'adatu lay reclined on a plush, queen-sized bed adorned with silk sheets, a weekly fashion magazine in hand. She looked up from the glossy pages as her son entered and sat on the edge of the bed. Setting the magazine aside, she studied him intently.

“You called me?” he asked, his tone laced with exhaustion as he rubbed his temple. The throbbing headache he’d been nursing since morning refused to subside.

Hajiya Sa'adatu narrowed her eyes, her lips pressing into a thin line. “Where are your manners, young man? Won’t you ever learn how to greet your elders? Squat and greet me properly right now,” she demanded with authority.

Ashmaan sighed inwardly but complied, crouching briefly in a gesture of respect. “Assalamu Alaikum, Ummie,” he said in a low voice.

“Wa Alaikumus Salam,” she replied, a faint smile gracing her lips as she nodded in approval.

She wasted no time getting to the point. “Yes, I called you. I have something important to discuss,” she began, her voice calm but firm. “I want to arrange your marriage to Arya, my best friend’s daughter. You’re meeting her today to get to know her better. After that, you’ll decide whether or not you like her.”

The words hit him like a bolt of lightning. He straightened abruptly, staring at his mother as though she had grown two heads. “What?” he exclaimed, disbelief etched across his face.

Hajiya Sa'adatu remained unruffled. “You heard me, Ashmaan,” she said, her tone steady.

“But, Ummie, you know I can’t get married. Not now, at least,” he protested, his voice tinged with frustration.

“And when, Ashmaan? When will you be ready?” she asked, a weary sigh escaping her lips. “You have to move on.”

He averted his gaze, his jaw tightening. Memories he had buried long ago threatened to resurface, but he pushed them back down.

“Listen, my dear,” she continued, her tone softening. “I understand that you don’t want to get married, but have you thought about me? Do you know how your Aunt Atika mocks me every chance she gets for not having a daughter-in-law or grandchildren from you? I’ve tolerated it for years, but I’m done waiting. If you don’t find a girl on your own, I’ll keep pairing you with suitors until you do.”

Her words struck a nerve, but Ashmaan knew better than to argue further. His mother’s determination was unshakable. “Fine,” he muttered, resigned. “I’ll meet her.”

Hajiya Sa'adatu smiled, pleased with his reluctant agreement.

He rose to his feet and left the room, heading back to his villa. Once inside the sanctuary of his private space, he leaned against the door, sighing deeply. Before he could gather his thoughts, his phone buzzed with a message from his mother.

"You are to meet her at Johnson’s Café at 4 PM. Don’t be late. I’ll forward her number to you shortly."

He stared at the message for a long moment before closing the door with finality. “Here goes nothing,” he muttered under his breath.

---

The bustle of the wedding festivities had finally settled, and life returned to its usual rhythm. For most people, at least. Roohina, however, stood outside the door of Dr. Areena’s office, nerves threatening to get the better of her. She took a deep breath to calm herself before knocking. After a brief pause, a cheerful voice called her in.