Over and Over

Seldom

EL-BAAZ MANSOR
KANO.
NIGERIA.

NARRATOR'S POV

"Sir, I thought you said you were feeling cold earlier," Zubair remarked, pausing when he saw Hakeem seated by the entrance. Hakeem rubbed his palms together absently, the newspaper spread open before him though his eyes barely skimmed the page.

"Yeah," Hakeem replied after a moment, his voice distant. "I was."

Domestic helpers passed by just then, struggling slightly with large luggage boxes.

Hakeem's jaw tightened. "Damn," he muttered under his breath.

Zubair caught the look immediately and couldn't stop the amused smile tugging at his lips.

"Sir, let's go inside," he suggested lightly, already knowing the answer.

"No," Hakeem said quickly, peering down the corridor. "I'm fine here."

Zubair raised a brow. "Are you waiting for someone, sir?"

Hakeem didn't respond, but the silence was answer enough.

LAYLA'S POV

"I knew she was trouble from the moment I laid eyes on her," Khadija sneered.

Her voice cut through the room like a blade.

"You're a leech," she continued, lips curling in disgust. "The daughter of a poor, useless man."

She pointed.

At me.

For a second, I genuinely looked around, confused, almost hopeful, that she meant someone else. Anyone else. But the silence told me everything I needed to know.

My chest tightened.
Hard.

Oh.
She was talking to me.

The realization sank slowly, painfully, like something heavy settling in my stomach. I felt small. Exposed. Every pair of eyes in the room suddenly felt too sharp, too aware.

Before I could even form a response, before my humiliation could turn into words

"Halt."

Hakeem's voice thundered through the room.

It was loud. Commanding. The kind of voice that didn't ask for attention—it took it.

Khadija flinched.

Actually flinched.

The room went still as Hakeem stepped forward, his face hard, unreadable, dangerous in a quiet way that made my skin prickle.

"Get her out," he ordered coldly. "And make sure she never sets foot in this house again."

The helpers didn't hesitate. They escorted Khadija out swiftly, her protests dissolving into the echo of the corridor.

As always...
He defended me.

Too fiercely. Too publicly.

Before I could even process that relief, another shock followed.

Maymun.

She turned on Hakeem, furious, her voice shaking as she accused him of humiliating her friend. Words flew. Sharp ones. Painful ones.

I tried to calm her. I really did.

"Maymun, please—"

But she snapped.

And this time, her anger landed on me.

She blamed me. For the scene. For Khadija. For everything.

I felt myself shrinking again, tears burning behind my eyes as the argument spiraled out of control, until Ammi stepped in, firm and final, restoring order with a few carefully chosen words.

The silence that followed was heavy.

"I think... it's time for me to leave," I said quietly, turning to Ammi.

She looked at me for a long moment, then nodded gently and patted my shoulder.

That was all the permission I needed.

⸻

I walked slowly toward my room, every step feeling heavier than the last. I grabbed my bag and veil, my hands trembling despite my efforts to steady them.

"Layla."

I stopped.

Hakeem stood by the door, adjusting his hair absently, his presence filling the room without effort.

"What do you want?" I asked, my voice colder than I felt.

"Are you really leaving now?" he asked, stepping fully inside.

"Are you blind?" I replied sharply, wrapping my veil around my head. "What does it look like?"

"Please, darling," he said softly, moving behind me, our reflections meeting in the mirror. "Stay."

I spun around instantly.

"Don't you dare call me that again," I snapped, pointing a finger at him. "You're shameless."

"Okay," he said calmly, gently lowering my finger.

I pulled my hand away immediately and turned back, refusing to let him see how fast my heart was beating.

That's when I heard his voice again, this time on the phone.

"Zubair, add more cars to the convoy. And more men," he said casually, one hand in his pocket.
A pause.
"Yes. Make sure she's protected."

"You don't have to protect me," I cut in, grabbing my purse. "Just because I'm a woman doesn't mean I can't protect myself."

He stepped closer, adjusting the collar of his black coat.

"I'm not protecting you because you're a woman," he said quietly.
"I'm doing it because you're my woman."

I pushed past him without another word.

⸻

I walked down the hallway, hoping, almost praying, to see Maymun. She wasn't there.

"Ammi, I'm leaving now," I said, sitting beside her.

She studied my face closely before speaking.
"Toh Layla, Allah ya tsare. Yaushe za ki dawo?"

"After the engineering trip," I replied softly. "After Eid al-Adha."

"No way."

Hakeem's voice came from behind us.

I didn't even turn.

"It's August now," he continued, pacing. "And you're saying you'll return in June? That's not happening."

He waited, like always, for Ammi to decide.

For once, even she seemed unsure.

"She's sensible," Ammi finally said gently. "She knows right from wrong. Please allow her, Van."

She smiled at me warmly.

That was that.

Ammi walked me outside, prayed for me, blessed me, and watched as I got into the car.

"Have a safe journey, dear," she said, waving.

Hakeem stood behind her, one hand raised in a wave, the other tucked into his pocket.

I didn't look at him.

"Bye, Ammi," I said softly as the car pulled away.

And just like that,
I left.