ECHOES OF DEFIANCE

chapter 13

I didn’t get much sleep the entire night. My mind was spinning, replaying everything that had unfolded. The weight of my father's words, Zain’s voice pleading on the phone, and my mother’s silence—everything was tangled up in my thoughts.

As dawn broke, the soft light of *fajr* filtering through my window, I prayed, hoping for clarity. But even after my prayers, the confusion remained, heavy on my heart. I needed to talk to my mother, to face whatever distance had grown between us.

After *fajr*, I walked quietly to her room, hesitating before stepping in. She was sitting on her prayer mat, her head bent in quiet reflection. My heart ached as I watched her, knowing I had disappointed her in ways I couldn’t fully understand.

"Mom…" I whispered, my voice fragile as I sat down by her bed, close to her mat. She looked at me, her eyes holding the same mixture of concern and sadness as the night before.

"When did we start hiding things from each other?" she asked, her voice soft but weighted with hurt. The question pierced straight through me. We had always been close. I had never wanted to keep anything from her.

I couldn’t meet her eyes, so I looked down at the floor, my fingers twisting the edge of her blanket. “Mom… it’s Zain.” I swallowed, feeling the words tighten in my throat. “I wanted to be sure before telling you.”

She was silent for a moment, then gently placed her hand over mine, her touch warm but heavy with worry. "I trust you, Hana. I know you wouldn’t do anything wrong," she began, her voice softening, "but Zain... he’s not right for you."

Her words sent a sharp pang through my chest. Tears began to blur my vision, and I couldn’t hold them back any longer. They spilled over, silent but full of emotion. “Not you too, Mom,” I whispered, my voice trembling. “*Wallahi*, Zain loves me so much.”

Mom’s expression softened, and I could see the struggle in her eyes. She wasn’t angry—she was hurt for me. “Farhana, you’ve gone and fallen in love with him, of all people,” she said, a deep sigh escaping her. “But you know your father will never accept this.”

Her words hung in the air, and I knew she was right. My father’s fury from last night was still fresh in my memory. But knowing he wouldn’t accept Zain didn’t make the feelings any easier to handle. I wiped at my tears, feeling small, feeling helpless.

Mom tightened her hold on my hand, her eyes filled with empathy. “Pray, Hana. Sometimes you may want something, but it’s not good for you, and sometimes you may dislike something, but it’s what’s best for you. Allah is the best of planners, my dear. Ask for His *khair*.”

Her words soothed me, like a balm over a wound. I knew she was right. I had been so wrapped up in my feelings for Zain that I hadn’t taken a step back to consider what Allah had planned for me. I nodded, though my heart still felt conflicted.

“I don’t have anything against Zain,” she continued gently, her voice steady but compassionate. “If he’s *khair* for you, may Allah make it happen.”

Her sincerity brought a flicker of hope to my heart, but the reality still weighed on me. She paused for a moment, her eyes searching mine. “You said he wants to marry soon?”

I looked down at my lap, feeling the weight of her question. My voice came out quieter than before. “Yes... But I told him I’m not ready. He wants me to think about it.”

The room was silent for a moment, save for the soft rustling of her blanket as she shifted slightly. I could feel her concern radiating through her touch. My mother had always been my compass, guiding me through every storm, but now I was in uncharted waters.

“Hana, just remember,” she whispered, her voice full of love, “we are here for you. Whatever decision you make, just make sure it’s one that brings you peace.”

I nodded again, my heart heavy yet somehow lighter. I didn’t know what the future held, or if my father would ever accept Zain. But at that moment, my mother’s quiet strength was enough to carry me through.

"You should get some more sleep," my mother said softly, but I was too restless.

"I'm going to Falmata’s, then the tailor. After that, I’m heading to Sahad with Ya Usman. I’ll just shower and go to Amma’s after," I told her as I got up, trying to distract myself with errands.

"Okay," she replied, though I could tell her thoughts were still on our conversation. I went to check on my father, but he wasn’t back from the *Masjid*. It was nearing six, and I wondered where he could be. Feeling unsettled, I sat down and recited some Qur'an to calm my racing thoughts. After a quick shower, I got ready and left for Amma's house.

As I walked into Amma’s living room, I saw her sitting with Ya Usman. The moment I saw her, the floodgates opened, and I ran to her, tears spilling down my face.

"Amma, I know you've heard what happened," I cried, my voice shaking. "What should I do?"

She wrapped her arms around me, her warmth and presence like a comforting balm to my turmoil. "Calm down, daughter. We will pray about it, okay?" she said gently, her voice soft but full of certainty. I nodded, still feeling the sting of fear and uncertainty in my chest. "It’s going to be fine," she added, reassuring me in a way only Amma could.

Just then, Abba walked in, his expression stern. "Karki fada mana kinsan wannan shiriritan kikai shiru." He said, addressing Amma with a firm voice, clearly displeased about the situation. He sat down heavily, his brows furrowed in thought.

"Zain has been pleading with Abubakar since *fajr*, trying to get him to listen. *Kinsan sojan chan da kahuwa*," he said, referring to my father. "*Wallahi,* he refused. Zain even followed him home, begging, but your father wouldn’t hear a word. He  swore, if Zain doesn’t leave the house, he’ll get him locked up."

Abba's voice, usually steady, was laced with frustration. He looked over at me, a deep frown creasing his face. "What have you gotten yourselves into? *Wallahi*, Zain is more pitiful than I expected. What kind of love does he have for you, Farhana? It scares me," he finished, this time worry clouding his usual firm demeanor.

My heart tightened with guilt and sadness. I didn’t know what to say. Everything felt so overwhelming. Without a word, I stood up and stepped outside, needing air, needing space. As I opened the gate, my eyes landed on Zain, standing there next to his power bike. T our gate. He looked as worn out as I felt, his face pale with worry.

"Zain, please don’t do this," I said softly, walking towards him. "You know how stubborn my father can be. If you don’t leave, he’ll follow through with his threat and have you locked up. Please, go home and come back when your dad returns." I grabbed his hand, my voice pleading, my heart aching for him.

His eyes, usually filled with confidence and strength, were dim, shadows of fear and desperation darkening his features. "Baby, I just want him to listen," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "Wallahi, I love you."

His words hit me with the force of their sincerity, making my heart race. There was a vulnerability in his voice that I had never heard before. The fear, the longing, the love—it was all there, etched into his face as he stood before me, fighting for us in a way that made my heart swell and break all at once.

I squeezed his hand, my own emotions swirling inside me, torn between the love I had for him and the chaos that surrounded us.

“Zain, I know, but right now, I don’t think Daddy will listen to you,” I said, my voice gentle but firm. His face was a mixture of hope and despair, and it tugged at my heart in ways I couldn’t describe.

He let out a deep sigh, nodding slowly. “I understand him. No one would want their child to be involved in something they don’t understand,” he replied, looking at me with such intensity. “But the only thing that matters is that I don’t lose you.”

His words sent a shiver down my spine, his fear palpable, and it made my heart ache for him. He looked so vulnerable, so unlike the Zain everyone else knew. I blinked back the tears that were forming, feeling the weight of it all.