Unbroken bonds

1: The Weight of the World

note: This chapter is a draft and has not been fully edited or proofread. Thank you for your understanding!

Inaya stood with grace, her slim frame wrapped in a flowing abaya that draped elegantly over her body. The fabric, a deep, rich shade of navy blue, was adorned with delicate gold embroidery along the sleeves and hem. Her hijab, a soft, dark blue, was neatly pinned, framing her face gently and covering her hair completely. The folds cascaded down her shoulders, adding to her modest yet regal appearance. She carried a small, stylish leather handbag over her shoulder, the strap resting comfortably against her side. It was classic black, with gold accents that subtly complemented her outfit.

Her posture was upright, but her footsteps were heavy, dragging slightly as if she carried more than just herself. Her wide, curious eyes, usually full of warmth, were now distant. She clutched her handbag tighter, as though holding it together would keep her world from falling apart.

Nobody told me life after school would be this hard, Inaya thought bitterly. Her heart squeezed in her chest, and the weight of uncertainty pressed down on her. "Ya Allah, will you help me? I know you will," she whispered, her voice trembling. It felt like she was talking to herself again, something she always did when overwhelmed.

Her legs moved on autopilot, dragging her through the familiar streets of Kaduna. The noise of the bustling market faded into the background as her thoughts overwhelmed her. The rent was due. Halima's school fees were looming. How could she break the news to her daughter that she had lost her job?

Inaya halted abruptly, confused. She looked around, realizing she had wandered much farther than intended. Her habit of getting lost in thought had carried her through streets she barely recognized. Shaking her head, she flagged down a passing tricycle, her hand trembling slightly.

After giving her destination, she climbed inside and sat beside another passenger, offering a polite nod. Her mind, however, was far from the small, cramped vehicle. Her thoughts spun in circles, replaying the events of the last week. She had always wanted a better life for Halima, one far better than her own childhood. But now, it felt like that dream was slipping through her fingers.

The sound of the tricycle's engine droned in the background as Inaya forced her face into a calm mask. She had always been good at hiding her pain, a skill honed over years of hardship. How is it that I look so put together, but inside, I'm falling apart? she mused, almost laughing at the irony. If not for Halima, she wasn't sure she would still be standing.

The tricycle came to a sudden stop, pulling her from her thoughts.

"Hajiya, munkai fa (Hajiya, we have arrived)," the driver said, his voice pulling her back to the present.

Inaya blinked, momentarily disoriented. She fumbled in her bag for the fare, her hands trembling as she handed it over. "Thank you," she whispered, stepping out into the familiar streets of Barnawa, where she lived. Her rented apartment was just a short walk from here. Inaya squared her shoulders, trying to gather her strength. You're stronger than this, she reminded herself, walking slowly toward the compound.

The compound was quiet, save for the faint hum of voices coming from neighboring apartments. She could hear Maman Jamila's voice before she saw her, the familiar sound bringing a small, fleeting comfort.

Maman Jamila was a striking figure, her beautifully light-brown complexion glowing in the sunlight, with chubby cheeks that added a youthful softness to her face. Even amidst the laundry, she radiated a nurturing energy, embodying the strength and grace that had always defined her."

"Inaya, you're back early today," Maman Jamila called out from where she was hanging clothes on the line, a smile tugging at her lips.

Inaya forced a smile in return, already bracing for the lie that was forming on her tongue. "Yes, I'm not feeling too well. My colleagues insisted I come home to rest." She hoped her voice didn't betray the anxiety swirling in her chest.

Maman Jamila narrowed her eyes, her hands pausing mid-air as she held a damp shirt. "You? Come home because of a small sickness? Inaya, even when you're sick, you go to work," she said, her tone playful yet suspicious.

Inaya chuckled softly, though her heart raced. "Wallahi, it's nothing serious. I just need to rest." She quickly changed the subject. "Is Haliebee back from her lessons?" she asked, using her special nickname for Halima.

"Yes, I sent her and Faiza to Maman Yusrah's house," Maman Jamila replied, turning back to her laundry. "They're playing there for now. Go inside and rest. I'll come check on you once I'm done."

Inaya nodded, grateful for the reprieve. At least I have time before I have to face Halima. The thought of seeing her daughter's face, so full of trust and innocence, made her chest tighten.

Once inside her small apartment, Inaya collapsed onto the worn couch, staring blankly at the ceiling. The silence in the room was deafening. What am I going to do? she wondered, her eyes burning with unshed tears. Crying wouldn't solve anything, though. Halima couldn't see her break. Inaya had to stay strong, for her daughter's sake.

After a while, the door burst open, and Halima's bright voice filled the room. "Salamu Alaikum, umma!"

"Walaikum Salam, my dear," Inaya responded, her voice warm, though her heart ached. Halima ran into her arms, her body radiating energy.

"You're home early, Umma! Are you okay?" Halima looked up at her mother with wide, concerned eyes.

Inaya swallowed hard, forcing a smile. "Yes, sweetie. I'm just a little tired. I'll be fine after some rest." The lie slid off her tongue effortlessly, though it stung every time.

Halima frowned, but nodded, accepting the explanation. "Maman Jamila said she'll bring food for us later. You shouldn't cook today."

Inaya smiled, her heart swelling with love for her daughter. "Okay Thank you, Haliebee. How was your lesson today?"

Halima's face lit up. "It was fine! And school starts again in two weeks!"

Inaya's smile faltered for just a second. Two weeks. How am I going to pay her fees? But she quickly recovered, nodding. "Insha'Allah, we'll get through it." She pulled Halima closer, kissing the top of her head.

After Halima left the room to fold her clothes, Inaya allowed herself to cry. The tears came silently, a release of all the fear and frustration she had been holding in. Ya Allah, guide me through this. Help me provide for her, she prayed, her heart heavy.

Memories of the past crept into her thoughts, unbidden. Living with Uncle Mustapha and his wife, Mansura, had been hard after her parents passed. Inaya had endured Mansura's cruelty for years, swallowing her pride for the sake of Halima. She'd cried silently in her room, asking Allah for the strength to keep going. And when Uncle Mustapha died, things had only gotten worse.

Mansura had thrown them out, heartlessly discarding them like they meant nothing. Inaya still remembered standing in the doorway, bags in hand, as Mansura watched them leave with cold eyes. "It's not my responsibility to take care of you," she had spat.

But Uncle Mustapha had secretly left Inaya money, enough to rent a small apartment and finish her education, as if he knew he was going to die. It had been a lifeline, and with it, she had begun to build a life for herself and Halima. Now, though, it felt like everything was crumbling again.

As she lay on the couch, the weight of the past and the uncertainty of the future pressed down on her. But she couldn't afford to give up. Not with Halima depending on her. Inaya wiped away her tears, forcing herself to sit up. Allah will provide a way, she reminded herself. He always had.

Hey everyone how was the first chapter, what do you think?

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Love ❤️
Firdausi💖