echoes of defiance (Rewriting)

chapter 43

It was a night we would remember for a lifetime.

The next morning, with our flight scheduled for 4 PM, we set out early. By 8 AM, Zain and I were already deep into our shopping spree, wandering through stores, filling our bags until nearly noon. Exhausted but content, we returned home, showered, ate, and prepared to head for Incheon Airport. Unlike my usual route with a layover in Qatar, this time we chose Dubai, spending 47 hours there before continuing on to Nigeria.

As the plane descended toward Abuja, an unsettling feeling crept over me—a sense of dread, unfamiliar yet gripping. I couldn't pinpoint the cause, but a wave of fear engulfed me. My heart raced as if warning me of something. I hadn’t been home in months, and the thought of returning after so long felt overwhelming. As we neared my parents’ house, that fear only intensified. My pulse quickened, my breath came in shallow gasps.

Sensing my anxiety, Zain gently squeezed my hand. “We’ll stop at our place first, drop the luggage, and head to your parents’ afterward, okay?”

I nodded, thankful for his calm presence. The Uber dropped us at our house—his house, my home now—but it still felt unfamiliar. I had only spent two days here before, yet this was where I belonged, where my life with Zain was meant to unfold.

I dragged my suitcase inside, leaving most of the bags, but I grabbed the one with the gifts I had brought for my family. As we approached my parents' house, the suffocating anxiety returned. I could barely breathe, the weight of my unspoken fear pressing down on me.

Zain noticed immediately. "Are you sure you're okay? We don’t have to rush. Rest for a bit; we can go later."

I forced a smile, even though my insides were churning. “I’m fine.”

The soldiers guarding our house opened the gates, and we entered. I steeled myself as we approached the living room, Zain following close behind.

“Mom!” I called out, my voice trembling, betraying my nerves.

“Hana, is that you?” I heard my mom say from another room. And then, suddenly, their faces appeared—my mom and Amma, standing together at the entrance of the living room. The second I saw them, all the fear melted away, replaced by a flood of relief. I ran to them, my heart swelling with happiness.

“Hana, careful!” Amma warned as I threw my arms around them. “You can’t be jumping around like this in your condition.”

I smiled, stepping aside as Zain greeted them with his usual respect and warmth. We chatted for a while, laughter filling the room, the weight of my earlier anxiety disappearing.

“Zain, don’t go too far. Come back in ten minutes; dinner will be ready,” Amma said as Zain got ready to visit Usman.

He nodded, then left with a smile. While we waited, I helped my mom and Amma prepare, chatting about trivial things that made everything feel normal again. Zain returned soon enough, and we sat together, eating the meal I’d helped prepare. Afterward, he excused himself to rest, leaving me with my mom and Amma.

As the evening wore on, Amma and I made our way to her house There, sitting comfortably, she turned to me, her expression soft but concerned. “Hana, why did you make such a long journey in your condition? That was very careless. What if something had happened to you?”

Her words stung, a mixture of disappointment and worry. I bit my lip, bracing myself for the conversation I had been dreading. My voice barely rose above a whisper. “I’m not... I’m not in that condition anymore.”

Her brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“I… miscarried,” I said, the weight of the admission settling heavily in the room. “Almost five weeks ago.”

The shock in her eyes was palpable, and I could feel my heart constrict as I saw the pain register on her face. “What? How?”

I swallowed hard, my voice strained. “I tripped... and I fell.”

Silence filled the room, so heavy it felt suffocating. Amma stared at me for what seemed like an eternity before she spoke again, her voice firm. “Go and rest. We’ll talk about this tomorrow.”

I nodded, knowing full well that she would discuss this with my mom tonight. I wanted to explain further, to make sure there were no misunderstandings, but the coldness in her demeanor made it clear that this conversation was over. Defeated, I stood up, said goodnight, and left for home.

Zain was already waiting for me, concern etched into his features. I told him what had happened, the conversation replaying in my mind like a bad dream. He shook his head, the fear in his eyes matching mine. “I told you we should have told someone, even if it was just Sadeeq.”

I sighed, feeling the weight of my own stubbornness. “I thought I could handle it... but now…”

The next morning, after a restless night, I stepped out of the shower only to be greeted by a call from my dad. He had just arrived from Yerwa Fato.

“Barka da safiya,” I greeted him, my voice steady despite the storm brewing inside me.

“Barka, Hana,” he replied, his tone unusually serious. “I want to see you. Bring Zain with you.”

The second I hung up, a cold dread washed over me. My heart plummeted into my stomach, a sinking feeling that something was coming, something I wasn’t ready for.