BROKEN

03

Chapter 03: CASUAL INTROS

Zaria, Kaduna.
1997.

Ayesha, steeled in her resolve, returned to her hostel room, dismissing the matrons' inquiries. Inside, a peculiar scene unfolded: her roommates, sprawled on the floor in a makeshift circle, were engrossed in a snack-filled gathering with provisions scattered around. Startled, Ayesha announced her presence with a casual "Salaam," her voice breaking the quietude. Six pairs of curious eyes swivelled towards her, a mix of surprise and concern evident in their gaze.

With a sigh, she flopped onto her bed, wincing as the thin mattress offered little comfort. The room was heavy with unspoken tension. Her roommates, despite knowing her stubborn nature, exchanged worried glances. They awaited a sign, a word, any indication of her well-being. Yet, Ayesha remained silent, her mind a whirlwind of thoughts.

The quiet was deafening. Each tick of the clock seemed to amplify the tension, the air thick with anticipation. Her roommates, a quartet of diverse personalities, were accustomed to her quirks, but this prolonged silence was unsettling. They knew better than to pry, respecting her need for solitude. However, their concern was palpable, a silent vigil that filled the room.

"Ishou," Asmau's voice, sharp and urgent, cut through the tense silence. Ayesha, unperturbed, merely raised an eyebrow, her gaze fixed on the wall.

"Seriously, Ayesha? You've got some serious explaining to do. Start talking," Asmau the impatient one demanded, her glare intense. Ayesha, unfazed, met her gaze with a defiant stare.

"I don't know what you're all talking about," she replied, her voice flat.

Asmau, exasperated, pointed towards the scattered provisions. "And what's with all this? Who sent it? What's the occasion?"

"I didn't see the sender. And I don't know why they sent it," Ayesha responded, her tone dismissive.

Aaliya, who had remained silent until now, finally broke her silence. "Well, who better to know than the recipient? You're going to have to explain sooner or later, so you might as well do it now."

Ayesha, unmoved, sat up straighter, a serene smile spreading across her face. "What do you think it is? It's pretty obvious, isn't it?" she teased, her voice dripping with mystery and irony.

"My father married me off during the holidays, right after the exams," Ayesha revealed, her voice flat. "He might or might not be the one who brought the provisions. I don't really know." She shrugged, leaning back against her pillow.

Her friends exchanged stunned glances. Ayesha was never the marrying type. She had her own dreams, her own aspirations. How could her father betray her trust like this? The question hung heavy in the air, unspoken yet understood.

"What do you mean, you're married?" Amah finally managed to articulate, her voice filled with disbelief.

Ayesha sighed, her eyes scanning their faces. "Exactly what I said. My father married me off," she repeated, her voice heavy with resignation. "He forced me into a marriage with a stranger. A man I've never met."

A wave of silence washed over the room as her friends struggled to process the shocking news. They knew Ayesha's dreams of becoming a nurse, a writer, and a wife to her beloved Muhammad Bello. How could her father, a man of faith and reason, shatter those dreams so cruelly?

The room was heavy with unspoken questions. How could this happen? Why hadn't she mentioned it earlier? What were her plans now? A myriad of thoughts swirled in their minds, each more perplexing than the last.

Ayesha sighed resigned as her heart ached with the weight of her newfound reality. She was a prisoner of her father's decision, forced to sacrifice her future for the sake of tradition and societal expectations - a wave of anger and frustration washed over her, but it was quickly replaced by a deep sense of sadness as she closes her eyes slowly.

"What do you plan to do, now? I mean, he doesn't seem like your type or anything."

"Were you conveyed? Did you...? Wait, you haven't have...right???"

"What do you plan to do now? I mean, he doesn't seem like your type at all," Asma'u asked, her voice laced with concern.

Ama chimed in, her eyes wide with disbelief. "Were you even consulted? Did you... you know... consent?"

Ayesha sighed, her heart heavy. "I didn't. I was as shocked as you are. My father... he just decided."

The room fell silent. Her friends exchanged worried glances. They knew Ayesha, her dreams, her aspirations. This was a nightmare, a cruel twist of fate. They wanted to comfort her, to offer solutions, but they were at a loss for words.

"We'll figure this out together," Aaliyah assured her, her voice gentle. "We won't let this ruin your life."

Ayesha managed a weak smile. "I hope so," she murmured, her voice barely audible. She yearned for a way out, a way to reclaim her destiny. But for now, she was lost - adrift in a sea of uncertainty. And she can only wish for everything to fall in place.

.~.

Ibrahim Sani stood before the weathered gate of the  Hussein's household, thinking of ways to push forward the conveyance of Ayesha to her matrimonial home - his home. For his mother, Nanu has been on his neck to bring home his said wife not hiding her dislike for her son's new wife which is partly  because of her financial  background and mostly her tribe. She hates her with an unhidden passion that somehow terrified Ibrahim but he  did everything he could to hide it convincing himself with the fact that she'll come around because she had a lovely personality.

He remembered the first time he saw her, a young girl with a fiery spirit and a sharp wit. She’d been arguing with a group of boys, her voice rising in protest. Ibrahim had been impressed by her courage and her intelligence. He’d spent countless hours observing her from afar, admiring her resilience and her unwavering determination even-though at the time he wasn't considering her as a potential wife or anything. Just a little girl with fiery spirit, a sister - his best friend's sister. But circumstances has changed and he'd accepted it with wide open arms.

And now, as he stood before her family’s home, a sense of unease washed over him. He knew that this marriage was far from ideal. His mother’s disdain for Ayesha’s humble background was a constant source of tension. He feared that their forced union would only lead to heartache and disappointment-more from Ayesha's side because he's sure she's a force to be reckoned with.

Shaking off the nostalgia, Ibrahim turned his attention back to the present. As he knocked on the door, he couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt. He knew this wasn’t the life Ayesha deserved. Yet, he was trapped in a web of societal expectations and family obligations or is it friendly obligations? He took a deep breath, steeling himself for what was to come and while he had initially viewed the marriage as a mere formality, he couldn’t deny the growing attraction he felt towards her.

Since the marriage had been formalized, Zubair had gone out of his way to win over the Hussein family. He’d showered them with gifts, paid off debts, and generally been a generous son-in-law. He hoped that by proving his worth, he could eventually gain their acceptance and, perhaps, even their affection. His brotherly bond with Ayesha’s older brother had also helped to solidify his position within the family.

He’d always been a man of quiet strength, a thoughtful and considerate individual. His generosity was well-known, and he often went out of his way to help others.

Despite his efforts, Ayesha’s defiance continued to frustrate him. He was determined to win her heart, to make her see him not as a mere husband but as a partner, a friend, and a lover. He was ready to wait, to be patient. But he also knew that he wouldn’t hesitate to take decisive action if necessary.

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And the chapter is written in third person's pov. Do you prefer it in third person's pov or first?

Thanks for reading and,
A milli du'a

Sals💕.