Dasuki State, Nigeria.
2023.
It wasn’t long after they returned from Taraweeh prayer that Nini got into a heated discussion with Abba. For the first time, she complained about Aunty Nana, as this time, she had involved an outsider.
Umaimah overheard their conversation after taking her bride price from Abba. It was handed to her in a brown envelope, containing cash.
"As our religion entails, here is your bride price," Abba had said as he passed it to her.
She had tried to decline, insisting he should keep it, but Abba had been firm. With no other choice, she strolled back to her room holding the envelope, which contained ₦200,000 in cash.
Once in her room, she stared at the envelope for a moment before tucking it away in her closet. Abba had mentioned that Nabeel had initially offered more than ₦200,000, but he had declined the excess, stating it was not proper to give too much for a bride price. "It’s not about the amount but the blessings," Abba had explained.
Later, Umaimah found herself in the living room with Yazid and Nabeel. They were engrossed in a video game—a pastime Yazid used to share with Sauban. That thought tugged at her emotions, but she masked it well.
When Yazid eventually won, Nabeel, unwilling to accept his defeat, smirked and said, "I was just easy on you. I didn’t want you to cry." His remark drew laughter from Yazid and Umaimah.
“Listen up, I have something to say,” Umaimah announced, her tone suddenly serious.
Both Yazid and Nabeel turned their attention to her, curious about what she had to say. An idea had just formed in her mind, and she saw no reason not to voice it.
“What are you guys doing about the Asma situation?” she asked.
The silence that followed her question was answer enough—they were doing nothing.
“I have an idea,” she continued. “Bring Asma to meet Nini.”
Yazid frowned and shook his head. “No, that’s not a good idea.”
“It is,” Umaimah countered. “Convince Nini. Show her that Asma isn’t like her family.”
“I completely agree with Umaimah on this one,” Nabeel chimed in. “Bring her for iftar tomorrow.”
“Yeah,” Umaimah added, her excitement building. “I’ll arrange everything. It’ll be a surprise, and Nini won’t be mean to her.”
Yazid sighed, reluctant but outnumbered. “Okay,” he finally agreed, getting up to make a phone call to Asma.
With Yazid gone, Nabeel turned to Umaimah, holding out an envelope. “Here,” he said. “You didn’t think I’d pay only money, did you? Especially after you threw it in my face that I hadn’t paid yet.”
Umaimah took the envelope, curious, and gave him a small shrug. “Goodnight,” she said before retreating to her room.
Once alone, she opened the envelope. Her breath caught in her throat. Inside were car keys and papers—a Mercedes Benz. She didn’t know how to drive, but at that moment, it didn’t matter.
She unfolded the papers and scanned them until her eyes landed on her name: Maryam Umaimah Bello. It was the name she had chosen when she started studying online. Abba had told her she could choose another name if she didn’t want to use Bello due to the bitter memories it carried, but she had decided to honor her father despite everything.
The next day, after Sahur, Umaimah showed the papers to Nini, who gasped. “It’s a house,” Nini whispered in awe. “Ya Allah, a house and a car!”
Nabeel had spared no expense, and even the wedding invitations had been printed the day before. The wedding was now less than a month away, but Umaimah still struggled to process it. Everything felt surreal, like a dream she hadn’t fully woken from.
Nini had already booked a woman from Maiduguri for gyaran jiki, the traditional bridal beautification process, which was set to begin the next day. That afternoon, Umaimah and Nini sat together, browsing furniture online. Nini, unsurprisingly, gravitated toward the most expensive options.
“Nini, these are too expensive,” Umaimah protested. “We could get a carpenter to make something similar for less than a million naira.”
“Who said I’m looking for something cheap?” Nini replied firmly. “Umaimah, all your life, I wasn’t there to take care of you, spoil you, or give you the good things in life. Why do you think I wouldn’t give them to you now? This is your moment to enjoy and live to the fullest.”
With that, they settled on furniture worth millions of naira and continued their online shopping spree.
Later that day, Umaimah’s phone rang. It was Maria.
“Mrs. Imran, done with your honeymoon and finally remembering me, huh?” Umaimah teased.
Maria laughed. “I’m done with mine. Now it’s your turn, latest Amarya.”
Their conversation quickly turned to the wedding, with Maria insisting that it would be nothing short of spectacular.
“This is the wedding of Nabeel Shamaki,” Maria declared. “We’re going all out—photographers, videographers, wedding planners. Are your clothes even ready?”
“Actually, I’ve done nothing yet,” Umaimah admitted.
Maria groaned dramatically. “You’ve got three weeks, Umaimah! I’m coming to Dasuki in a week to take over. You’re not ruining this for me.”
Umaimah smiled at her friend’s determination. Maria truly was her mother’s daughter—everything had to be exquisite.
After the call, a notification from Instagram caught Umaimah’s attention. A new account, Namaimah23, had been created as the official wedding page. Though her own account was bare and had only five followers, this one had already gained 1,000.
A voice note from Maria followed soon after. “You didn’t think I was joking about this wedding being a blast, did you? Nabeel’s already following. Hit that follow button!”
Maria was clearly taking this wedding far more seriously than Umaimah herself.
As iftar approached, Umaimah set the table for five.
“Five? You forgot. Abba isn’t having dinner with us,” Nini remarked.
“We have a visitor coming,” Umaimah replied casually, not revealing that Asma would be arriving.
“I had no idea,” Nini replied.
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ORNAMENTS✅
Mystery / Thriller©2024 Copyrights. ❝It's you i want not your virginity, literacy or marriage count.❞ Nabeel became her shadow, her protector in a world that had abandoned her. He fought for her, bled for her, and, in the end, claimed her as his own. In his arms, she...
