ORNAMENTS ✅

Chapter Fifty One

Dasuki State, Nigeria
2023

Umaimah sat in stunned silence, her eyes fixed on the ownership papers in her hands. A piece of land—hers. She owned land. The thought alone felt surreal, almost laughable. Who would have thought? And as if that weren't enough, a brand-new Mercedes sat outside, a gift from Nabeel. The surprises seemed endless.

Memories of Marari surfaced, those painful days when three men had rejected her. She had wept bitterly back then, believing her fate was sealed in heartbreak. But now, looking back, she thanked God she hadn't ended up with any of them. If she had, she would have been stuck in Marari, married to a man who likely believed he had done her a favor by accepting her.

A small smile tugged at her lips as she recalled Nabeel's words:
"I want to be the cause of everything—your smile, your sadness, just me."

It was so cheesy. Yet, it lingered in her mind, a quiet promise she couldn't ignore.

Still, unease settled in her chest. Things were going too well, almost unnaturally so. Whenever life seemed too perfect, she couldn't shake the feeling that something would go wrong. Maybe it was because things had never gone smoothly for her before, or maybe—just maybe—her instincts were right.

Days turned into weeks, and Eid was now just around the corner. Every television channel carried the same breaking news—Alhaji Yabo was set to be hanged a week after the Eid prayers. It was Eid-el-Fitr, after all, or else she might have jokingly wondered if the judge intended to use him as a sacrificial lamb.

A pang of guilt hit her. Despite all his crimes, Alhaji Yabo had been kind to her, treating her like his own daughter. He had always given her the same amount of money he gave his own child. Yet, even with that kindness, she didn't want him to be spared. She still missed Sauban—he would have been her wedding planner.

Yawning for what felt like the hundredth time since waking up, Umaimah ran a hand through her disheveled hair. If the woman who did her gyaran jiki saw her now, she would scold her mercilessly.

"Umaimah!" Nini's voice cut through her thoughts as she barged into the room. "Put on your hijab and come with me."

Umaimah groaned inwardly. Where to this early in the morning? All she wanted was to rest. But Nini had that impatient look on her face—the kind that meant refusal was not an option.

"Good morning, Nini," she greeted, glancing at the wall clock. It was already 1:00 p.m. She had slept way too much.

Stretching, she admired her skin in the mirror—bridal skincare really worked wonders. With a sigh, she wrestled into the hijab that still lay on the floor from her Subh prayer. She didn't bother asking again where they were going; she'd find out soon enough.

"At least let me freshen up—I look scary," she grumbled after catching her reflection in the mirror.

"Just come with me," Nini insisted, grinning mischievously. "We're not going to see Nabeel."

Umaimah rolled her eyes but followed her out of the room.

The living room was a sight to behold. Twenty-five luxurious boxes lay on the carpet, five sets containing five boxes each.

Her kayan lefe. Her Bridal boxes.

Her vision blurred with unshed tears. Nabeel was going all out for their wedding—their wedding.

"Surprise, surprise," Maria's voice rang out, breaking Umaimah's trance.

Umaimah turned, stunned. Maria wasn't joking when she said she would visit Dasuki. She had been expecting her earlier, but seeing her now still caught her off guard.