Bibi's POV
Abuja, Nigeria.It started with a phone call.
I was lounging on the couch, scrolling mindlessly through my phone, when Mama's name flashed on the screen.
At first, I smiled, happy to hear from her.
But the second I answered, I could hear it in her voice — the tightness, the weight."Bibi, Your father..." she paused, "has been summoned to court." I sat up straighter. "Already? When is the hearing?" "It's about Hajara," she said quietly.
"You siblings they've finally managed to bring the case forward. An investigation into her death."I remembered the day Aunty Shafa first told me about it right before my wedding with Ayman.
It was one of those heavy conversations, sitting on the edge of my bed, as she finally peeled back the layers of lies I had grown up believing.Until then, I had known only the basics. That my parents divorced when I was a baby. That I had three step-siblings somewhere in the world. Nothing more. Nothing messy.
But on that night before I became someone's wife, Aunty Shafa had told me the truth:That My Father was a man with demons. That before her, there was another woman.
That whispers of abuse, of bruises hidden under sleeves, of screams behind closed doors, had followed him like shadows.And when Hajara died, it wasn't the peaceful passing they had written in the family obituary. It was sudden. It was suspicious. And it was buried, just like her.
Uncle Faiz and Uncle Bashir had tried to intervene back then, but with lack of evidence and support from his children to help expose their father had silenced them.Until now. Now, it was all resurfacing.
"Your Uncle Bashir said the first hearing is next week," Mama continued. "And Faiz is helping organize legal representation for your siblings you'll meet them then."
I pressed my hand against my chest, trying to slow the panic rising inside. "What does this mean for us?" I whispered. "It means," Mama said, voice soft but firm, "that Allah's justice is slow but it is certain. It was never your burden to carry his sins, Bibi. Do you hear me?"
I nodded even though she couldn't see me. Because what else could I say? I wasn't the one on trial. But I felt like I was standing in a courtroom too judged by memories, by bloodlines, by choices that weren't even mine.
That night, I couldn't sleep. I kept thinking about Hajara.
A woman I never knew. A woman who should have had a lifetime, but whose life was reduced to rumors and silence.I wondered if she had felt trapped. Alone. Broken.
I wondered if that was why marriage felt more like a cage to me than a sanctuary.
Maybe some cages are just inherited even if you never see the bars.I pulled my prayer mat out, letting the tears fall freely as I made sujood. Begging Allah to protect me from becoming a silent story too. Begging Him to let my life be one of light, not hidden screams.
The shadows were stirring again. And this time, I wasn't a child. I would face them with my head high, even if my heart trembled.
The day of the hearing came faster than I expected. The court was packed family members, journalists, strangers who had caught wind of the scandal.
I sat tucked between Uncle Faiz and Uncle Bashir, my mother gripping my hand so tightly it hurt. But I didn't pull away. I needed her strength.When He walked in, wearing a stiff kaftan and a cold expression my stomach turned and he turned to look at me. He didn't look like a monster. He looked like any other man. But I knew better now.
The judge entered, the murmurs died down, and the proceedings began. One after the other, the witnesses came forward. Neighbors from years ago, old friends of Hajara's family, even a former house help their testimonies wove together the story that they all knew but were once too afraid to speak.
Bruises. Screams. Hospital visits covered up with lies.
And the night Hajara died the screams that had echoed down the street but had been dismissed as a "family matter."Evidence was presented medical reports, old photographs, testimonies collected painstakingly over the years. Who knew Nigeria had a thing for keep accurate records And for the first time, His mask slipped. I saw it in the way he clenched his jaw, in the way his hands shook slightly as the witnesses spoke.
The prosecution built their case like a fortress. And His defense? Flimsy. Half-hearted. Desperate. When the judge finally asked if he had anything to say for himself, the courtroom held its breath. He stood there, defiant.
"I loved her, this is all a misunderstanding I would never kill my wife. She died of natural causes" he said. A lie so bold, it was almost laughable.The judge's verdict was clear. Guilty. Sentenced to decades behind bars for abuse, manslaughter, and obstruction of justice. The moment the gavel slammed down, a strange stillness filled the courtroom.
Not sadness. Not triumph. But relief.
Mama broke down silently beside me, holding tightly onto my hand as tears streamed down her cheeks.
Uncle Faiz closed his eyes, whispering Alhamdulillah under his breath. Uncle Bashir just kept shaking his head, like he couldn't believe justice had actually arrived after all these years. And as for Ayman he gave a flimsy excuse of having an important issue he needed to tackle at work so he wouldn't make it.As the guards led the man who is my supposed father away, he didn't look back once. Not at me. Not at Mama. Not at anyone. And that was fine.
Because we weren't part of his story anymore. We were free. Outside the courthouse, the sun was shining brighter than I had seen in months.It felt poetic.
Like Allah Himself was reminding us that after darkness, there is always light. Always.As we stood on the courthouse steps, Mama turned to me, her voice steady for the first time since this morning.
"This chapter is closed, Bibi. And these are your siblings Fatima, Nabil and Marwan. I smiled through my tears going in to give them a hug I was thankful that mama left and I wasn't the one that went through all the abuse but at the same Time I feel so bad for them but insha'Allah it was over and they could finally live their lives."Finally these two boys won't pester me about being the youngest and I have a sister now." Fatima sticking a tongue out at them and we all laughed.
"I would love to invite you all over for lunch at my house this weekend if it's fine by all of you." I asked"Why are you even asking, we'll be there insha'Allah." She replied again "I'll be there earlier than them so we can cook together and bond a bit." She smiles and i nod.
Some more people to call family. You know what to hell with Ayman and his feelings I think I can't very well do without him. I have a whole village now.السلام عليكم
They're finally free🥳 so happy for them I'm glad their father also got what he deserves he brought it upon himself. I really love this version I'm rewriting 😂 so proud of myself.Don't forget to VOTE COMMENT AND SHARE XX💋

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Life Without You✔️.
Romance{Completed} Copyright © 2020 Nadia Ahmad Lawal, known as Bibi, is a young lady filled with hope and love, despite being raised by just her mother after being abandoned by her father as a baby, Bibi's world is turned upside down when she discovers he...