NusaibaMTukur
- Reads 445
- Votes 28
- Parts 23
That morning, she cried more than she ever had before. She didn't cry because of hunger alone-though her stomach ached-but because for the first time in her young life, she missed her mother with a pain that burned.
If her mother were alive, she would not have gone hungry that morning.
As the day dragged on, the ache in her stomach worsened, but the ache in her heart was louder.
Talatu made sure she felt every bit of it.
She fed her own children first-large plates of tuwo and soup, meat served with pride. Even the youngest of her sons ate until his belly bulged.
But ummu Abeeha sat in a corner, eyes swollen, lips trembling.
When the sun was high and the house had grown quiet, Talatu finally turned to her.
"Go and carry the pot," she said coldly. "Scrape the bottom. That burnt part. That's your share."
Ummu Abeeha didn't move.
"I said go! You're not my daughter. You're just a visitor. A female child who belongs to another family."
With weak legs, Ummu Abeeha stood up. She walked toward the blackened pot, picked it up with trembling hands, and carried it outside.
But when fate ties her to Ahmad-her second husband at the age of sixteen, a man she feared would bring her ruin-she prepares for another storm.
But what she finds is something she's never truly known: kindness, protection... and a love that begins to heal even the deepest wounds.