Usman strode purposefully through the room, his movements imbued with a mix of restlessness and anticipation. With his arms folded across his chest, he cast occasional glances at his watch, a manifestation of his growing impatience. Sa'ada entered the elegant parlour, her presence unnoticed by Usman, who was lost in his thoughts. Exhausted from a long day, she collapsed onto the plush three-seater chair, stretching her weary limbs.
Usman turned towards her, his face a mask of seriousness. "You must be exhausted, considering the late hour of your return. I thought you had morning duties today," he inquired, his gaze penetrating into her soul. His mood was dark, his emotions turbulent.
A frown formed on Sa'ada's face as she responded, adjusting herself on the chair. "Why are you asking such a question? Where else would I be apart from work?" Her voice held a hint of frustration, as if trying to convey the weight of her weariness.
Usman pointed at the time displayed on his watch. "Look at the hour. I believed you had morning duties, yet you return at this late hour, well past 7 pm."
Sa'ada sighed, a mixture of weariness and concern in her voice. "Today was unusually hectic at the hospital. Sister Maryam asked for my assistance, as her daughter fell ill, leaving me with no choice but to continue her duties."
Usman emitted a disapproving sound, his frustration mounting. "So, because I hold no significance in your life, you simply forget to make a simple phone call, informing me of your delayed return?" His tone grew dangerously sharp, reflecting the turmoil within him.
Sa'ada shook her head, lips pursed, and rose from her seat. "Please, Usman, I'm tired," she implored, making her way towards their bedroom.
Usman followed her, his anger unabated. As he entered the room, he emitted an exasperated sigh, taking a seat on the edge of the bed. He waited, his impatience palpable in the air.
Moments later, Sa'ada emerged from the bathroom, her damp hair wrapped in a towel. Usman, who had been sitting on the bed, rose to his feet, his eyes narrowing as he scrutinized her. Suspicion lingered in his gaze, his mind haunted by doubts.
"What have you been doing?" Usman questioned, his voice tinged with skepticism as he locked eyes with her.
Sa'ada met his gaze with exasperation, pressing her lips together. "What's wrong with you? Didn't you see me coming from the bathroom? I took a shower. Isn't that normal?" Her tone carried a tinge of wrath, an unwillingness to be unjustly accused.
"You return from work and take a shower just before prayer. How can I believe it wasn't Janaba?" Usman's doubts persisted, his voice tinged with a mix of concern and frustration.
Rolling her eyes, Sa'ada responded, her anger simmering. "I don't understand why you're acting this way. Do you doubt me? Do you think I'm cheating on you?" Her words carried the weight of her own disbelief and fury.
His answer came sharply, fueled by his mounting doubts. "Yes, I doubt you. I cannot believe that you were at the hospital. You need to tell me where you were," he demanded, his eyes piercing into her own.
A gasp escaped Sa'ada's lips, her voice trembling. "I am not that kind of woman, Usman. I would never betray our marriage by seeing another man. Just because we engaged in premarital relations does not make me cheap. You can go to the hospital and verify. There are security cameras that can vouch for my presence." She clutched her waist, her indignation evident.
In a moment of blind fury, Usman's hand lashed out, slapping Sa'ada across the face. Tears welled up in her eyes as she held her stinging cheek. "Did you just slap me, Usman?" Her voice quivered, a mixture of hurt and disbelief.
Without uttering a word, Usman abruptly left the house, his anger propelling him forward. He found himself driving aimlessly, lost in a sea of tumultuous emotions. Eventually, he arrived in front of Zainab's house, his car idling as he contemplated his next move. After a brief moment of hesitation, he sent a young boy to fetch Zainab.
Zainab, who had been in her room immersed in her own worries, heard the boy's message. She knew instantly that it was Usman at her doorstep, as he was the only one who addressed her as Zainab. With a mix of curiosity and concern, she stepped out to meet him, her eyes meeting his. Seeing the genuine smile on his face, a wave of emotions washed over her, leaving her emotionally paralyzed. Usman had undergone a transformation, his once towering figure diminished, weight lost, and complexion darkened.
Returning his smile, Zainab approached him, as she always had. "I don't know why you're here, but can we sit here for a few minutes?" he requested, his eyes pleading for understanding.
They sat together in silence, finding solace in each other's presence. Eventually, Zainab broke the silence, her voice filled with compassion. "Please, Usman, be strong. Every cloud has a silver lining."
Usman, overcome with his own pain, responded curtly. "Please, Zainab, don't add insult to my injured heart. Nothing can comfort me right now," he replied, cutting her off abruptly.
With a resigned nod, Zainab acknowledged his response. They both rose from their seats, silently parting ways. As she watched Usman drive away, a sense of worry washed over Zainab. She hoped that, in time, he would find healing and peace.
Days passed, and Zainab found herself increasingly distressed. Her father had given her an ultimatum, demanding that she bring a man she wished to marry before her service concluded. He even went as far as insisting that she hurry and finalize the arrangements, or he would choose a suitor for her.
In her room, seeking solace, Zainab immersed herself in the pages of the Qur'an. The familiar verses provided a semblance of comfort amidst her growing anxieties. Suddenly, her younger brother Ibrahim entered, informing her that their father wanted to see her. Her heart raced, and her stomach twisted in anticipation. She knew the conversation would revolve around her deadline to find a husband, and she feared her father's reaction to her answer.
In the courtyard, her father sat on a seating mound, waiting for her arrival. Zainab greeted him, her eyes downcast as she took a seat, fidgeting with her fingers, silently praying for mercy.
Clearing his throat, her father began. "I've been waiting for your answer all week, and today is the deadline. Who is the man?" His gaze bore into her, his words heavy with expectation.
"Baba, please grant me more time. I'm not ready yet," Zainab pleaded, her voice trembling, her eyes welling up with tears.
Her father's eyes widened in surprise. "More time? Let me tell you, I cannot bear to have an unmarried daughter. I cannot endure the whispers and judgments. You will marry Malam Musa as soon as you finish your service."
Zainab looked up, her face a mix of shock and fear. It dawned on her that her father had been considerate, even in his own way. He sought a husband for her, and in his desire to give her a chance, he had chosen Malam Musa.
With raised eyebrows, her father continued, "Yes, him. He wishes to marry you, and I asked him to wait, hoping you would find your own path." A hint of regret softened his features as he spoke.
Zainab felt a whirlwind of emotions, a mixture of surprise, apprehension, and gratitude. Her father had shown her unexpected leniency, giving her the opportunity to make her own choice. As she contemplated her future, she realized that every cloud indeed had a silver lining.