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At exactly half past eleven, Mahmud woke up — hunger was what woke him. His eyes fixed on her; she was still sleeping peacefully, using his shoulder as a pillow. He reached out and touched the side of her face, her hair lying smoothly, and lightly tugged at her nose. She frowned slightly, opening her eyes slowly. Their eyes met, but she quickly looked away and closed hers again.

“Get up so we can bathe and you can give me food. It seems like no amount of sleep is enough for you.”

She pulled her body away, still with her eyes closed, drawing the blanket to her chest.

“You go first, then I’ll do mine,” she said, turning her back to him.

He smiled faintly and leaned close to her face.

“Okay, no problem. Go and prepare my bathwater so I can bathe first. Then you’ll make me something to eat.”

She sat up slowly, stretching herself as she prepared to stand in front of him.

“Give me my shirt so I can wear it and then prepare it for you.”

Without argument, he picked up her shirt and handed it to her. She took it, put it on, and walked toward the bathroom.

After making sure she was preoccupied with what she was doing, he got up and followed her into the bathroom. She was pouring perfume into the bathwater she had prepared when, unexpectedly, she saw him walk in, wearing only his boxers. He moved toward where she was standing, and she quickly stepped aside, head lowered, not letting their eyes meet.

“It’s ready,” she said as she placed down the container in her hand, turning to leave. She had barely taken two steps when he lifted her up suddenly and stepped with her into the water, clothes and all.

She let out a sigh and said, “Please, stop… I already bathed.”

“I know. You’ll help me — after all, I’m your guest, and you should take care of me, even bathing me. You’ve kept me restless since you warned me before I came back to you. Now, all your time belongs to me.”

Just as she opened her mouth to speak, he placed a finger on her lips.

“Remember, you don’t talk inside the bathroom? Let’s bathe first, then we’ll talk later.”

He pulled her close and began removing her soaked clothes. Shy and trembling from a mix of fear and a strange kind of embarrassment she had never felt before, she was overwhelmed — never in her life had she been in such a private, enclosed situation with a grown man. When their bodies touched, she trembled as if feverish. They bathed together, though he was the only one really doing anything; she was simply… present.

When he was satisfied, he finished his bath and left her there. She composed herself before coming out. By then, he was already dressed in casual clothes, fastening his watch. She stood in the bathroom doorway, neither returning inside nor going over to him, eyes cast downward, noticing he somehow looked completely different — fresher, more handsome, as if someone had swapped him for another man.

He walked toward her. “Please get ready, I want to go out after the zuhr prayer.”

As he headed for the door, she went to the mirror to dry herself, noticing a hair dryer nearby. She quickly dried her hair, dressed in dark brown English-style clothes, paired with a milk-colored veil she rolled neatly, and sprayed her perfume. In her handbag, she spotted the medicine that Hajiyar Makwarari had given her. Smiling slightly, she thought to herself, I’ll come and apologize to you, Hajiya — I know I wronged you, but it was circumstances that made me act that way.

She began tidying the room, removing the bedsheets and checking certain spots for what she was looking for. Luckily, she found it — taking one out and spreading it — when he walked in while on the phone. He gestured for her to come, and she obeyed. Taking her hand, he led her to the door and, with a touch to some hidden spot, opened it. She watched in surprise — everything about him in this house puzzled her.

They passed through the second parlour, him still on the phone, seemingly discussing business. They went straight to the dining room. After seating her, he pressed a spot on the table. Not long after, a young man entered through another door.

Without speaking beyond his greeting, which Zahra replied to, Mahmud ended his call and turned to the man.

“Safwan, I don’t want to hear that people in this town know I’m around. Did you go to where I sent you yesterday?”

“Yes, boss, everything’s back to normal. They’ve even started work again. But Zayyan said that woman keeps coming close to the house but doesn’t actually enter — she just turns back.”

“Alright, no problem. Just go, and when you return, bring fresh milk and fruits for the kitchen.”

“Okay, sir, thank you.” He began to leave, but Mahmud called after him:

“Safwan, I didn’t see you greet madam. She’s Hausa, so don’t think she won’t understand you. I think I’ll have to send you to an English school, since that’s the only thing you seem to struggle with.”

Scratching his head, Safwan returned.

“Sorry, our aunty, I thought you didn’t understand our language. Good morning.”

“I’m fine. How’s work?” she replied.

“Alhamdulillah, aunty. May Allah increase your provision and keep you here in the boss’s house, for the sake of the Prophet of Mercy.”

“Ameen, Ya Hayyu Ya Qayyum,” Mahmud added.