Everyone in the house was subdued. Though Aliyu was not known for excessive talk, today's silence was heavier than ever.

In the main sitting room, a woman paced back and forth, hands clasped behind her. She couldn’t sit, nor stand still. She kept calling Aliyu’s number, but he wasn’t picking up. Suddenly, an elderly woman entered the parlor. Despite her age, her face and body showed signs of comfort and care. A single glance would reveal she was Aliyu’s mother—they looked so much alike. She was a true Fulani woman, slender and fair-skinned.

“Madam, Alhaji is back,” she said, “but he’s clearly distressed. We don’t yet know what condition the younger Madam is in.”

The pacing woman slowly turned and looked at the elder woman. Without smiling, she replied:

“Thank you, Hajja. Please go to the kitchen and prepare dinner.”

She then picked up her veil and left her own wing, heading toward Aliyu’s section. All the servants stiffened and bowed respectfully—this was Ammi, Aliyu’s mother. She didn’t respond to their greetings or even look at them.

She climbed up and entered his room.

She stopped at his bedside, staring down at him, filled with overwhelming motherly compassion.

“You mean to tell me... if the staff hadn’t told me that Mami wasn’t feeling well, you wouldn’t have told me at all? You’ve all been at the hospital since morning. Am I not your mother?”

Startled, Aliyu sat up in bed and looked at her, his eyes still not fully focused.

“I’m so sorry, Ammi. I was completely confused. Even Mami’s family only found out when she told them. And we met Khalil at the hospital. He told everyone at Baba Madaki’s house. That’s where we all left them.”

As Aliyu explained, Ammi stared at him silently. She deeply disliked the household of Baba Madaki, the ancestral home of Aliyu’s paternal family. All of Aliyu’s uncles lived there, just behind their mansion in Galadanci, except Aliyu’s father who had moved out. Ammi had no relationship with his paternal relatives.

“You really hurt me with what you did,” Ammi said, and then she left the room.

Aliyu laid back down, remembering that his phones were with Musa—he had turned them off, anticipating the flood of calls he didn’t want to answer.

He didn’t get up again until almost Maghrib (sunset prayer). He went to the bathroom, took a shower, and came out wearing a clean white jallabiya. He sprayed himself with a sweet perfume and headed to the mosque inside the compound. The peaceful atmosphere helped him calm down. After prayers and greeting the household staff, he went to Ammi’s section, but she wasn’t there. His younger sisters, Sajidah and Safnah, were watching TV in the parlor, having just returned from Bayero University, where they were in their second year.

Aliyu entered a small white Honda Civic, put on a cap, and partially covered his face to avoid being recognized. The guards opened the massive gate. As he exited, the crowd of youth outside surprised him. He quickly sped off to avoid being noticed.

In no time, he reached the hospital. He honked, the gate was opened, and he parked and rushed to the ward where Mami, his wife, was admitted.

He entered. She was still lying there, the blood transfusion bags empty, and already disconnected. Ammi was sitting with Mami’s mother and her younger sisters, all lost in thought.

One look at Mami’s mother showed she resembled Ammi—they were sisters from the same father.

Aliyu knelt and greeted her warmly. She responded kindly and quietly left the room. Ammi also gave him a cold glance and left behind her. Mami’s sisters followed.

It was just Aliyu and Mami now, alone in the room.