Shafa lowered his head and spoke softly, trying to console her:

“Stop thinking that way, my princess. I don’t want you to burden your heart with such thoughts. You’re more important to us than anything. Please, stop saying that nobody loves you or cares about you. Knowing that you exist is the most precious gift I have. Even if everyone else turns their back on you, remember I will always be with you. Even if I am not around, you live inside my heart.”

He continued speaking tender, comforting words until she calmed down a little, her sobbing subsiding.

He tightened his arms around her, pulling her close to his chest. She went quiet, her face wet with tears, breathing heavily as though unburdening herself.

“Daddy, when will I be able to continue with school? You said I can only go back after I’m married. Please, Daddy, marry me off—because I want to go to school again, and I want to meet friends and build bonds with them. I’ve realized there are no age mates for me in this house, and that’s why no one really sits and chats with me…”

He gave a slight smile, realizing something was truly weighing on her heart, which was why she spoke that way.

“Don’t worry. I promise you, by the end of this year, I’ll get you married—and you will continue your schooling.”

She smiled brightly, comforted by his words. It lifted her loneliness, and she felt truly at ease with the attention he gave her. They spent a long time chatting together before finally rising from the couch, hand in hand, heading toward the living room.

When they entered, they found the household members gathered around the dining table, eating lunch. Alhaji Musa’s face darkened the moment he saw them laughing and enjoying themselves. It confirmed what Zeenatu had told him—that they didn’t care whether she ate or not.

He gripped her hand firmly and led her toward the dining table. His heavy footsteps caught everyone’s attention, and their hearts sank when they saw his stern expression.

As he reached the table, he seized the tablecloth and yanked it hard, sending all the food crashing to the floor. Everyone jumped to their feet in shock, staring at him in fear.

Terrified, Zeenatu clung to his back, her body trembling.

Hajiya Layla, furious, glared at him. “What kind of nonsense is this? How can you throw food on the floor like some unruly child while we’re eating?”

Before she could finish, he roared at her, pointing a finger. “Don’t you dare speak to me again—unless you want me to ruin you!”

She froze, speechless, staring at him in shock. Hajiya Sarah’s heart raced; she wrung her hands, pleading with him softly to calm down.

“Haba Musa, what kind of wastefulness is this? Do you think what you did is right in the name of Allah? What wrong have we done to you? Why disgrace us by throwing away our food?” Alhaji Ubaid spoke angrily.

But Musa glared at him, his voice sharp: “If Zeenatu cannot have peace in her father’s house, then none of you will! You sit here at ease, while you leave my daughter lonely and abandoned? You mean you don’t care about her? As long as you’re fine, that’s all that matters to you?”

His voice thundered as though he might strike them. Benazir and Shureim stood frozen, unable to utter a word.

“Babe, wallahi, it’s not like that. I don’t know what Zeenatu told you, but we didn’t forget her. Ask them—I even sent Tani to her bedroom to call her for food. But she refused, saying she wasn’t hungry. I’ve been struggling with her lately—I don’t understand her anymore. I even went myself to beg her to join us, but she still refused. So I left her, waiting until you returned so I could tell you.”

Musa only shot them a harsh glare, let out a long sigh, then stormed off toward his quarters in anger.

Hajiya Layla felt like chasing after him and strangling him, so great was her fury.

“Wallahi, Musa has no respect. I’m tired of his constant insults—just because we live in his house…”

Before she finished, Hajiya Sarah hurried after Musa. After she left, Shureim and Benazir tried to console their mother. Zeenatu watched silently, her heart bleeding—realizing that she had caused all this.

She broke into tears, trembling as she turned to leave for her room. But before she could get far, Dr. Shureim rushed after her, caught her arm, and dragged her back to the dining room. He sat her down firmly and demanded to know exactly what she had told Uncle Musa.

Through sobs, she confessed everything.

Benazir, frustrated, scolded her: “Haba, Zeenatu! Why would you do this to us? If we wronged you, why didn’t you just tell us directly? You know your father’s temper—look what you’ve caused now. Our food thrown away, our peace shattered—and you’re satisfied?”

She cried harder. But Alhaji Ubaid intervened gently: “Enough. Please. I don’t see Zeenatu’s fault here. Honestly, you don’t treat her well. You’re supposed to draw her closer. She only has you as siblings nearby. She’s still a child—you need to be patient with her.”

Hajiya Layla scoffed: “As for me, Zeenatu hasn’t wronged me. But her father has no sense at all. What kind of man listens to the words of a child and acts out like this? Foolishness!” She hissed, storming out. Alhaji Ubaid quickly followed to calm her down.

Still crying, Zeenatu said between sobs: “I’m really sorry if I upset you all. I didn’t tell him so that he would scold you. Aunty Benazir, I’m sorry. Yaya Shureim, forgive me too.”

Her remorse touched them; they began to feel they hadn’t treated her well. They softened and tried to comfort her.

Shureim looked into her tear-streaked face and asked quietly, “Am I the one who hurt you?”

She lowered her head, frowning. Benazir and Shureim exchanged a knowing glance—both realizing the truth.

Benazir stifled a laugh, already understanding Shureim’s inner struggle. In Arabic, Shureim whispered: “What should I do, Benazir? Since I met Ummi, my love for Zeenatu has faded. What I feel for her now is only sibling affection, not love for marriage.”

She replied softly in Arabic: “I warned you many times, Shureim. Zeenatu is too young for you. Even though it’s not haram, she’s not your match. I knew from the start—your heart only belongs to one woman. You loved Zeenatu only because Aisha was absent. Now Aisha has returned. If you think you can balance them both, remember—Zeenatu is deeply jealous. Do you really think you can keep Aisha and Zeenatu under the same roof?”

She laughed lightly. Zeenatu, her head still bowed, didn’t understand a word of their exchange.

Benazir urged him: “Please, Shureim, don’t break her heart. Even if you won’t marry her, at least calm her down. She loves you deeply—you can see she’s already sinking into despair.”

He nodded, then turned back to Zeenatu. In his soft, soothing voice, he said: “I’m sorry, my half of life. I know I was wrong. You only misunderstood me. How could I ever stop caring for the one I love most?”

Her lips curved into a small smile.

Benazir held her hand warmly: “Please, Zeenatu, don’t let your heart mislead you. Nothing has changed about our love for you. We care for you. From now on, we’ll do everything together, insha’Allah. We’ll eat together, chat together, watch movies together, exercise together—even recite Qur’an together with Yaya Shureim every day.”

Zeenatu smiled in relief, her heart lightened.

“Right now, we won’t let you stay hungry,” Benazir added, calling Tani.

When Tani entered and saw the food scattered across the floor, she placed her hands on her head in shock. “What happened here?” she asked.

“Please, clean this mess and bring us another meal. And send a maid to mop the floor. We’ll wait,” Benazir instructed.

Tani, still shaken, obeyed and quickly cleared the food, carrying it away to the kitchen.

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