EPISODE THIRTY-ONE
Hajia Shukroh: (surprised) Are you talking back at me? Abi do you want me to— (picks up her slipper, ready to strike, but the rest quickly intervene to prevent it) Can you imagine this ingrate? She still has the audacity to speak!
Hazeemah: (sits still) And you think hitting me will send me back to his house? When will you African mothers stop this mentality? Now I’m a disgrace to you—in fact, to the entire family—because my husband filed for divorce without a genuine reason?
Hajia Shukroh: So his reasons aren’t genuine enough? Can you imagine this girl? Hazeemah, don’t let me curse you o!
Abdulrahman: Ummu, please! (Turns to Hazeemah) And as for you, watch your mouth. We demand to know what happened. So start talking. (Turns to his mother) Please, don’t say anything until she’s done. Now, Hazeemah—talk.
Hazeemah: (scans them one by one, takes a deep breath) Well, I came home one evening, and he said he wanted a divorce.
Abdulhakeem: And why?
Hazeemah: Maybe because I haven’t conceived yet and because I’m chasing my career.
Abdulsalam: You don’t have to be rude when talking to us. Just because you’re on the path to success doesn’t mean you should abandon your manners—or neglect your marital duties because of your dreams.
Hajia Shukroh: Tell her o!
Hazeemah: I know, and I admit I may be at fault in some ways. But if he had sat me down and we talked things through, we could have found a better solution.
Abdulhakeem: Since he didn’t, why didn’t you start the conversation?
Hazeemah: I did—several times. But he kept avoiding me.
Hajia Shukroh: And instead of being worried about his change in behavior, you still focused on work!
Hazeemah: Was I supposed to just sit at home all day doing nothing?
Hajia Shukroh: Taking care of the house and bearing children is a whole job on its own.
Hazeemah: And become a full-time housewife?
Hajia Shukroh: Yes! Islamically, your actions are unacceptable, and you know it.
Hazeemah: Then why did you send me to school? I spent half my life getting a western education—fifteen years! If I was only meant to end up as a full-time housewife, you shouldn’t have bothered.
(Everyone falls silent.)
Hajia Shukroh: I don’t know where all this defiance is coming from, but if you don’t sit down and reflect on your life—on this worldly life—it will affect your hereafter. I have said my piece o! And as for those of you supporting her actions, I pray you don’t regret it even more. (Stands up) I wash my hands off Hazeemah’s case unless she’s ready to change for the better. (Furiously exits the house.)
Abdulsalam: Seriously, Hazeemah? So much for your smartness. Instead of speaking politely and making her understand, you made things worse. (Gets up.) You’re annoying me right now. Honestly, I don’t even blame M.K. for his actions anymore. No wonder he doesn’t even feel remorseful. (Exits the house.)
Abdulhakeem: (Stands up too) I don’t talk much. Live your life however you think is best—but think before you speak. (Leaves the house.)
Abdulrahman: (Glances at her.)
Hazeemah: (Looks away.)
Abdulrahman: I can’t even scold you because I didn’t lead right. But please—if there’s even a slight chance of you two getting back together, take it. I’m begging you—before you regret many things. (Gets up and leaves.)
Hazeemah: I’m pregnant.
Abdulrahman: (pauses, turns around) What did you just say?
Hazeemah: I’m carrying his child.
Abdulrahman: (returns to his seat, eyes wide) Are you serious?
Hazeemah: Yes.
Abdulrahman: (excited) Since when? And why didn’t you say this in front of Ummu? I’m sure it would have calmed her down!
Hazeemah: (silent)
Abdulrahman: Wait… is there something you’re not telling me? Don’t tell me M.K. knew about your condition before he filed for divorce.
Hazeemah: The day I found out—the day I was ready to share the good news—was the same day he filed for divorce. I never got the chance to tell him.
Abdulrahman: Masha Allah! (gets up and embraces her) There’s still hope!
A Week Later
(Hazeemah knocks at the door.)
Security Guard: (excited to see her) Hajia! Where have you been all this while? We all missed you—especially your husband! He’s been extremely sick and hasn’t gone to work. Your absence has left a big hole in his heart, I swear.
Hazeemah: (forces a smile, keeps knocking) Thank you, sir. But… are you sure he’s home?
(Suddenly, the door opens.)
M.K.: (opens the door, stunned to see her—tries to compose himself) H-Hi.
Security Guard: (quietly steps aside, giving them space)
Hazeemah: As-salamu alaykum wa rahmatullah.
M.K.: (clears his throat) Oh—sorry, my manners. Wa alaykum as-salam wa rahmatullah wa barakatuh.
Hazeemah: Can I come in? Or do you have a guest?
M.K.: (steps aside, making way for her) Sure, come in.
Hazeemah: Thank you. (Enters the house, looking around. She notices an elderly woman, likely in her sixties, mopping the living room.)
M.K.: How have you been?
Hazeemah: Alhamdulillah—just as you wanted me to be. I heard you were ill?
M.K.: Yeah… but I’m getting better now. Please, have a seat. (Scans her from head to toe, his gaze lingering.)
Hazeemah: Thanks… (pauses) I came here to sign the divorce papers.
M.K.: Oh. Right. (His expression shifts, sadness creeping in. Then, he suddenly notices something and blurts out…) Aren’t you wearing a bra? Your… um… your boobs… they’re bigger.
Hazeemah: Excuse me? And how is that any of your business?
M.K.: Oops… my bad. It’s just that—it’s a little revealing under your khimar… I can see your—
Hazeemah: (cuts him off, shocked) Hey! (Quickly adjusts her khimar, pulling it forward to shield herself.) Where are your manners?!
M.K.: I’m so sorry. I don’t know what came over me. I’ve been wanting to see you, but I didn’t have the courage to face you or your family. I’m sorry… Would you like to have noodles with me? I was actually making some in the kitchen.
Hazeemah: (noticing his unexpected calmness) Why are you being so nice?
M.K.: I don’t know… maybe because I missed you.
Hazeemah: Can’t believe this is coming from the same man who filed for divorce two weeks ago. Strange, isn’t it?
M.K.: (scratches his head, embarrassed) Yeah… But join me for lunch, and we can talk about everything afterward, okay? (reaches for her hand)
Hazeemah: (pulls her hand away) After signing the papers, you have no right to touch me. In fact, you shouldn’t even be looking me in the face right now.
M.K.: Let’s eat first before we start fighting. C’mon, please? (leads the way)
Hazeemah: (hesitates but follows, a slight smile forming on her lips)
(In the kitchen...)
M.K.: (runs to the stove, suddenly panicking) Oh no, I forgot!
Hazeemah: (sniffs the air, frowns) Nothing here smells like noodles. (steps forward, opens the pot, and finds it empty) Wait a minute.
M.K.: Uhmmm… I actually put the water on the fire first before I heard the knock at the door… (embarrassed)
Hazeemah: (bursts into laughter) So you boiled water and still managed to burn it? This can’t be real! Mr. Chef, indeed. Step aside. Let me do it.
M.K.: (grins, happily drags a chair and sits down) All the ingredients are in the fridge—I bought them last night.
Hazeemah: (opens the fridge, sees some of her leftover meals, sighs, and proceeds to cook. She starts cutting the vegetables while he watches intently.) Can you please stop staring?
30 Minutes Later
(They eat directly from the pot together.)
M.K.: (enjoying the meal, stuffing his mouth despite the heat) I swear, I missed your cooking.
Hazeemah: Take it easy! (smiles, secretly admiring him before quickly looking away) Alright, enough. I’m full. Now, where are the divorce papers?
M.K.: Already? We just started—you barely ate four spoonfuls.
Hazeemah: My system has changed lately. I have somewhere to be, so let’s get this over with.
M.K.: (puts down his fork, suddenly looking sad)
Hazeemah: What’s with the sad face? Isn’t this what you wanted? Anyway, finish your noodles first.
M.K.: I think I’ve lost my appetite... Come with me. (walks out of the kitchen)
Hazeemah: (hesitates, sadness creeping in) So, he’s really going to bring out the divorce papers… (deep sigh, follows him)
Few Minutes Later – In the Living Room
(A divorce paper sits on the center table with a pen beside it. They sit in silence, staring at each other.)
Hazeemah: Well… I guess this is it. (grabs the pen, takes a deep breath, ready to sign)
M.K.: (thinking) Don’t sign it. Just tell me you’re sorry, and we can go back to the way we used to be. Please, don’t sign it.
Hazeemah: (thinking) Just tell me not to sign it, and I’ll throw this pen away. I just want you to take back your words, and I’ll apologize and be a better version of myself. Don’t let me sign this… our child will never forgive us…
(She hesitates, hoping he will say something—but he remains silent. Finally, she signs the paper.)
Hazeemah: There you go… I guess this is it. (slides the paper toward him, her voice breaking slightly)
M.K.: (stares at the divorce paper, heart heavy) But you know you—
(Suddenly, the door bursts open.)
Khalid: (panting, out of breath) Hey, man!
(M.K. and Hazeemah look at him, shocked.)
M.K.: What are you doing here?
Khalid: I’ve been calling your phone, but you wouldn’t pick up. (pauses, noticing Hazeemah) Oh… glad to see you here. I’m sorry for what I’m about to say, but I can’t just stand by while you two separate and leave her to raise your child alone.
Hazeemah: (lowers her head, avoiding eye contact with Khalid) Please don’t…
Khalid: I’m sorry, but I mean no harm. I’m leaving the country tonight, and I can’t carry this truth with me. I’ll never forgive myself.
M.K.: (getting frustrated) What truth?! Just say it already—the suspense is killing me.
Khalid: The truth is… Hazeemah is pregnant. She’s carrying your child. She found out the same day you filed for divorce.
M.K.: (stunned, turns to Hazeemah in disbelief) You… you’re pregnant?
Hazeemah: (sadly glances at Khalid, unable to speak)
Khalid: I’m sorry. I’ve known him long enough to understand how he thinks, and I know you too. A lack of communication and understanding caused this separation. You both need to forgive each other and start over.
M.K.: (moves closer to Hazeemah, voice softer) Is it true? That you’re pregnant?
Hazeemah: (tears stream down her face, she nods silently)
M.K.: And how long were you planning to hide this from me? And yet, you came here to sign the divorce papers?! Hazeemah!
Hazeemah: (breaks down in tears) I’m sorry.
M.K.: Oh my God! (grabs the divorce paper and, without hesitation, rips it into pieces.)
🔹 Watch out for the next episode!