HANEEFAH’S POV
MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT
I cannot believe this is happening. I never imagined life could take me here. My husband, my Anas, lying like this, motionless, surrounded by machines that beep louder than my heart. I feel hollow, as if every part of me has been emptied out.
How did I not see it? How could he carry this pain all these years and hide it from me? I thought I knew him, but I was wrong. He was always strong, always kind, always protecting everyone, and now I see how heavy his burden was. And I never knew.
Why, Allah, why him? Why now? I feel like the world has stopped, and I am trapped in this nightmare that I cannot wake from. My chest aches, my throat is raw, and my tears just will not stop. I cannot imagine raising our children alone. How could I survive without him? How could life continue when he is gone from the world that I know?
I feel guilt piercing my heart. Did I stress him? Did I fail him as a wife? Was my happiness not enough for him? But then I remind myself… this is Your will, Allah. This is Your test, and I have no choice but to endure. But how do I endure this? How do I sit here night after night watching the man I love, my protector, my joy, almost lifeless?
He deserved so much more than this. He was good to everyone, so honest, so generous, and now I watch him lying here, unable to even speak, unable to tell me he is hurting. I should have been able to share his pain, but I was blind, and now I am powerless.
My soul aches for him. I want to scream, to cry, to beg Allah to return him to me. I want to hold him close, feel his breath, hear his voice, see him smile again. But all I can do is sit here, my hands trembling, tears pouring down my cheeks, praying with every ounce of my being.
I am scared, so scared. I feel like I am losing him forever. And I do not even know if I can bear a life without him. I have never imagined a day like this, where my dreams, my hope, my future, are all hanging by a fragile thread. I never imagined that finding the real man, the one who would make my dreams come true, could be met with such sorrow.
I pray, I beg, I plead. Allah, please do not take him. Please give him another chance. Let him open his eyes and call my name. Let me hear his voice again. Let me feel his hand in mine. I cannot do this without him. I cannot live without him.
I do not want to wake tomorrow to a world without him. I do not want to imagine our children growing up without their father. I cannot. I will not. Please, Allah, hear me. Please, return my Anas to me.
[Jamiu, approaches quietly, holding a phone. He lowers his voice.]
Jamiu: (softly) iya Khalid, the phone… (stretch out his hand)
[Haneefah looks at the phone. Her hands shake. Her chest tightens. She cannot take it. Her eyes fill with more tears.]
Haneefah: (sadly staring at him and couldn't move a inch)
…___________
Jamiu: (gently) Just take it. Speak. I’ll watch over him.
[Haneefah slowly lifts the phone, fingers trembling. She hears a familiar voice, small and desperate.]
Khalid: (through phone, crying) Mommy… mommy… where are you? Mommy… where are you this morning? Where is daddy? Where is everybody? Please come back home…
[Haneefah’s heart shatters completely. She presses the phone to her chest, shaking, tears flowing freely. She tries to compose herself, her voice breaking as she speaks.]
Haneefah: Khalid, listen, listen, my baby… listen. I’m fine… daddy’s fine… we are fine, okay? We’re just going on a trip and we’ll be back, Inshallah. Please, please…
Khalid: (voice trembling, small sobs) Mommy… I cannot sleep… Mommy, I can’t sleep… Mommy, I can’t sleep… please come home… I want my daddy…
[Haneefah closes her eyes, leaning back against the chair, her body shaking from grief. She whispers through her own tears, stroking the phone against her cheek.]
Haneefah: (thinking) How do I explain this… how do I protect him… my babies… my son... my children … I can’t let them feel this pain… not yet… not now…
[She grips the phone tightly, holding Khalid’s voice close as if it can mend the broken pieces of her heart. She leans forward slightly, keeping her gaze on Anas, whispering softly.]
Haneefah: (thinking) Allah, please… please let him wake up… let my husband wake up… let my family stay whole…
Jamiu: (walk away leaving the as he could hold his grief)
Haneefah: yaaaa Allah... hear my cry please.. yaa zaljalalu wal ilkram... please... have mercy on me!!!.
Zainab: (feels for her and move closer to console her)
[The night stretches endlessly. Haneefah holds the phone close to her heart, rocking slightly, crying quietly, whispering prayers under her breath.]
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A WEEK LATER
NARRATION
Ever since the tragedy, the mansion had stopped breathing. The once vibrant house that echoed with footsteps, laughter, instructions, and late-night conversations now stood cold and hollow. The chandeliers still shone, the marble floors still reflected light, the servants still moved quietly through corridors, but something essential was missing. Something living. Something warm.
Anas.
Without him, the mansion felt like a graveyard disguised as luxury.
Meals were prepared but barely eaten. Doors opened and closed softly, as though everyone feared disturbing the silence. Conversations were whispered. Even the walls seemed to mourn.
Life under that roof without Anas felt like watching a family slowly crumble from within. He had been the pulse, the strength, the quiet pillar holding many fragile hearts together. And now he lay between life and death, unmoving.
Haneefah did not leave his side. Not for an hour. Not for comfort. Not for rest.
Only when prayer called her did she step away, and even then, her heart never left the hospital bed. She prayed with trembling hands and swollen eyes, then rushed back as if afraid he might slip away in her absence. She slept at the hospital. She bathed at the hospital. She existed there.
Zainab stayed too, moving like a silent shadow beside her, sharing the cold chairs, the hospital air, the endless waiting. The two women, bound by the same man, now bound by the same fear.
The rest of the family spent their days at the hospital, surrounding his unconscious body with hope, with whispered duas, with trembling faith. They returned home only when night forced them to. And even at home, no one truly rested.
Prayer filled their mouths every minute.
Subhanallah.
Ya Allah.
Please wake him.
Please spare him.
Please do not break us.
Every breath carried supplication.
But the hardest part was the children.
Haneefah had not met her children’s eyes.
Not properly.
Not since that night.
She could not bear the questions in them.
She could not bear the innocence.
Her children were being cared for by her co-wives, women who stepped in quietly, feeding them, bathing them, holding them when they cried for their father. The children asked when daddy was coming home. They asked why mommy was not sleeping in her room.
And no one had the strength to answer truthfully.
Sometimes at night, Haneefah would think of her son’s voice over the phone and feel her heart tear open again. She was a mother, yet she felt absent. She was a wife, yet she felt helpless. She was alive, yet she felt buried under grief.
The house waited.
The hospital waited.
The family waited.
Time moved, but nothing changed.
The machines continued to beep.
The prayers continued to rise.
And every single soul in that family lived in darkness, clinging to one fragile hope.
That Anas would open his eyes.
That he would call their names again.
That this nightmare would end.
But until then, the mansion remained silent.
Cold.
And broken.
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CHIEF’S MINI LIVING ROOM – EARLY MORNING
[The room is quiet and elegant. Chief sits in his armchair, wrapped in a light shawl. Age shows in his posture. His walking stick rests beside him. He looks up as Jamiu, Junaid, and Jamil enter. He immediately notices something missing.]
Chief: (looking around slowly) You three?
[He adjusts his glasses slightly.]
Chief: (frowning faintly) Where is Anas?
[The brothers exchange quick glances before stepping forward.]
Jamiu: (forcing a calm tone) Good morning, sir.
Junaid: (bowing slightly) Good morning, Chief.
Jamil: (trying to smile) We came to check on you.
Chief: (ignores the greeting, eyes narrowing slightly) I asked a question. Where is Anas?
[Silence for half a second too long.]
Junaid: (clears throat) He… traveled, sir.
Chief: (leans back slowly) Traveled?
Jamil: (quickly) Yes, sir. It was an urgent business trip.
Chief: (studies their faces carefully) Urgent?
Jamiu: Yes, sir. Very urgent. It came suddenly.
Chief: (voice calm but sharp) And he left without informing me?
[The brothers stiffen.]
Junaid: It happened quickly, sir. There was no time.
Chief: (slowly shaking his head) Anas has never traveled anywhere without discussing it with me first. Not once.
[The room grows heavier. The brothers try to steady themselves.]
Jamil: (softly) This one was different, sir.
Chief: (looking from one son to another) Different how?
[They hesitate.]
Jamiu: (carefully) It required immediate presence. Investors were waiting.
Chief: (eyes fixed on Jamiu) And he could not spare one minute to tell his father?
[The question pierces.]
Junaid: (voice slightly tight) He asked us to inform you, sir.
Chief: (leans forward slowly, voice lower) Hm.
[He studies them again. He notices their red eyes, their stiff posture.]
Chief: (quietly) And his wives?
[The brothers freeze.]
Chief: (looking around) I barely see Haneefah these days. And the new bride. What is her name?
Jamil: Zainab, sir.
Chief: (nods slowly) Yes. Zainab. Where are they?
[The brothers look at each other, searching for words. None come.]
Chief: (voice firmer now) What is going on?
Jamiu: (quickly) Nothing is going on, sir.
Chief: (raises eyebrow) Nothing?
Junaid: Everything is fine.
Chief: (leans back, unconvinced) You look like men who have not slept.
Jamil: (forces a small smile) Work pressure, sir.
Chief: (long pause, eyes resting on each of them) Hm.
[Silence fills the room. The brothers avoid direct eye contact.]
Chief: (waves hand slightly) Alright. If you say everything is fine, then everything is fine.
[The tone suggests he does not believe them.]
Chief: You may go.
Jamiu: (bows slightly) Yes, sir.
Junaid: We will check on you later.
Jamil: Please rest, sir.
[The brothers exit slowly, holding their breath until they are out of sight.]