Fatimah story side.
I went back to sit with the other apprentices, and immediately they surrounded me with curiosity written all over their faces.
“What did he say?”
“Who is he?”
“Do you know him before?”
I told them everything.
The moment I finished, they all screamed in excitement.
Maryam: Ahhh! You’re so lucky! A fine guy like that approached you?
They were already teasing me when Shukroh suddenly spoke, her tone calm but firm.
Shukroh: If I were you, I wouldn’t accept him.
The others went quiet.
Shukroh: He doesn’t look genuine. He looks like someone who is just after your body. And if it were me, I would tell my mom about him.
Fatimah: Your mom? Won’t she punish you?
Shukroh smiled softly.
Shukroh: My mom is not like that. She talks to me calmly. She always tells me never to hide anything from her. Whenever I’m confused about men or anything, she listens and advises me.
Her words sank deep into my chest.
Shukroh: You should tell your mom too. Don’t make the wrong decision.
Maryam rolled her eyes.
Maryam: Don’t mind her jare. You know your own mom. If you tell her, she will punish you. Or don’t you like the guy?
Fatimah: Well… he is handsome.
Maryam: Exactly. And if you tell your mom, she will just stop you. She might even start treating you worse.
Fatimah: You’re right…
Shukroh shook her head gently.
Shukroh: But being scared doesn’t change the truth. That guy doesn’t have good intentions. My mom always says when the right time comes, the right person will come without stress. No hiding. No fear.
I suddenly felt heavy inside.
Fatimah: You’re lucky… your mom cares.
Shukroh: What do you mean?
Fatimah: My parents don’t listen. They don’t talk… they only punish. I’m even scared to open up to them.
Shukroh sighed.
Shukroh: That’s their fault… not yours. But it doesn’t mean you shouldn’t know right from wrong. And this guy… he’s not right.
She paused.
Shukroh: And you said you love school… why are you even here?
That question hit me hard.
I quickly looked away.
Fatimah: I forgot to iron this cloth. Let me do it quickly.
Shukroh didn’t push further.
Shukroh: Okay, I’ll help you.
Fatimah: You’re really nice. I think we’ll be good friends.
Shukroh smiled.
Shukroh: I like you already.
The next day, on my way to work, I felt it before I even saw him.
That presence.
That gaze.
Then his voice.
Stranger: Baby… wait now.
I stopped, irritated.
Fatimah: Please leave my way.
He stepped closer, smiling like nothing was wrong.
Stranger: What about our talk? I swear, I really like you.
I quickly looked around, my heart racing, scared someone might see us.
Fatimah: I’m not interested. Please… leave me alone.
Stranger: Ahh, why now? I won’t hurt you. I swear. I really care about you.
He reached for my hand.
I pulled back sharply.
Fatimah: Don’t touch me!
I pushed him slightly and ran off, my heart pounding.
He stood there, watching me leave, his expression slowly changing.
Stranger: I can’t lose this girl… I must have her.
Khadijah story side.
Life in the house didn’t become peaceful overnight.
My mom’s voice still filled the house almost every day—complaints, insults, harsh words thrown at my dad and our new mom.
But the difference now…
They didn’t respond.
They ignored her.
And somehow, that made her even more frustrated.
But something else changed too.
Something beautiful.
Our new mom… she became everything we had been missing.
She woke up early, prepared meals, cleaned the house, asked about our school, our madrasah. She spoke gently, corrected us with patience, and most of all… she showed us love.
Real love.
The kind that made you feel safe.
My siblings grew attached to her quickly. Even I found myself smiling more around her.
And my dad?
For the first time in a long while, he looked happy.
He ate on time. He laughed more. Sometimes, he even came home early just to be with her.
One day, he told me quietly that she was a government worker, earning even more than him. But she was currently on leave… spending time in her new home.
But anytime my mom returned from work, the peace would disappear.
We would all quietly retreat to our rooms.
Waiting for the storm to pass.
Then one night… something felt different.
She came back home.
Quiet.
Too quiet.
No shouting. No insults.
She went straight to her room without a word.
We all exchanged glances.
Something was wrong.
But no one dared to go to her.
We decided to wait for Dad.
When Dad came back, he immediately sensed it.
The house was too quiet.
He checked the living room… empty.
Then he went to the new mom’s room.
Mom2: Welcome, honey.
She smiled and embraced him.
Dad: Thank you. How was your day?
Mom2: Alhamdulillah. The children and I are getting closer… especially Khadijah.
Dad smiled.
Dad: That’s good.
He paused.
Dad: Where is your co-wife?
Mom2: She’s in her room. She’s been very quiet since she came back. I think something is bothering her.
Dad frowned.
Dad: Let me check on her.
He knocked.
No response.
He opened the door.
She was on the bed… crying silently.
That sight alone softened his expression.
Dad: What’s wrong?
No answer.
Dad: Talk to me… please.
She turned away.
Mom1: Just leave me alone. That’s all I need from you.
Dad: I can’t do that.
He sat beside her.
Dad: I care about you too.
She scoffed.
Mom1: Oh please. You care? Before you brought that woman into this house?
Her voice broke slightly.
Mom1: She’s trying to take my children away from me.
Dad looked at her for a moment.
Then he smiled faintly.
Dad: If removing her will make you happy… then maybe your sadness is just beginning.
She looked at him, shocked.
Dad: I have lived in pain in this house for years. Did you ever ask me what was wrong?
Silence.
Dad: But I’m here now… asking you.
He softened.
Dad: I know you don’t love me. I’ve accepted that. But I will still do my duty as your husband.
He stood up.
Dad: I’m sorry… but I won’t send her away.
He paused at the door.
Dad: Have you eaten?
She didn’t respond.
Dad: Fine.
He turned back slightly.
Dad: I’ll sleep here tonight.
Mom1: Go to your wife.
Dad: I said I’ll sleep here.
She looked away, but didn’t argue again.
Days passed.
Slowly… my mom started adjusting.
Not fully.
But little by little.
The house began to feel… lighter.
One afternoon, on our way back from madrasah, I saw one of my seniors.
Khadijah: Assalamu alaykum, senior.
Senior: Wa alaykum salam.
Khadijah: You didn’t come today. Ustaz asked about you.
Senior: I went on an errand.
He looked at my siblings, then back at me.
Senior: These are your siblings?
Khadijah: Yes… why?
Senior: I thought they were your neighbors. You don’t really look alike.
His words hit me unexpectedly.
I felt it.
That small sting.
Amirah quickly spoke.
Amirah: We resemble! You just don’t know how to look well.
Senior: Ahh… I’m sorry.
Khadijah: It’s okay.
I tried to smile.
Then suddenly......
A sharp slap landed across my face.
Everything went still.
I turned slowly.
And saw her.
My mother.
Standing right behind me.
Her eyes burning.
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