Parts 1 & 2
Luxury cars were lined up in a long, colorful convoy. When you looked closely, you’d notice that almost all the cars were in just two colors—white and black. They were the groom’s friends, each standing around, waiting for the young women they had dropped off so they could take them back home. One glance at them was enough to tell they were overjoyed, celebrating their friend’s wedding.
The house was large—a bungalow filled with every modern comfort, sparkling under bright electric lights. The moment you finished taking it in, you could tell that wealth had found a permanent home there, judging by the abundance of riches invested inside.
“Well, Zarah, you see you’ve been blessed with the kind of home every young woman dreams of. Be obedient to your husband so you can live in peace. Marriage requires patience—give and take…” an elderly woman sitting close to the bride, Zarah, advised her. The young women standing around exchanged glances, each silently wishing the house were hers. Among the married women, many prayed that Allah would bless their husbands with even more wealth like this, while some parents wished their own daughters would one day have such a home.
Zarah said nothing, her head still covered with her veil. Eventually, the people in the house dispersed as the groom’s friends began honking their car horns. Only Zarah and her three friends remained in the room. Slowly, she removed her veil and looked around the room. But one look at her face revealed the sadness she carried. Lubna, standing beside her, said, “Zarah, why do you still look unhappy? Is it because of that issue?”
Zarah sighed deeply and said, “Lubna, have I really been treated fairly? Imagine—on my very first night, they want to bring another girl to live with me.”
Aisha smacked her lips and said, “I don’t see it as a problem. You’re in your room, she’s in hers. And that man loves you deeply. Embrace your blessing and let wealth stay where it belongs.”
Sadiya added with a short sigh, “Honestly, Zarah, it’s annoying how you’re taking this. If the child finds it uncomfortable, she’ll leave on her own. Don’t let a little girl ruin your happiness and turn it into something else.”
The friends continued giving Zarah advice—some good, some foolish. At times she smiled, realizing the burden they were placing on her.
Before long, the groom arrived with his friends, stepping out of Sani’s car. Behind the car, Walida sat quietly, looking around. When he opened the door for her, she smiled at him. Holding her hand, he said, “Come, let’s go home.”
One of his friends, Yunusa, joked, “My guy, don’t you want to enjoy your honeymoon? On your wedding day you just bring a child—if she’s even your relative, you should’ve dropped her elsewhere.”
Khalid laughed and replied, “You people just talk.”
Laughing, his friends escorted him inside. Jokes were exchanged as usual between the groom’s friends and the bride’s friends. Eventually, after the customary exchange of money, everyone dispersed.
Zarah pretended to be calm, hiding her displeasure about Walida’s arrival. Khalid brought in two large shopping bags filled with chickens. On one side were crates of soft drinks, big jars of yogurt, snacks, and sweets. Khalid personally carried Walida to her room, placed her small bag—containing a whole chicken, a jar of juice, and candies—beside her. As Khalid turned to leave, he sat on the edge of the bed, lost in thought, and muttered, “What kind of life is this? I didn’t give birth, I’m not a close relative, yet I end up bearing all this hardship.”
Walida stared at him and asked, “Uncle, are you talking?”
Khalid snapped out of it with a forced laugh and said, “No, Walida. I was just saying—daughter of Uncle—do you want to eat now or wait till morning?”
Walida peeped into the bag, turned her face aside with a grin and said, “But this chicken doesn’t have feathers, does it?”
Annoyance flashed across Khalid’s face. He muttered, “If you don’t want to eat now, leave it till morning.”
As Khalid headed toward the door, Walida suddenly burst into tears. Khalid rushed back, holding his waist anxiously. “What is it now?”
She pointed to the bag, clutching it, and cried, “This chicken is biting my hand—and I want you to sleep here.”
In shock, Khalid said, “Biting you? It’s roasted chicken—how could it bite—”
Before he finished, he heard a crunching sound from the bag. Quickly, he opened it and, to his horror, found only chewed bones, some crushed to bits. The meat had been eaten clean, leaving the bones intact.
As he was about to speak, Walida belched loudly and said, “Uncle, I want to drink water.”
Khalid’s eyes bulged. “Where is the chicken that was in the bag?”
She replied casually, “After I drink water, I’ll continue eating.”
Khalid reopened the bag and said, “Didn’t I just open it earlier and you said it had no feathers?”
Walida belched again and picked a toothpick, cleaning her teeth.
What do you think Walida really is? 😂
This book is free, but I can’t promise long typing because I also write paid books. I’ll try to post regularly, God willing. 🥰
