HAJIA

Asma'u drifted in and out of consciousness, her vision blurring with every passing second."Hajia Asma'u..." a distant voice called out."Hajia..." Cold hands gently cupped the sides of her face. Asma'u struggled to breathe, each one coming harder than the last. Her body convulsed so violently that she could feel herself shaking.

Yet somehow, she almost felt... safe. The hands holding her weren't the same as... the monsters. These ones were gentle, almost too familiar. Almost too comfortable. They held her like she was something fragile, like she deserved to be handled with care. And for the first time in what felt like forever, her body did not recoil from a man's touch. Instead It softened.

"Hey..." a worried voice called out. "Stay with me, okay?" The words came strained, the fear barely concealed beneath them. A tap on her shoulder, a gentle shake of her head. Whoever it was, one thing was clear. They wanted to keep her here, in this cruel and empty space, but she cared not to stay.

Her head gently hit the cold tile. The warmth beside her disappeared, followed by the faint sound of footsteps moving away. She heard them fade for only a moment before they returned, his steps quicker this time. Then came the cool droplets against her skin, one after another, until her lashes finally began to flutter.

A groan left her lips, the marble cold beneath the tingles of her skin. "That's it. Open your eyes, Hajia." The voice came again, a blurry figure fading in and out of her vision. "Focus on my voice. My voice, okay?" And she did. It was easy to. Although worried, the voice was smooth and soft, something steady amidst the chaos in her head. A cold palm gripped her cheek again. "Five things you hear. Five things you hear, Hajia..." the voice prompted gently.

Asma'u's head twisted as she tried to focus on anything and everything. Five things... five things. "You," she croaked, her voice rough, hands trembling. "The... m–music." She choked out the words, a palm pressing against her head. "Umm..." A small hiss left her lips, her voice cracking again as she struggled to think.

"You're almost there," the voice soothed. "Three more things you hear," he said, and she didn't have to focus too hard before he started clicking his fingers. "Fingers..." she croaked out. "Fingers tapping." She focused, her breathing still uneven. "Cars... car engines." Her head lulled to the side, but a hand quickly secured it. "The birds outside," she mumbled.

"Four things you smell," he asked.

"The... washroom," she breathed. "Faint smell of food," she muttered. "My sweat..." Her nose scrunched slightly as she tried to focus. "And..." Her voice trailed off, but she found it again. "You... your cologne."

"Three things you feel."

"The marble... the air... you." Her breathing grew laboured again, but before it could spiral, the tip of a water bottle was gently pressed to her lips. She took three large gulps, swallowing greedily before letting out a shaky sigh. "Two things you can taste," the voice asked again, somehow even gentler than before.

"The water..." She barely had to think before a mint was placed against her lips. She chewed slowly, the coolness spreading across her tongue. "Mint," she whispered.

Slowly, her senses began to return to her. She could hear better, taste better, smell better, feel better. And somewhere between the cold marble beneath her and the warmth of the hand still holding her, Asma'u realised she was no longer drowning.

"One thing you can see."

Her vision blurred for a second before slowly settling on...him.

"You," she breathed.

Her brows pulled together as her eyes searched his face, the familiar features slowly coming into focus.

"Hassan."

For some reason Asma'u couldn't define, seeing him there only made her face crumble. Something inside her gave way, and suddenly she couldn't hold herself together anymore. Maybe it was the relief of not being alone, of knowing that someone was there, really there, with her. Whatever strength she had been holding onto seemed to slip away the moment she saw him.

At first, it was only a tiny whimper, barely audible, before the sobs came harder, catching in her throat until she felt completely lost in them. She felt horribly exposed, painfully vulnerable. "I'm dirty," she whispered, her hands coming up to cover her face. "I'm so d-dirty." In that moment, she didn't feel confident or powerful. She wasn't the Asma'u Galadima everyone knew. She was just Asma'u, hurting and ashamed, wanting nothing more than to feel safe.

"Hajia..." Hassan's voice was low and rough, carrying a quiet sadness that made something in her chest ache. He didn't rush her. He didn't try to pull her hands away. "No, you're not." His voice was gentle, but certain. "You're not dirty, Hajia."

"How... how can you say that?" She shook her head, more choked sobs escaping her. "How could you know?" She hiccupped, her voice barely holding together. "How could you know..."

"Because I see you." His gaze traced every tear that slipped down her cheeks, and for a moment, he wished he could be the one to wipe them away. But he stayed where he was, giving her the space she needed. "And the woman I see right now could never be dirty in my eyes." His voice softened. "She's nothing short of perfect."

He didn't care if she understood what he meant. He didn't care if the words revealed more than he intended. Right then, all that mattered was that she needed comfort, needed someone to remind her of who she was when she couldn't remember for herself. And if all he could do was stand there and give her that reminder, then he would.

He would be the light until she could find her way out of the darkness herself.

Asma'u's hands trembled against her face. She wanted to believe him. God, she wanted to. But the words felt too gentle for the ugliness she carried inside herself.

"You don't have to believe me yet," he said softly. "Let me believe it for you instead."

Her tears didn't stop, but they had quieted. She kept her hands over her face, wiping at her cheeks again and again, and again, a little too roughly. She didn't realize how hard she was rubbing at her skin until a hand came gently over hers, stopping her.

Hassan stared at her for a moment before shaking his head softly. "Please don't hurt yourself." He reached into the pocket of his babban riga and pulled out a white handkerchief. His hands trembled slightly, and he swallowed, but he didn't stop. It was as though he physically couldn't bring himself to pull away from her now. Slowly, almost hesitantly, he brought the handkerchief to her cheek and wiped away the tears she could no longer seem to stop.

For a moment, the sounds around them faded into nothing. The music, the car engines, the distant chatter outside, all became nothing more than a blur of noise. All Hassan could see was her. And all he wanted, more than anything, was to make her feel safe.

He could feel her gaze quietly tracing his face as he wiped away her tears. He could feel it move from his forehead, down the bridge of his nose, to his chin, yet he didn't look at her. He couldn't. He was afraid that if their eyes met, he would forget himself and pull her into his arms, crossing more lines than he already had.

He was still wiping her cheek when a hand slowly came up to his, delicate fingers curling around his, and he could have sworn his heart had never trembled as hard as it did in that moment.

"I can do it," she whispered softly.

There was almost no space between them now, and that was when he finally looked at her. At her almond-shaped eyes. And he wished he hadn't, for the pain he saw there stirred an anger so fierce and deep inside him that it made him want to destroy whoever had caused her tears, to hurt whoever it was until his hands were bloody.

But, most frightening of all, it made him want to stay.

To stay beside her until that pain was gone. To stay until she no longer needed to hide her tears behind her hands. Until she could look at herself and see what he saw.

Even if staying meant staying forever.

He gave her a single nod before pulling back.

Asma'u expected him to leave. She expected him to stand and walk away, but instead, her brows furrowed when he found a spot beside her on the cold floor and quietly settled down.

She didn't say anything. She couldn't. He had seen too much, and worse, she had said too much.

She had expected questions. She had expected him to coax words out of her, perhaps even use what she had told him against her. She had expected him to be unkind to her, as she had been to him. Yet none of that came. All he gave her was quiet....the peaceful kind.

Once her breathing had steadied, her shoulders eased, and she allowed herself to sink fully against the wall behind her. Her eyes closed, just for a second, as she let herself take in the small piece of peace that had found her.

They stayed that way, backs resting against the wall, both facing the basin before them, neither asking the other to speak. And the silence between them asked for nothing more.

After what felt like a long while, Hassan finally turned to look at her. Even without looking back, Asma'u could feel the worry in his gaze, but still, he said nothing. Instead, he stood, adjusting the creases that had formed in his clothes and brushing away the few specks of dust.

"Come on, Hajia. You've had a long night. Why don't I take you home?" he said. It was supposed to be a request, but Hassan's voice left little room for argument. And, quite frankly, Asma'u had no strength left to argue anyway.

He stood aside, quietly watching as she struggled to get to her feet, his brows drawing together. His fingers almost reached for her, but he tightened his knuckles, forcing himself not to. He watched as she pushed herself up with her hands against the wall, a small whimper escaping her with the effort.

Hassan shifted to give her space, but the moment she lifted her hands from the wall, she barely managed two steps before stumbling. His arm immediately came around her waist, steadying her, while her hand landed against his chest for support. For a while, neither of them moved.

She could feel the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath her palm, while his arm remained firm around her waist, keeping her upright.

Her breath hitched the moment their eyes met. Her gaze flickered across his face before dropping somewhere it probably shouldn't have, and she swallowed.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

Words failed her, so she simply nodded.

Hassan carefully removed his arm, making sure she was steady enough to stand on her own before he stepped back. "Okay." He croaked out. "Let's go." He didn't wait for a reply this time. He simply turned and moved, and the moment they stepped out of the bathroom, they walked a few steps beside each other, the hallway quiet around them.

"I forgot something," he suddenly said. Asma'u looked at him, but before she could ask what, he was already turning back. "Wait for me, okay?"And then he was gone. Hassan quickened his steps as he returned to the washroom. The moment he stepped inside, his eyes began scanning the room. The basin. The floor. The counter. Then he saw it. What he had been searching for.

The small bottle lying on the floor. He crouched and picked it up, his fingers tightening around it as his eyes fell on the label.

Norexan.

His expression changed. He knew what it was. A strong sedative, one that was sometimes misused to numb the mind and make people forget, at least for a little while. The kind of thing that could easily become an addictive habit when someone was desperate enough to escape themselves. Hassan's jaw tightened.

Without another word, he slipped the bottle into his pocket.

He exited the washroom and found her leaning against the wall, her head lulling slightly to the side. He immediately quickened his steps. "Ready?"

She nodded. "I—I found my phone." She held it out, and he could see the cracks running across the dark screen. "Can you please hold it for a while?" she added quietly, her hands still trembling.

"Of course." He nodded, taking it from her and slipping it into his pocket, safely out of her sight.

Hassan's body blocked hers as they walked, shielding her from the blinding lights that would have fallen across her face, from the curious eyes that might have followed her, from the noise and movement surrounding them. She couldn't feel any of it, and part of her believed he was doing it intentionally.

They had barely made it outside when Asma'u took a deep breath of the cool night air. The weather was windy, she noticed as she looked up at the dark clouds gathering above them. For a moment, she simply stood there, breathing it in before her gaze drifted towards the parking lot. Most of the cars were already gone, leaving only a few scattered across the space.

They walked towards her car, and when they reached it, she quietly handed Hassan the keys before they both settled inside.

The engine came to life the moment Hassan turned the key in the ignition, and he eased out of the parking lot. The windows were rolled up, leaving the space between them completely quiet as Asma'u rested her head against the window, lost in her thoughts, while Hassan steered the wheel and navigated through the streets of Kano.

The roads were mostly empty, save for a few vehicles in the distance. Before long, the first drops of rain began to fall against the windshield, and soon, it turned into a heavy downpour over the streets, forcing Hassan to slow down.

"Where did you learn to drive this type of car?" Asma'u asked without turning, letting the cold glass of the windshield ground her.

"I used to be a driver. Worked for people." His response was simple. "Before I got into full-time tailoring," he added, turning his head to glance at her for the briefest moment.

"Hmm." She was quiet for a moment before asking, "Why were you there?" She turned to him, her gaze questioning. "Today, at the wedding. What brought you?" Her voice was still tired, but there was a little more life in it now.

"Gimbiya invited me." He cleared his throat, turning onto another street. Trees, lamp-posts, signboards and mansions passed by the windows, each gate seeming larger than the last.

"But she didn't attend herself," Asma'u pointed out.

"She did, in the morning. She was there to make sure everything went as planned." His eyes remained focused on the road as the rain began to fall harder, and then something ahead caught his attention. "After that, she insisted I stay for the wedding, told me to allow myself to meet more people, in her words." He gave a small shake of his head, the corner of his mouth lifting slightly. "Those were her exact words."

"And did you?" she asked.

"Did I what?" Hassan glanced at her briefly before returning his eyes to the road.

"Meet anyone."

Something in the way she asked made him feel she wasn't talking about customers or business partners. He knew what she meant, or at least he had a feeling he did, and for a moment, he simply watched the rain falling against the windshield.

"No," he answered quietly.

"Hmm." She nodded, turning her attention back to the rain, her gaze following the drops as they raced down the glass.

After a moment, Hassan broke the silence. "What about you?"

"Me?"

"What do you do?" The question came gently, almost casually. "Something you enjoy."

He had a feeling she was still thinking about whatever had upset her. Maybe talking about the things she loved would give her mind somewhere else to go, but if he was being honest, he wanted to know too. He wanted to hear her talk about something that belonged to her, something that had nothing to do with what had happened tonight.

"Well..." She turned fully towards him this time, allowing herself to focus on him. "I love YouTubing. I make vlogs. I love fashion. I love advocating for women's rights." A small smile touched her lips as she spoke, and Hassan found himself listening closely, paying attention to every word she gave him. "I love reading historical fiction too. I find them poetic."

"What type of content do you make?" he asked.

"You know what content creation means?" Her brows furrowed.

"You sound surprised." A quiet chuckle left him. "I have a bit of knowledge up here, Hajia." He tapped the side of his head, and that was when her eyes caught the wristwatch on his arm.

"Okay..." she started, taking a moment to think about what to share. "My content is mostly about life advice, teaching women how to make money, and creating awareness about anything that has to do with..." Her voice softened as she reached the last part. "Abuse." She went quiet after that.

Suddenly, she wasn't sure what he thought of her. Whether he found it strange, whether he wondered why someone like her spoke so openly about such things. She kept her gaze on the rain, waiting for him to say something.

"What topics have you discussed deeply on?" he asked. The question threw her off. She hadn't expected him to care enough to ask.

She shifted in her seat, adjusting herself before answering. "Gender-based violence, rape, female genital mutilation, and things like that."

"That's beautiful...it shows that you care. I love your work," he said simply. "You're very passionate, Hajia. I respect that."

She stared at him, momentarily lost for words, before eventually nodding and turning her gaze back towards the windshield. Silence welcomed them again, and as it had all night, it came peacefully.

But the cold soon began to creep over her. She shivered, her teeth starting to chatter as her arms instinctively wrapped around herself. Hassan noticed. Without saying anything, he reached forward and turned up the heat in the car, leaving it at that.

Asma'u relaxed back into her seat as the warmth slowly spread around her. Her eyes fluttered closed, and after a moment, she began humming softly along to "Video Games" by Lana Del Rey, the sound barely more than a whisper beneath the rain.

"You sing?"

His question made her pause.

"Yes."

His brows knitted slightly. "Do you know it's haram?"

Whatever ease had settled over her seemed to disappear. The small warmth in her expression faded, and she turned her face towards the window, suddenly finding the rain far more interesting than the conversation. She had been enjoying the quiet, the warmth of the car, the way for once she could simply exist without having to think about everything that had happened tonight.

"And do you know you talk too much?"

That instantly shut him up.

"I think we're far gone tonight to be discussing what is haram and what isn't, don't you think?" Her voice was sharper now, the softness that had begun to return to it disappearing just as quickly.

Hassan sighed. "Asma'u..."

"Don't." She cut him off.

"I didn't mean to upset you, Hajia." His voice softened. "I'm sorry." He added

Asma'u thought herself a fool in that moment for  she instantly melted. How was it that something as simple as him calling her Hajia could make her feel weak in the knees? She had been the one to insist he call her that in the beginning, yet she had never imagined a name could sound so intimate coming from him.

She turned to look at him, her heart unable to hold on to the anger she had wanted to feel. Being this close to him seemed to weaken something inside her, leaving her softer than she wanted to be. "It's okay," she said.

"You have a nice voice," he opted for instead.

She chuckled softly, shaking her head. "Are you trying to impress me, Mallam?" 

"Is it working?" he asked.

"Yes." Her answer was almost too quiet, but still loud enough for him to hear and for a moment, Hassan said nothing. His fingers tightened slightly around the steering wheel, his eyes remaining fixed on the road as though that was the only place he could safely look. 

He made a mental note on the amount of tahajjud prayers he needed that night.

Another silence settled between them before she broke it. "I didn't know you could be this much of a chatter mouth, Mallam," she said casually, another small laugh almost escaping her, her eyes amused.

"You're special."

"A sweet talker indeed." Her voice remained dry, but the warmth creeping into her cheeks betrayed her. Another silence welcomed them as they turned onto a different street, but this time, the quiet felt awkward to her. Had she said more than she should have?

Without meaning to, her gaze wandered towards his face. She found herself noticing little details she hadn't paid attention to before, like the tiny mole on his chin, or the slightly unusual shape of his ears. She wondered, quite seriously, if his big ears allowed him to hear things from afar.

"I can feel you staring, Hajia." He didn't take his eyes off the road.

"Don't get ahead of yourself, Mallam." She scoffed, quickly tearing her eyes away, though the warmth rushing into her cheeks betrayed her.

"I wasn't suggesting anything. I thought something was on my face." He chuckled.

"You're insufferable." She turned away, feigning annoyance, though the smile on her face betrayed her.

After another stretch of silence, Hassan spoke."Rest." His voice was soft. "I'll wake you when we get there."

"Don't tell me what to do," she murmured, even as she felt her lashes growing heavier.

The last thing she heard before sleep finally took her was his quiet voice. "It's good to have you back, Hajia."