What fathers don’t say
SE’AD
The house had gone unusually quiet. The sort of silence that made every tiny sound noticeable. The faint hum of the air conditioner and occasional movement of a car outside. And then—voices. Low voices coming from Abba’s study.
Se’ad sat on the edge of her bed, staring at the closed bedroom door. She had been trying to convince herself not to listen.
This is your father’s private conversation. Stay in your room. Don’t be nosy. Unfortunately, curiosity had never been one of her strongest enemies.
She stood. Opened the door quietly. The corridor was dimly lit. A faint fragrance of turaren wuta lingered in the air, curling gently through the house. She took a few careful steps. Then stopped. Abba’s study door wasn’t completely closed. Voices drifted through the narrow opening. “…you know I wouldn’t have brought him here if I didn’t trust him.” That was Abba.Se’ads heartbeat quickened. Then Nasib spoke. “I understand, sir.” Abba sighed. “You’re young. You may think you know what you’re doing.” “I don’t think that.”
“ Good.” Another silence. Then Abba’s voice became quieter. “Because this isn’t about what you want.” Se’ad’s brows drew together. What?
Naib asked “What do you mean?” Nasib’s voice sounded unusually serious. Abba didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he said: “Does your father know everything?”
“Yes.” “And he agrees?”
“He doesn’t object.” Nasib said calmly “That isn’t the same thing.”Abba replied “No, sir.”
Se’ad’s fingers curled around the edge of her sleeve.bWhat were they talking about?Then Nasib said something that made her blood run cold. “I never intended for Se’ad to become involved in any of this.” Her breath caught. Me??.
Why was her name in their conversation?
She leaned closer.
Abba spoke.
“But she already is.”
Silence.
Then—
“I know.”
Se’ad stepped backward.
Her heart was pounding.
There was something happening.
Something everyone seemed to know except her.
She turned around.
And almost collided with someone.
A hand caught her elbow before she could fall.
She looked up.
Nasib.
Her breath stopped.
He was standing directly behind her.
No glasses this time.
His dark eyes looked even deeper without them.
For a moment, neither spoke.
Then his gaze moved toward the study.
“You were listening.”
It wasn’t a question.
Se’ad swallowed.
“I wasn’t.”
One eyebrow rose.
“You were.”
“I just…”
He gave a quiet laugh.
“You’re a terrible liar.”
She frowned.
“And you’re a terrible secret keeper.”
That made him smile.
But the smile disappeared almost immediately.
“Se’ad.”
Something in his tone made her look at him properly.
“What?”
“Don’t ask your father about tonight.”
Her heart sank.
“Why?”
“Because it’s complicated.”
“Everything about you is complicated.”
A tiny smile appeared.
“Fair.”
She crossed her arms.
“You can’t just come into my house, have a secret conversation with my father and then tell me not to ask questions.”
“I know.”
“Then explain.”
He looked at her for several seconds.
There was something almost painful in his expression.
“I will.”
“When?”
“Soon.”
“That’s what people say when they don’t want to answer.”
He smiled faintly.
“You really don’t like uncertainty.”
“No.”
“I know.”
“And you enjoy making me suffer.”
His smile widened.
“Maybe a little.”
She stared at him.
Then, despite herself, laughed.
“Idiot.”
“Your words.”
“My words?”
“You called me that before.”
“When?”
“On Snapchat.”
Her eyes widened.
“You remember that?”
“I remember everything you tell me.”
The laughter faded.
Those words landed differently.
For a moment, the hallway seemed too narrow.
Too quiet.
Too intimate.
Nasib’s eyes remained on hers.
Then he stepped back.
“Go to sleep.”
She frowned.
“Bossy.”
“Goodnight, Se’ad.”
“Goodnight, my not-so-gentle gentleman.”
His smile returned.
“There it is.”
She smiled.
Then he walked away.
But before disappearing around the corner, he turned.
“Se’ad?”
“Hm?”
“Don’t be afraid of me.”
Her heart tightened.
“I’m not.”
He looked at her for another second.
“Good.”
Then he left.
And somehow, those two words frightened her more than anything else that night.
NASIB
The moment the bedroom door closed behind Se’ad, Nasib exhaled.
He hadn’t expected her to hear them.
He had certainly not expected to find her standing outside the study.
Yet somehow, that was exactly the sort of thing Se’ad would do.
Curious.
Emotional.
Fearless when her heart demanded answers.
And completely incapable of pretending she didn’t care.
A faint smile appeared.
Then disappeared.
Because the conversation with Abba had reminded him of something he’d been trying very hard to forget.
There were things about their families that existed long before Snapchat.
Long before Gombe.
Long before Se’ad ever knew his name.
And if things continued in the direction they were going…
she would eventually have to know.
His phone vibrated.
A message from his father.
We’re leaving tomorrow morning.
Nasib stared at it.
Then another message appeared.
Don’t complicate things.
He locked the phone.
Too late.
Things were already complicated.
Because somewhere between the first streak and the first phone call, Se’ad had stopped being a stranger.
And that was exactly what frightened him.
SE’AD
The following morning, breakfast felt different.
Nasib sat beside his father while Abba spoke about business.
Mama kept asking whether he had eaten enough.
Hauwa was suspiciously quiet.
And Se’ad?
Se’ad was trying very hard not to stare.
Unfortunately, Nassib made it difficult.
He looked completely different in daylight.
A crisp white jallabiya replaced yesterday’s cream shirt.
His glasses rested neatly on his face.
A gold watch peeked beneath his sleeve.
And when he reached for his cup, the faint glimmer of the gold chain she had once seen through Snapchat appeared beneath his collar.
She almost smiled.
So this is my Sugar.
The thought made her blush.
Hauwa noticed.
Of course she did.
Her eyes narrowed.
“Se’ad.”
“Hm?”
“You’re staring.”
“I am not.”
“You are.”
Nasib looked up.
Their eyes met.
A small smile appeared on his lips.
Se’ad immediately looked down at her plate.
Hauwa nearly laughed.
Mama looked between them.
“What’s funny?”
“Nothing, Mummy.”
Hauwa corrected herself quickly.
“Nothing, Mama.”
Abba gave her a suspicious look.
“Eat your breakfast.”
Hauwa nodded.
“Yes, Abba.”
But underneath the table, she kicked Se’ad lightly.
Se’ad glared at her.
Hauwa only grinned.
After breakfast, Nasib prepared to leave.
His father had already gone outside.
Abba was speaking to him near the driveway.
Mama hugged him.
“Allah ya kiyaye hanya.”
“Ameen, Mama.”
Then he turned toward Se’ad.
For a moment, the noise around them seemed to fade.
He extended his hand.
She stared at it.
Then shook it.
His palm was warm.
Her fingers barely touched his before he released her.
“Take care of yourself.”
“You too.”
“Study.”
“Exam just finished.”
“Then rest.”
She smiled.
“Bossy.”
“Always.”
He walked toward the car.
Se’ad watched him.
Then he stopped.
Turned.
And smiled.
That smile.
The same smile that had once lasted only ten seconds.
Now she had seen it in real life.
And somehow, it was even more dangerous.
He entered the car.
The engine came alive.
A sleek black Mercedes-Benz GLE rolled slowly toward the gate.
Just before it disappeared from view, her phone vibrated.
She looked down.
Nass💵: You were staring.
Her mouth fell open.
She immediately typed:
Se’ad: You wish.
His response:
Nass💵: I know you were.
She smiled.
Se’ad: Go away.
Three dots.
Nass💵: Already miss you.
Her heart stumbled.
She stared at the message.
Then another appeared.
Nass💵: And Se’ad?
Se’ad: Yes?
A pause.
Nass💵: Don’t believe everything you hear about me.
The smile disappeared.
She typed:
Se’ad: Why would anyone tell me anything about you?
His response came slowly.
Nass💵: Because eventually, someone will.
Then he went offline.
Se’ad stood in the driveway, staring at the screen.
The excitement of finally meeting him was still there.
The warmth.
The butterflies.
The smile.
But underneath all of it was something darker.
A question.
What exactly was Nasib Wali hiding?
And why did everyone seem determined to protect her from the answer?
She didn’t know yet.
But she would.
Sooner than anyone expected.