<p>The next day, I didn't even go to school. I stayed at home, lying on Innah’s lap as she took care of me. Baba entered our room, greeting us while carrying a bag of groceries. He handed it to Innah and then sat down.</p><p>"Welcome," Innah greeted him.</p><p>Just as I was about to speak to him, I remembered Innah's warning about not talking to men. Baba turned to me and said, “My dear, I see you lying down. Are you feeling unwell?”</p><p>I stayed silent, even when he repeated the question three times. Innah finally intervened. “Niimatullah, didn't you hear him speaking to you?”</p><p>Pouting, I dragged my feet and mumbled, “Didn't you tell me not to talk to men anymore?”</p><p>Innah gasped and held her mouth in shock. “But he's your grandfather! He's not part of the men you should avoid speaking to. Do you understand?”</p><p>I nodded and adjusted my position.</p><p>Baba looked at her in surprise. “What's going on? Why are you explaining all this to her?”</p><p>With a worried expression, Innah responded, “Malam, Niimatullah has started her period.”</p><p>Baba was startled. “She has? When did this happen?”</p><p>"Yesterday," Innah replied.</p><p>Baba became deeply concerned. “Since she matured early, we should marry her off early as well. It will put our minds at ease.”</p><p>I sat up immediately. “Marriage? Baba, no way! I’m not ready!”</p><p>Baba looked at me seriously. “Oh really? So, we should just sit here and watch you without getting you married? You're already grown, so what are we waiting for?”</p><p>I got up and pointed at myself. “Baba, look at me! I'm still a child! I can’t get married yet!”</p><p>We kept arguing back and forth—Baba insisting that I had matured, while I kept denying it. From that day, I couldn’t stop thinking about what I would do if they forced me into marriage when I wasn’t even old enough to cook properly.</p><p>One day, while Innah was out, I finished bathing and went into her room. I wore a wrapper around my chest and stood in front of the mirror, observing myself. I realized I was truly becoming a woman—my chest had started to fill out, and my body had taken shape. My beauty was even more striking now that puberty was refining my features. Smiling, I thanked Allah for blessing me with such beauty. Maybe Baba wasn’t wrong after all for wanting me to marry soon.</p><p>Later, when Innah returned, I lay on her lap playfully, begging her to tell me a story.</p><p>"I'm tired of this habit of yours, Niimatullah," she scolded. “Every day, you press down on my old legs.”</p><p>Smiling mischievously, I responded, “If I don’t press you, who else will I press, Innah? You're the only one I have left.”</p><p>Feeling sorry for me, she pulled me into an embrace. “You're right, Niimatullah. You're my only one, too.”</p><p>We continued chatting happily until Baba entered, holding his prayer beads and an ablution kettle.</p><p>"Niimatullah, put on your hijab. You have a visitor waiting outside," he said.</p><p>I quickly sat up, eyes wide. “What visitor, Baba?”</p><p>His face was serious. “Go and see for yourself.”</p><p>Feeling uneasy, I put on my hijab, slipped into Innah’s slippers, and nervously walked to the entrance.</p><p>To my shock, I saw the elderly man I had met yesterday. He leaned against our porch, dressed in white once again, confirming that he loved wearing white.</p><p>I took a quick step back, never expecting him to follow me home. "So, you’re my visitor? What did you come to my house for?" I asked.</p><p>As I spoke, I suddenly remembered my vow not to speak to men anymore. I quickly thanked Allah in my heart for reminding me, but I had already spoken out loud.</p><p>He narrowed his eyes at me. “What did Allah remind you of, Niimatullah?”</p><p>I lowered my head, unable to look at him because of the intimidating aura he carried. He kept speaking, but I remained silent until he finally asked why I refused to answer.</p><p>Still looking down, I muttered, “Innah told me not to speak to men.”</p><p>He chuckled, twirling the keys in his hand. “Your grandmother is truly wise. But she didn’t mean your husband, did she?”</p><p>Frowning, I snapped my head up. “Husband? May Allah forbid it! I will never marry you!”</p><p>He burst into laughter. “Why not, Niimatullah? If you marry me, everyone will call you 'The Wife of an Elderly Man.'”</p><p>I scoffed. “I am the wife of a young man! And not just any young man, but a fresh, youthful one!”</p><p>He rubbed his face and smirked. “I may look elderly, but I have more energy than any young man. You won't understand until you marry me and experience my love.”</p><p>I ignored him, refusing to engage further. He kept talking, but I didn't respond. Before he left, he handed me a shopping bag. I immediately ran inside, leaving the bag outside. A young boy later brought it in for me.</p><p>As soon as I got inside, I collapsed onto Innah’s lap, crying.</p><p>She held my face gently. “Who touched you, Niimatullah?”</p><p>Through my tears, I sobbed, “Innah, that visitor wants to marry me! But he’s too old, Allah!”</p><p>She comforted me. “Don’t worry, Niimatullah. We will never marry you off to someone you don’t want. You’ll choose for yourself, my dear.”</p><p>Her words reassured me, and I slept peacefully that night.</p><p>Alhaji Sadeeq Yusuf was a well-known scholar and a former Minister of Petroleum. He had held many high-ranking positions, which made him extremely wealthy. His house was located in the upscale Bompai neighborhood, on Durbin Katsina Road.</p><p>He had only two sons—Munir, who was 35 years old, and Hanif, who was 25. After them, he had no more children. He deeply wished to have more kids in the house, but his wife, Hajiya Maryam, had stopped having children. Being an educated woman, she had made that decision on her own, despite all his pleas.</p><p>One day, on his way to the Islamic school, Alhaji Sadeeq saw Niimatullah. From the moment he laid eyes on her, he was captivated. He felt a strong desire to have her in his life, believing he could change her life for the better.</p><p> </p><p> </p>
