That night, among the four of them—Saahar, Nadeeya, Taoufeeq, and the hardworking Fadeela—none had a proper sleep.

Nadeeya’s mind was restless, filled with questions. She kept wondering why Saahar left all of a sudden, and why she had seen nothing but sadness on Yaa Moha’s face. Her ears had clearly heard him tell Fadeela:

> “Let her go. You’ll keep living—with or without her.”

Turning restlessly on her bed, Nadeeya lay on her stomach, replaying the issue in her head. From the way Yaa Moha had looked at her, it was as if there was some connection between him and Saahar—some sort of bond. But where could they have known each other? She didn’t know. She exhaled softly and muttered to herself, praying it wasn’t something terrible like what had happened with Ameesha. Then she quickly shook her head and said firmly to herself, “No!”

---

Despite her swollen eyes and the headache starting to creep in from lack of sleep, she still went into the kitchen to help Maama prepare Dr. Girema’s breakfast. Today, however, she was unusually silent—not chatting with the house staff as she usually did.

Afifa had left early for the hospital after a late-night emergency involving accident victims.

When Nadeeya entered Maama’s room and told her she was done, Maama replied:

> “Go and set your father’s breakfast on the dining table in his wing. He’s going out today to meet guests. I’ll join you there shortly.”

Nadeeya said “Okay,” and left. Maama watched her go, thoughtful. Since the previous night, when she greeted her welcome back from the trip with Afifa, she had sensed that something was troubling her daughter. But she also knew how secretive and deep her thoughts could be. Afifa was usually the one who could get her to open up—sometimes Nadeeya would share worries with her sister that she couldn’t bring herself to tell their mother. That bond between the two girls was even stronger than that between them and their parents.

---

After getting herself fully ready, Nadeeya was about to leave when she heard Dr. Girema’s calm, commanding voice greeting from the sitting room. Her heart skipped, but she composed herself, answered politely, and went to greet him respectfully.

> “Sit. Let’s talk,” he said, settling himself on a chair.

She obeyed and sat quietly beside him, eyes lowered.

> “I was told you returned yesterday,” he began. “I hope you’re back for good—because you won’t be going anywhere again. Whatever reward came from that, may Allah make it beneficial.”

In a polite tone, she replied,

> “Yes, I’m back, Abba. I’m grateful for all the opportunities I’ve been given.”

> “That’s not the kind of gratitude I want from you, my daughter.”

He adjusted his sitting posture, resting an arm on the chair.

> “My heart is completely at peace with that young man. Therefore, I’m letting you know that—if you permit me, as Islam prescribes that we seek the widow’s consent—I’ll allow him to send his people over, so that we can finalize everything. Prepare yourself.”

> “I give you permission, Abba,” she said firmly, even though her heart was breaking inside. She felt as though her running had finally come to an end—there was no refuge left for her.

Mahmud Gana had won.

Dr. Girema fell silent, watching her face. Her quick acceptance surprised him; he had expected some hesitation, maybe even resistance. But this time—nothing. Just surrender. He nodded slowly.

> “Alright, then. May Allah bless you. Your mother will keep you informed about the arrangements.”

> “Ameen, Abba,” she said, standing up weakly. Every limb in her body felt heavy and drained of strength. Whatever hope she had left inside her had begun to fade away.

---

After pulling herself together, she bathed and tried to shake off the gloom that had settled on her. She was tired of always being the one consumed by pain, worry, and disappointment. Thoughts of Fadeela weighed heavily on her mind; everywhere she turned, it felt like she could hear Fadeela’s voice calling her.

To ease her loneliness, she decided to go out. After seeking Maama’s permission, she went to Yaa Muhyi’s house to pick up Khaleefa, then to Yaa Saifullahi’s to fetch Fadeel, and finally to Yaa Zaid’s to get Zaahid. She hoped that spending time with the boys—though they weren’t girls—would fill the emptiness she felt and distract her from her thoughts.

---

He—Toufeeq—sat staring at her with wide, sharp eyes, feeding her silently with a spoon. His tightly composed face radiated tension and authority. Each time she lifted her eyes to take the food from him, tears welled up and fell instead of words.

He dropped the spoon, glaring at her.

> “What now?”

> “Aunty N…” she sobbed.

That name pierced him sharply—he hated hearing Fadeela mention her.

> “If you ever say her name to me again… I’ll slap your mouth shut,” he snapped, eyes blazing.

> “Get up,” Sajjad’s voice cut through the air. He reached for Fadeela’s hand. She stood quickly, still crying as he pulled her up.

> “Come on, let’s go. Sister Nadeeya will help you change your clothes. Leave him to stew in his own anger,” Sajjad said, sighing. “Ya Allah, please—give him a love so fierce that he’ll feel the pain of his own stubborn heart.”

As Sajjad led the girl out, Toufeeq felt a rush of fury. He almost got up to grab and punch Sajjad. That kind of prayer felt like someone asking for death to descend upon you. Sajjad himself knew what he’d done, but he didn’t care. He just carried Fadeela out quickly, leaving Toufeeq alone with his rage.

Running his hand through his hair, Toufeeq exhaled heavily. His heart tried to convince him that he could never love another woman again—that no woman could ever reach his heart. His spirit and heart had already been damaged beyond repair. Love no longer existed for him; perhaps it was better to call it mere desire or weakness of the heart.

He finally went into the bathroom to shower. Despite the fine meal Jacob had prepared for him, he couldn’t bring himself to eat. Fadeela’s crying had stuck in his mind. She had struck a part of him he could never fully guard again.

And then there was Nadeeya—her sadness had turned the entire house into silence. The weight in his chest was unbearable.

Later, as he worked on his system, Jacob came to say that Baaba Ramatu wanted to see him. Toufeeq nodded for her to come in. She entered calmly, respectfully, and greeted him.

> “Good evening,” she said.

“Evening,” he replied courteously. “How’s work?”

“Alhamdulillah,” she smiled. “If you don’t mind, I came with a little advice.”

He nodded for her to continue. She cleared her throat softly.

> “I was thinking… maybe you shouldn’t have dismissed Fadeela’s nanny. We all need patience when dealing with people around us—no one will ever act exactly as we want, a hundred percent. The girl took excellent care of Fadeela, more than anyone before her. She’s cautious, gentle, and very good with children. If you don’t mind, please consider bringing her back to continue taking care of Fadeela—for Allah’s sake.”

He lifted his head briefly to look at her, then turned back to what he was doing. After a pause, he said quietly:

> “She’ll never return. She’s gone. You should all learn to live with that. She was never meant to stay with us forever. She’ll keep living—without us.”

Baaba Ramatu’s heart sank at his finality. She knew Toufeeq—once he decided something, he never looked back. She left the room sadly, feeling a deep sense of loss. Saahar was truly gone, and no one like her would ever come again.

---

By late evening, Sajjad returned home with Fadeela. But the girl didn’t even enter Toufeeq’s section. She clung tightly to Nadeeya instead, trembling as a high fever took hold of her. Nadeeya panicked and quickly called Toufeeq.

He returned from the mosque immediately. Ever since Saahar left, he hadn’t been going out much—just staying home, doing all his work from his system.

He was more worried than anyone else, but like most men, he didn’t show it. They rushed Fadeela to the car, with Baaba Ramatu joining them, and headed to the hospital.