Since the early hours of Saturday, I've been filled with anxiety and fear. A strange feeling of unease and nervousness has taken over me, and my whole body feels cold and weak. My heart has not stopped racing as I think about the difficult situation I'm in. My anxiety and fear intensified when the clock struck twelve noon, and I couldn't sit still no matter how much I tried to calm myself. I kept pacing back and forth in Maman Boy's room, where I had dressed in my new English-styled Atamfa gown. I hadn't worn it more than three times and washed it only once. It was part of my bridal clothes from Abubakar. I didn't do any makeup because I wasn't in the mood for it. It was just me and my younger sister, Habiba, in the room, and earlier, Ramatu had taken her out. I wanted to check our room, but my legs felt too weak to carry me to our family's central courtyard. My fear lessened a bit when I remembered that Amma felt better today; she even took a bath and dressed nicely since our relatives from the house of the late Alhaji Mammandi, the imam, had arrived. They had come not to celebrate with Amma but to see how things would turn out, as they always predicted the worst for me. I could hear the chatter of Adda Fati in the courtyard. Although it wasn't a big gathering, they were cooking food for the neighbors and relatives who would come, even if just a few. It seemed like they were almost done because I heard them telling the women to bring their bowls, and Hassana came to take Maman Boy's bowl. When she entered, she greeted me, saying, "Hello, Adda Hasiya." After she left, I returned to my deep thoughts, the ticking of the clock on Maman Boy's wall echoing with the beating of my heart. I was scared and could only whisper, "Oh God! Oh God!" Then my mouth felt heavy, and I couldn't say anything else. What could I say? What could I ask for? If this life I am living is what is called a difficult situation, then I can say that I, Hasiya, have been living in a difficult situation since birth. I watched the clock strike one, my heart pounding. My legs started to shake. I was terrified, feeling as though what was happening to me was inevitable and not a mistake. I placed one hand on my chest, feeling my heart racing as if it would burst out. I was genuinely scared, the fear visible on my face. Ramatu burst into the room, her pregnant belly not slowing her down. She shouted right into my right ear, causing me to feel like I was about to faint. My ears rang, and I heard her sweet voice saying, "It’s done... you are now Salisu's wife. You are now Salisu's bride. Your marriage has been performed, Hasiya." Her words matched the moment my legs gave out, and I collapsed on the mat in Maman Boy's room, gasping for breath. Tears filled my eyes as I looked at Ramatu, hearing the commotion outside, announcing the marriage. I asked, "Is it true? Has my marriage to Salisu really been performed?" She smiled at me with the love she has had for me since she first met me. She sat beside me, her pregnancy not bothering her, and reassured me, saying, "Yes, your marriage to Salisu is true. And by God's grace, this marriage will last until death, Hasiya." She paused, observing me as I closed my eyes, tears streaming down my face. With her gentle voice, she called my name, "Hasiya... Hasiya, please look at me." I looked up at her with tears threatening to fall. She wiped my tears with one hand and continued, "So, why are you crying? By God's grace, this marriage will erase the bad things people say about you, Hasiya, and they will regret calling you all sorts of names." Her words weakened me. Summoning all my strength, I said, "Ramatu, are you sure? How can a lifetime of misfortune be erased in one moment?" I started shaking my head, tears flowing freely. "You are just telling me this to make me feel better and not worry," I added, sobbing deeply. I clung to Ramatu, crying until I felt her belly bump against me. Then I felt a bit of calm and placed my hand on her belly, saying, "Even if I don't get married or have children, I know that your child will call me 'Mama' one day, Ramatu." Despite her own strength, I heard Ramatu's voice tremble as she said, "By God's grace, consider all my children yours, Hasiya." She hugged me tightly, and we cried together, reflecting on our lives since birth. Indeed, a person is insignificant, facing life's challenges and tests from birth to death. After we cried ourselves out, we fell silent. Maman Boy lifted the curtain and saw us sobbing. She shook her head and said, "What's all this crying for? The marriage has been performed, so let's just pray it stays out of the gossiping tongues of those who don't mean well." She dropped the curtain and left. Her words made us release each other, and Ramatu wiped my tears while I wiped hers, saying, "Don't worry, everything will be fine, God willing." I nodded, not because I believed nothing would happen, but because I didn't want to dismiss her efforts to comfort me. I couldn't stay in the room, my mind outside with Amma. I stood up with difficulty, my legs numb. The food Ramatu made me eat barely went down, sitting heavily in my chest. I had been dealing with chest and back pain for days, probably due to my ulcer acting up, but my current state made me ignore it. Dragging my numb legs, I left Maman Boy's room. Our house, known as the long house, had no courtyard, just a narrow passage with over ten lined-up rooms. If you come to Samaru and ask for the long house, anyone will bring you straight to our door. Any event held in the house is done at the front door because there is no courtyard space. We share the house with thirteen other families, but Amma is the fourth wife without a husband. Each woman has many children, like the sands of the sea, and there are also children from neighboring houses. Our house is a rented one, so it's not well-maintained like other family homes. When I came out, all the women were outside, eating and chatting, while the children ran around noisily. If not for Adda Fati, I wouldn't have wanted any gathering because I knew most of them came to eat and laugh at my misfortune. Even Amma had said she didn't want the gathering, but Adda Fati persuaded her to agree, saying any gathering was better than none. Honestly, I didn't want anyone to see me. I just wanted to slip into Amma's room, but Maman Salihu spotted me and shouted, "The bride of the groom!" Everyone turned to look at me, crowding around and teasing me as they usually did. I tried to avoid them as their noise only heightened my anxiety. I finally broke free and rushed into Amma's room. She was sitting on the edge of her mattress, propped up by two pillows for support. Around her were some of Babanmu's friends. I didn't bother to look at them closely, as my legs felt like they would give out. The room fell silent as I entered. The women called me the bride, a name that made me feel weak. Two years ago, I was called a bride, but it didn't last. I went from being a bride to a divorcee with other derogatory names I can't even mention. I didn't respond to them. I reached Amma and, without realizing it, collapsed at her feet, my legs hitting the floor with a thud. Smiling despite the pain on her face, she called, "AMMA... HASIYAA." I crawled to her, holding one of her hands. Seeing this, she placed her other hand over mine, gripping them tightly. Tears filled my eyes, but I tried to hold them back. In a pained but hopeful voice, she said, "May God bless this marriage of yours, Hasiya. May He protect you from the troubles of this world and make your home a lasting one, only death parting you." The women in the room echoed with "Ameen," though I could tell some didn't mean it. No matter how hard I tried to stop them, tears spilled over, landing on Amma's hands. She looked like she wanted to cry too but said, "Didn't you say 'God'? That's enough, Hasiya. Wipe your tears." I pulled my hands from hers, wiping the tears off my face. Suddenly, a woman said, "We just hope nothing bad happens to the groom later." With teary eyes, I looked at her. It was Gambo, Babanmu's adopted daughter. I couldn't respond. What could I say? She spoke the truth. My fear was the same. Before her words could spread, Inna Talatu, Ramatu's mother, said, "With God's help, nothing bad will happen. We will only hear good news."