**Now, Kawu, you won’t leave without selling milk. Look at how Aisha is struggling with her newborn, yet you go from market to market. Aren’t you afraid the cold will catch this baby girl?** Kawu remained silent, staring at the elderly woman who was speaking while holding a small baby in her arms, who couldn’t be more than three months old. “Yakumbo, please be patient and remove the love of this girl from your heart. You know we have to go out to sell milk to earn something to eat. Aisha, fetch the milk container so we can go, the sun is already up.” Aisha quickly grabbed a wrapper and handed it over with both hands. "Yakumbo, bring her here, we need to go," she said, smiling. “If it weren’t for the fact that I know how much Nijlah cries, I would have held onto her until you return,” Yakumbo replied with a smile, shaking her head. Yakumbo handed Nijlah to them, and they set off, each carrying a container of milk as they headed for the road. “Lift your feet, Aisha, the sun is up, and the market is busy today. I don’t want us to be late.” “Oh dear husband, now with all the running you’re asking me to do, my back hurts terribly.” “Take it easy, you know we have no other choice,” Kawu replied. Pouting, Aisha adjusted Nijlah on her back and said, “I’m hungry. It’s not fair that since morning I haven’t eaten anything, and I’m still carrying milk.” Kawu remained silent as they continued walking, for the distance from their village to the main road was considerable. They were fortunate to find a vehicle when they reached the road. They quickly got in, with their belongings in hand and Nijlah crying in the back. As the vehicle started moving and the fare was being collected, Kawu spoke up, “Driver, please have mercy. I have no money except for twenty naira. I know you’re a good Muslim and will help me.” “What?! Whose father do you think will pay your fare? You old people are all the same,” the driver retorted angrily. The elderly woman barely managed to say, “Please, take me for charity.” “I can’t do that,” the driver responded harshly, growing more irritated. He continued to rant and rave, barely paying attention to the road, when suddenly... A huge truck ran over them. Everyone in the vehicle started screaming and praying, but there was no one to help as the area was not frequently trafficked. Eventually, another vehicle arrived to provide assistance. This accident brought great tragedy, as out of everyone in the vehicle, only the driver and the constantly crying Nijlah survived. The driver sustained injuries to his arm and leg, while everyone else had passed away. They were quickly taken to the hospital for emergency care, where Nijlah’s crying was calmed with milk. The driver received treatment for his injuries. Photographs of the deceased were soon circulated in the media to locate their families, and announcements were made on radio stations. Malam, sitting at home and listening to the radio, heard the shocking news. He rushed out of the room, calling for Yakumbo. Yakumbo, emerging from the bathroom, responded, “Malam, what happened for you to call me like this? Haven’t you heard that hunger can make you speak loudly?” Malam couldn’t speak, only placing his hands on his head. “It’s over, death has come swiftly. The pillar we leaned on has collapsed.” “Subhanallah, Malam, are you crying? What happened? Who has died? Quickly tell me before my heart stops,” Yakumbo asked, filled with anxiety. “It’s Kawu, Yakumbo. Kawu has died, he has gone to the truth along with his wife, Aisha.” Before Yakumbo could respond, Inna Babar Aisha entered, crying with her hands on her head. Together, they rushed to the hospital, where they quickly identified and collected the bodies of Kawu and Aisha, as well as Nijlah, whom God had spared. Upon returning home, they performed the funeral prayers for Aisha and her husband. Yakumbo was deeply distressed, falling into an indescribable state of anxiety. After the seven-day prayer, Inna requested to take care of Nijlah to ease her longing for Aisha.