Chapter Two The Jealous Wives (Continuation)

Chapter Two

The Jealous Wives (Continuation)

Ameera’s decision did not come suddenly, nor was it made out of blind emotion. It came after long nights of reflection, prayer, and silent tears. She weighed her future carefully, placing her ambitions on one side and her commitment on the other. When she finally agreed to marry Mallam Maikudi and sacrifice her job, she did so with full awareness of the consequences.

When Maikudi heard of her decision, his heart was shaken. Instead of joy alone, fear and concern overwhelmed him. He knew how difficult life could be without stable income, and the thought that Ameera would give up her job because of him troubled his conscience deeply.

One evening, they sat together under the shade of a tree near her father’s compound. The atmosphere was calm, but Maikudi’s expression carried worry.

“Ameera,” he began slowly, “there is something heavy in my heart.”

She turned to him, attentive. “What is it, Maikudi?”

He lowered his gaze for a moment before speaking. “This decision you are making… it is not easy. Sacrificing your job because of me—it is a very big thing.”

She listened quietly.

“Ameera,” he continued, “this is a bad decision for you. You worked hard for that job. You earned it. I am afraid that by sacrificing it, you may regret it later.”

She remained calm. “Why would I regret standing by my choice?”

Maikudi sighed deeply. “Because I do not have much. I cannot promise you comfort. I do not have a stable job. I am still struggling. I do not want to be the reason you limit your future.”

He paused, then added with sincerity, “Sometimes I think it is better if you focus on your work and leave me. I do not want to hold you back.”

Ameera looked at him steadily. “Maikudi,” she said gently, “why do you speak like this?”

“Because I care,” he replied. “I care too much to allow you to sacrifice everything for me. If you build your career now, life will be easier for you. You deserve that.”

She took a deep breath. “And what if I choose you willingly?”

He shook his head. “Love alone does not feed a home. I do not want you to suffer.”

Ameera smiled softly, though her eyes were firm. “Maikudi, when I chose you, I did not choose ease. I chose truth. I chose a man who fears Allah, who struggles honestly, and who never gives up.”

“But your job—” he tried to interrupt.

“My job is rizq,” she said. “And so are you. Allah is the One who provides. I am not afraid of poverty. I am afraid of regret for abandoning what I believe is right.”

Maikudi’s voice trembled. “You will blame me one day.”

“No,” she replied confidently. “I will blame myself only if I abandon my conviction.”

He remained silent.

“Ameera,” he said again, “please think again. Focus on your job. If Allah wills, we can meet again in the future.”

She shook her head gently. “If Allah wills, we will walk together now.”

Her words struck him deeply. He saw in her eyes not stubbornness, but certainty. Still, he tried one last time.

“I do not want to be the cause of people speaking badly about you,” he said. “The community will judge you.”

“They already judge,” she replied calmly. “But Allah judges better.”

After many conversations like this, with Maikudi constantly trying to convince her to reconsider and Ameera consistently refusing, her decision remained unchanged. She resigned from her job, fully accepting what lay ahead.

The news spread quickly through the community.

People talked.

Some were shocked. Some were angry. Others mocked her choice openly.

“How can a young woman reject a job for a man with nothing?” they said.

“She is wasting her future,” others whispered.

Her friends questioned her. Neighbors criticized her parents. Some accused her of being foolish, others of being blinded by love. Even distant relatives expressed disappointment.

But Ameera remained firm.

She did not argue with them. She did not defend herself loudly. Instead, she turned to prayer. Every night, she stood before Allah, asking Him to strengthen her heart and open doors for Maikudi. She prayed not for wealth, but for stability, dignity, and barakah.

Maikudi, on his part, felt both gratitude and guilt. He increased his efforts, working harder than ever. He returned to farming, explored small trades, and searched relentlessly for opportunities. He refused to allow Ameera’s sacrifice to be in vain.

Despite limited resources, their marriage took place quietly. It was simple and modest. There were no extravagant celebrations, only sincere du‘ā’, a small gathering, and hearts full of hope.

Unexpectedly, support came from places they never imagined. Some people, moved by Ameera’s sincerity, gifted household items. Others offered food, clothing, and assistance. Even those who once doubted them quietly contributed.

With small but sustainable resources, they began their life together. Their home was simple, but it was filled with peace. For the first time, Maikudi felt contentment he had never known before. Ameera managed the household with patience, wisdom, and gratitude.

Slowly, Maikudi’s efforts bore fruit. Opportunities began to appear. Small successes followed persistent struggle. Though life remained modest, happiness entered their home in a way that wealth alone could never buy.

Maikudi often reflected on his journey—from poverty, to education, to love, sacrifice, and marriage. He felt happiness once again, not because life was easy, but because it was meaningful.

And yet, unknown to them, this happiness was only the beginning. The chapter of sacrifice had ended, but another chapter—one that would test patience, justice, and hearts—was quietly approaching.

The jealous wives had not yet appeared

After the marriage, no one imagined that life would turn out as peacefully as it did for Ameera and Mallam Maikudi. Many had predicted hardship, regret, and unending struggle. Some even waited patiently, expecting the day Ameera would complain or return to her parents’ house in tears. But that day never came.

Instead, what followed surprised everyone.

Their home, though small and modest, was filled with warmth. There was laughter where people expected sorrow, patience where people expected frustration, and love where people expected blame. Ameera adjusted to her new life with remarkable grace, and Maikudi found in her not just a wife, but a companion, a supporter, and a source of strength.

Maikudi’s parents, who had initially been worried about their son’s future, grew to love Ameera deeply. They saw in her a daughter they had not known they needed. She respected them, served them willingly, and never complained about their demands or advice. She fetched water for her mother-in-law without being asked, cleaned the compound early every morning, and listened attentively to her father-in-law’s stories, even when she had heard them many times before.

“She is not lazy,” Maikudi’s mother once whispered to a neighbor.

“And she is not proud,” his father added. “She has good upbringing.”

Every day followed a gentle rhythm. Maikudi would wake before dawn, prepare for the farm, and leave after Fajr prayer. Ameera would pack his food carefully, sometimes adding small notes written in soft words of encouragement.

“May Allah make your work easy today.”

“Come back safely.”

Those words alone strengthened Maikudi more than food ever could.

When Maikudi returned from the farm in the afternoon, tired and dusty, Ameera would already be waiting. She seemed to sense the exact moment his footsteps reached the gate.

One afternoon, as usual, Maikudi entered the compound, his clothes stained with soil, sweat rolling down his face. Before he could even greet anyone, Ameera rushed toward him with a smile.

“Welcome, my farmer,” she said playfully.

Maikudi chuckled weakly. “Ah, Ameera… today the farm almost defeated me.”

She quickly took the hoe from his hand and placed it aside. “Sit down first.”

She brought water in a bowl. “Wash your hands.”

As he washed, she poured water gently over his hands, then handed him a clean towel. After that, she brought another bowl.

“For your feet,” she said.

Maikudi looked at her with surprise. “Ameera, you don’t have to—”

“Please,” she insisted softly.

When he finished, she helped him remove his dusty shirt and brought a clean one. Then, as he sat on the wooden bench, she began to massage his shoulders lightly.

“SubhanAllah,” Maikudi sighed. “This alone can make a man forget hunger.”

She laughed. “You exaggerate.”

“No, wallahi,” he replied. “If I knew marriage came with this kind of treatment, I would have married earlier.”

She laughed louder. “So you married me for massage?”

“For everything,” he replied teasingly. “But this one is a bonus.”

She sat beside him. “Tell me, how did the farm go today?”

He sighed dramatically. “Hmm… where do I start?”

“Start from the beginning,” she said, resting her chin on her hand.

“Okay,” he said. “First of all, the sun decided to be my enemy today. It followed me everywhere.”

She laughed. “Did you greet it?”

“I greeted it, begged it, even complained to it,” he said seriously. “But it refused to listen.”

Ameera burst into laughter.

“Then,” he continued, “the soil was stubborn. I told it, ‘Please accept the seed.’ It said, ‘Work harder.’”

“Maybe you didn’t beg well,” she teased.

“And then,” Maikudi said, lowering his voice, “a goat entered the farm.”

Her eyes widened. “A goat?”

“Yes,” he said, nodding. “It came with confidence, like it owned the land.”

She laughed uncontrollably. “What did you do?”

“I chased it,” he said. “But instead of running away, it looked at me like I was disturbing it.”

Ameera wiped tears from her eyes. “So who won?”

“The goat,” he admitted. “It ate first, then left.”

She laughed again. “You need help on that farm.”

“Oh no,” he said quickly. “You are not coming.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Why not?”

“You?” he asked, pretending to examine her. “You can’t survive one hour.”

She folded her arms. “Who said?”

Maikudi laughed. “Ameera, farm work is not like office work.”

“And who told you I cannot do it?” she challenged.

“You?” he replied. “With your soft hands?”

She stood up. “My hands are not soft. Look.” She showed him her palms.

He shook his head. “Those hands are for cooking, not farming.”

She laughed. “I can farm.”

“No,” he insisted. “You will complain after ten minutes.”

“I will not,” she said stubbornly.

At that moment, Maikudi’s mother walked into the compound and paused when she saw them laughing.

“What is making you two laugh like children?” she asked.

Maikudi pointed at Ameera. “She says she can work on the farm.”

His mother laughed loudly. “Ameera? Farm?”

Ameera turned to her mother-in-law. “Mama, do you think I cannot?”

The older woman smiled. “My daughter, farming is not easy.”

“I know,” Ameera replied. “But I can learn.”

Maikudi’s father, who had been listening from a distance, joined them. “What is this discussion?”

“Ameera wants to follow me to the farm,” Maikudi said.

His father laughed. “Ah! Let her try one day. Then she will respect farmers.”

Ameera clapped her hands. “You see? Baba supports me.”

Maikudi shook his head. “All of you are planning against me.”

His mother laughed. “My son, let her see how hard you work.”

Maikudi looked at Ameera. “Okay. One day. But don’t blame me.”

She smiled triumphantly. “Deal.”

That evening, as they sat together eating dinner, the laughter continued. The house felt alive, full of warmth and joy. Maikudi looked around—at his parents smiling, at Ameera serving everyone happily—and his heart felt heavy with gratitude.

Later that night, as they lay down, Maikudi spoke softly.

“Ameera.”

“Yes?”

“Thank you.”

“For what?” she asked.

“For choosing me,” he said honestly. “For believing in me when others did not.”

She turned toward him. “I did not choose you because of what you had. I chose you because of who you are.”

He swallowed hard. “I will never forget that.”

Days turned into weeks, and weeks into months. Their happiness grew steadily, quietly. People began to talk again—but this time, with surprise.

“They are doing well,” some said.

“She looks happy,” others admitted.

“Maybe we judged too quickly,” a few confessed.

Maikudi’s parents often thanked Allah for Ameera.

“She brought peace,” his mother said one evening.

“She brought balance,” his father added.

Yet, in the distance, unseen and unheard, the seeds of another trial were being planted. Life, as always, was preparing another test—one that would bring jealousy, misunderstanding, and pain.

But for now, Ameera and Maikudi lived in peace, unaware that this calm season was only a preparation for what was to come.

The jealous wives were still on their way.

To Be Continue Inshallah..... 

©AHMAD ZAHIR ENAGI ABU KHALIF