Chapter 8 – The Jealous Wives

Chapter 8 – The Jealous Wives

When they returned home after the court case, the house no longer felt like a home. The walls were the same, the rooms were the same, but something inside them had broken beyond repair. Maikudi walked in slowly, his steps heavy, his face tired—not from sickness, but from disappointment.

He sat down in the parlor without saying a word. Ameera followed quietly and stood by the door, while Sakina and Maryam sat on the other side, whispering to each other.

For a long time, silence filled the room.

Then Maikudi spoke.

“I have seen everything,” he said in a low voice. “Not only in court… but in my heart.”

No one answered.

“When the doctor came to this house and said my condition was critical,” he continued, “that I might die if a kidney was not found… what did you do?”

Sakina looked down.

Maryam folded her arms.

Maikudi raised his voice slightly. “Instead of standing together, instead of thinking about my life, you fought. You accused. You destroyed each other.”

He turned to Sakina. “You saw Ameera suffer for years. You benefited from her patience. Yet you stayed silent when she was accused.”

Sakina whispered, “I was afraid…”

“And you,” he said, facing Maryam, “you went as far as sending an innocent woman to prison. You called her a witch. You wanted her life destroyed.”

Maryam stood up angrily. “She deserves it!”

Maikudi looked at her in disbelief. “Deserves what? For loving me? For standing by me when none of you came to the hospital?”

Ameera tried to speak. “Please, let us calm down—”

Maryam cut her off. “You see! She’s pretending again!”

Maikudi slammed his hand on the table. “Enough!”

Everyone froze.

“I can no longer continue like this,” he said firmly. “This house has become a battlefield. My peace is gone. My dignity is gone.”

Sakina’s eyes widened. “What are you saying?”

Maikudi stood up. “I am saying I am done.”

Maryam laughed sarcastically. “You want to blame us now? After everything?”

“No,” he replied calmly. “I am taking responsibility.”

He turned to Maryam first. “I divorce you.”

The words fell like thunder.

Maryam screamed. “What?! Because of her?!”

He did not answer her accusation. He then turned to Sakina.

“And you… I divorce you too.”

Sakina broke down instantly. “Please! I made mistakes, but I can change!”

Maikudi closed his eyes. “I gave enough chances.”

The room filled with cries and chaos.

Maryam pointed at Ameera furiously. “It’s you! You are the reason! You planned everything!”

Sakina wiped her tears and suddenly joined her. “Yes! If you had not acted like a saint, none of this would have happened!”

Ameera stepped forward, her voice shaking but firm. “Fear Allah. I did not ask for this. I did not plan this. I begged for peace.”

Maryam shouted, “Liar!”

Sakina added, “You always wanted us out!”

Ameera raised her hands in desperation. “Wallahi, I did not. I endured everything for the sake of Allah and my children.”

But they would not listen.

Sakina moved closer to Maryam, holding her arm. “From today, we stand together. She ruined our lives.”

Maryam nodded angrily. “She will pay for this.”

Maikudi looked at them one last time. “Blame whoever you want. But the truth remains—you destroyed yourselves.”

He turned to Ameera. “You may remain in this house.”

Ameera’s tears flowed freely. “I never wanted this outcome.”

Maikudi replied softly, “I know. And that is why you stay.”

Sakina and Maryam gathered their things that same day, still throwing accusations, still cursing, still blind with jealousy.

As the door closed behind them, Ameera sank to the floor, crying—not out of victory, but out of exhaustion.

She had lost sisters, gained blame, and remained standing only by patience.

And in that quiet house, Allah alone knew how much her heart had endured.

To Be Continue Inshallah..... 

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 Chapter 8 

The Jealous Wives (Continuation)

After the divorce took place, Sakina and Maryam returned to their fathers’ houses in bitterness and shame. The noise they left behind faded slowly, and the house became quiet again. Ameera remained in the home with Maikudi and the children, carrying not only her own responsibilities but also the weight of children who were not born from her womb.

At this stage of her life, Ameera had almost six children under her care. Her first son, the eldest, was already thirty-two years old, a mature man with wisdom shaped by years of witnessing patience and sacrifice. The younger ones filled the house with noise, laughter, and questions that never seemed to end.

Sakina had only one child. Because of the incident that had once taken that child’s sibling, her son was now seven years old. Maikudi did not allow Sakina to take him along when she left. The boy remained in the house, confused at first, missing his mother, but slowly finding comfort in the arms of Ameera.

Maryam had three children of her own. They were old enough to understand that their mother had gone back to her father’s house, yet young enough to need care, warmth, and guidance. Though their biological mother was absent, Ameera stood by them without hesitation. She clothed them, fed them, prayed for them, and corrected them with gentleness. She never reminded them of their mothers’ mistakes. She never treated them as strangers.

She treated them all as her own.

Morning after morning, she woke them for prayer. Evening after evening, she sat with them, listening to their stories. Slowly, something beautiful grew in that house—something jealousy could not destroy.

One evening, the children gathered around her in the courtyard as the sun began to set.

“Mama Ameera,” the little boy from Sakina said softly, pulling at her sleeve.

She smiled and bent down. “Yes, my son?”

“Will you stay with us forever?” he asked, his eyes full of hope.

Ameera placed her hand on his head. “In shā’ Allah, as long as Allah gives me life, I am here for you.”

One of Maryam’s children laughed and said, “You are better than our real mother.”

Ameera shook her head gently. “No, my child. Your mother is your mother. I am only someone Allah sent to care for you.”

“But you love us,” another child said, hugging her tightly.

She held them close. “And I will always love you.”

The eldest son watched quietly, then spoke with respect. “Mother, you carried more than anyone could bear. Yet you never complained.”

Ameera’s eyes filled with tears. “Allah saw everything, my son. That is enough for me.”

The children began talking over one another, laughing.

“Mama, come and play with us!”

“Mama, you promised to tell us a story!”

“Mama, you make the best food!”

She laughed through her tears. “One at a time, one at a time.”

They ran around her, holding her hands, calling her “Mother, Mother,” their voices filling the house with warmth.

From a distance, Maikudi watched them. His heart softened. He saw how every child—whether born of Ameera, Sakina, or Maryam—sat at the same table, shared the same food, and received the same love.

He whispered to himself, “This is a real wife. This is a real mother.”

That night, as the children slept peacefully, Ameera sat alone, her heart calm despite all she had endured. She had lost companionship, gained responsibility, and yet Allah replaced her pain with something greater—love, respect, and a family united by mercy.

And in that house once filled with jealousy, patience finally found its reward.

To Be Continue Inshallah..... 

©AHMAD ZAHIR ENAGI ABU KHALIF