From Strangers to Soulmates

Chapter 2

The small, dimly lit room was quiet except for the faint hum of the standing fan. A girl sat on the edge of her bed, her knees drawn close to her chest, her arms wrapped around them like she was trying to hold herself together. Her name was Amna Othman, and at that moment, she looked lost in thought, haunted, almost.

The chandelier hanging from the ceiling cast long shadows across the painted walls. Her eyes, wide and glistening, stared blankly into space, though her mind was far from the present.

Thirteen years had passed, yet the pain of that one night still clung to her heart like a scar that refused to fade.

She could still hear the doctor’s voice echoing in her memory, calm yet devastating:

“We’re sorry, Alhaji… we couldn’t save her.”

She had been only seven years old, standing in the corner of the hospital room, watching her father collapse in tears. That was the night her world changed forever.

Her mother had died giving birth to her younger brother, Afaan, due to postpartum hemorrhage. Amna had held baby Afaan in her arms for the first time that night, still not understanding what “death” truly meant. All she knew was that her mother’s gentle hands would never stroke her hair again.

Her father, Alhaji Ismail Othman, had tried his best to fill that emptiness in her life, but time and grief have a strange way of twisting people’s hearts. Two years after his wife’s death, he remarried a woman named Hajiya Fadimatu, and from that day forward, Amna’s world turned dark.

Life in that house became unbearable. Hajiya Fadimatu treated her like a servant rather than a stepdaughter. The only moments of peace she had were when her father was home; only then did her stepmother wear the mask of a caring wife and mother. But once he left for work or for one of his long business trips the mask would drop, and the real cruelty would emerge.

The sound of the door banging open jolted Amna back to reality.

She turned sharply, startled. Her stepmother’s tall figure stood at the door, wrapped in a luxurious wrapper and veil, a scowl carved on her face.

“Ohh, so you’ve been awake all this while and couldn’t even come and greet me, huh?” Hajiya Fadimatu’s voice was sharp, laced with mockery.

Amna quickly lowered her gaze. “Good morning, Hajiya.”

Her stepmother didn’t respond. Instead, she stormed across the room and grabbed Amna roughly by the ear, yanking her off the bed.

“Since you’re acting deaf, let me tell you something,” she hissed, her grip tightening. “Your father has just left for the airport. He’s going on a business trip and won’t be back for a week maybe more. So if you try any nonsense with me, I’ll beat the living daylight out of you, and there’ll be no one to save you. Do you understand?”

Amna winced from the pain, tears welling in her eyes.

“Yes, ma.”

“Good.” Hajiya Fadimatu shoved her to the floor like she was trash. “Now stop those crocodile tears and go clean your father’s room. I want that place spotless. After that, cook breakfast for me — and don’t forget to wake that lazy brother of yours. His lesson teacher better not complain again about him being late. Do you hear me?”

“Yes, ma.”

Without another glance, Hajiya Fadimatu turned and walked out, the click of her slippers echoing down the corridor.

Amna stayed on the floor for a few seconds, clutching her ear, fighting back her sobs. Then she stood up slowly, wiped her tears, and walked to her brother’s room.

When she opened the door, she found Afaan, now thirteen, emerging from the bathroom, his short hair dripping with water. He was already taller than most kids his age, with their late mother’s almond-shaped eyes and her smile, the one thing that always melted Amna’s heart.

“Good morning, sister,” he said cheerfully, wrapping a towel around his shoulders.

“Good morning, my love,” she replied softly, the warmth in her voice returning despite everything. “How was your night?”

“It was good,” he said with a grin, “and yours?”

“It was… okay.” She smiled faintly as she walked to his wardrobe, pulling out a neatly ironed white shirt and dark trousers.

He took the clothes from her hands, watching her with concern. “You’re quiet. Did she shout at you again?”

Amna forced a smile. “Don’t worry about that. Just get ready, hmm? Your teacher will be here soon.”

He nodded, then said playfully, “You don’t have to cook for me today, you know. I’m fasting.”

“Fasting?” She raised an eyebrow, pretending to frown. “And since when did you become so holy?”

“Since yesterday,” he said, imitating a deep Arabic accent. “I am now a Sheikh!”

Amna burst out laughing, her earlier pain fading for a moment. “You’re not serious,” she said, ruffling his wet hair. “Now get dressed, Sheikh, and go downstairs when you’re done.”

Leaving him to prepare, she made her way to her father’s room. The familiar scent of his cologne greeted her as she stepped in. She began arranging his clothes, folding them neatly, dusting the furniture, and straightening his desk.

As she reached for a stack of papers on his bedside table, her eyes caught something that made her pause.

A brown file lay there with bold black letters:

“U.S. DEAL – 19th AUGUST 2023.”

Her heart skipped a beat. That must be important.

Without wasting time, she picked it up and hurried to her stepmother’s room.

“Hajiya,” she called softly from the doorway. “I saw this file in Daddy’s room. I think he forgot it.”

Fadimatu glanced up from her phone and frowned. “Yes, that’s the one for his meeting. Give it to him immediately before he reaches the airport.”

“Yes, ma.”

Amna nodded quickly and turned to leave. She ran back to her room, grabbed her veil, and tied it carefully over her head. Then she dashed outside to where their driver was washing the car.

“Baba Idris!” she called. “Please, I need to go to the airport quickly. Daddy forgot something important.”

The elderly driver looked up and nodded. “Alright, madam. Let’s go.”

Within minutes, they were driving through the busy morning traffic. Amna sat quietly in the backseat, holding the file tightly against her chest. Her mind drifted between thoughts — her father’s kindness, her brother’s innocence, her stepmother’s cruelty. Sometimes she wished she could just run away, start a new life somewhere far away from all of it.

They arrived at the airport, and she thanked the driver before stepping out. The crowd was thick; people rushed in every direction, suitcases rolling, phones ringing, children crying. Amna looked down at her phone, trying to call her father.

And then it happened.

She bumped into someone. Hard.

The file almost slipped from her hands. “I’m so sorry, sir!” she said quickly, bending a little. “I was in a hurry and didn’t see you.”

When she looked up, her breath caught in her throat. The man standing before her was strikingly handsome, tall, clean-shaven, wearing dark glasses and a scowl that made his face even sharper. His gaze was cold, distant.

“How could you see me when you’re busy looking at your phone, stupid fool,” he snapped before walking past her.

Amna froze. The words hit her like a slap. For a moment, she couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. People were looking now, whispering. Her cheeks burned with embarrassment, but she bit her lip, swallowing her pride. Forget it, Amna. You have something more important to do.

She adjusted her veil and hurried into the building. Just as she reached the main entrance, she saw her father walking toward her, suitcase in hand.

“Daddy!” she called out.

He stopped and turned, a surprised smile lighting up his face. “Amna? What are you doing here?”

She walked up to him, holding out the file. “You forgot this at home. I thought it was important, so I brought it to you.”

A proud smile spread across his face as he took the file from her. “Thank you, my princess. You’re such a responsible girl.”

Amna blushed slightly. “It’s nothing, Daddy.”

“Greet your brother for me,” he said warmly. “And tell him to be serious with his lessons and his Islamic classes, hmm?”

“I will.”

He patted her cheek gently. “Good girl. I’ll call when I land.

“Okay. Goodbye, Daddy.” She leaned forward and hugged him tightly, breathing in his familiar scent, the one that always made her feel safe.

“Goodbye, my dear. Take care of yourself.”

He waved as he walked away, and she stood there watching him disappear into the crowd.

Only then did she turn and head back toward the car, her steps heavy, her heart aching. She didn’t know that the man who had just insulted her, that arrogant stranger would soon reappear in her life in the most unexpected way.