Beyond The Scars

Chapter Four

Abdulrahim's POV

I don't understand why Farah is so stubborn.

Well. I've tried.

I've apologized more times than my pride is comfortable admitting, and every single time, she finds a new way to throw it back in my face. If she still wants to hold onto three years of anger over something I didn't even do, that's on her. We went that long without speaking and we both survived it, Alhamdulillah. Neither of us fell apart. We can keep going like that, easily.

At least, that's what I told myself, over and over, until it almost started to sound true.

---

Three weeks had passed since the convocation, and Mama had taken to visiting Aunty Rukayah almost every other day, like the two of them had suddenly discovered they couldn't survive without each other's company after a decade apart.

Every single time, she asked me to come along so I could see Farah.

Every single time, I found a reason not to. A headache. An assignment. A friend who needed help moving something. Mama never questioned it out loud, but I caught the look she gave me each time, the one that said she wasn't fooled, not even a little.

I didn't think I could keep dodging it much longer, especially with only three days left before I resumed school.

Three hundred level.

Finally. Almost done, InshaAllah. Two more years of this and I could stop counting down semesters like a prisoner counting days.

---

"Assalamualaikum, Mama. How was your night?" I asked, walking into the dining room and pressing a light kiss to her cheek before pulling out my chair.

"Wa'alaikum salam, my dear. Alhamdulillah, it was good." She was already dressed for the day, a plate of akara and pap in front of her, though she'd barely touched it.

I greeted Baba, who grunted a good morning from behind his newspaper without looking up, and sat beside Nuri. She had her face nearly in her bowl, spooning cereal like the house was on fire and this was her last meal.

"Mom, I'll be leaving for Kano tomorrow," I said, reaching for the bread. "We resume in two days, so I want to settle in early, get the room sorted before the rush."

"Oh. Okay." Her voice went soft in the way it always did whenever one of us mentioned leaving, like she was already rehearsing the silence that would follow. "Just take care of yourself."

I smiled. "Mama, this isn't my first time going to school."

"I know." She reached over and pinched my cheek anyway, the way she'd done since I was small enough for it to actually hurt. "But you're still my baby."

Everyone at the table laughed. Even Baba, from behind the newspaper.

Everyone except Nuri.

"Eh! It's not fair." She dropped her spoon with a clatter. "I'm your last born. Shouldn't I be the baby?"

Mama laughed harder. "Okay, okay. You are my baby too."

That set the whole table off again, Nuri included this time, grumbling into her cereal but clearly pleased with herself for winning the argument.

---

"Alright, I'm heading to Asad's place," I said once breakfast had settled, pushing back from the table. "Want to see him before I travel."

"Okay. Drive safely," Mama said, already reaching for Baba's empty plate.

I nodded and stepped out into the late morning heat.

The drive from Asokoro to Gwagwalada took a little under an hour, most of it spent switching between radio stations that all seemed to be playing the same three songs and thinking about absolutely nothing in particular, which was exactly the kind of drive I needed before facing a full day of packing.

When I finally pulled up outside Asad's gate, there was a car parked directly in front of it, at an angle that blocked half the entrance.

Who parks like that? Some people had never learned to reverse in their life.

I found a spot a little further down the road and walked the rest of the way, already composing the complaint I was going to make to Asad about his visitors.

Then, out of nowhere, someone walked straight into me.

I opened my mouth to say something about watching where you're going, and then she looked up.

Farah.

Of course. Because my week hadn't been irritating enough already.

She didn't even give me a second to speak.

"Are you stalking me? I told you to leave me alone, didn't I? I said I don't want to talk to you again, so why are you always..."

"Excuse me." I cut her off before she could really get going. "Why would I be stalking you? I came to see my friend." I frowned, folding my arms. "If anything, I could say the same about you. You're the one who bumped into me. Who's to say it wasn't on purpose?"

Her eyes narrowed, somehow managing to look even more offended than before.

"And what exactly are you doing in this estate?" I pressed.

"First of all, who gave you the right to speak to me like that? Secondly, for your information, I came to see my cousin. Zara lives here, in case you forgot."

I let out a short breath through my nose, the closest thing to a laugh I could manage without actually giving her the satisfaction.

"Well, that's your problem then, isn't it. Next time, watch where you're going."

I walked past her without waiting to see whatever she had to say back.

Because honestly, I was already tired. Tired of the attitude, tired of the accusations, tired of somehow always being the villain in a story I never agreed to be part of.

---

Farah's POV

I was deep in sleep, the good kind, the kind you only get right before someone decides to ruin it, when Mom's voice cut through my room.

"Farah, get dressed and come downstairs."

I groaned into my pillow but dragged myself up anyway, had a quick bath, and threw on a green bubu with a matching veil, not bothering to check the mirror twice.

Downstairs, Mom was already waiting with a blue nylon bag in her hand.

"Take this to Aunty Memunah," she said, holding it out.

I didn't argue. Truthfully, I didn't mind the errand at all, not when it meant one more chance to see Zara before heading back to Kano the next day.

---

I was already walking through their estate, phone pressed to my ear, half listening to Asma go on about something her cousin had said, when I collided with someone.

I started apologizing before I'd even fully looked up.

Then I did look up.

Abdulrahim.

Again.

Seriously, what was this.

"Are you stalking me?" I snapped, phone forgotten at my side. "I told you to leave me alone, didn't I?"

"Excuse me." He cut in before I could finish, arms crossing over his chest like he had all the patience in the world and none of it for me. "Why would I be stalking you? I came to see my friend."

His friend. Please. As if that explanation had ever once satisfied me.

"Don't talk to me like that," I said. "And for your information, I came to see my cousin. Zara lives here."

"Well, that's your problem." He was already stepping around me. "Next time, watch where you're going."

And just like that, he was gone, walking off like he hadn't just ruined the first good mood I'd had all week.

Arrogant. Rude. Unbelievably annoying.

I stood there a second longer than necessary, phone still pressed to my ear, Asma's voice tinny and forgotten on the other end asking if I was still there.

---

By the time I reached the house, Aunty Memunah was in the living room, going through something on her phone.

"Assalamualaikum, Aunty. Mom said I should bring this."

"Wa'alaikum salam, my dear. Thank you." She took the bag without looking up.

"Where's Zara?"

"Upstairs. Still sleeping, probably."

I didn't wait for anything else. I took the stairs two at a time and barged straight into her room, curtains still drawn, the whole space dim and quiet.

She was buried under her blanket, one leg hanging off the bed.

"Zara!" I shook her shoulder. "Wake up!"

"Mama, please," she mumbled into her pillow, not moving an inch.

I shook her harder. "Get up. It's me."

That did it. She sat bolt upright, hair a mess, blinking at me like I'd personally offended her by existing.

"Farah? What are you even doing here this early?"

I laughed. "Early? It's almost noon."

Her eyes went wide. "Seriously?"

"Yes, seriously." I grabbed both her wrists and hauled her out of bed before she could argue her way back under the covers.

---

While she got ready, my mind wandered straight back to the estate, to him, to the exact way he'd looked at me like I was the unreasonable one in all of this.

And just like that, the irritation was back, fresh as ever.

"Farah!"

Zara's voice snapped me out of it.

"I've been calling you for like a full minute," she said, towel still around her shoulders. "Where did you go just now?"

"Nowhere. Nothing," I said quickly, too quickly.

She gave me a look, the one she'd perfected over years of catching me lying badly.

I sighed and gave in. So I told her. All of it.

"Wait." She sat down across from me, fully invested now. "The same Abdulrahim from the convocation? He seemed nice."

I scoffed. "Nice? You clearly don't know him."

"So what did he actually do?"

I hesitated, the old familiar reluctance rising in my chest, then told her anyway, the whole thing, start to finish.

When I finished, she was quiet for a moment, frowning like she was turning it over carefully.

"But Farah. He did explain himself, didn't he? What if he was actually telling the truth?"

That set me off instantly. "So now you're taking his side?"

"I'm just saying..."

"Drop it," I cut in, sharper than I meant to.

She raised both hands in surrender, but I could see it in her face, she wasn't convinced, not even close.

And somehow that made me even more irritated than the argument itself.

Because deep down, in the part of me I refused to listen to, a small and stubborn voice was asking the exact same question.

What if he really had been telling the truth all along?