ABOUT THIS BOOK
Description
"Luuuu," he was about to fall when Yaya Sulaiman quickly caught him, saying, “Be strong, Ibrahim; what is the benefit of living with such women who want to see the end of their husbands for reasons best known to themselves? Is divorcing her what will make you collapse? Know that if you fall ill, you only harm yourself and your child, not her. Let’s go to the chemist to get that wound treated before infection sets in.”
As for Ibrahim, everything felt surreal to him, as if he were losing his mind or in a dream. Whenever he remembered the word of divorce he uttered to Fiddausi, he felt dizzy again, as if he were about to faceplant. Never even in jest had he imagined this day would come; he had thought only death would separate him and Fiddausi. “Abba, let’s go so Mama doesn't cut your hand again,” Amir said, shaking Ibrahim’s hand—whom Ibrahim had completely forgotten was right beside him.
With great difficulty, he managed to drag his feet outside and found Yaya, who had already gotten the padlock to lock the house from the neighbors. As soon as Ibrahim came out, Yaya locked the house, and they got back into Yaya’s small car and drove off. They stopped at a small chemist where his hand was dressed after he was given a TT injection. From there, they headed home, everyone heavy-hearted; Ibrahim felt like a ghost of himself, merely enduring the pain.
As they entered, Alhaji was sitting at the doorway of his room, having just finished discussing Ibrahim’s matter and listening to the 8:00 PM news. He watched them intently, seeing Ibrahim’s bandaged hand. He looked at Hajiya, who also looked at him, before he asked, “Is everything alright? What happened to his hand?” Before they could speak, Amir said, “Mama cut Abba with a knife, and blood was pouring out.” Yaya looked at Sadik, who was sitting to the side, and said, “Take Amir and go buy him some candy.”
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