The Twins 2, Chapter 2
The journey was only ten minutes away, and everyone had already gathered at Yusuf's house. Even Alamin and his wife, Atika, had come to wish them a safe journey.
For the past thirty minutes, the house had been filled with warmth and laughter. Family members chatted, exchanged prayers, and shared well wishes for the twins, their husbands, and Hafsat. It was one of those rare moments where everyone is happy.
Zara's heart swelled as she observed Lukman and Alamin. Though their conversation was brief, they were talking—something that had taken her a great deal of effort to make happen. Seeing them at least trying to get along was a relief.
Out in the house premises, Alamin pulled both his sisters into a tight embrace, holding each of them with one arm.
"Safe journey, my dear twin sisters," he whispered, his voice filled with warmth.
Zainab and Zara exchanged a look, smiling as they squeezed their brother's hands in return.
The trip that was originally planned for Zara, Zainab, and Hafsat has now turned into a trip with Lukman and Mubarak instead. The two men, deeply attached to their wives, barely let them out of their sight.
Yusuf had wanted to join as well, but duty called. A patient of his required extra care, and as much as he and his wife wished he could come, he has to stay back.
Before Hafsat could dwell on the change of plans, she felt a gentle squeeze on her hand. She turned to see Yusuf looking at her, his eyes filled with warmth.
"Please, have a safe journey, dear," he murmured. "And this time... bring Abdulkareem with you."
Hafsat smiled and nodded.
Abdulkareem, their six-year-old son, had been staying mostly with her father for the past two years. He preferred the family house, where there were children his age, unlike at home. It had been a year since he last returned, except for special occasions.
Yusuf exhaled quietly, his grip on her hand tightening slightly. Would Abdulkareem even be happy to come home? Or had he grown too used to life at his grandfather's house? The thought unsettled them. The house already felt too big without Zainab and Zara. Or maybe, they just miss him too much.
The final round of goodbyes was exchanged, warm embraces given before they finally stepped into the car.
The vehicle was spacious, luxurious, and incredibly comfortable. Lukman and Zara took the back seats, with Zainab and Mubarak in between them. Hafsat occupied the seat before the front passenger side, while their family driver took the wheel.
As was religion, they all recited prayers before setting off.
Mubarak and Zara, who had both felt uneasy earlier, were the ones most engrossed in their prayers as the journey began.
On the Road
The journey stretched on.
Thirty minutes passed.
Zainab had already dozed off, her head resting against Mubarak's shoulder. Her veil covered her face—she disliked sleeping in bright light. Mubarak, still deep in his prayers, was grateful that she seemed fine and was even able to rest.
Zara leaned against Lukman's shoulder, softly reciting her dua, when she suddenly felt his fingers intertwine with hers.
"What's wrong, Zara?" Lukman asked gently.
She shook her head, indicating it was nothing.
She wanted to continue praying, but Lukman couldn't stop whispering to her, his voice teasing and affectionate, She blushed. Her responses were brief, but the warmth between them was undeniable.
The rest of the journey continued in the same manner—some dozing off, others waking up occasionally. Thankfully, it wasn't a long trip.
When they finally arrived safely in Kaduna, both Mubarak and Zara felt a wave of relief.
Perhaps it had just been a bad feeling after all.
With prayerful hearts, they reassured themselves, In shaa Allah, all is well.
The initial plan was for the ladies to stay at their friend—the bride's—house, while Hafsat would stay with her family since she was the groom's sister.
But now that they had come with their husbands, they preferred to stay at a hotel.
Even so, Hafsat didn't allow the twins to settle with their husbands for even a few minutes before whisking them away. She took them to the bride's house, her family home, and several places around town in preparation for the wedding.
"You all coming with your husbands won't stop you from helping me with the occasion," she reminded them firmly.
This made both Zara and Zainab glance at each other. Hafsat had always been strict, but not to this extent. They exchanged a look but chose to remain silent.
Zara, full of energy, kept up with the activities, while Zainab did what she could, taking breaks to rest from time to time.
It wasn't until almost midnight that Hafsat finally returned them to their husbands.
_____
The Next Day.
Just like the journey, the marriage was a peaceful and smooth affair. By 1 PM the next day, the union between Safina Muazu and Jalil Mahmoud was officially concluded.
The ceremony was filled with warmth, prayers, and laughter. Friends and family gathered to celebrate, indulging in delicious meals while showering the newlyweds with blessings. Even the twins offered thier wishes and heartfelt words of advice. Given the groom's prominent family, a grand dinner was scheduled at a prestigious event center later in the evening.
After the wedding rites, Safina was escorted to her husband's home, where she would be staying with her in-laws until school resumed in a week. Her closest friends—Zainab, Zara, Safiyya, and Safeera among others—accompanied her.
As the evening approached, the bride's friends busied themselves with preparations for the grand dinner. Laughter and chatter filled the room as some dressed up while others applied makeup.
Safina, the bride, was getting ready, while Zara, her best friend, assisted the makeup artist in perfecting Safina's look—just as Safina had done for Zara on her wedding day.
Zainab sat comfortably among a group of her friends, finally allowing herself a moment of rest. The entire day had been a whirlwind—Hafsat had taken them from one place to another, leaving her with barely a second to breathe. Now, with the preparations mostly done, she reached for her phone for the first time since morning.
Oh Allah. Her breath hitched as she stared at the screen, her fingers tightening around the device. Several missed calls. All from Mubarak.
A wave of guilt washed over her. How had she completely forgotten that her phone was on silent? What if it was for something urgent?
She wanted to call him back immediately but hesitated. How do I explain this? The calls weren't just one or two—he had tried repeatedly.
Before she could decide, her phone buzzed in her hands, making her jump. Incoming Call: Mubarak.
She quickly stood, slipping outside for some privacy before answering.
"Aslm," she said softly.
"Wslm, Zainab, Alhamdulillah, you finally picked up!" Mubarak's voice was tense with frustration. "Where are you? What happened? Even Zara and Hafsat weren't answering their calls."
"We are all fine," she assured him. "I was just really busy today."
"Too busy to even check your phone?" There was an edge to his tone, but underneath, she could hear his worry. "Do you know how many times I called? And didn't even know where you are."
She winced. "I know. I'm really sorry, Mubarak. Hafsat had us running all over town since morning. I didn't even realize my phone was on silent."
There was a pause, then a quiet sigh. "Are you okay?" His voice had softened now. "You're not feeling unwell, are you?"
Zainab smiled despite herself. "I'm fine. Just a little exhausted, that's all."
Mubarak exhaled, the tension easing. "Alright. What's left? The marriage is done, right? Let me come pick you up now."
She bit her lip. "Well… there's still the dinner."
Silence.
Then a quiet, displeased hum. "Hmm. Good luck with that."
She frowned. "Mubarak."
"What?"
"You know you're supposed to attend the dinner too, right?"
Another pause. "I know." His voice was reluctant.
She sighed. "Then why do you sound like you don't want me to go?"
"Because I don't," he admitted bluntly.
Zainab blinked, caught off guard by his honesty. "Mubarak…"
"You're already exhausted, Zainab. Do you really need to go to another event after an entire day of running around?"
She huffed. "It's Safina's wedding dinner. It's important."
Mubarak clicked his tongue. "And will she be offended if her friend leaves early?"
Zainab shook her head, smiling slightly. "You just don't want me to go, do you?"
He didn't deny it. Instead, he muttered, "Just don't stay too long. Be back before 8pm."
She laughed. "You do realize 8PM is when dinners usually start, right?"
"I don't care. If I have to sit in a hall for hours while half the men there stare at you, I'd rather have you home before then."
Zainab's cheeks heated at his words. "You're impossible."
"And yet, I love me."
She didn't argue with that.
Smiling, she shook her head. "Fine. I'll try not to stay too long."
Mubarak sighed, then his voice softened again. "Take care of yourself, alright? And if you feel tired, again call and I'll come for you."
"I will," she promised.
As they ended the call, she stood outside for a moment, letting the cool breeze wash over her. Mubarak might be overprotective, but deep down, she knew—it was simply because he cared.
And she loved him for it.
Zara, on the other hand, had completely forgotten about her phone, which remained tucked away in Hafsat's purse. She was too preoccupied working alongside Hafsat, ensuring everything was in perfect order. From overseeing the arrangements to making sure every guest was well attended to, she barely had a moment to pause.
Her focus was unwavering—every detail had to be flawless. With so many guests present, she and Hafsat had their hands full. While others reveled in the celebration, Zara moved tirelessly from one task to another, never stopping long enough to catch her breath.
Little did she know, someone had been trying to reach her. Or perhaps, she was too busy to acknowledge that he might…
____
The dinner party was in full swing, the grand hall alive with laughter, chatter, and the soft hum of music. Elegant guests indulged in delicious food and drinks, their outfits shimmering under the golden lights.
At the heart of it all sat the radiant bride, surrounded by her closest friends. Dressed in a stunning purple and pink lace Asoebi, she glowed with happiness. Among the group, Zainab and Zara stood out effortlessly—Zainab's beauty always captivating, with Zara closely rivaling her.
Zainab was mid-conversation with Safiyya and Safeera when her phone vibrated. She glanced at the screen, and her heart skipped. Mubarak.
She answered quickly. "Aslm?"
"Wslm, Zainab, I'm here," his voice came through.
Lifting her head, she spotted him seated across the hall beside Lukman. He gave her a small wave, his eyes watching her intently. Without hesitation, she got up, taking Aunty Hafsat's little son, Abdulkareem, by the hand.
"He wanted to see his uncle," she explained as they approached.
Mubarak's features softened immediately. "Big man! Long time!" he greeted warmly, shaking Abdulkareem's tiny hand in mock seriousness. The boy grinned, his excitement clear.
Just as Zainab was about to sit down, Lukman's voice interrupted.
"Where is your sister?"
Zainab followed his gaze and found Zara standing beside Aunty Hafsat, greeting new guests. Even now, she's still working? A pang of concern tugged at her. Zara had barely rested all day. If not for her own condition, Zainab knew she would have been right there beside her.
"She's over there," she answered.
Lukman ran a hand over his face, exhaling heavily. "Call her for me please."
The tension in his voice was unmistakable.
Lukman was more than frustrated, Zara had been ignoring his calls all day, even dismissing the workers he had sent to summon her earlier on the day. And now, even in the same room, she still kept her distance.
She glanced at Mubarak, silently asking for permission. He gave a small nod, still occupied with Abdulkareem, as if to say, Go ahead.
Zainab made her way over to Zara, lowering her voice as she leaned in. "Zara, Lukman is here."
Zara froze. The name alone sent a ripple through her, betraying the composure she had fought to maintain all day. Slowly, she followed Zainab's gaze, spotting Lukman watching from a distance. Their eyes met for a brief moment before Zara quickly looked away.
Before she could respond, Hafsat's voice cut through.
"Zara, we have some guests to attend to."
Zara hesitated, torn between her duty and the inevitable confrontation waiting for her.
Zainab sighed, returning back to Lukman. "She'll be coming soon," she replied before taking her seat beside Mubarak.
Lukman's jaw clenched, but he said nothing. Instead, his gaze lingered on Zara as she followed Hafsat in the opposite direction.
Zainab sat beside Mubarak, only to find him pulling a small chocolate bar from his pocket. Without a second thought, he handed it to Abdulkareem.
"Go and play, dear Abdulkareem. I'll take you somewhere tomorrow," Mubarak said with a smirk.
The boy's face lit up. "Thank you!" he chirped before dashing off, excitement gleaming in his eyes.
Zainab can't help but adored them.
But soon, Zainab's smile faltered as realization hit. She turned to Mubarak, narrowing her eyes.
"Wait… was that my chocolate?" she asked, her voice a mix of disbelief and annoyance.
Mubarak chuckled, clearly enjoying her reaction. "Oh… I'm sorry, Zainab." His tone was anything but apologetic. Then, as if to make it up to her, he reached for her hand. "Come, let's go buy you another one now."
Zainab pulled back slightly, shaking her head. "What are you saying, Mubarak? The function isn't over yet."
Her suspicion grew. Did he do this just to get me out of here early?
Mubarak's lips curled into a knowing smile. "Fine," he said, surrendering—for now. "But I'm not forgetting this."
She rolled her eyes but couldn't stop the small smile tugging at her lips.
Just before Mubarak released her hand, his gaze dropped to her hands to her fingers. A delicate henna design curled elegantly across her skin, the intricate patterns enhancing her already captivating beauty.
His lips quirked into a small smile. "So, Zainab… is this for me?" His voice was smooth, edged with curiosity and admiration.
A warm blush crept onto her cheeks as she lowered her gaze, knowing how much he adored henna on her hands.
Zainab was dressed in a fitted gown that draped gracefully around her; she looked effortlessly stunning. The soft fabric accentuated her figure while her veil modestly framed her body, adding to her quiet allure. Mubarak's heart swelled with appreciation—she was his, and he would never tire of admiring her.
Lukman cleared his throat.
His patience had clearly run out. He had been sitting opposite them, enduring their playful exchange in silence, but their complete disregard for his presence must have grated on his nerves. Muttering something under his breath, he pushed back his chair and moved to a different seat, farther from the couple.
Zainab and Mubarak, however, remained blissfully unaffected. Whether Lukman's reaction stemmed from jealousy—given that Zara was nowhere in sight—or his general distaste for public displays of affection, it wasn't their concern.
Mubarak's Restlessness.
After a while, Zainab rose from her seat, her gaze flickering toward Mubarak's untouched plate.
"Mubarak, eat something. I'm going back to my friends," she said gently.
His brows knitted slightly. "Please don't take too long," he murmured, reluctant to let her go.
Zainab smiled, teasing. "Just give me an hour."
Mubarak's expression darkened instantly. "No. Not more than thirty minutes," he countered, firm yet affectionate.
She rolled her eyes in playful exasperation. "Fine, thirty minutes." With that, she turned, her heart light with happiness.
Before she could take a step, Mubarak gently caught her hand. Zainab turned to him, surprised, as he pulled a chocolate from his pocket and handed it to her.
She gave him a look, realizing he had it all along yet he played with her mind. Still, gratitude warmed her heart.
With a soft smile, she accepted the treat and walked away, thinking, Mubarak is really something.
---
Ten Minutes Later…
To Mubarak, it felt like an eternity.
Zainab's joy radiate across the hall as she mingled with her friends. She was breathtaking tonight—more than usual, if that was even possible.
And that was the problem.
He wasn't the only one who noticed.
Mubarak had caught the lingering gazes, the silent admiration from across the room. It set his teeth on edge.
He trusted Zainab. But the way other men looked at her—as if they had the right—was driving him insane.
Before he knew it, he was already dialing her number.
The moment she answered, he spoke. "Please come. Let's go."
Her tone immediately sharpened. "What are you saying, Mubarak? It's not yet time. I still have fifteen minutes."
And then she ended the call playfully.
Mubarak stared at his phone. Did she just cut my call?
He tried again. And again. Each time, she declined without so much as glancing in his direction.
His patience wore dangerously thin. He was still gripping his drink, jaw clenched, when a soft, unfamiliar voice interrupted his thoughts.
Three women had approached his table.
Dressed elegantly, their confidence was undeniable. They barely hesitated before slipping into the empty seats around him, flashing polished smiles.
Mubarak barely acknowledged them. His focus was still on Zainab. But that didn't deter them from attempting conversation, their voices light and flirtatious.
Across the Hall…
Safiyya nudged Zainab, her tone laced with mischief.
"Isn't that your husband zainab?"
Zainab turned, casually taking a sip of her drink—only to nearly choke.
Her lighthearted mood evaporated in an instant.
There, at his table, Mubarak sat with three women.
Her stomach twisted painfully. What is he doing?
For a moment, she thought she was mistaken. Mubarak wasn't the type to entertain unnecessary attention, especially from women. But there they were—three elegantly dressed women, their smiles practiced, their eyes gleaming with interest. And worse, they were sitting too comfortably.
Zainab's grip tightened around her drink.
She had never seen him in such a setting before. Of course, she knew he interacted with women at work, but seeing them around him like this—leaning in slightly, their voices carrying that unmistakable lilt of flirtation—made something sharp and unfamiliar coil in her chest.
She didn't realize she was holding her breath and she has matched to them until Mubarak suddenly stood.
And then their eyes met.
His expression flickered—was that guilt? Or was it surprise? Maybe both. Either way, she didn't care.
The air between them crackled, tension tightening like a drawn bowstring.
Zainab exhaled slowly, her gaze hard and unwavering.
"Follow me," she mouthed.
Then, without another word, she turned and walked out of the hall, her heart pounding.
Mubarak didn't hesitate.
Without a single glance at the women beside him, he followed.
____
Zara was still busy ensuring everything ran smoothly when Hafsat passed her phone back to her. The moment she saw Lukman's messages—and even his thinly veiled threats—she froze.
Oh no.
Without wasting a second, she dialed his number. He picked up immediately, his voice taut with frustration.
"Instead of calling me, why can''t you just come to where I am?" Lukman demanded.
Zara glanced in his direction. He sat stiffly, his expression dark with irritation. Guilt twisted in her chest. She turned, ready to go to him, but Hafsat's voice pulled her back again. Zara hesitated, biting her lip, before sending Lukman an apologetic look and turning away again.
And that was exactly the problem.
This had been happening since the moment he arrived, and Lukman's patience was thinning by the second.
"Are you doing this on purpose?" His voice sharpened. "Why can't you just tell her you need to come to your husband?"
"Oh no, I can't do that," Zara whispered, sneaking a glance at Hafsat.
Lukman let out a slow, frustrated sigh. "Then maybe I should come and fetch you myself if she you can't." He shifted in his seat, making a move to get up.
Zara panicked. "No! Just a few more minutes, please," she pleaded, her voice barely above a whisper.
But even after thirty minutes, Hafsat still didn't let her leave.
Zara felt trapped. She didn't know how to argue without sounding shameless. Hafsat had helped her so much during her wedding—as had Safina, the bride. She didn't have any problem doing this; it was Lukman she was worried about.
She exhaled heavily, torn between the two.
Just then, she was directing a helper to serve food and drinks to some newly arrived special guests when she unknowingly passed by a group of men. As she walked past, one of them casually lifted his phone—his fingers moving too quickly to be innocent.
Click.
"Hey, fine girl," the guy teased, flashing a grin.
Zara turned sharply, her breath hitching. Had he just taken her picture?
She barely had time to process what had happened before Lukman moved past her in a blur.
He had been watching from a distance, and something inside him snapped.
He stormed toward the man, snatched the phone from his hand, and raised it as if he was about to smash it against the floor.
Gasps rippled through the few people watching.
For a split second, he stopped himself. Instead, he navigated through the phone, found Zara's picture, and deleted it himself before shoving the device back at the guy.
"What the hell?!" the guy exploded, his friends standing up in protest.
Lukman didn't even flinch. His dark, furious glare was enough to silence them. The sheer weight of his rage sent a warning none of them dared to challenge.
Then, without a word, he approached Zara.
"We have to go," he told her, holding her hand as they left the hall, not giving her a chance to complain.
Please don't forget to vote and comment on my story if you like.