Chapter 1
Azra
Haseena, slicing the onions in the kitchen, noticed her daughter had ran away again, Haseena let out a frustrated sigh, turning over to one of the house maids that was cleaning the kitchen.
"Yasmeen, go and call Azra, this girl is really playing with me".
Yasmeen dropped the broom she was holding and quickly rushed out.
Azra walked back into the kitchen, scowling and frowning, to meet her mother's equally scowling face.
"Maa al-mushkila, ya Azra? (What is wrong with you, oh Azra?", didn't i tell you to stay and slice these tomatoes for me? Limadha ifta'alta al harib (why then did you run away?"), Haseena asked, placing her hands on her waist.
"Yaa ummi, ana ta'baan!( I am tired!"), Azra replied.
"Azra you are something else, your own mother is in the kitchen cooking and you're somewhere else doing who knows what! ".
"Ummi i am busy in my room", Azra defended herself with a frown.
"Ala ta'rifin annaki imra'a li'ajli al-khayr? Kaifa turidin an tajidi azibin bi hadhihi al-aqliyyati minaki? (Don't you know you're a lady for goodness sake? How do want to find a suitor with this attitude of yours?", Haseena asked.
"Ummi i...", Azra began but her mother cut her off.
Uskut! (Shut up!), all you know how to do is argue with your elders, come here right now and slice these tomatoes for me", Haseena instructed, leaving no room for argument.
Azra slumped her shoulder and Walked over to the counter, she picked the knife and began to slice the tomatoes, but being the girl who knew how to do nothing, she couldn't even slice tomatoes.
Haseena turned to her and shook her head painfully.
"You can't even slice tomatoes? and you run away whenever i tell you to come and learn, wallah Azra, alaiki al aib(shame on you) tell me among your friends, is there any one that cannot cook a decent food?", Haseena demanded.
Azra didn't reply, just looked down.
"I pity you my dear, you can't cook, how will you do when you get married?", Haseena asked again.
"Ummi, ana lastu umri kafaat li'al zawaji (i am not old enough to get married)", Azra said to her mother.
Haseena laughed, hard and long, before placing a tender hand on her daughter's slim shoulder.
"My dear, should i tell you what age i married your dad? I married him when i just turned eighteen, not much more than your age, and i could cook, infact both Nigerian and arabian foods i cooked for him, you don't even know how to cook Nigerian food, not to talk of arabian food".
With that, Haseena collected the tomatoes azra was slicing and got to work.
Unbothered, Azra walked out of the kitchen back to her room, feeling annoyed.
Yes she couldn't cook, so what?
Her mother just liked to disgrace her whenever she got the chance.
She was still just seventeen, she had lots of time to learn those things.
She believed her father married her mother at the age of eighteen because he had fallen helplessly for an arabian lady, that was it.
Azra stood in front of the mirror, looking at her reflection.
She did not look like a Nigerian a bit, she inherited her mother's looks, hair and everything.
Even the petite body her mother had. Looking at Azra, you'd think she was younger than seventeen.
She had a slim and petite body, just like her mother, lean limbs and small breasts.
Her long, brown hair that cascaded down to her back.
Nothing had she inherited from her father, her father who was tall and dark-skinned, who was extremely handsome with his full brows and heart shaped lips.
Whenever she visited Kano, her father's hometown, she always looked different, compared to her cousins from her dad's side.
People would always ask. "Are you sure she's Mahmud's daughter? she doesn't look like him at all".
And she would reply them by saying. "My mother is arabian".
And they would look away in embarrassment, not knowing she had heard them.
Her father loved her, but was strict, just like her mother, when she grew lazy and stubborn, he scolded her more often.
Now, she thought, her parents hated her.
Picking up the hairbrush that was sitting on the table, she began to brush her hair in long strides, applying hair Cream.
Yasmeen walked in after knocking. "Azra, your dad is calling for you".
Azra dropped the brush, closing her hair with a headtie before going downstairs to the living room where her dad sat on the couch, watching news on the TV.
"Na'am Abba".
Her father looked angry, seeing her mother beside him, she knew her mother had told him about what happened in the kitchen.
"Come here Azra", his tone flat and sharp.
Azra stood, rooted to the spot.
"Didn't you hear me?! I said come here!", he raised his voice, which made azra walk up to him.
"What your mother told me, is it true?", her father asked.
Azra stayed silent, which only bubbled up her father's anger.
"I'm talking to you Azra, answer my question", her father repeated.
Azra didn't speak, just looked down.
"Azra, why are you doing this? you won't learn how to cook and you run away when your mother tells you to help her,huh?", her father's voice was calm now.
She still didn't say anything, her father pulled her to sit beside him, placing her head on his shoulder.
"My dear, don't be like this, promise me you'll help your mother in the kitchen from now on".
Azra nodded slowly, earning a forehead kiss from her father.
Haseena just shook her head, she knew this would happen, when she told Mahmud about what his daughter had done, he'd claimed to punish her and even beat her.
But here he was, blinded by his love for his daughter again.
He'd never raised a hand at his daughter, only scolded her when needed.
Hola đź‘‹đź‘‹
Chapter one down!!
This is actually my second favourite story after ROYALTY.
Make sure you check it out if you haven't read it.
Love, H ❤️