MAFARIN LAMARIN 1

MAFARIN LAMARIN 1 Complete Document Written By Zeetty

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Upon arriving home, he began playing with a bathtub in the courtyard, expressing his frustration, “Is this a pointless endeavor? Am I to be disgraced in my own house? Aysher, where are you, you rascal? In front of our children, the mother hen adores them.”

In response to his outburst, Aysher emerged, explaining, “I apologize, Abban Aslam. It was Afra who wanted to sleep. I was trying to put our son to sleep while finishing my tasks.”

After a brief pause, he started muttering discontentedly, “Didn’t you say during our conversation, ‘Loving children is a disaster. I wish for the day to be rid of this disaster. If, for money, you’ve made a fool out of me, right?”

“I’m sorry, Abban Aslam. It’s not like that. Please forgive me if I’ve hurt you,” she pleaded, turning to return to her room.

Growing angrier, he spoke in a slurred voice, “Ehhh, this is what I mean. I’m talking, and you just walk away. This is exactly what I’m talking about.”

She placed a hand on her cheek, tears streaming down, and said, “I’m sorry, Abban Aslam. You said I should leave, but now you say I’ve wronged you. Tell me what I’m doing wrong; you’re punishing me. My God, if we want to be alone, let’s get a divorce. We can’t endure another year like this.”

“Hmmm, are you accusing me? I said, are you accusing me? Since I married you, there’s been no progress. None at all. I always end up empty-handed. All my friends have wealth. Do you want a divorce? Let’s see, I’m here to find a wife,” he declared before storming out of the house.

Heartbroken, she returned to her room, contemplating the change in Abban Aslam.

After completing her chores and tidying up the house, she lit incense with a discount and used money her brother Nasiru lost last year to buy food. She cooked macaroni and potatoes, fried fish, and laid out a meal.

Once done, she took a bath, put on simple makeup, marveling at her enduring beauty despite motherhood. As she sat in the living room, Abban Aslam returned, seemingly in good spirits. Aysher greeted him, and he responded with a casual “Good morning.”

She asked, “Are you going to take a bath or eat?”

“I won’t take a bath. I need to go see my mother,” he replied.

“Apologies for not bringing you food,” she said, offering him a flask of food, a plate, and a spoon. He began eating, and she placed water in front of him, saying, “Bismillah.”

“You’re doing a lot today. I didn’t give you money for clothes. If I have any, I’ll pay you,” he remarked.

“I’m sorry; it’s not like that,” she apologized.

After he finished eating, he started cursing. He stood up, admiring his wife, and expressed desire. Aysher suggested he go inside, to which he replied, “That’s the problem. I dare not watch, but when I rise, he joins me. I need your help, you know. I must ask you about this necklace. Your sorcery has affected it; I’ll pay you your due. God forbid I lose my eyesight over this. If you go inside, you won’t be able to sleep; you’re just a witch.”

Aysher’s heart ached from his words, unsure of what to do. She sat down, contemplating the turmoil within her.

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