THE SILENT HEART NOVEL
This section brings a mix of high-stakes mischief and a heartbreaking reveal of Meena’s past. We see her "war" with the schoolteachers and the touching, protective nature of Ma’aruf, followed by the tragic backstory of how she and her mother ended up in their current situation.
CHAPTER THREE: THE PHANTOM OF THE SCHOOLHOUSE
Meenal’s reputation at the Islamic school was becoming legendary and not in a good way. One afternoon, a young boy stumbled into the Headmaster’s office, clutching a shredded notebook and howling.
"What now?" Ustaz asked, rubbing his temples.
"Meena! She ripped my book to pieces!" the boy sobbed.
Ustaz let out a long, weary sigh and touched his chest, feeling the phantom pains of the bite marks she’d left on him weeks ago. "Go," he whispered to the boy. "May God grant you justice in the next life. I can't help you in this one."
But a new teacher, Malan Isiya, wasn't having it. "Justice in the next life? No. Go fetch her."
Meenal marched in two minutes later, her greeting so loud it shook the walls. The new teacher didn't fall for her charm. He made her kneel on the hard floor.
"Ustaz, tell him!" Meenal pleaded, looking at her old nemesis. "The boy stole my fruit first! He ate my guava!"
Ustaz didn't want any part of it. He stood up, brushed off his robes, and walked out. "Meena Abubakar, I didn't see a thing," he muttered as he fled.
Malan Isiya sentenced her to scrub every toilet and polish every window in the school. Meenal worked through her tears, missing all her classes, and went home with a heart full of vengeance.
That evening, as the teachers gathered for their daily meeting and the sun began to set, Meenal returned. Her bag was heavy not with books, but with jagged stones. She hid in a dark alleyway, waiting for the new teacher’s route home. When he appeared, walking with his head down, she let fly a rock that caught him square in the back of the head.
"Who’s there?!" he yelled, spinning around. Crack! Another stone hit his forehead, drawing blood.
Before he could process the pain, a blur of motion lunged from the shadows. Meenal dove under his robes, biting and scratching like a wild animal. The man, convinced he was being attacked by a forest demon or a jinni, screamed, tore himself away, and ran for his life.
The next day, Malan Isiya showed up with a massive bandage on his head. "I was in a terrible car accident," he lied to the staff.
Meenal stood nearby, looking at Ustaz. "Teacher, what happens to people who tell lies?"
"They go to the fire," Ustaz replied, now genuinely terrified of her.
"Well, then Malan Isiya is headed for the flames," Meenal chirped. "I saw it happen. A *spirit* attacked him, crawled under his shirt, and shredded him."
Ustaz burst into a fit of laughter so hard he had to hold his stomach, while Isiya turned pale. Meenal spent the rest of the day telling every student who would listen that their teacher was a liar and that a demon was living in his robes. By the end of the week, Malan Isiya had resigned and was never seen again.
BITTERSWEET GOODBYES
"Mr. Fragrance, remember that candy you bought me yesterday?" Meenal asked, clutching Ma’aruf’s hand.
He smiled. "I remember."
"Well, I want more." She pressed a torn, half-shredded five-naira note into his hand.
He looked at the scrap of paper. "Meenal, who is going to accept half a bill?"
She winked at him. "You have to be sneaky. Fold it up tight, hand it over, and run before they count it!"
"And what if I get caught?"
"I’ll pray for you," she said, her grin wide and gap-toothed. "God listens to kids like me."
He laughed, hopped into his car, and drove off, waving until she was a tiny speck in the distance.
Later that day, Ma’aruf received a letter that would change everything. He had been accepted into a prestigious five-year pilot program in India. It was his dream, but as he looked at the gates of Meenal’s house, his heart felt heavy.
He found her later, and as usual, she was screaming about the money he "owed" her.
"Meenatou, I’ve been looking for you," he said softly, his eyes hooded with emotion.
"Liar! You were hiding because you spent my change!" She grabbed the hem of his shirt. "I’m not letting go until I get my money."
"Meenal, let go," he pleaded, but she held on like a prisoner to a guard. It wasn't until her grandmother came out and threatened her with a broom that she finally let go and burst into tears.
Ma’aruf picked her up, ignoring her protests, and carried her into his house. He sat her on his lap and handed her the "change" a crisp bill and her favorite sweets. Within minutes, she fell asleep against his chest. He stayed perfectly still for an hour, watching her breathe, memorizing the face of the little girl who had claimed his heart.
THE SECRET HISTORY
Meena was the only daughter of Alhaji Abubakar, a wealthy gold merchant in Kaduna. He had married her mother, Rabi, for love. But his mother Meena’s paternal grandmother was a woman of iron and malice. She hated that Rabi had given birth to a girl, calling female children a "burden of thorns."
When Meena was only eight months old, the grandmother forced a choice: marry a woman of her choosing and divorce Rabi, or be cursed forever. With tears in their eyes, the couple was torn apart.
Rabi took her meager savings and built two small houses one for herself and one for her mother (Kaka). Years later, she married Malan Sani, thinking he was a good man. She didn't know he was a gambling addict. He gambled away his wealth, his dignity, and eventually his own home. He begged Rabi to move him and his other wife, Saratu, into the small house she had built.
Out of the kindness of her heart, Rabi agreed. But Sani was ungrateful. He treated Rabi like a servant and eventually demanded that Meena be sent away, saying he wouldn't house "another man's brat." That was how Meena ended up living full-time with Kaka.
One night, Meenal sat up in bed and looked at her mother. "Mama... who is my real father?"
Rabi went still. She turned her face away, the shadows hiding her tears. "Go take a bath, Meena. It’s time for you to go back to Kaka’s house."
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