It had been an agonizing day since Umma's last encounter with Abu. A haunting thought sent shivers down her spine, urging her to rise swiftly and make her way to Abu's room.

Upon entering, she was met with an empty void. Abu's presence had vanished. "Perhaps she went to the restroom while I was occupied," Umma considered before leaving to check.

Alas, the restroom held no sign of her. The unsettling notion of Abu's absence gnawed at Umma's consciousness, compelling her to leave the premises in haste. She scoured the vicinity, yet Abu had seemingly evaporated into the air, unseen by anyone.

Umma lingered outside, questioning passersby about Abu. Just then, Mansur, Abu's brother, returned from his work. Surprised by his mother's unusual presence outside, he inquired, "Why are you here, Umma?"

"I can't locate Abu. Did you happen to cross paths with her on your way?" Umma inquired, her voice betraying her anxiety.

"What's wrong? Did she mention any plans to go out?" Mansur probed, giving his full attention to his mother's distress.

"No, not at all. It's just... I can't find her anywhere. It feels as though she departed yesterday," Umma answered, her unease palpable.

Mansur massaged his neck, deep in thought. "Have you looked around the neighborhood?" he suggested.

"She's nowhere to be found, Mansur. I have this gnawing feeling that she might have run away," Umma lamented, her tears flowing freely.

"We should inform Dad that she's missing," Umma insisted, tears streaming down her cheeks.

With a heavy sigh, Mansur retrieved his phone from his pocket, dialed his father's number, and recounted the situation. Baba's soothing words attempted to assuage their fears, reassuring them that Abu had no place to go but home, and she would certainly return.

Yet, Baba's reassurances proved baseless. The weeks passed, and Zainaba remained nowhere to be found. No kin or friend had any word of her.

Growing apprehension led Baba to send his children to relatives and Abu's acquaintances, hoping for a sign of her whereabouts.

Initial certainty waned, replaced by a gnawing dread, as they combed every corner near and far, unable to trace her.

Umma wept, berating herself for not tending to Abu's emotional state more vigilantly. Had she been more observant, perhaps they could have intervened before it was too late.

Sa'ada was engrossed in medical texts when Usman materialized, appearing ready to venture out.

"Off somewhere?" Sa'ada inquired, eyes anchored to her book.

A trace of irritation surfaced on his face. "No, I'm retiring," he retorted curtly.

"No offense intended. I apologize," Sa'ada quickly responded.

"Could you sit for a moment? I have something to discuss," Sa'ada implored.

His gaze sharpened, and he shot back, "Do we converse with our legs? If you can't speak now, save your words." He turned to leave.

Sa'ada hummed softly, "Our provisions are dwindling. I've wanted to converse, but you're usually away early and back after I'm asleep."

"What? All that food! What did you do?" His eyes widened incredulously.

"What choice do we have? We can't just gaze at it. Nine months since our wedding, and since it was part of the dowry, it's natural it's depleting. I'm just notifying you, not obliging you to replace it right away."

"Fine, I'm strapped for cash now. Handle it. You're working, contribute," he responded dismissively.

"Usman, listen..." Sa'ada began, interrupted by his ringing phone.

He glanced at the screen, noting Baba's call. He answered respectfully, his attention fixed on Baba's message. "If you're available, come home. I need to see you," Baba's voice beckoned.

Usman forgot Sa'ada, dashing out with urgency. Sa'ada nodded and resumed her reading.

In Zainaba's abode, Usman seated himself as invited. They shared a seating mound, Baba's gaze steady, Usman's expectant.

Baba cleared his throat. "I'm here to ask a favor. Be honest. Any notion where Zainaba might have hidden?"

Usman's incredulous gaze met Baba's. "What happened? She's missing?" Emotion surged in Usman's expression, prompting Baba to recognize his innocence in Zainaba's absence.

"Three weeks, no trace. Initially, we thought she'd return, but it appears she's gone for good," Baba confided, summoning courage.

Usman pressed his forehead and shut his eyes, bowed in thought. "Oh God!" he whispered, heartache palpable.

A weighty silence enveloped them. "Did you reach out to other relatives?" Usman finally broke the stillness.

"We scoured every conceivable place. She's vanished," Baba confirmed, exhaustion in his voice.

"The authorities? A report?" Usman probed.

"They're doing their utmost," Baba replied, weariness evident.

Tears brimmed in Usman's eyes, courage faltering. Yet, he restrained his emotions in Baba's presence. Outside, he succumbed, tears flowing, his steering wheel bearing witness to his anguish. Something was awry; Zainaba wasn't one to flee.

Sa'ada learned of Zainaba's absence upon Usman's return. Three weeks she'd been gone. Sa'ada wept, blaming herself for the unknown. If she'd never intervened, all would be well. Abu would be Usman's wife.

Baba stood stalwart, bearing pain's weight. He carried responsibility, his façade steadfast, though anguish lay beneath.

Umma's memory lingered on her last conversation with Zainaba. Curious words, silent emotions. Umma yearned for understanding unspoken.

Umma's sobs bespoke her negligence. Greater vigilance, perhaps intervention, could have yielded a different ending.

Hajiya, concerned, broached Usman's marital rift. Witnessing their discord, she aimed for resolution.

One evening, Hajiya seized an opening. Usman's visit was casual, her guidance subtle.

"Still seeking Zainaba?" she queried.

"No progress," he answered.

"Prayers must persist," Hajiya urged.

"Your wife?" Hajiya probed.

"Home, sulking," Usman grumbled.

"Why?" Hajiya inquired.

"Don't know. She's always like this. Complaints galore," he vented.

Hajiya smiled. "Women, all the same."

"Except Zainab," he murmured.

"But she's gone," Hajiya reminded.

"True, Sa'ada's like others. Irritating," he concluded.

"Be cautious. All women aren't identical," Hajiya advised.

Usman shook his head. "Except Zainaba."

"Hmm," Hajiya acknowledged. "You divorced her."

"All women, like Sa'ada. Never turn your back; guide her. When she's upset, see a child needing direction. Babies vex us, but we don't harbor day-long ire. Treat Sa'ada similarly. Regret your choice no more, cherish her."

Hajiya paused, then continued, "Zainaba's absence lingers, but life moves on. Life thrives with or sans cherished souls. Continue seeking Zainaba, but live, treating Sa'ada as chosen."