"Please, come so we can leave. You see, the rain is pouring down. Don’t get a fever, okay?" He handed her the helmet for her to ride, but instead of riding, she started yelling at him. He remained silent, watching her mouth, not even appreciating the argument. The rain kept pouring, washing over her face. Seeing he wouldn’t pay attention to her, she moved on, pushing her hands into her hijab, covering her chest, as the rain had made her hijab cling to her body, revealing her chest and body shape.

As if she was about to cry, she continued walking, the rain beating down on her. He followed behind her, feeling jealous, seeing how her soaked body revealed her shape. She was wearing a Pakistani-style top and trousers, with a hijab that only reached her waist.

The rain continued to pour. Seeing that their house was still a bit far away, even though it wasn’t that far, she pushed on. When she finally reached the gate of the house, he came out with an umbrella in his hand. Seeing him, she frowned and dodged him, pushing him away and running into the house, with him following behind.

A young man on a motorbike cursed under his breath, staring angrily at the gate. Out loud, he muttered, "I swear, I love Sophy."

He turned around, feeling intense jealousy towards her brother. He didn’t understand why he felt such animosity towards him; even when they met at gatherings, he rarely spoke to him. He only went to those gatherings from time to time.

“Hey, look at the scholar talking about love,” one of his friends said. “Hmm,” he replied, while the tea seller flipped an egg to fry. “Love is hard. Didn’t you see when she pointed her finger at him? That was a warning, because she’s not an ordinary girl,” he continued. “It's a struggle like Saifu’s quest for a position. If you’re aiming for the same, you better be prepared,” he was interrupted by another friend who said angrily, “Cut it out, what’s your business with this?”

“If it’s about wealth, we have it. If it's about knowledge, I have my own. As for beauty, what does she have to show but a fair complexion?”

Clap! Clap! The crowd applauded. “Well said! May Allah grant you success, let’s celebrate the scholar’s wedding,” they cheered.

“Amen,” he responded, handing a 1000 Naira note to the well-wisher.

Seeing this, the place erupted in more noise, and he started giving out 500 Naira notes. They kept cheering for him, and he smiled broadly.

Sophy went straight to her room. Once inside, she threw off her hijab, along with her headscarf and shirt, leaving only her bra and trousers. She stood looking for her towel in the closet.

He pushed the door slightly and entered, his body dripping wet. He looked at her, silently seeking forgiveness in his heart. 

Feeling embarrassed, she hadn’t expected him to come in. She quickly grabbed a long hijab and put it on. Slowly, she said, “Barrister, what’s the meaning of this? Didn’t Mamie tell you not to enter my room while I’m undressed?”

He glared at her and, in a hurried voice, said, “You know what, little sister, I will teach you a lesson. I’m your brother, and you will stop asking me silly questions. I will take action against you. You treat me like a monster. As if I’m the first man you’ve seen with breasts and buttocks. May Allah forgive you. If I knew you would say such things, I would have told you to leave those clothes on until you become shapeless, then no one will complain about looking at you.”

She frowned, pouting, “You are my rival, aren’t you? But you should know that it’s God’s doing. Yes, my brother, deal with my body and its shape. Whether you like it or not, I’m here. It’s not like I created my body.”

He moved to hit her, and she dashed away laughing, entering the toilet. 

He sat at the edge of her bed, waiting for her to come out. Despite the call to prayer for Maghrib, he refused to leave for the mosque, waiting for her to come out. 

After about 30 minutes, she came out wrapped in a towel, barely covering her thighs, holding another small towel to dry her hair.