Thirty - one

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" Jamal's POV "

Alhaji kabirs body was taken to the mosque he was been bathed, then rapped in a white cloth. As we prayed on him. His body was later taken to the cemetery as he was buried.

I just can't believe that alhaji Kabir is the one buried right in front of me.

According to Islam, if a person dies, being a male or a female. He/she should be buried immediately without wasting so much time. The Christians are the ones who would wait for the burial ceremony, and also for the family members to arrive.

I just can't help but think of Ameerah through out my drive back home. Tijanni drove me back home, as I thought about how to break the news to her. She would hate me afterwards because I caused it all.

I brought zee baby into our lives and she made it miserable for to both of us. After some few minutes of the drive we finally arrived home, as tijanni and I sat in the car in silence before coming down from the car and slammed the door as Ameerah and her friend rushed out of the house.

I watched Ameerah running as she searched the car but didn't see her dad in it. " where is baba " she asked grabbing my t shirt as I looked away not wanting to have an eye contact with her . " where is my dad Jamal " she asked yelling as tijanni broke the news to her.

" your dad is dead , we just buried him " tijanni said as Ameerah yelled in tears and frustration.

" no, no you caused it Jamal you killed my dad " she said tearing my t shirt off my body reveling my chest. " I hate you " she yelled in tears hitting my chest as Aisha tried to calm her down.

" Ameerah calm down " Aisha said also crying but didn't work.

" Am sorry my love I ... " before I could complete my statement she slapped me.

My normal self would hit her back, but I couldn't her words alone killed me . I know what she's saying is true I killed her dad, I allowed zainab into our life. I caused it .

" Ameerah , wake up " Aisha cried as tijanni and I carried her to her room.

BETRAYED LOVE | COMPLETED | ✔️Donde viven las historias. Descúbrelo ahora