The air smelled of Izal and Dettol as the evening sun smiled faintly, spreading its joy through the hospital window panes.

The heat from the Kaduna sun had begun to fade as the sun hid its face slowly behind the mountains.

I held Hadiza’s hands as they turned cold. She didn’t move or say a word—only a single tear slid quietly down her cheek.

I remembered my first trip to Zaria like it was yesterday. That’s where I met the prettiest soul the universe ever sent my way.

Our love was the kind that’s hard to find, harder to explain. She had this fine Hausa accent.

The Hadiza I knew would have teased my Yoruba accent by now, or frowned at my rumpled shirt. Maybe even picked a fight with the nurse over another patient’s treatment—anything but her own.

But now—she said nothing.

She just lay there. Eyes shut. Silence.

Tears rolled down my face as I struggled to understand. Everything happened too fast, yet every second dragged like eternity.

She’d come to me earlier that day.

Same old conversation—the one that ripped our four-month relationship apart.

Her mother didn’t want her marrying a Christian. Worse, a Yoruba-Christian like me.

Hadiza wanted us to run away. Lagos maybe. Get married without consent.

But my culture, my religion, my family—everything said no.

Still, my heart wanted nothing else.

Our love was real—but religion and tradition poisoned it.

I had just finished my project in Zaria. She was a rich kid, well-connected.

She bought us tickets. We were supposed to fly to Lagos that night.

“Omo Alhaji,” that’s what I called her. “I can’t.”

Now, I wish I never said that.

I hadn’t even reached the station when the call came.

Her accident.

It all came flooding back.

“Hadiza,” I whispered.

Her mother prayed in Arabic, fingers trembling.

Her father dashed after the doctor leaving the ward.

“We tried our best,” was all I heard. I didn’t want to hear more.

She was gone.

Who was to blame? My life had to take a new turn, one I wasn't ready for.

“Hadiza, I'm sorry I didn't do your wish, but I don't know what I can do without you, because I never… even for a second stopped loving you,” I sobbed as the nurses came to take my joy away from me.