Riding his motorcycle steadily and skillfully, he glanced at his wristwatch, clearly in a hurry to reach somewhere. The call for Asr prayer prompted him to park his motorcycle and join the congregation for prayer.

After completing the prayer, he returned to his motorcycle and resumed riding.

He headed towards a small neighborhood inhabited by the poor and parked his motorcycle in front of a modest house.

He greeted as he entered the house, but his greeting sounded somewhat forced.

Inside, a large woman was chatting with two other women, who appeared to be her daughters due to their resemblance.

They all responded to his greeting and welcomed him.

Without acknowledging anyone, he went straight to his room. About twenty minutes later, he emerged and headed to the small kitchen in the courtyard.

As soon as he entered, he began opening pots. Frustrated, he let out a loud sigh and walked back to the courtyard, where his mother and sisters were.

"Umma, is there nothing but this tuwo? Please cook something else for me; I don't like this tuwo," he complained.

One of the women looked at him and said, "Seriously, Ammar, you still haven't stopped this nonsense? Food is prepared, and you only want what you like?"

Frowning, he responded, "What's it to you? Is this your house?"

Another one said, "I wonder what food will be cooked in your house, you are so particular, Ammar."

He sighed again and asked, "Umma, is there any other food?"

Umma replied, "Please don't argue, you can't meet without fighting. I knew you wouldn't eat the tuwo, so I made rice and sauce for you; it's in my room."

Without saying a word, he headed to his mother's room to get the food.

"Hmm, honestly, Umma, you're spoiling Ammar. He only eats what he wants? Hasn't he outgrown this arrogance? His wife is in for a tough time with his bad temper and arrogance," one of the women remarked.

"Well, Maryam, do you think he'll treat his wife the same way? No way, men like him get their match with women who are sharp-witted; he won't dare this nonsense with them," another responded.

Ammar, hearing them, came out and said, "No girl has been born to control me. Besides, I won't marry a young girl; I will marry someone who is at least thirty years old because I won't tolerate any nonsense from any young girl. You all come here just to instigate my mother, with no job but wandering around the house. If I were your husband, you wouldn't dare. I won't tolerate this laziness from you."

Maryam replied, "A thirty-year-old woman? Your age mate? You're thirty-five, and you want to marry a thirty-five-year-old?"

"Yes, a thirty-year-old woman, who understands what marriage is about, not these reckless young girls," Ammar retorted.

Amina added, "So, we are the instigators? God give us life and health; we will see Ammar's wife and the kind of life they will live. A thirty-year-old woman will handle you better than a young girl."

"No one has been born to control Ammar," he insisted.

Maryam said, "What about Amira, Baffa Salmanu's daughter? She's about twenty-five, so you could marry her."

"Me, marry that young girl? Apart from her immaturity, there's nothing else," Ammar dismissed.

"A twenty-five-year-old girl doesn't know her own mind?" Maryam challenged.

Umma interjected, "Please, that's enough. When you get together, all you do is argue. Go and eat your food. Earlier, Malam Lawan's people came by and asked if you could transport their bride on Sunday. Tell me how much they should pay you."