Mamaya In English Mga Nobela at Kwento

(My Mira looks so beautiful in red) "लगती थी!" (Used to look) Mira looked at her blankly. "If you are trying to make me cry then you are not going to succeed... I don't have any tears left in me, Maa... Please leave me alone..." Maya sighed. "I didn't give birth to you but I am still your mother, Mira... I have loved you like my own daughter since you were kept on my lap after your mother's death... Don't be so hard on yourself, it's hurting me..."

One of them answered. “Asleep?” Martina asked and looked at her husband. “Yes.” The maid answered. “Mamma.” Crystal called out as she descended the stairs with hands on the rail. (Mamma is an Italian language for ‘Mom’) “My baby.” She cooed as she went to hug her. “Papà.” She greeted. “Good morning.” She smiled. “Good morning, my child.” He replied and smiled at her. “Hope you slept well?” He asked. “Yes, thank you for asking.” She said and looked back at her mom.

"Why is Mama in a place like this?" Stelio still followed her from a distance. Until he found Maya praying and speaking softly at a place where people usually keep ashes. Even faintly, Stelio heard Maya calling with endearing terms. "Why is Mama talking so softly that I've never heard before? Who is buried in that place?" Stelio vaguely heard the words that made his eyes widen. He wondered what his mother meant by those words?

Maya responded reassuringly before giving a small sigh, "Just, uhm...been a bit of a busy week." There was the sound of a muffled reply and Maya rolled her eyes, "I can't hear you." There were sounds of shuffling then she heard her mother's voice, "Call me 'mom' again and I'll make sure to stuff las patatas fritas con queso down your throat the next time you come home." Maya snorted despite the serious tone in her mother's voice, "Lo siento, mama, but that's what all American kids call their mother."

Mam, did she just call me Mam? “Mam is my mother, am here to see Mr Motaung.” Her face flashed and she swallowed. “Do you have an appointment Ms?” she asked not sure how to address me. “No but his expecting me.” His not but am not leaving without seeing him. “Am sorry Ms but his in a meeting at the moment and I can’t disturb him.” She says. “Fine I will wait.” I say to her. “Please take a seat over there.” She points to the couch on the waiting area.

It was from Malama Aisha… Me: Hello ma… MA: Dioxidane, yaya kake? (How are you?) Me: Lafia lau (Fine)… Yaya Aiki? (How’s work?) MA: Lafia kalau… Kana Ina? (Where are you?) Me: Ina gidan (I’m at home)… MA: Tor… Dan Allah abin da kake yi gobe (Please what would you be doing tomorrow)… Me: Walahi nothing important ma… Hope all is well…

Zeenah mumbled angrily as she swat her phone with a loud thud on the mirror. "Is this really my princess?" She had no idea someone had stepped into the room. And that was Maama's voice, turning swiftly, Zeenah locked her eyes with her mother's, and a sudden unknown fervour chalked her up. Maama stood by the door, dressed in a milk coloured lace that had blue stripes. She looked beautiful, so beautiful. She didn't look this beautiful when she was marrying Abubakar, Zeenah thought.

There are four seats so there is another vacancy. Aleja's eyebrows met as he finally looked at the girl. Her voice sounded familiar to him and—his forehead furrowed as he watched the woman's dress. He didn't like it but he felt a warmth inside him that was inexplicable. "Oh my! Ameira—I mean Misty! You're here!" The friend ejaculated in shock at her and hugged then kissed her cheeks. Aleja's ear throbbed at the first name Samara mentioned. 'Ameira? I think I heard that name somewhere but I forgot when or where I heard that name.'