Her Boyfriend, My Husband

CHAPTER 63

Maryam's POV

I woke up with a disgruntled sigh. The pin drop silence and pitch black darkness tells me it's still the middle of the night, nowhere near dawn. The events of yesterday made my sleep  dreamless, completely blank and not at all peaceful so there was no use going back.

I leapt out of bed and made my way to the bathroom where a splash of water on my face did well to clear my disoriented mind. Walking back to the bed, the coldness trapped between my sheets reminded me of the intense loneliness I feel in my soul.

It reminds me how now I was completely alone. There was no friend in the form of Zainab, no family in the form of Mommy and most painfully, no husband in the form of Yusuf to stand by me. The wretched tears couldn't be stopped, they kept flowing until my pillow case was soaked.

If only I could have my life back without any of these complications. If only going back to Yusuf was possible. But how couldn't he understand that it wasn't and just leave me alone so we'd all get over this with as minimum damage as possible?

It was a natural tendency for humans to be selfish and in all this, I find that I felt if only somehow, Zainab was never included in the picture. It was only me and Yusuf and then now, our child. It was then I suddenly felt I wasn't as alone as I thought I was.
There was someone with me, not a complete person yet but still alive and with that realisation, part of my longing was gone. I have someone to stand by me again.

When morning came around, I got ready for the day and made breakfast before it was 9 am. My dress was loose, a comfortable attire for my ever changing body. My baby bump was starting to become slightly visible and with that, many of my clothes don't feel right on me anymore. They were too tight and too uncomfortable reminding me it was time to start shopping for maternity clothes.

I sat down and placed the meal before me but it always happened that the moment the food was done and ready to be eaten was the exact moment my appetite ran away from me and my nausea returned. Just like now. I'd prepared the breakfast in vain, I knew I wasn't going to be able to eat it so I abandoned it just where I'd placed it.

I always left the TV on with the volume close to highest just to fill the silence of the house even when I wasn't watching it. It was comforting to hear people's noise even when they were inanimate.

I left my uneaten breakfast and went to the living room where the TV was set to some lifestyle channel. I got bored in no time and decided to browse through other channels.
I was on that when there was a knock on the door and I knew all too well who was on the other side. I chose a news channel and went to open the door. He always had this pattern of knocking, just once as if he was afraid of me. And that was what always told me it was Yaya Abdallah.

"Good morning. Kin tashi lafiya? (You woke up fine?)" he inquired, sliding his car keys into his jeans pockets.

Dressed in a blue button down shirt, his smile was as bright as the sunshine outside. He looked refreshed unlike I who looked a mess. I moved aside and let him in, closing the door after him and feeling as the air assumed the tenseness it always did when he was around.

"Lafiya lau alhamdulillah." I walked back to my sitting position in front of the TV.

Yaya followed me but instead of sitting, he took the remote from me and turned off the TV,  "So how are you doing today?"

"I'm good," I answered, disinterestedly.

"So...?" he looked tense, as if he was waiting for something to happen or trying to figure out if it already happened.

From the way he was looking around, he made me nervous too but I just pretended not to notice.

"Can you turn that back on?" my attention was back on the TV. "I was watching something."