MARRED

CHAPTER EIGHT- BELATED WAIT

Amanah

The following week was torture. It was Friday, the last day of the week after my wedding and yet, time passed with the speed of a turtle and so I pre-occupied myself with work. I had received a letter of commendation from the HR yesterday for my great contributions during my three months internship with Amjaad.

For a greater work experience in my specialty, they had decided to send me to the Lagos or Abuja Branch, if I still preferred the North. Accommodation was not an issue, that is, if I did not have a place to stay.

It was funny because Amjaad never offered such 'opportunities' to her female staff. I knew because I because I had their brochure in my head like a strongly memorized tahfeez. For all intent and purposes, Amjaad was an Islamically oriented Law Firm. The only one in Nigeria that excelled in the legal practice. They tried their best to preserve what the Shariah has preserved.' - which was how I knew that this had Ahmad Amjad Yaasir's smell all over it.

I had told them I would give my reply in two days In shaa Allah.

It had been an exhausting week in total. But Ahmad's calls and texts had made the wait worthwhile. He had been asking me what I wanted as gift, but in all honesty, I still did not know. It seemed like I had wanted so many things until I met him. Now, I just wanted to live happily with him.

But Ahmad was not a patient man. True to his promise, every day, he purchased something he thought I liked despite my objections. So I told him to divert the resources into our interior décor instead. Another mistake I realized too late because, by Thursday, within the span of four days a room in Ahmad's house was filled with things he got for me and the interior décor.

He would take pictures and make videos of those things and send to me. And then, he would tell me that if I delayed even a day after my three months probation elapsed next week, I would find a house filled with things we would have to give out after I arrived. It was a threat I knew even he found childish. But also one I knew he would keep.

I missed him now often. I missed him when he did not call for up to three hours. He was the most romantic gentleman I had ever met. He knew what to say when I had difficulties both at work and personally. He was a good listener and a good conversationalist too. He was companion and a teacher at the same time. He even told me about the exhausting traffic congestion, the stressful matters on his s table, the pains in his body and made me promise to give him massages. He left nothing out of his daily occurrences. It was as though he was both man and child at the same time. Giving and taking. Gifting and demanding. His personality was an intrigue to me. I wanted to learn more about him, because I knew the more I learnt, the more I loved. Most importantly, he asked me often about my Islamiyyah and often revised with me via a video call.

I was hopelessly, unsalvageably in love with my husband of less than a week, and anyone who had eyes that functioned would see that.

Mom said I was lovesick when I complained of a headache. Sophie said she had known me for thirteen years and did not know I was so garrulous. Zuleikha coughed every time my phone rang and it read "quraata qalbiyy" (the coolness of my heart). She did not know who it was, or that I was married. No one but my family did. She just thought it was a suitor and that we were planning a marriage. To my dismay and relief, Zuleikha has never asked about my personal life. Considering the personality that I have come to know, I found that worthy of commending. It is not often that you meet people who just don't stick their noses where you do not want them. Zuleikha might seem nosy professionally, but she did not push when it came to personal lives. I realized that I actually did not know much about her. Ok, maybe partly because I never asked, I had just been one to not care about other's lives. Mine was already a handful.