MY LIFE AS A STEPMOM🖤✅|COMPLETED

38-THIRTY EIGHT🖤

"I'm going to lock you up so you won't have a chance to meet Asmau and spill everything, you idiot," I declared as I shoved her inside the room and locked the door to keep her under control.

"Please, stop! Open the door. I promise I won't try betraying you again. I'm so sorry!" Dija yelled, her voice pleading as she pounded on the locked door.

I stood in the hallway, feeling so much rage. Her apologies were not convincing, because trust was not so easily regained.

"I can't trust you," I hissed. With that, I turned away from the door and walked down the hallway, leaving Dija's pleas echoing in the closed room behind me.

ASMAU

"I can't believe this," I sighed for the umpteenth time, the minutes slowly ticking away. I had been waiting at the restaurant for almost an hour, and there was still no sign of the person I was supposed to meet. Probably, Abubakar was right. Maybe it was all a lie, and I was wasting my time. The atmosphere here was becoming uncomfortable, but found some solace in the fact that there were people passing by.

"I better just leave. Ibty is waiting for me outside," I muttered to myself, pushing my chair back to stand.

"Asmau!" Abubakar's voice suddenly came from behind me, and I knew I was in for it. Slowly, I turned around to face him, a nervous smile gracing my lips.

"Let's go now!" He said, and without waiting for my response, he turned and walked away. I followed behind him, and we got into his car. The silence in the car feeling heavy and uncomfortable.

"I'm sorry," I said, breaking the silence. He ignored me, his eyes fixed on the road ahead.

"Please forgive me. I said I'm sorry," I apologized again, my voice soft as I played with the edge of my veil.

"Why did you do that?" he finally asked, his voice surprisingly calm, but his gaze was stern.

"I just wanted to find out who is trying to kill my mother," I replied softly, my fingers still fiddling with my veil.

"And you want to find out by putting your life and our child's life at risk?" His concern was evident.

"No, of course not," I responded.

"We are going home. You're not going back to Babaji's place," he declared firmly.

"But no—"

"But what?" he interrupted.

"I didn't pack my clothes. My car is there, and I didn't even get to say goodbye to them," I protested.

"Everything will be taken care of, and you can say goodbye to them on the phone," he insisted.

"But you are being unfair," I pouted.

"Do you know what's unfair?" His voice was tinged with frustration. "You putting your life at stake and me not being able to protect you. I can't lose you, Asmau. You are my life. If anything happens to you, I will never forgive myself. That's why I can't let you do stupid things that risk your life. What if something bad had happened? Do you think I can live without you?"

"But nothing happened to me," I said nonchalantly.

"It's useless talking to you. We are going home, and I don't want to hear anything else," he declared, starting the car.

We arrived back at the house, and I hopped out of the car, rushing inside without saying anything to him. The house was quiet, because the kids were at Islamiyya.

"I won't lie, I missed this room," I mumbled as soon as I entered my room.

I proceeded to freshen up in the bathroom. When I emerged, I picked up my phone and noticed two missed calls from Ibty.