Twisted

3: Jetlag and Meetings

Zayyad

I hate this city, is the first thought that comes to my mind when I wake up in the presidential suite of Transcorp Hilton. I've dreaded the soil of this city because everything I do, every air I inhale, every step I have taken since I got here reminds me of the treacherous split with my ex but as they say, 'life happens', and I can not deny that it is a beautiful morning today.

The curtains are open, shedding more than enough natural light into the room, the air smells fresh and I know my wife is somewhere around because the curtains were definitely opened by her. It's our silent competition; a thing she does to prove she's more of a morning person than I am.

She wasn't supposed to be on this trip with me but she insisted on coming because she didn't want to stay back home in 'boring London', now she's here making this hotel feel like home.

I stretch my entire body until I shake from satisfaction. Ugh, this sleep was essential because words can't explain how fucked up my immune system is from the constant plane rides I've had in the last 24 hours. All I have done is sleep at odd hours, I haven't even had the energy to do what I came to Abuja for.

A few meters away from the bed, I notice a tray cart containing a variety of English breakfasts, it looks like it was getting eaten and suddenly abandoned halfway.

Where is she anyways?

I maneuver my way out of bed to go look for her and it doesn't take a minute for me to find her on the bathroom floor, her back resting on the wall next to the toilet filled with barf. "Hey? Nabs," I gently call and she looks at me tiredly, her eyes are puffy, giving away the obvious fact that she's been crying. "What's wrong?"

I walk into the bathroom and flush the toilet before lowering to the ground to sit beside her and pull her into an embrace, she skins into my shirtless body, not bothering to hug me, and resumes crying.

"What's wrong?" I ask again, a little panic creeping in. "Talk to me. Breathe. Are you mad about the fight from last night about that girl's store?"

She slowly puts an end to the tears and looks up at me. "No, far from that,"

"Then what?"

She sniffs. "You know, my emotions and hormones have been all over the place these past days?"

"Mhmm,"

"Well..." She releases herself from the hug and shows me a pregnancy kit she picks from beside her. "We're having a baby,"

My heart flutters like a million butterflies being released into a field of sunflowers and my face breaks into a grin. "That's amazing news! When'd you find out?!"

"Now. Zahra suggested that I take a test in the Bahamas but I forgot and this morning I decided to take one after throwing up and it came out positive,"

I look at the test which displays two lines and I grin. "Ya Allah! This is the best news I've heard since—" She doesn't let me complete the sentence before erupting into a fresh round of hot tears, and I'm confused. "Why- why are you crying? We want this. We prayed for this. Why are you sad? I don't unders--"

"I'm tired," She cuts in, looking up at me, her eyes lacking emotion. "I don't want this one to go, too. I'm tired of us getting excited and then we end up losing it. It hurts me how you're excited about every pregnancy but I never get to carry it to the end. I feel so useless, Zayyad," She continues to sob, running out of breath.

"Don't say that. I know it's hard but I'm here for you every step of the way. Don't be harsh on yourself, Nabila. If Allah wants this one to stay, it'll stay,"