Paper Hearts

Chapter 8.

Death comes when you least expect, Allah sa mu cika da Imani.

SAADATU'S POV.

KANO, NIGERIA.

"I'm telling you this guy is unbelievable. Wai kinsan, sai da na gama shiri, harda kwalliya na wai ni zanje bikin qawata. Ina baki labari, ina fitowa, ya hada fuska, he even crossed his legs o and said, 'Ba inda zaki', with full confidence!" Faiza exclaimed from the other end of the call, her frustration hard to miss as she ranted.

I chuckled, unable to help myself. God knows how many times I've laughed since I called this girl up like I promised I would. She's making my car ride with Muazu back home much more interesting than I thought I would be, effectively making me forget about all that has happened in the hospital.

"Habu said that?" I found myself asking, "This is why people say men do all that they want once they get married. I bet even he found himself funny then." I could already imagine him saying those exact words, and the image in my mind had me laughing again.

Faiza hissed, obviously not finding it amusing in the slightest. "Which kind funny? Kinga yadda ya maze ne? Kaman ba shi ba. Kinsan wallahi haka gayen nan ya hani ni fita? It pains me o! After all that time and energy I put into dressing up, I ended up not going anywhere because my husband says otherwise." I could feel her pain really; I can't imagine how she must've felt in the moment.

At this point, I really wished it was face chat I called her, just so I can see her exact face at the moment. I know it'll be priceless, and I just could not help the urge to want to call and tease her even more.

She then hummed again, reminiscing it all in her mind no doubt with growing frustration and annoyance. "Wato ba, maza na abunda suka ga dama after marriage. I did not believe it before, but I do now." She lamented, and the clear picture of her shaking her head as she kisses her teeth to accompany the words played in my mind.

My laughter died down, and I found myself exhaling a breath as my shoulders slumped. "Well, I guess that is what marriage is after all, huh?"

"Do not remind me." She hummed. "You will understand how I feel soon enough when you join the married woman geng." Her tone turned teasing, the tables officially turning.

I rolled my eyes, sinking back in my seat as I groaned. "God abeg." Is it wrong to say I enjoyed her misery a bit too much that I forgot about that tiny, but huge matter of my marriage hanging in the air. "I honestly have forgotten I am the bride without a groom."

"Because you chose that!" She was quick to cut me off, "I very much presented my brother to you on a silver platter. What's more? You loved the man."

"Had a crush on the man, do not use the word 'love' here." I corrected her, because the mere thought of the word 'love' and Adnan and I in the same sentence makes me want to shudder. I believe the word will fit better in a sentence where the subject is 'Adnan' and the object 'Dr. Amal'. That will be much better if you ask me. "And besides, how many times do I have to make myself clear that your brother and I will not work out. So, remove him out of the picture. I want nothing to do with him...no offence."

"Umhmm." She hummed, in a way that screamed 'I hear you' which in Nigerian terms automatically translates to 'I do not believe you'. Then, before I could respond, she continued. "I understand you want to be stubborn, but let us be honest, he is your best choice here."