Haneed Was A Psycho

CHAPTER 3

After that night, subsequent updates from my parents about the impending marriage became nonexistent. My irritation grew, as my parents had thrust me into this situation against my readiness to engage. Right at the point where curiosity about Haneed was starting to arise, they abruptly acted as if the marriage prospect was no longer a reality.

A sense of suspicion developed, with a nagging feeling that my father was orchestrating something, possibly an attempt to torment me into inquiring about Haneed.

My doubts solidified when I overheard my father conspiring with my mother one night. Eavesdropping, I narrowly escaped detection, thanks to my sister Eiman.

During this moment, I was eavesdropping and heard Dad urging Mom to grant me ample time for consideration. He insinuated that eventually, I would be the one pursuing Haneed.

Nearly two weeks passed without any news about him or his family. On the 13th day following our initial meeting, they finally paid a visit.

Seated in the living room, engrossed in Ellen's TV show, the doorbell's ring jolted my attention.

Swiftly, I hastened to the door and swung it open.

Nabeeha stood before me, donned in a simple dark blue gown with no adornments. A surge of happiness filled me, for I hoped to glean some information about Haneed.

Nabeeha embraced me with the familiarity of close friends. However, it was what unfolded behind her that captured my gaze (unnoticed initially, as he stood over ten feet away).

Nabeeha entered, and I found myself frozen in place, my eyes locking on the figure behind her.

As he uncrossed his arms and approached, my heart raced. He wore an intricately designed plain white shadda, his hair trimmed to a medium length. His bold eyebrows, slightly shorter eyelashes compared to mine, and well-maintained sideburns formed an arresting appearance.

He waved his fingers before his face, casting a "welcome, am I?" expression.

Stepping back from the door, I ushered him into the sitting room.

His aroma matched that of his room when he passed me earlier, carrying an air of confidence and self-assuredness.

Hurrying back indoors, I shared the news with my mother. Her reaction was nonchalant, as if she already knew but hadn't informed me. Grateful that I had already bathed, I didn't fret about my appearance.

Delegating the task of serving drinks to our maids, I avoided doing so myself.

Sitting across Nabeeha and parallel to Haneed, I found myself pondering, "What's next, Rafia'h?"

Hauwa, one of our housemaids, earned my internal disdain for her overt attempts at gaining Haneed's attention, parading around the sitting room while serving drinks. My satisfaction swelled as Haneed remained engrossed in his phone.

Nabeeha remained silent, awaiting my response. Summoning the courage, I conversed with her in our native Hausa tongue: "Sannun ku da zuwa, sister Nabeeha, yanzu Mama zata qaraso." (Greetings, sister Nabeeha, Mom will join shortly). She smiled and reciprocated, inquiring about my well-being. Although I felt consumed by worry, I feigned contentment.

While we conversed, Haneed maintained a phone-related silence, occasionally appearing to be WhatsApp chatting.

Annoyance flared as I entertained suspicions that he might be messaging another woman.

As I prepared to leave, I noticed my mother emerging, prompting me to swiftly sit down again, flashing a fake smile, and feigning an engrossed chat with our visitors.