Our Perfect Love Story

1: Lonely And Frustrated.

Love hurts, especially when it isn't reciprocated.

Hajarah sat in the house she was supposed to call home, doing absolutely nothing except watching the hours pass. She hadn't cooked in days, despite how much she loved being in the kitchen. The thought of running into the annoying prick she called her husband was enough to make her lose her appetite for everything.

When would it ever end?

It was a question she asked herself every single day, and honestly, she was tired of waiting for an answer.

She had been married for a week, and her friends and cousins kept calling to check on her. They wanted to know how married life was treating her, whether she was settling in well, and whether she was enjoying her new home.

The worst part was that she couldn't tell them the truth.

How was she supposed to explain that she was practically a stranger in her own marriage? That she shared a mansion with a man who barely tolerated her presence? That the one person she wanted to complain about him to was the very person she couldn't bring herself to tell everything?

Halima, her older sister, was the only person she could talk to. Fortunately, Halima had married the man she loved and was enjoying the kind of marriage Hajarah had once hoped for herself.

Meanwhile, Hajarah had ended up stuck with an egotistical loser who seemed to take pleasure in making her miserable.

She couldn't wait for Nasif to resume work. Anything would be better than having him around all day, making her feel uncomfortable in a house that was technically hers too.

At least, that was what she kept telling herself.

She was in her bedroom watching Husbands of Lagos, her favorite Nigerian series, although she had no idea what was happening on the screen. She had been staring at the same scene for several minutes without absorbing a single word.

Eventually, she reached for the remote and switched off the television.

She was bored. Properly, painfully bored.

Then an idea occurred to her.

She felt like baking.

It had been a while since she'd spent a proper afternoon in the kitchen, and she missed it. She might not be particularly good at every household chore, but cooking and baking were different. They were things she genuinely enjoyed, and she wasn't going to let her husband ruin that for her.

Besides, it was her house too.

With that thought firmly in mind, she climbed out of bed and headed for the door.

As she stepped into the hallway, she noticed that the light in Nasif's bedroom was on.

Thank God. He's in his room.

She slipped into her slippers and made her way downstairs to the kitchen. It was already past eight in the evening, and Laura, their maid, had gone home for the day.

The house was usually quiet at this hour. Hajarah spent most of her time in her bedroom, while Nasif preferred his own room. They barely saw each other unless one of them had a reason to leave their personal space.

She opened the refrigerator and examined its contents. There were eggs, vegetables, fruits, fresh tomatoes, spinach, and several other ingredients. The pantry was equally well stocked.

Everything she needed seemed to be available.

Everything except flour.

Hajarah stared at the empty space where she expected to find a bag.