ASMAU
"I don't think it's a good idea, Asmau," Ibty said, clearly concerned. I had informed her about my plan to meet the person who sent that anonymous message yesterday, and she was not on board.
"Ibty, come on!" I protested, trying to persuade her.
"It's dangerous. You don't know this person. What if they intend to harm you or the baby? Have you even told Abubakar about this?" she questioned, her worry evident in her voice.
I shook my head firmly, "No, I didn't. And please, don't inform him because he won't let me go. I just want to protect my mother; I don't want anyone else trying to harm her."
"Alright, I'll take you there and wait for you. If anything happens, just scream for help, and I'll come running," Ibty finally relented.
I smiled gratefully. "Thank you, Ibty. You are the best."
"Let's get ready," I urged, taking her hand and pulling her upstairs to my room to prepare.
IMAN
"We have a problem," Salma announced through the phone, her voice laden with worry.
I sighed audibly. "I'm not surprised, it feels like we always have problems," I muttered. "So, what is it this time?" I asked, bracing myself for whatever new issue had arisen.
"I overheard Asmau talking to Ibty. She mentioned that someone messaged her yesterday, claiming to know who tried to kill her mother. As a result, they're planning to meet this person today. Iman, I'm scared. What if they discover that I'm the one behind it? Who could be doing this?" Salma's voice trembled with fear.
I took a moment to think about who might be responsible for this situation. "I have a hunch about who could be behind this," I said.
"Who?!" Salma exclaimed, clearly eager to hear more.
"I'll call you later. Right now, I need to handle something," I replied before ending the call.
"Dija! Dija, come here now!" I yelled impatiently.
"Yes, I'm here, Aunty Iman," our housemaid, Dija, hurried out of the kitchen.
"You ungrateful brat!" I yelled, my frustration boiling over as I slapped her across the cheek. She stumbled, tears streaming down her face.
"Aunty Iman, what did I do?" she cried out, bewildered.
"How dare you ask me what you did?!" I shouted, giving her another stinging slap. "After betraying me, going behind my back! You were planning on telling Asmau everything after I had told you not to!"
"But I didn't tell her anything," Dija pleaded as fresh tears welled in her eyes, her voice trembling.
"You didn't tell her yet, but you were planning to, weren't you?" I snapped. "You planned to meet up with her and spill everything. I expected better from you! What more do you want in this house? Isn't what we pay you enough?"
"I'm so sorry. I only did it because my mother is in the hospital, and she needs urgent surgery to save her life. I didn't want to betray you, but I felt I had no choice. I needed the money," Dija confessed, her tears flowing freely.
"You are a disappointment," I retorted, my anger rising once more. "I could have helped you if you had confided in me about your mother's health. But instead, you chose betrayal, and now you're going to regret it."
"Please, Aunty Iman, forgive me," she pleaded desperately.
"Stand up!" I ordered, grabbing her arm and leading her towards another room. Her cries continued, but I was not giving in.
"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.
"Betrayer," I whispered to myself before angrily dialing her number.
"Hello, best friend," she greeted me, her voice ecstatic.
"Wallahi, if you were close to me, I'd smack you," I threatened.
"I'm sorry, best friend. I had to inform him. I was so worried," she explained.
"Shush! Worried my foot. Look at what you caused. He brought me back home, and I didn't even get to say goodbye to you guys."
"Well, he made the right decision," she said, and I felt like strangling her.
"Ibty, I hate you!" I groaned.
"Awww, I hate you too, best friend. Enjoy yourself!" she laughed wickedly before hanging up.
"Useless girl," I muttered, tossing my phone onto the bed.
Suddenly, my door opened, and Abubakar walked in, looking casual in a white T-shirt and black sweatpants, holding a car key.
"I'm going out," he announced.
"A dawo lafiya," I replied simply.
"Shouldn't I be the angry one here?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Oho," I muttered, still not looking at him.
"You said?" he prodded.
"I said you should get going to wherever you want to go."
"I love you."
"I know," I muttered loud enough for him to hear, and he chuckled, shaking his head, before making his exit.
"He's even laughing, and he didn't even kiss me goodbye," I thought, my disappointment palpable. "I don't need the kiss. Let him eat it."
I rolled my eyes with a smile playing on my lips, then moved to the dresser,
Next day..
I found myself in the kitchen, rushing to finish dinner. Earlier, I had been at Babaji's place, and then went shopping with Ibty. By the time I returned home, I was so exhausted that I had fallen asleep and only woken up to the Maghrib Adhan. After I prayed my salah, I headed downstairs to get to work.
"Safeeya!" I called out her name from the kitchen. "Safeeya, come and cut the carrots!" I called out again while stirring the soup.
I noticed the absence of the kids. "Noorie!!!" I called, but there was no reply.
Where were these kids for Allah's sake?
"Aunty, do you need help? I'm done praying," Saratu said after she came back from her room.
"Yes, please! Help stir this soup. I'll hurry and cut the carrots," she nodded and got to work. I picked up the knife and started chopping the carrots, when I suddenly heard the sound of a car outside. Abubakar was back from the office. Meanwhile, I hadn't even finished preparing dinner.
"Ooh Asmau!" I muttered.
"Ouch!" I yelped in pain as the knife cut my finger.
"Aunty, are you okay?" Saratu asked worriedly.
"I'm okay, it's just a little cut. I will wash it off," I replied.
"Okay, but you should hurry and treat it before it gets serious," she advised.
"Yes, I will do that after I'm done working," I said, washing the cut.
"No, Aunty, please do it now. I will handle the food," she insisted.
"Are you sure?" I asked, and she nodded. "Okay then," I said and made my way out of the kitchen.
I walked to the parlour and met Abubakar settled on the couch, typing away on his phone.
"You're back already?" I asked, catching his attention.
"Yes, I am. I'm so exhausted. I will go freshen up and come down for dinner," he stated, standing up to meet me and placing a soft kiss on my forehead.
"Dinner isn't ready yet, but it will be soon. I just need to clean my cut," I said, showing him my injured finger.
"Wait, a cut!? What happened to you?" he asked, his concern evident.
"It's nothing serious. I was cutting some carrots and accidentally injured myself," I replied.
He took my finger and examined it closely. "The cut is deep. We need to treat it right away. I will get the first aid kit. But have you washed the finger?" he asked, and I nodded.
"Yes, but calm down, it's not that deep," I chuckled, but he sent me a stern glare.
"Does it hurt?" he asked.
"A bit," I replied.
"Okay, I'm coming," he said and headed upstairs. I sat down on the sofa and waited for him to retrieve the first aid kit. After he returned, he carefully treated the injury.
"Can I go back to cooking?" I asked, giving him my best puppy-dog eyes.
"No!" he shook his head firmly. "Saratu can take care of that."
"But I—"
"Didn't I tell you to stop cooking or doing anything stressful? Saratu can handle all that. You are pregnant, and you shouldn't be stressing yourself out. Look now, you injured yourself," he scolded.
"I'm sorry. I was just rushing to finish dinner before you returned because I took a nap and lost track of time," I explained.
"Well, from today onwards, let Saratu handle the cooking. Safeeya can also lend a helping hand. But you need enough rest because of the baby," he insisted.
"But you know how much I love cooking, right? And it's not right for you to eat another person's food instead of mine," I pouted.
"I'm doing this for you. I want you and our baby to be healthy,"
"And we are, but I need to work too."
"By injuring your finger?" he asked with a hint of frustration.
"Goodness! It's normal. I was in a hurry. Just let me continue cooking. I'll be careful next time, In shaa Allah."
"No means no."
"Gosh! But I can do other things around the house, at least, right?"
"As long as it doesn't involve strenuous work," he replied.
"Come on!"
"And even when I'm at work, you shouldn't try it. I will ask the kids and Saratu to keep an eye on you."
"So, you are keeping an eye on me?" I teased.
"No, I'm not. I'm just looking out for you."
"You are too bossy, Allah!" I rolled my eyes and stood up to leave.
"I know you love me," he smirked.
"I don't!"
"You do, baby."
"No, I don't!!!" I yelled, making my way upstairs.
"Yess, you do!" he yelled back.
"Whatever," I muttered with a smile on my face. Yes, I do love you so much my darling husband.
**
Edited version✨
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