She quickly peeled her hands off from him when they got to the car and he chuckled with a voice that spoke something only him knew of. He entered the drivers seat and she entered the passengers seat before they drove off. They were driving in silence when Fatima Zarah turned to look at him, "Will you please stop by at my house? I need to get something from Ammi, her driver is not around and I need it now."
He didn't look at her nor acted as if he heard her and he kept driving, "I'm talking to you, Al-mustapha. I need to get my bangles, you can see I have nothing on my hands. Please, I won't enter the house, Aunty Wasila will come out by the gate to hand them to me." Saying please to this man was torturing, but she had to do this for those bangles and because there was no way she was going to the palace with her hands this empty.
He didn't answer but he turned the steering wheel and she watched silently as he drove to their house until he was close to the gate and parked there. She picked up her phone and dialled Aunty Wasila's number.
"I'm by the gate, Aunty Wasila, those bangles and a first aid box please." She ended the call when Aunty Wasila answered and she kept staring at the huge ironed gate hungrily, feeling as if she had the chance to enter. She knew something might hvae changed in him to do as she asked him, may be because she had pleaded with him and he thought that he had won against her this time? He was so pathetic.
Aunty Wasila came out with all that Fatima Zarah requested for and they exchanged quick pleasantries before they drove out of the area. She put on the bangles and kept jingling them as they made a sound, admiring them on her fully henna beautified hands. She took the first aid box and opened it, thankful to the day she had learnt how to dress a wound.
She pulled her feet up, finding her actions so hard because of the thobe and her attire and the little space she had. She dressed her wound and sealed it up, all this while Al-mustapha acted as if there was no living human being struggling beside him and when she was done, she wanted to close the box and keep it at the back of his car, but then she remembered how he cut himself, and for once; Fatima Zarah hated the way Ammi had raised her.
She knew what humanity stood for, she loved for everyone what she had loved for herself and she had never wished bad upon anyone. She did whatever she can to help whoever needed help, and today she hated that part of her soul, because she had to act upon it even if she didn't want. That's who she was, and there was no way she could change herself. He was hurt, physically hurt, so she had to keep her personal feelings aside.
"Can I see your arm?" She asked, nibbling on her lower lip as she waited for the worst answer on the universe. He hated like he didn't hear her and she spoke for the second time, telling her soul that it he didn't reply her she would let him be. "Al-mustapha, I'm asking you something, as you can see we are the only people in this car, can I see your arm?"
He slightly turned and looked at her, "What are you going to do with my arm? Did you per chance forgot what I've told you yesterday?" Ohkay, he hitted a nerve, and he clearly knew it.
She laughed, a humorless laughter before she motioned for him to park the car by the roadside for they were close to the palace and she didn't want to get interupted while she was speaking. She thought she could wait for the whole week to pass before she replied him, but she figured out as days passed by, there was nothing like that. He was filling up the void spaces in her heart with nothing but his hatred.
"Why do you asked me to par..." She cut him, turning completely to face him despite how the thobe was disturbing her whole life, not even body alone.
"I'll make this clear to you once and for all, and I really hope you'll have it engarved into your thick skull. If you know you can't have all I said memorized in your brain, record me as I say it or do whatever you could think of that will help you in remembering this.
"For the first and last time, Al-mustapha Muhammad Maccido, I don't regard to you even as a human talkless of a woman or to a greater status; a man. To me, you're just another specie among millions of the Al-mighty's creation humans are yet to know where you came from or what's your purpose in life. If you haven't forgotten, we both got into this game together, so you can't be acting as if I was the one that kept running around the streets of Sokoto wailing that I loved you and I could die if I'm not married to you.
"As tradition required and Islam as well, you were the one that went up to my family and requested for my hand in marriage, and for all my family knows; you're the one that first got involved with their daughter. You brought yourself into my life not the other way round. No one cares that it was a game for you or I, all people could see is a man in love and he asked for marriage and was later granted the chance to, if my family wished, they would deny and tell me how the freaking way would you have carried out your miserable game peacefully apart from this way.
"Don't even think about your stupid police station, because that's the only strength you have apart from being a royal prince. I want you to know that without your khaki and those seargents that saluted to you as though you were their godfather because of those woven stars on your shoulder, you, Al-mustapha Muhammad Maccido are nothing but a creature which I still don't know in which class to put you.
"And you saying you don't see me as a woman and my body is not enticing enough to make you feel that yes you're with a woman, I'll make you regret those words and have you knelt down before me and you'll have to worship me as a woman. And all this will be part of the game, let's see who'll be the winner then we'll decide what step to take next. And what I want you to have in mind is, I'm married to you, or I signed up for this game with you alone, take it as you want, not anyone from your family. I don't like them interferring in my life, even you don't have that right not ot talk of them. And for our promise of hell, I'm still into that as well."
She had never felt as powerful and strong as she did today, now that she had uttered to him what had been held up into her chest for hours, she felt light within. As if a weight pulled out of her chest. "And for your arms, I wanted to dress it for you, incase of infections. But you can die for all I care. Now, let's enter the palace and act like the most loveliest couple to ever live on earth." She smiled beautifully at him and turned her back at him because she didn't want to see what he would look like as he seep in her words.
He was silent for more than five minutes and she wanted to laugh her chest out but she restrained herself. Without a sound, he clutched the steering wheel and ignited the car back to him. She felt truimphed. When they arrived in the palace, maids were already waiting for them in front of Mama Fulani's chamber and they opened the doors for them. With bows, greetings, yodellings, algaita, Fatima Zarah didn't know which one to listen to.
They were taken, hand in hand into Mama Fulani's living room and they sat down and waited for her. What she had noticed when she looked at his arm, even thought it had to take a keen eye on him to notice, was that the wound he cut on himself had began to bleed, and she wanted to smack his head for being a hard nut, she would've dressed the place. Thank god no one's attention was on him.
Mama Fulani was finally out and they both composed themselves and greeted her when she sat down. She answered their greetings and looked at them, and her eyes slowly wandered to his arm, and she had instantly noticed the blood. As feasible as it looked, but she noticed even an ounce of change when it came to Al-mustapha.
When Fatima Zarah noticed where her attention was, she pulled his garment and he turned to look at her, leaning down to hear what she had to say. "I think you need to close your wound with more garment of your dress, it might get an unwanted attention." He nodded his head and did as she said, because he could see that it wasn't Ummah seated in front of them, it was Mama Fulani.
Mama Fulani smiled and took her eyes off, but she was glad. She didn't know what had happened, may be they got into a fight before the girl finally gave in, but atleast it was worth it. Because she could see the moment Fatima Zarah spoke to him about the wound, he did as she said. And that was a huge improvement in Al-mustapha.
"You'll be taken to all of your Uncles houses, your Aunties whom came for the wedding and it will be the Sultan at last. You all should be careful and be at your best behaviour, be careful with your words, Fatima Zarah." She warned, and Fatima Zarah ducked her head down before she nodded her head.
"Insha Allah, Mama Fulani." And when they stood up, Al-mustapha entwined their hands, when she looked up at him, he flashed her a smile; rather, a smirk. She knew he was still angry at what she had said to him, but he was trying to appear cool and okay with it, but Fatima Zarah knew him better than anyone.
They were taken to his the houses and each house, it was the same ritual, mode of greeting and everything. There wasn't anything that could say they were really family. No love shared between them, they were just there, forcefully bounded together by one thing 'Royalty' which they all loved with their souls. Lastly, when her feet had gotten sore and she felt like fainting in the middle of the palace. She thought he said they were going to have a tour? By Allah this was the most tiring punishment she had ever encountered.
The were taking to the Sultanate Chamber and something had never amazed Fatima Zarah as it did. It was purely traditional and truly beautiful. They greeted the Sultan and he was the only one that spoke to Al-mustapha like a father should, among all the uncles they had visited, which she couldn't count their number. May be upto twenty or even thirty, they were just much. He gave them marital advices and wished them good before they walked out of his chamber, hand in hand.
"Oh there favorite cousin! I came here just to see you, Mammi said you just left out chamber and came to greet the Sultan." A young lady of about Fatima Zarah's age spoke with full enthusiasm and she turned to look at Fatima Zarah with a grim expression, "Hello, Royal Bride, my name is Rahma Muhammad Sa'ad."