An abuser isn't abusive 24/7. They usually demonstrate positive character traits most of the time. That's what makes the abuse so confusing when it happens, and what makes leaving so much more difficult.     

Miya Yamanouch

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"Ikram! Ikram! Ikram!"

Here we go again. My husband is back from work. I quickly pause what I am during and scurry downstairs.

"Ikram! Ikram! Where's that woman when you need her," he bellows.

"I'm here," I say, stopping to rest as I reach the bottom of the stairs.

"Well don't just stand there gawking like a fool," he yells, "Come get my bag."

"Welcome," I greet him, ignoring the hurt I felt when he insulted me, "How was work today?"

"Fine," he grunts.

That is my cue to shut my mouth. I guess he is in a bad mood this evening because he likes to talk about work and blab about how successful he is as a lawyer. It always gives me an headache.
Don't get me wrong. I am a good wife who loves her husband but Fawaaz likes to exaggerate everything and it's annoying.

"I am hungry," he complains.

"Yes, your food is set on the table. Go freshen up and come down to eat."

I follow him to our bedroom and watch him head straight for the bathroom. I keep his bag on the bed and go downstairs.

"What did you make?" he asks as he sits down.

"Your favorite," I smile at him. I open the flasks of steaming food and start dishing them out.

"This is one of the reasons I love you. You know what I like," he smirks grabbing my ass.

I smile back at him and remain quiet. He starts eating and I sit down and watch him eat.

"Yummy, this is delicious," he commends in which I smile at him.

"Did you go to work today?" He asks.

"No."

"Why?"

"I wasn't feeling well. I think am coming down with something," I tell him hoping for once that he would be sensitive to his wife's feelings.

"Hmmmm! Get yourself treated. We don't want you falling sick now, do we? What will people say? That Fawaaz can't take care of his wife?"

How insensitive! Not even a "are you feeling better now?"
Always about himself.

"You know I love you, right?" he questions as he rubs my smooth cheeks.

I scoff mentally. Fawaaz doesn't know how to love. Even if he does, it's only one person he loves and that's himself.

"Yea, I know," I say through clenched teeth. I get up and start packing the plates.

It's past ten in the night and am exhausted. I just finished frying chicken for breakfast tomorrow. Fawaaz says he wants Fried rice and chicken for breakfast. I am literally sleeping right now

"Ikram!"

I sigh wearily," Yes babe, am in the kitchen."

"Well get your butt out here," he barks.

I drop the knife I was using to chop some onions and went to meet him.

"What is it babe?" I question, arms akimbo.

"You smell like spices," he sniffs.

"Well that's because am cooking," I try not to snap at him.

I have been in the kitchen since past eight slaving away while he sat in the living room watching football.

"Well, go take a bath," he scrunches his nose.

"As soon as am done cooking. Why did you call me out?"

"Never mind, just go back to what you were doing," he says dismissively.

I glare at him as he turns his focus back to the flat screen TV. I turn and head back to the kitchen.
Angrily, I pick the knife and resume chopping the onions.

"Am so tired," I mumble as I trudged upstairs.

The time says eleven in the night. I quickly shower and drop into bed with Fawaaz snoring away.

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"That tickles," I say lazily.

The feather like touch continues and I turn.

"Stop, let me sleep," I complain.

I feel a hand inside my nightgown and I spring up in fear.

"What is the matter?" Fawaaz asks.

"Oh!" I say.

"Relax, it's just me," he starts placing kisses on my neck. I push him away.

"What nonsense is this? Are you trying to refuse me?" he demands.

"No, am not. I am very tired. It's just two in the morning and you know I have to wake up by five to start making fried rice for you and I have to also prepare for work too," I ramble.

"How is that my business?" he fumes, "You're a woman! That's your job! To take care of your husband."

"Yes and I am not complaining. It's just that I am so tired. Please, we can do this some other time," I beg.

"You will give me what I want, Ikram, you will not refuse me," he states harshly.

He grabs me and pushes me back to the bed roughly.

"Please, am very weak. You know am not feeling fine. I was barely managing in the kitchen yesterday," I try again.

My pleas fell on deaf ears as he tries to yank my nightgown off.

"Fawaaz, listen to me. Don't-" is all I can utter as he backhands me.

"Don't you dare go against me again," he thunders," I am your husband and you will obey me. You will do as I say. Sick or not sick!"

I sob quietly as he glares at me.
Fawaaz has changed. This is not him. This is not the man I married.

"Now give me what I want. Don't make this too hard for both of us."

I slowly give in to him as tears rolled down my cheeks.

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I am currently dishing his food out for him but  my mind is not here. I can still feel the pain from the slap he gave me early this morning both physically and emotionally.
Fawaaz never raised a hand on me before. Sure he always yelled at me and abused me verbally but that was all he ever did.

Is my husband slowly turning into a wife beater? I ask myself.
I finish serving him and try to walk away but he holds my hand gently.

Trying to be gentle with me now? You weren't gentle earlier this morning. I thought.

"I am sorry," he pleads.

I turn my face away from him and try hard not to let the tears fall down.

"Look at me, please," he begs.

I refuse. He has a way of getting away with everything whenever he said that. One look at those lovely brown  eyes of his and I'll start melting.

"Please."

I slowly turn and look at his eyes.

"I am sorry for hitting you this morning. I was not myself," he maintains eye contact with me.

I slowly nod as more tears keep coming down my face.

"It will never happen again. I promise."

"Okay," I sniff.

"Now give me a kiss."

I plant a kiss on his forehead and move away from him.

"Eat your breakfast before you run late," I tell him.

He pouts but starts eating. I giggle and go upstairs to take my bath. I believe him when he says he won't hit me again. Nothing can go wrong.
By the time am done bathing and fully dressed, Fawaaz had gone to work. I take time in getting dressed because am tired. Lately I have been getting tired and sick. I hope everything is alright.
Ya Allah please give me strength. I pray silently.
After putting on a big blue hijab, I grab my car keys and hurry downstairs. The smallest hijab I have reaches me on my knees. Fawaaz doesn't like me going out without an hijab.

I reach my cake shop in less than thirty minutes and get down to business.

"Good morning, madam," my five helpers greet me.

"Hello girls, how's today going?" I inquire as I enter my little office. It's not big and it's not small. Just the way I like it. I come out few minutes later and meet my girls(that's what I like to call them) waiting to receive their instructions for the day.

It's time to go home. It's past four already. I just finished praying Asr(one of the five daily prayers for muslims) inside my office.

"Nkechi!" I call out.

"Ma!" she comes into the office immediately.

"I'm leaving now. You girls should not forget to lock all the doors when leaving o," I remind her.

"Yes ma," she answers.

"Good."

"Bye, Ma."

"Bye."

I quickly drive home as Fawaaz just texted me saying he wants banga soup( a local soup made from palm oil and spices eaten in Nigeria) for supper. I make sure to stop at the market and get palm fruits.

I stretch lazily on the settee as I watch a particular episode from the movie, Jennifer's Diary. I can't recall which season because I have been dozing since.

"Ikram, am home," Fawaaz announces as he steps in.

"Assalam alaykum, babe," I remind him.

"Oh, I am sorry. Walaykum salam," he answers as I walk to him.

"You always forget to greet," I tell him as I place a kiss on his lips, "Welcome."

"Thank you," he answers cheerfully.

"Someone seems to be happy," I tease.

"Yes, I finally won the case," he says with pride.

"Congrats babe," I say happily.
I am happy for him.

"But am very hungry," he pouts.

"Awwn, then come eat."

I lead him to the dining room where he sits down and I start dishing his food out. He starts eating immediately. I like this cheery part of him.

We spend the rest of the day talking and laughing. I wish we will be like this all the time. That was my last thought before I slept off.
I woke up the next morning with a sickening feeling.

I quickly rush to the toilet and throw up.

"What's that!"

"I think am sick," I mutter.

"What! Didn't I tell you to treat yourself before?" Fawaaz asks as he enters the toilet.

I can already see traces of anger flashing through his eyes.

"I am sorry. It's just that I felt fine so I didn't think it was necessary to get some medicine again."

"You didn't think!You weren't supposed to think! You were supposed to go see the damn doctor, woman!" he thunders.

"I'm sorry," I mutter.

"Indeed! Are you a doctor?"

I shook my head slowly.

"Use your words, woman!"

"No!"

"Next time, don't think! Just do as I say."

I want to say yes but am hit with that feeling and I start throwing up again. Fawaaz turns his face away in disgust and that hurts me. He is suppose to be helping me. Not turning away as if I stink.
He leaves the toilet and I wash my mouth.
I don't feel so good.
Oh my goodness!
What if am pregnant.
A part of me is excited but another part of me is scared. Fawaaz doesn't want a baby now. That's why I always take the pill.

"I think am pregnant."

"You're not a doctor," he scoffs, "After breakfast we are going to the hospital."

"That went well," I mutter as he leaves the bedroom.

*****************
"Your wife is definitely pregnant. Six weeks pregnant," the doctor confirms.

"But you didn't take any tests," Fawaaz argues.

"Well, that's because am a doctor," the doctor remarks angrily.

"Are you sure of what you're saying?" he questions stubbornly.

She gives him the stink eye and turns to me.

"Please do take care of yourself, dear. Always eat good food and rest properly. Don't stress yourself too. Come back in two weeks time so I can check you again," she says softly.

I smile at her, "Thank you doctor."

"Get in the car," Fawaaz orders as he roughly pushes me into the car.

I am shocked by his sudden act. What's wrong with him. He got into the car and drives out of the hospital in fury.
The ride home is silent. I stare out of the window absentmindedly.

"Explain to me how you got pregnant," he demands in anger.

I drop my purse on the table and stare at him. I am sick and tired of his behaviour. Maybe it is the pregnancy hormones that is giving me the boldness to act this way.

"Simple! We had sex!" I reply bluntly.

"I thought I told you that I didn't want a baby now?"

That line set me off.

"It's been three years. Three years of marriage, Fawaaz and you still don't need a baby," I lash out.

"That's because we are not ready," he yells.

"You are the one who's not ready. I am more than ready to be a mother. When will you be ready? When I reach menopause? When am old and grey?" I ask in fury.

"I don't want my kids to suffer. I want them to have everything they need in life," he says.

"Ha! We are rich already. We have a house and lots of cars. We have money. You are a successful lawyer and my business is doing well. This house is too big and quiet for me. I want kids! I want little ones to fill it. To fill it with their laughter. I want kids! Fawaaz! I want kids," I yell in his face.

"You stopped taking those pills right? I knew it!" he states.

"You finally figured it out," I sneer.

"You're taking that shit off you. I don't want a baby," he shouts.

I gasp in terror.

"How dare you! I will not have an abortion. I am keeping this baby and there's nothing you can do about it," I cover my belly with my hands protectively.

"You will do as I say. You will erase this mistake."

"My baby is not a mistake, you monster," I yell at him.

"The nerve of you!"

He rushes towards me with rage. I shriek and try to run away but am too late as he backhands me. I fall to the ground with a loud thud.

"How dare you insult me! How dare you!" he thunders as he throws punch upon punch at me, deliberately aiming for my belly.

I scream and scream begging him to stop but that only fuels his anger as he adds more force to each blow.

I quickly say a prayer, begging Allah to save my baby as the blows come down on me. I protectively cover my belly as I take the stinging blows and black out.

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Whew! That's long!
Assalam alaykum.
Hello.
I hope you're enjoying this book so far and I hope you like this chapter. Feel free to let me know about any mistakes.
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