Nailah Zayed.

Maroudi, Nigeria.

The sound of a smack landing right across my face filled the living room—the action causing my face to jerk to the side. My eyes instantly welled up with tears, which I tried to blink away but failed as another landed on my other cheek.

"You floozy!" My mother-in-law yelled, pointing an accusatory finger at me. "How dare you tarnish our family name like this? Huh?" Her skin was mottled, and eyes were wide—showing the whites.

There are quite a few times I'd seen her this upset. And although she'd always been one with a terrible temper, and though we've never gotten along—it had never gotten physical. Until now.

Being the face of countless tabloid and the topic of mockery was more than enough for me to handle. But, the last thing I expected amidst this whole issue was to meet my mother-in-law in my living room, waiting for me.

And behold, the first thing I got from her was a slap. A stinging one for that matter.

Folding my lips in, I blinked repeatedly to clear my eyes off the tears. I didn't even want to shed any, but the anger I'm feeling was too much and she wasn't making things any easier for me. I'm not sure how much more I can handle.

So, before things could escalate even more, I'd like to believe we can all agree I've been subjected to enough pain for one day.

My lips parted as I blew in a small breath, before running my tongue across my chapped lips. The metallic taste of blood accompanied the action—a compliment of the pain inflicted on me by my dearest mother in law.

I lifted my gaze to look at her, my eyes staring her down considering she's shorter than I am. "If you're done, you can leave now." It baffled me how calm my voice sounded when I'm everything else internally.

Her eyes dilated slightly, lips curling upwards in disbelief. "What did you just say to me?" I guess she was hoping I'd take the slaps like a good daughter-in-law.

I did. But, since when have I been a good person? Much less, a good daughter-in-law?

I may be scared of her husband, but not her. Besides, it's not like her son and I have a normal marriage that will require me being respectful to her for my own sake. I don't need anything from this woman. On the contrary, she would've believe the amount of hatred I harbor towards her.

"Let me rephrase my sentence." I took a step closer to her; my eyes never leaving hers and expression yawing stoic. "Leave my house right this instant." My voice dropped, though the threat rang loud.

It was taking everything in me to not throw in an insult—choosing to remind myself that she is older than me. However, I can never, not once, remember a time where she earned my respect. It has always been one snicker and taunt after the other; constant criticism that never seems to end.

She made it her life mission to make mine hell.

And she has succeeded.

"This is my son's house." She gritted out, trying to take her stand. "You cannot send me out!"

Is this woman serious? I couldn't help but chuckle. Trust me, I tried to keep it in but it somehow turned into a full blown laughter. She could only stare at me as if I had grown ten heads, and I can't blame her.

I would've given me the same look too if I was in her shoes. Maybe I did lose a few screws?

A normal person wouldn't go the the lengths I'm going.

Clasping my hands together as the laughter died, I stare at her with the widest grins out there. "I can send your son out of 'his house' if I want to. What makes you think I can't do that to you, huh?"

She didn't say a word, but the glare she sent my way spoke volumes.

See, I could've simply left the house for her and not have to go through all this headache. But, I don't feel like it. Why should I be the one to always suck it up and give up?

"—Would you leave, or what?"

Huffing out an annoyed breath, she shot me a glare that screamed we aren't over this before she stormed out. The minute I heard the front door close, I released a deep breath; my shoulders slagging. The bag that was in my hand dropped along with my phone; but I didn't have it in me to  be worried about it.

My best guess is, no one is in the house. After what happened between me and the maids the other day—they always make sure to round up their work before I return so we won't have to meet. So, I am all alone in the house.

Folding my height, I sat on the floor; my back leaned against one of the couches as I brought my knees to my chest. I wanted to cry, or at least scream my frustrations out but I couldn't. All I could bring myself to do was sit there in silence and allow the feeling of emptiness to fill me up.

~*~

Just like any other time I'm facing crisis in the public eye, I find myself yet again drawn to my phone and scrolling through the malicious comments that will undoubtedly haunt me. This time around, there were a hell lot. And, I don't even have to search it up.

The constant Instagram and Twitter tags made it easier to see the comments. Each one happens to be worse than the last. The public sure are enjoying chewing me up without even knowing the full side of the story.

-I've always known there was something off about this deal of theirs. I guess Mrs. Nailah here has been busy. Lmaoooo.

-I know right. No wonder they are at the top. I guess this is how Nailah manages to get them a lot of business partners.

-Isn't she even ashamed of herself? She's married for crying out loud. Smh, people in this generation have no respect towards marriage.

-After this, she will later show her face in the eye of the public and pretend to be a righteous person. Righteous my ass.

-That Ayaan guy is loaded, even more than Imran. No wonder she's leaning towards him. Gold digger!

-Andai ji kunya. She's such a loser.

-I wouldn't be surprised if this is the reason her marriage would end. After all, she deserves it.

-Later she would come and claim she met him for a 'business deal'. Lmao, alright ashawo.

-I pity Imran the most here. That man obviously loves and cares about her. But, this is what he gets. Shameless woman! You will never prosper.

The malicious comments went on, and on. I could barely see a single good comment directed towards me. What's making the issue even worse is that our company is yet to release a public statement denying the claims. This is affecting the business as well, and as such, they wanted me to apologize publicly after taking the blame.

A classic business tactic quite a lot of people use here in Maroudi. But, I don't want to.

Why should I take the blame, huh? Why should I accept what is not actually true and face the consequence of it all?

Why couldn't they reach out to Ayaan instead and ask him to issue a statement denying it? After all, he can make this all go away by simply putting out a statement. But, he isn't.

Instead, I'm getting countless messages and missed calls from the HR people at work, wanting me to take the blame instead.

Tired of seeing the constant hate that does nothing but belittle me and make me hate my entire existence, I turned the phone off and threw it somewhere on the bed; not caring where it landed. Hours have passed, and the sun has set and yet, I'm yet to step foot outside.

I doubt I would do that any time soon. I don't want to.

From what the guards at the gate informed me, there's quite a lot of press outside waiting for me to step out so they could bombard me with questions that will most likely end up painting me as the culprit yet again.

A sigh left my lips as I got on my feet, before making my way out of the bedroom. Drawing the robe I have on to cover my skin, I suddenly got goosebumps from the chilly air. The house was eerily quiet as usual—as Imran is yet to show up too.

I wanted to call him, or at least try to but it I couldn't bring myself to do that. No matter what problem I was going through, I never sought out to him for help. However, this time felt different because it is different.

I could only hope he wouldn't believe that ridiculous scandal Basma stirred up. He knew why I met Ayaan. In fact, he was the one that extended the man's invite to me so he knew I met up with him for business only.

Speaking of which, a statement from him could clear this up too. Perhaps, I could ask him to do so?

Pulling the refrigerator open, I got a water bottle from it before popping the cap open. I was about to bring it to my lips when a figure made an appearance; and I would be lying if I said his sudden presence didn't catch me off guard.

"Imran..." I voiced out, my heart rate slowing after spiking up. I closed the bottle, no longer wanting to take the water and placed it on the kitchen island.

It seemed he hadn't realized my presence there too, until I called him out. Stopping in his tracks, he turned around—his expressionless eyes meeting mine. He didn't say a word, and unfortunately, I couldn't tell what was running through his head like always.

I swallowed thickly, darting out my tongue to sweep it across my lower lip nervously. I wasn't sure what to take his expression as. Is it a good thing, or not?

Still, I decided to take the first step forward. So, I did by covering the distance between us, and coming to stand in front of him.

My lips parted, thinking of the right words to use. I was suddenly nervous, which was weird because I have never been this nervous around him before. In fact, I was always collected in his presence, not caring about a single thing.

This time feels different though.

He still didn't say a thing—as if he was waiting for me to speak up first.

And so, I did.

"—You saw the pictures, right?" It's a stupid question to ask, I know. Of course he saw it. I was quick to add. "It isn't what it looks like, I promise. You of all people know why I went to meet him—you were even supposed to be there. Somehow, someone managed to take pictures and they are giving it a whole other definition. It is all so crazy how people will believe such nonsense but surely, you don't. Right?"

"Of course I don't." He answered calmly, like it's no big deal. "Why should I believe such a ridiculous thing?"

My shoulders slumped, as I blew out a breath of relief. It feels good to know that the one who matters the most doesn't believe that lie. "I was worried you'd believe it."

He didn't smile, or make a joke about it. But, I could swear I saw a flick of emotion across his features before it disappeared. "I trust you." He stated, his eyes fixed on mine. "And I know you won't break it, right?" There was something about that question that didn't sit right with me. It's hard to explain the sudden chill I got because of it.

Which is weird because I never felt that around him.

I blinked, eyes squinting slightly. "Of course."

He nodded, seemingly satisfied with that. "Good." His facials took a turn back to his usual blank expression. "I would clear up the issue with the press tomorrow. And don't worry about anything else, I'll make sure no such things happens again, okay?"

I could only nod, not knowing how else to answer him.

He didn't say a thing again. He simply side stepped me and then disappeared off to his room. I on the other hand was left to turn around and watch him walk away, my lips slanted into a deep frown.

Well, that wasn't the reaction I expected from him?

Why do I still feel like there's more though? My stomach was in knots, a ball of worry forming in there.

I shook my head to discard to ridiculous feeling. Nothing bad will happen again.

If he says he will handle it, then I trust he would. Everything will be back to normal. Maybe.