I've been down a bit, but Alhamdulillah feeling much better now. 

So here is a-not-so-polished update and a half.😜

There may be glitches.

***

PRESENT DAY 

MAY, 2007

Maryam had just hung her towel over the wooden bathroom door to air when she heard the knock on her bedroom door. Thankful she had just worn her old black and grey Pakistani trouser and shirt, so she picked up her scarf and draped it. 

"No, Sury, let me take it to her. You will drop it."

She heard the hushed voices, and tamped her laughter down, those two were at it again.  

Maryam swung the door open, making them both straighten up, Surayya and Nafeesah stared back at her with widened eyes. It was almost 7 pm, and Nafeesah was back after she had left earlier with a curt "I'll be right back" 

 In Nafeesah's definition that meant, "I'll show up but don't wait up."

Poor Uncle J must have been dragged out of the house for this mission. 

Nafeesah lived in an estate ten-minutes away from Maryam's house since their move after 'the dip'. 

That didn't dampen their frequent rate of visits to eachother's house. 

Now they glanced over their shoulders checking to see if someone was in the hallways when they saw that it was clear, they barged into the room. Nafeesah closed the door behind them.  Surayya ploughed straight to her own bed. 

"Alright girls, now  will be the time to tell me if I am safe." Maryam said, following them each with a pinned look. "What are you hiding Feenah, I don't like pranks. And I especially hate yours."

"Okay, this isn't a prank, just a little something from us, I just thought I should give you this."

Maryam's eyes widened as Nafeesah produced a white box, presenting her with it. "By the way, this isn't a 'forget me not' gift."

Maryam rolled her eyes, "Who wants that from you? You are going to invade my dreams anyway.  But you really didn't have to do anything for me."

Nafeesah shoved the box into her hands. Maryam's mouth hung open, it was an electronic organizer, with handwriting interface attached, meant to take a quick note or ideas. 

"You know Uncle J and his gadgets, he gave it to me, and you are the one who is serious about this writing stuff so it may come in handy for you. You have to read the manual to figure it out though I know nothing about this stuff."

Maryam cut her off by pulling her into a tight hug. "Thank you so much, this is so thoughtful of you."

"Please ladies, do you need a handkerchief? Because I really can't stand your tears." They turned to Surayya, who had been watching them from where she lay on her bed which was next to Maryam's.  

"Alright, now what have we got here? I see you are ready to fill in the giant bag."

Maryam followed Nafeesah's gaze to the edge of her bed, where all the packages lay scattered. She closed her eyes in abject humiliation. 

"Are those...?" Nafeesah started. 

Maryam quickly turned to Surayyah. Whose eyes were now focused on the subject of distress in the room. 

 "I'm just going to see what Tim-Tim is up to," Surayya said, eyes still wide and was out of the room in a second. Nafeesah and Maryam both turned to look at the scattered packages, her mother must have brought them to her when she was in the bathroom, Maryam thought. 

"I can't believe this!" she said as she kept all the creams aside, "I can't believe this, Ya Rabbi..." She refused to let the tears flow, instead, she turned to Nafeesah, "Remind me to ask Baba if Mama is really my mother, because right now I am having a serious doubt about it."

"Maryam, forget about these, what would a mere cream in a tube do to you? They are just creams. It won't hurt, maybe it is just her way of showing her love."

Maryam turned to face  Nafeesah, who was shorter than her by several inches, fair-skinned, with a round face, round eyes and pink lips that popped her complexion. Nafeesah was one of those girls who wouldn't find it difficult to get anything their size at the market, which wouldn't surprise Maryam if her best friend thought her mother's intentions were pure. 

Nafeesah wasn't a shocking beauty, but she got what it took for a man to seek her number in a gathering full of pretty young girls. Maryam had never felt diminished or intimidated by her presence, people called her pretty herself, most of the time people called her that Maryam felt like it was an insult. 

They put her feelings to confirmation after they saw beyond her face. Now with Nafeesah, it was a different case, she liked hanging out with her because she was her sole support system sometimes she even got into real trouble for her. Despite all odds, their friendship only grew stronger.

Nafeesah was of the rare types that would stand by one when they were ridiculed behind their backs. That was exactly what Nafeesah always did for her. If a stranger could do that to her, why then would her own mother find it difficult to do such? Heaving a sigh, Maryam responded to her friend. 

"Or maybe she is just sick and she wants to keep me trapped, in her quest to make  me someone I'm not."

Nafeesah's eyes widened at that. "That is harsh. You do realize you are talking about Mama?"

Maryam dropped a bottle of lotion with a thud. "I know, Feenah, don't you think I know? Life is harsh. Up until she started it, I had never been bothered about it all, well I was bothered a little bit. But she made it a big deal. Now my mother is obsessed with everything in a tube or in a powdered form, she even gave me a sackful of rice powder concocted with plantain and God-knows-what. Am I going to hell because I haven't grown a set? Why doesn't she leave me alone? It isn't happening. So what! Nobody even cares."

"She is just worried, Maryam." Nafeesah tried to console her friend and also keep a balance, she understood where the two were both coming from. Her friend wanted to be left alone to deal with all that was going on around her. And her mother was pushing her, thinking she was helping matters. Not knowing her way of caring was what was making it all worse. 

"Say what, let's pack all these in a bag and once you go there you decide if you want to grow a set or not. If you do then chuck them down if you don't then throw them down the bridge for all you care. But for her sake and the efforts she put in procuring these for you, don't dump it in her trash. Please." Nafeesah scrunched up her face, pleading with her.

She looked too adorable for Maryam to burst her bubbles. "Okay, done. Do or ditch.  I get it, I can do this. Only because you say so."

"That's like my girl. Now push them to me, let's bag'em up. One day we are going to write a cream story. Or create a factory for those. I can come up with a brand name."

"Try nosy-mothers," Maryam said and they both laughed. 

While Nafeesah was packing the creams and tabs, Maryam's only thought was, may Allah make her not die from them. She'd rather die from hitting her head on a headboard or in her sleep or maybe on the flight to London than from some tissue enlargement cream. Ya Allah, why was she so obsessed with death?!

Now she was to leave in a few hours. Her father would drive her to Abuja where she would board her flight the next day. And it  surprised her how much she was going to miss being here. 

She thought she had nothing to lose, but then she had her sisters, her friends, her father, even though he wasn't her favourite person right now, she would miss him like crazy. She may be happy to get out of her mother's scrutiny too,  but she would surely miss her and her bottom pot jollof rice. 

One thing she looked forward to in London was the anonymity of it all, no one would spare her odd glances, because no one knew her and no one would care about her. Yes, that was liberation. 

She packed her charger and laptop in her backpack since it wasn't occupied by her clothes anymore. 

And she was all set. 

****

"Yaaya Mimie, are you taking your drafts with you?" Surayya came into the room the next morning holding two long notebooks under her hijab. After Nafeesah had left last night, they didn't get a chance to talk more, they all went to bed late.  And this morning, the house woke with the excitement of her departure. "Uhm, no keep those for me, I've packed my laptop."

Surayya was quiet, she could see how withdrawn her sister had become, which was so unlike her usual bubbly self, she took a step towards her. "You're still thinking about it Yaaya Mimie. You should stop worrying, all will be good in sha Allah, it is just a flight."

Maryam scoffed. "You know that is the least of my concerns."

Yes, Surayya knew if her sister was anything then fearful was not that thing. She had seen her in action, after all.  

"Now, what are you going to do?"

"Well, we have to see what 'Europe' offers."

They both laughed. "You can tell them, Yaaya Mimie."

Maryam shook her head. "There is a reason they are the parents if they think this is good for me, then Europe, here comes Daaso."

Surayya hugged her unexpectedly. And before she could pry her hands off of her, she was crying making Maryam freeze, Surayya was not a crier. 

"We love you, you know that right? We truly appreciate you. And I know you will make an amazing wife and an amazing student. So go kill it." She smiled, holding back more tears. "Not Ya Mubarak, please." She added quickly. 

Maryam laughed, thumbing away her sister's tears. "Trust me, I am not getting involved with him."

"Please, by all means, do get involved, and give us a call ASAP we will be here doing all the planning. I have a theme set out for your wedding walima. I know you are not all for the dinner and what not. So I got you covered."

Maryam laughed, At nineteen her sister Surayya was so in love with the idea of marriage. She had always planned and dreamed, she had a catalogue of everything she wanted in her wedding, each had three backups. Maryam wondered if she would have to choose four grooms for her to pull all that off. 

Despite her fantasy-marriage dreams, she was an easy-going girl who would never be caught crying, she was tough and soothed the family when the need arose, which was why Maryam was surprised when she had cried earlier.

Maryam took her handbag and headed for the door. She was fearless. She reminded herself.

***

Surayya helped Maryam take the first bag out to the living room. She was going to miss their modest four-bedroom house. She was going to miss the entire Unguwar Alkali, there wouldn't be any place in the world as cosy as Unguwar Alkali. Where there was no demarcation of where one house started and one ended. Home to her ancestors. The only home she had ever known. Well, since 'the dip'. 

 Zubaida her second younger sister took the backpack from her. And Maryam was bombarded with a hug from her side, it was Fatimah their youngest. Maryam would miss her most, she had practically raised her. Now fourteen, Fatima still behaved like her baby sometimes. Coming to her with all her girl-troubles, looking up to her. All her sisters took after their mother in looks. 

They possessed such a shimmering elegance people envied. 

Maryam, on the other hand, wasn't that lucky, she got away with slanted light eyes instead of their dark almond-shaped ones. While they were all fair she had her grandfather's dark skin. She loved her skin, she liked to tell people how unique she was, coming from fair parents. But of course, sometimes she was just consoling herself. 

It got odd having to explain why a person would come out black from two fair parents, some people even gave her a look, questioning her paternity. She had seen them all. But her sisters had always been one thing she wouldn't trade the world for.

"Yaaya Mimie, I'm going to miss you forever and ever." Fatima sobbed. 

Maryam's eyes widened, she peeled her sister off her. "Hey, Tim-Tim, Who said I was going away forever and ever? I'm not."

"They said you are getting married."

"Yes, but hello, I have my father's house, I am coming back here for the wedding to take place, it isn't like the wedding has been finalized. So calm down and be rest assured. You still got me."

Zubaida rolled her eyes, "You're stifling the queue Yaa Mimie, just do it already! Some people can't wait."

Maryam smacked her head, laughing she knew she was pulling Surayya's legs. "You can overtake, you know. I'm in no hurry."

Zubaida, on the other hand, was the bookish one amongst them all, the brainy of the house, her nose was always buried in-between books. The world would topple and she wouldn't even blink from her book. She saved her pocket money to buy literature, just as Surayya spent the same for wedding magazines. When she was in the mood she liked to take a jab at Surayya her immediate older sibling, sometimes she didn't spare Maryam too. 

And there was Fatima the baby of the family. She gave a hard bargain when it came to affection and attention-seeking as she was Mama and Baba's favourite. With her cherub cheeks and fast-developed body, she was nicknamed Tim-Tim derived from FaTima serving both purposes. She was also close to Maryam, for all her whining she went to their parents, but for solution-seeking problems, she always knew Maryam was her way out.  

"But Mama has bought Kolanuts saying it is for your wedding," Fatima said.

Maryam's eyes slid to their mother's bedroom door, which was second on the left from the small living room they were all huddled in. They'd been waiting for their mother to see her off.  Her father would drive them to Abuja first, where they would spend the night there to catch the morning flight that would leave the next day. But her sister's declaration jolted Maryam. 

She was at her mother's door within a moment. Sure enough, her mother was pushing cartons and brown wraps that looked suspiciously like sacks of kola nuts to the side of her bedside refrigerator when she went in.

"Mama, what is that?"

Her mother's head jerked up, looking at her sheepishly, "Just nothing... let's go, you are getting late, as it is you won't reach early."

"Mama whatever you got planning, you may want to delay it. Wait and see how things turn out, to avoid any disappointment."

Her mother was grinning at her. Maryam felt her stomach turn, she clenched it with her forearms, her mother had not been this happy for a long long time. 

"Mama are you happy I am leaving?"

Hajiya Aisha jerked her head back, "What? No, I am just happy you have finally relented."

"It wasn't like I had a choice," Maryam mumbled. 

"Here, before I forget." She dipped her hand into her handbag which was hanging from her bag holder behind her bedroom door and fetched a blue notebook. "Take this, have a look at it carefully, it has got all you need. We will miss you." Her mother pulled her into a quick hug before she pulled the door behind them, and ushered them all outside to the waiting car.

"Yaaya Mimie, please come back to us." Fatima called out. Everyone stilled. 

Maryam smiled, hiding the tremor of her lips. "In sha Allah I will, Tim-Tim." 

Maryam dreaded the long journey, she remembered having to go through this when they went for her visa interview in Abuja, now she would top that with a flight the next morning, how relaxing that would be. 

"Here I come, Europe!" She said dejectedly. 

****

On the flight, her hand shifted inside her bag and she found her mother's notebook. She contemplated taking a look at it. Anything coming from her mother was worth a double take, but her curiosity got the better of her as her fingers traced the blue hardcover. 

"...In case anything would happen, nothing will happen, but just for precaution..." A petite blonde in her prim blue and red flight-attendant uniform was telling the passengers in the emergency aisle seats what to do in case of an emergency. She looked really serene  for someone trying to scare them into a condition that had a high probability of occurring or not, depending on if they were all destined to die on the same day. 

 Maryam didn't want to hear any of that when she looked down at the notebook, she tuned out the blonde's voice and flipped the first page. 

Date of birth: 10th May 1974.

Place of birth: Katsina.

Full Name: Mubarak Umar Bugaje.

Profession: Attorney (Chief something Legal, confirm once you get there)

Favourite food: P...

"Ya Rabbi!" Maryam flipped the cover back, and leaned into her headrest, clenching her eyes shut. She had no idea she had gasped out loud. 

Instead of paying attention to all the things that surrounded her or about the fact that she may die any moment, the fact that her mother had given her a portfolio of her cousin like a case file made her want to fade away. She couldn't believe her mother gave her Mubarak's biodata!

 What was she to do with it? Act as if she knew everything about him and they would hit it off immediately? Or had her mother by any chance thought her so dumb she couldn't get to know things like his full name when they met?

Unbelievable. She Inhaled deeply and exhaled, may it be well with her. She tossed the notebook back into her handbag,  making a mental note to toss it in the trash the moment they touched down. 

Her mind drifted to the conversation she had with her father on their way to Abuja the previous day. 

They took her mother's car. Her father drove it as if he were driving on eggshells, so they had enough time above the normally six-hour-drive to the city to talk about things or just keep quiet.

"You will be okay." Her father chose to talk, and she wished that he hadn't. She wondered if he was trying to console himself. Maryam opened her eyes and could see his light face, dusted with salt and pepper stubble that was all black a few short years ago. His nose stood firm on his face, his eyes deep-set with knit thick brows that framed them. His once strong jaws, a strong feature that passed down the men of her father's family, now softened a bit. Looking at him now she saw how the events of the past years had taken a toll on him. He was always okay, he always moved and he moved them with him, so they barely noticed how it was dragging him down. Her heart clenched within her chest.  

"It's okay Baba, I'm good. I'll get over it the moment I set my eyes on the beauty of   London." 

"I know that you will, Daaso. You are my brave little girl."

Maryam hadn't hesitated when she said. "You know what she wants won't happen, right?" She hoped with all her heart at least he believed that. 

There was a brief pause from her father, "Mubarak is a very nice young man, he will take care of you, forget all you've heard about him..."

"Not the wedding," Maryam interrupted. It was the last thing she was worried about. Well, maybe not the last but it was the least of her problems right now. 

"We will be alright."

"You've said that four years ago."

He didn't speak after that, and she wished he did. They drove to Abuja in silence. 

Now on the flight to the United Kingdom, when all she could hear was a ding and a chime, a cry of a fussy toddler two seats away from her, some murmurs and a turn of a page from the passenger on the seat next to her, a smile touched her lips, she turned to the window and watched them float through white and grey fluff. 

It was the beginning of a new dawn. 

****

Confusion. That was the first feeling that overwhelmed Maryam when she first set foot in London, after a two-hour delay in Abuja for taking off,  she wasn't sure she would make it in one piece. She loved kids. A lot. But sitting through a seven-hour flight with a fussy toddler two seats away from her wasn't her definition of a good time. 

 At some point she had to take the fussy two-year-old, Na'eemah, who looked cute with dried tears on her face, so her mother could take a breather. But the moment her ten-minute no-crying time was over, Na'eema started wailing again. 

Thankfully, she slept an hour before they landed in London and Maryam had never loved silence as she did then. 

People were coming from every angle, the rush was just too much for her lethargic brain to catch up. She closed her eyes briefly. "Okay Maryam, breathe, you can do this."

 It all felt surreal, was she really here? Excitement followed right after. She couldn't stop grinning. She couldn't believe she would be thankful for meeting wailing-Na'eema as she did then, but thanks to wailing-Na'eema's mother, Amina, Maryam did not have to go through a lot of asking around or a lot of people following or worse sign-reading to get around the magnificent airport. That would have been murderous. They parted ways with Amina when Amina's husband came to fetch them at the terminal.

"Ya Rabbi, I am so going to get lost." In her excitement, she had forgotten to make a call, how would she find them? Who would take her home now? Her eyes were roaming the terminal when she spotted a man in uniform at the waiting lounge, Maryam almost sprinted to him. 

"Hello, Good evening sir."

He gave her a courteous smile and a nod. Maybe that was a bad idea, she thought, but it was better than getting lost. 

"May I use your phone, please? I want to call home."

His eyes travelled the length of her, she had began to think not again! When she realized his eyes were on her hand. 

"You can do that, you have a cell phone."

"Uhm, I have a Nigerian SIM card."

"You can get a new SIM or roam your phone."

Her forehead creased, she had no idea what he was talking about, so she gave him her phone. "Can you do it for me, please?"

The man took the phone from her and after a little key press and fumbling he shook his head. Dead! She was so lost and dead.

"It's not working." Maryam wanted to scream, he must have seen the look on her face when he turned to her. "Wait here," he said. 

She waited, standing. At her feet lay her black bag and the fake Pierre Cardin trolley her mother insisted on, her backpack snuggled against her back and her handbag strapped across her chest. The uniformed man came back after a short while and handed her a pack. 

"Use this."

Her eyes widened, "Oh thank you so much. Thank you, may God bless you and grant you your best wishes." The man set her phone, added some minutes in it and returned the phone to her. Maryam brought out the phone number she had scribbled on her little diary, it was Salis' number, her aunt had told her mother she should call the number when they were at the airport. She had never been so relieved to hear a voice. 

Salis directed her to where they stood waiting for her outside the waiting area. 

She almost cried out of relief when she spotted a tall fair-skinned girl in a red and black polka dot dress with a black scarf around her head. She had the dark Bugaje eyes and a thin nose that adorned her face.

 Wafiyya stood right at the exit waving at her. She sought blessings for the man in the uniform for the gazillionth time and hugged the breath out of her cousin. 

"Welcome, Yaa Maryam," Wafiyya said, still shaken from the hug.

"Thank you. Assalamu alaikum Yaya Salis." Maryam said, her attention going back to a dark taller version of Wafiyya standing next to her. He replied with a short nod. Maryam suppressed a grin, she wondered what had frozen him from within, he was the most stuck-up person she had ever known. Salis was everything like her Uncle, Umar Bugaje, what he forgot to take was the cheerfulness that came with the family. One day she would tell him life was too short to spend it with a tight face.

Looking at him now as he slid into his car, she wondered if his cheeks and forehead hurt from frowning. She blew out some air. Rubbing her hands against her Jacket, she warmed away the chill of the evening.

"So Wafiyya, do you know anywhere I can get some yogurt. Forgot to bring mine from home, and I am starving."

Wafiyya turned in her seat to look at Maryam who sat in the back seat, she was still slinging her handbag across her chest by the long strap and backing her backpack. She looked like a girl who was about to take a flight.  

"You eat yogurt when you are hungry?" Salis asked looking from his rearview mirror, mouth slackened a bit. Ah! Finally, something from him. Maryam thought.

"No, but I wanted to see if you can still talk, now that we are sure of that, where can we get some yogurt, please?"

They all laughed, Salis shook his head. "I know just the right place. I do talk, I just pale in comparison with some people." 

"Good." Maryam sat back in her seat.

Wafiyya clamped her mouth with both hands and laughed. Oh, she was going to love this.  

****

London was London. Everything she expected and more. Here she was in the two-thousand-old ancient city, uprooted from her base and loving everything about it even though she thought she wouldn't love it. First, nobody knew her here, this was like a new beginning for her if the people in it decided to consider her as one of the other millions. 

All her life, Maryam had only one wish- to blend in. That and to be a writer, now she got this chance even though it came at the cost of her freedom, she didn't care. She loved it.

Maryam had never dreamed of marriage, not in the way other girls her age had dreamed of it.  She hadn't once had a vision of what her wedding attire would be like, or what her husband would be like, she hadn't even dreamed of leaving her father's house to meet her husband, she had spent every ounce of strength in her to deny herself that luxury. Because she knew that would never happen. 

That never happened to girls like her. 

She wasn't even surprised or disappointed when Mubarak hadn't shown up to receive her at the airport because she hadn't been expecting him to do that.

Yet here she was, thousands of miles away from home in pursuit of a future with a husband in it. Not just any husband- A Bugaje husband. Granted, Mubarak didn't hold up to the reputation but that was her mother's wish, and what her mother wished was a command to her. So, that was like a dream fulfilled for her. 

***

When they reached their destination, Maryam mentally high-fived herself. She was right, it was a mansion, and when it greeted her, she could almost see all her thoughts about this meeting coming true. 

Wafiyya had not left her dull throughout their journey from the airport to their Kensington residence, she had made sure she had told her a bit about every building or landmark they had passed, not that Maryam was getting it. They were all grey and white buildings showered with lots of lights, to her weary eyes. She was too exhausted to even keep her eyes opened. 

Hajiya Kulthum stood at the threshold when they arrived. Maryam was in awe of how young and beautiful her aunt always seemed to get whenever she saw her. Standing at a medium height, with fair skin glowing under the foyer light. She took Maryam into a hug. "Maa sha Allah, you are welcome Maryam." 

Maryam felt dirty when she inhaled the sweet scent coming from her aunt, she looked sophisticated in her brown gown. Her head wrapped beautifully in a scarf, two little gleaming studs adorned her ears. She wore her smile like a part of her, adorning her heart-shaped face. 

She could see the clear resemblance with her father, but her aunt was looking younger, softer around the edges and more dazzling.

"Thank you, Aunty Kulthum."

"Come in you must be exhausted. Wafiyya, help her with her bag and take her to her room." Her gaze returned to Maryam, "Go on your bags will be brought up, shortly." She said, regarding the black bag and the trolley that made Maryam want to fade away. 

She wondered who would do the heavy lifting. 

 It had been four years since she had last seen them. She couldn't attend Najma's wedding, Mubarak's younger sister, the first daughter of the Bugaje family. Who now resided in Abuja with her husband, Mu'azzam.

They walked up a grand sweep of staircase to a tastefully decorated corridor that screamed Aunt Kulthum's touch all over. Maryam couln't resist smoothing her hand over the sleek wood to see if it would be as gliding as it shone. She wasn't disappointed. From the red Russian runner along the hallways to the Arabian frames that hung on the walls, right to the thick silky beige drapes that flowed down the length of the tall windows, everything screamed elegance in here.

 They stopped at a door that was twice Maryam's height and more than half at width. Wafiyya pushed it open to reveal a good sized bedroom.  It was modest, to an eye that was used to seeing mansions, but to Maryam it was huge, it was almost twice the size of her shared bedroom in Katsina. 

"Here is your room. You can have some rest if you need anything I'll be right next door. Settle in, then we will go down and fix you up for dinner." 

Maryam smiled at her, which was so painful at this point, considering how sore she was. "Thank you Wafis. "

 She wanted to take a shower so bad, yet the lavender fluffy bedding looked so inviting she wanted to slip right beneath the comforter and stretch her back. She did the latter. 

"Oh! Bliss." She purred, closing her eyes briefly. She woke with a jolt. She listened around for a distinct sound, there was nothing just a little hum of something unfamiliar. She looked around the room, and her eyes travelled to her wristwatch. She was soon in the bathroom when she realized she had been sleeping for nine hours. That was crazy, she hadn't prayed isha' and fajr!

She was still disoriented, after those long hours in flight, the waiting at the airport lounge and the fear of getting lost. It was a miracle she remembered her name. 

But her misery was not over for the day. When she gave the little bird the wrong twist, she had no idea instead of spouting water it would flood her and cause chaos. 

The whole bird, spout and mixer came after her, flooding the bathroom, drenching her to the bones. She should have searched for Wafiyya, or Hajiya Kulthum, she should have prayed the moment she was shown her room. Who asked her to sleep and not ask how to operate things in this... this castle?

She contemplated shouting, but would she just say she didn't know how to operate a birdy tap? What a smart wife she would make. 

She tried rescuing the amenity, but when she slipped and almost hit her head on the bathtub she shrieked on the top of her voice. 

********

Maryama no wonder Mubarak called you that- ehm- word. 🙊 😂

So, how was the chapter? 

More depth?

We will have 'The meeting' on the next chappy, who is excited?

Oya be good and let's see if we can have something tomorrow, in sha Allah. 

After that I will be off until next week in sha Allah. 

Jazakumullahu khairan.

Umm Yasmeen💞