...

In Tahir's car, Khadijah fidgeted with her phone, her fingers swiping aimlessly from one app to the next, searching for something, anything, to distract her for the rest of the ride. For some reason, Tahir's presence unnerved her. Every time his eyes met hers or his voice broke the silence, her mind flooded with images of their embrace and that kiss from earlier.

Her lips pursed unconsciously, and she couldn't help but wonder how he had mastered it so effortlessly.

Practice makes perfect, a voice in her head chimed, sharp. She glared at her phone, the screen blurring as her thoughts spiraled. The way his lips had moved against hers; confident, deliberate—spoke of experience. Too much experience. Her heart raced as her brain pieced together the obvious conclusion; he must've had plenty of practice with past girlfriends.

A groan slipped out. It totally slipped.

Mortified, she turned to face him, only to find herself glaring instead.

"Is everything alright?" he asked, his voice laced with concern as his eyes searched hers.

She averted her gaze, muttering under her breath about how unfair life was. "Everything is good," Khadijah lied through clenched teeth, locking her phone with a decisive click.

"How was your day? I hope you enjoyed your time with Amna."

She released a deep sigh, her nerves betraying her as she rambled. "It was great, thank you. But we spent over a quarter of it napping."

"I'm pleased to hear that. Naps are good too," he said, pausing to take a deep breath. "You know I'd been given a two-week break from work, right?"

Khadijah nodded. "Yes." A knot of dread curled in her stomach.

"I was called for an important meeting, impromptu. I'll be leaving tomorrow, but I'll be back after the weekend, on Monday or Tuesday, hopefully." Tahir stated, watching her from the corner of his eye.

"Your break ends? Wait, I don't understand," she spluttered, her voice tinged with confusion.

"When I return on Monday or Tuesday, I'll continue my break, which ends next week Sunday as planned, In Shaa Allah," he explained patiently.

"And you'll be due to return to Kaduna once more," she sulked, unable to mask her displeasure.

Tahir glanced at her, the frown on her face impossible to miss. "We can go together if you wish, before you resume school," he offered, though the likelihood of her refusal weighed heavier on the scale.

Khadijah shrugged, feigning nonchalance. "I'll be fine here. I'm not afraid of anything anymore. Noor or Sa'eedah could join me, or even Amna, when she gets better."

He nodded, relieved that she was taking the news in stride and at the same time, disappointed that she turned down his offer. Though he had expected her to decline, a small part of him had hoped she'd say yes. That hope shattered as quickly as it had formed.

"Yes, I've made arrangements with the girls. One of them will be around to keep you company," he said, pulling into a parking space outside a bakery. "Abba and Ammi do not joke about their bread."

"Me neither," Khadijah chirped, a soft smile playing on her lips.

Tahir's brow arched. "Let's go then. Something apart from bread might call to you." He stepped out of the car without waiting for her response and walked around to open her door.

With a murmured "thank you," Khadijah stepped out, standing directly in front of him in the narrow space he provided. Wordlessly, Tahir reached out, his fingers gently adjusting the top of her veil where a few strands of hair had escaped. Then, without hesitation, he took her hand in his and led the way.

Khadijah followed after him, her mind racing as she tried to make sense of the man beside her. Relaxed. Confident. Unpredictable. Exact. Too sure of himself. Suave. Confident. Confident.

She wracked her brain, wondering if she had repeated "confident" at all.

True to his words, several items called her name, and she found herself adding them to the list, upping their bread-hunting game with a lot more puff pastries she knew would surely taste as good as they looked. The golden, flaky layers of the croissants, the delicate swirls of the danishes, and the rich, buttery aroma of the éclairs whispered promises of satisfaction. Khadijah couldn't resist. Her list grew longer, her excitement bubbling over.

In the car, Tahir carefully placed the bags in the back seat, ensuring none of the delicate pastries were squashed. He opened the door for her with a quiet courtesy before circling the car to slide into the driver's seat. The engine purred to life, and he glanced at her, a playful glint in his eyes.

"How do you intend to take all that?" he asked mirthfully, his fingers tapping lightly on the steering wheel.

"Most aren't mine or yours," she replied, shrugging nonchalantly. "They're for Ammi and Abba." She paused, then added with a thoughtful frown, "Or, do they not take sugary foods? If they don't, then phew! They'll still be able to enjoy them because some are sugar-free, like those croissants, while others have less sugar. I checked before taking them."

Tahir could only stare at her, amazed. It was surprising to him that at her age, Khadijah could be so considerate of others' needs and preferences. Her thoughtfulness struck him, and he felt a warmth spread through his chest.

"Thank you," he said, his voice soft, filled with genuine appreciation.

Khadijah shrugged, a small smile playing on her lips. "Seems you'll be taking your bread all alone. It's got some serious competition to deal with," she teased, giggling as she unlocked her old phone and snapped a quick picture of her fingers, noticing the black henna designs fading at the edges.

"You love taking pictures," he commented, his eyes still trained on the road.

Khadijah turned to him as if he had grown two heads and a horn on each. "Memories!" she exclaimed, waving her phone around emphatically. "It's always necessary to take pictures of whatever you do, wherever you go, so that when you see them in the future, you can look back and feel nostalgic, and smile, and all that."

Tahir nodded, understanding her point and even finding himself agreeing with it. "It's good," he said, then recalled he hadn't responded to her earlier teasing about leaving him alone with his bread. "I know you're too loyal. You won't leave your bread for other irrelevant stuff."

"Unfortunately, that is true," she replied, her smile widening. The way she looked at him in that moment made him wonder how he had never noticed Khadijah enough to consider getting to know her better all his life. He had been content with his life as it was before their marriage, but now, not even a week into it, he found himself questioning how he had ever thought that was enough. It wasn't.

She cleared her throat, breaking the brief silence. "You said you might not return until Monday or Tuesday, and I'll be resuming school on Monday."

Tahir nodded, having already thought ahead. "Yes. I've made arrangements with the driver at home; he'll be taking you there using my other car. I'll be going to Kaduna with this one," he said, referring to the Hyundai she'd seen parked in the garage, while they were currently in the BMW.

"Okay," Khadijah hummed, resting her head against the seat as an idea popped into her mind. "Or, I can even take myself there."

"What do you mean?" he asked, finding her suggestion vague.

"What I meant was, you could give me the car keys instead of stressing the driver. I'm sure he has other responsibilities on his shoulders already."

Silence passed for a second, then two.

"I've never seen you driving, Khadijah. Not even once."

"Truly, I can. Trust me," she replied in a voice that was supposed to sound sweet but came out a tad bit whiny.

Tahir turned to her briefly, taking the final turn leading to their home. "I need to be sure of that, Khadijah. I'll confirm with Mukhtar and even test your driving skills if I had the time tomorrow, but I'll be leaving in the morning."

She turned her head to look at the blurry streets darkened by the tints of his windows. "No, please. Not Ya Mukhtar. He'll be hell-bent on... oh no, no, no," she scolded herself, realizing she had given away that Mukhtar had not a single ounce of trust in her driving skills.

"Mukhtar wasn't the one who taught you to drive, or I would've known. Bashir? Or did you start going to a driving school but ended up dropping out before getting a license?" he asked, honking at the gates.

Khadijah shook her head, answering in the negative.

"Then who?" Curious, he turned to face her as they awaited the security to open the gates.

Rolling her eyes while facing the window, her expression faltered, the taste of defeat raw on her tongue. "One of my friends did. Zayd."

The name, coupled with her initial reluctance to reveal the identity of her tutor, caused a sudden shift in Tahir's mood. He found himself unable to turn his stare away from her, even after the gates swung open.

"The driver will do," he said firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Khadijah turned to face him abruptly. "Zayd's an exceptional driver, believe me. He knows what he's doing behind the wheel. He taught me well enough."

"I don't know this boy you speak of, so I cannot be the judge of his driving skills. Khadijah, no matter how exceptional a driver he is, I don't trust whatever he taught you," he said, putting the car in drive and forcing himself to ease his foot off the accelerator.

None of them said another word after the car stopped. Khadijah got out first, seething in silence, while Tahir followed at a leisurely pace, knowing no matter how fast she tried to escape his sight, she couldn't get into the house before him. The keys were with him.

After packing up the stuff they had gotten from the bakery, Tahir unlocked the door, acutely aware that he was being pointedly ignored. The air between them was thick, charged with unspoken tension. He watched her as she got into the house, her movements brisk and deliberate, her silence louder than any words she could have spoken. Not in the mood to break the silence himself, he followed her inside, dropping the bags on the dining table with a soft thud before trailing after her. He found her in her room, arms crossed, her face etched with a scowl that could have cut through steel.

"Khadijah," he said, his voice calm but firm.

She shook her head, her eyes avoiding his. "I don't want to talk to you."

His brow arched in surprise, a flicker of shock crossing his features at her blunt admission. "But you will," he replied.

"What are you afraid of?" she burst out, her voice trembling with emotion. "Is it Ya Mukhtar? Are you scared he'll flip when he finds out that you let me drive? Well..." Her words tumbled out in a rush, shaky and uneven, as if she had been holding them back for long.

"Khadijah, you will listen to me," he interrupted, his voice cutting through hers like a blade, stern and with unyielding intensity. "You are under my care now. I don't know what gives you the impression that Mukhtar is anywhere near my mind when I make decisions concerning you. I will not give you what you want until I am a hundred percent sure that you know what you're doing behind the wheel. My decision is final. Don't argue with me. Don't do it." His words were calm but carried the weight of authority, each syllable deliberate and measured. The calmness of his tone only seemed to infuriate her more, making her wish he had shouted instead, so she could despise him without reservation.

"Why are you so controlling?" she asked, her voice cracking as she blinked back tears. Despite knowing she had been the one to raise her voice first, triggering his response, she couldn't help the sting of his words.

He shook his head, his expression unreadable. "I won't argue with you. I put your health before your wants, and don't try anything rash while I'm gone." Without another glance in her direction, he turned and walked out of the room, his steps stiff.

Khadijah stared at his retreating figure, her chest heaving with suppressed emotion. She didn't fight the urge to cry; instead, she let the tears flow, her sobs echoing in the empty room. It was ironic, she thought, how what had started as a promising day had ended in a fight. He had been kind and attentive all day, only for her to find a way to shift the gears and ruin it all.

Taking back what she had said earlier about him being a good person, Khadijah seethed in her room, her mind racing. She wondered why Tahir never failed to bristle whenever the topic of Zayd arose. As far as she was concerned, he didn't even know who Zayd had been to her. A frown settled on her features as she recalled his words from the day he had forced the new phone on her. He had said something about not wanting memories of her ex-boyfriend lingering in his home, not even his contact information. Putting two and two together, she surmised that he knew about Zayd and clicked her tongue in frustration.

Why should he be the one to take annoyance when she had been the one to be refused? And the fact that he was annoyed with her over Zayd was something Khadijah found ridiculous. If anything, he should be thankful for Zayd; without him, she wouldn't have been his wife, maybe.

Tahir couldn't have been jealous, she wondered, quickly brushing the thought away, knowing how insane it sounded. He was too polished to stoop to that level.

Muttering her displeasure under her breath, she undressed, shrugged into a pair of cotton pajamas before making her way to the kitchen to appease the growling monster that was her stomach.

At first, she didn't notice the lone figure seated in the barely lit kitchen until she turned the lights on. It took every ounce of courage for Khadijah not to drop her phone and make a run for her room. How she refrained from shrieking at the top of her lungs was an unsolvable question as far as she was concerned, because she had been a finger's width away from fainting in sheer fear.

Tahir was casually seated on a chair, nursing a cup of something that Khadijah deduced was coffee, his eyes following her every move. Without acknowledging him, she searched for the pastries they'd gotten at the bakery, knowing she did not possess the pride to refuse her stomach its desires.

What for? Khadijah asked herself as she made hot chocolate in the largest mug she could find. Unused to acting like a selfish child, she helped him to a few pieces of sugar-less puff pastries.

"Thank you," he broke the silence, appreciating the gesture.

She hummed in response, returning to the table and spreading enough chocolate spread on her half-cut croissant, ensuring he could see the unhealthy amount she was piling on it before sashaying her way out of the room, sassily. The feel of his unwavering gaze reinforced her resolve to show him just how angry she was.

For good measure, she let the door close with a bang.

Tahir chuckled, amused by his dramatic wife's antics. Khadijah, assuming she looked fierce, had no idea how adorable she looked in her SpongeBob SquarePants-themed pajamas.

"Cute," he whispered, his annoyance vanishing into thin air as his gaze moved from the door to what his thoughtful wife had left before him.

Used to living in a house where girls used the best weapon at their disposal, Tahir immediately knew he was being punished with the silent treatment. A chuckle escaped him, understanding it was the second time he was being subjected to that, and both times caused by topics relating to the boyfriend.

His humor immediately disappeared.

The name Zayd had gotten stuck in his mind from the first time he had heard it, and he couldn't help himself from thinking about how Khadijah might have felt about the boyfriend who seemed to have had an influence on her. For him to have been able to teach her to drive, something that couldn't be achieved in a single trial, the boy must have had hours of her time dedicated solely to him in the past.

His scowl deepened, fingers instinctively tightening around his cup.

When Mukhtar mentioned the male friends and the ex, he had felt both annoyed and amused. But this? It had downright sent his blood boiling with rage. Rage that made him wish he could turn back to the time before they'd gotten married, wiped her slate clean of all experiences with those boys, ensuring she learned everything from him instead.

He would have gladly done that, and married her earlier.

It was laughable how she inspired possessive thoughts in him; thoughts that threatened to consume him. Thoughts that made him wonder exactly what sort of hold she had begun to have on him in such a short period of time.

Tahir wanted to be the man who taught her everything, filling in the gaps that her brothers hadn't covered, as well as everything a husband was expected to provide.

He felt shamelessly jealous. A petty sentiment for a man who wore confidence like a second skin. It chafed at him, grating on his nerves how their night had turned out, after the day had started off so well.

A buzz from his phone drew his attention to where it lay on the table. Kamilah's name flashed on the screen, like the icing he needed on his cake, snatching away whatever peace and joy Khadijah's presence had brought him. He quickly switched the phone to airplane mode before the call could end, ridding himself of what he needed to tip himself further off.

His mind was fully preoccupied with thoughts of the girl who had walked in like a model on a runway, her slim figure perfectly encased in her nightwear. Before her entrance, he had worried she might be planning to starve herself. The relief he felt when he heard her footsteps was palpable. But then she had frozen upon turning on the lights, pointedly ignoring him, moving at her own pace while surprising him with his own share.

Tahir appreciated how considerate she was, despite the strain between them. He sat for several more minutes, thinking about all things mostly related to her and how entertaining it felt.

He tried her bedroom door to inform her he was leaving immediately after Fajr and found it locked.

After Fajr, when it was finally time to go, he called her, knocked on the door, nothing. No response. She must have been exhausted from yesterday's events, or maybe she'd stayed up late.

Sighing, he pulled out a sticky note, letting his thoughts wander over what to write. Instead of overthinking, chewing on words and piecing them together, he let them flow freely.

"Good morning, Khadijah. I tried waking you up several times to say goodbye, but you were fast asleep. Must be having the best sleep without me, yeah? Anyway, have a wonderful morning, my beautiful wife. Call me after you've had breakfast."

The word 'beautiful' alone sent a sharp ache through him. He could still see the way she melted when he whispered it during their last heated moment, how her toes curled, how she went utterly limp against him. The power he had over her senses, the way she surrendered completely to his control, made him want to wake her up, to steal just one more touch before he left.

Never had he counted down the days until his return. But this time, the wait would be agonizing.

It took him over five minutes to fight off the temptation, to convince himself to leave her be. Finally, he stuck the note on the fridge, grabbed his keys and briefcase, and walked out as quickly as he could before his body betrayed him.

...

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