...

Khadijah.

The moment my eyes fluttered open, I whispered my morning dua beneath my breath. With sleep still tugging at my senses, I blindly searched for my phone on the bedside table to my left. The crescent slits of my eyes widened to full moons when I saw the time on the screen.

Gasping in disbelief, I threw off my blankets, dropping my phone onto the bed with an almost reflexive action, as though its heat had scalded my palms. I didn't even glance at my notifications; urgency surged through me, propelling me out of bed and toward the bathroom.

I had a sinking feeling that Tahir had already left. Last night, he'd told me he was leaving early, and "early" meant well before 10:00 AM.

In the bathroom, I rushed my morning routine, mixed emotions battling for dominance in my chest.

Tahir couldn't even bid me goodbye before leaving. The thought stung, more than I expected it to.

After hastily finishing, I slipped out of the bathroom and tiptoed around the house. I paused to check if his cars were still in the driveway, hoping for some sign of his presence. With wobbly lips and a wildly beating heart, I made my way down the hall leading to his room. The house felt eerily quiet, and curiosity spurred me to go to his room and glance at his personal space—the very room I'd been avoiding since that fateful day.

To my surprise, the doorknob turned, and I found it unlocked. Swallowing softly, I peeked inside, and my heart skipped, raced, and then somersaulted at the sight of the bed.

That bed.

The very bed I first slept on the day I was brought to this house. A rush of heat went to my eyes, and I blinked rapidly to suppress my emotions; memories of Tahir and his caresses at the forefront of my mind.

The bedsheets had been changed, obviously. Glancing sideways surreptitiously, I slipped further into the room, yearning to feel the texture of the blanket against my fingertips, to know if it was as soft as my memories told me, or was I merely clinging to that belief because it had once cradled me in comfort? The blanket—or another of its kind—had kept me warm that night. Tahir had draped it over me after everything.

Then he held me in his arms.

I ran my fingers over it once, then twice, before retreating, my eyes absorbing every detail of the room.

That curiosity that had drawn me into the room urged me to try the closet door for no particular reason, and I found it locked.

Who leaves their bedroom door open but locks their closet? Tahir, for one.

Moving away from the closet, I stopped by the mirror, staring at my reflection, wondering how much I was being missed at home. Barely a week, yet it felt as though I had spent years away from my family. Speaking of whom, Baba picked up my daily calls, and Mama called me herself to check up on me every day. Ya Aisha, my savior, was always on speed dial, and whenever I had a chance, I called her. Ironically, we hardly talked about anything important; it was mostly the kids who did the talking, and I coddled them over the phone.

I felt a pang of hurt that Tahir had really left. Even though I was angry with him last night, the least he could have done was inform me of his departure. After spending several more minutes in his room doing absolutely nothing but overthinking, I finally decided to leave, heading toward the kitchen to prepare myself a breakfast. Everywhere felt far too empty without his presence.

By the time I finished eating, I felt as though I'd gained weight. I could barely get up from the chair. When I'd summoned enough energy, I rose to take a bath, completely forgetting my phone until I saw its screen flashing in my room.

In a rush, I moved to pick it up, my breath hitching as I glanced at the caller ID. After taking a deep breath and counting to five to steady myself, I slid the screen to the right and put it on speakerphone, listening to the sound of Tahir's voice.

"Assalamu Alaikum. Khadijah, where have you been? I've been calling your number," he asked in a gentle tone, probably forgetting that we weren't on speaking terms. Or maybe, just maybe, he was choosing to be the bigger person.

My lips pulled into a pout, sulking.

"Good morning. I just came across the phone; it wasn't close to me when you called," I replied, stripping off my pajama pants.

He released an audible breath, then spoke, "Na isa Kaduna lafiya. Just wanted to let you know. How are you doing?"

"I'm okay," I replied, checking the time. "You were fast! What time did you leave?" Caught between wanting to express my displeasure over him leaving without telling me and resuming my earlier annoyance or feigning it, I ultimately settled on politeness.

"I left after Fajr and arrived in Kaduna a few minutes after 7 AM. I tried your number and knocked on your door. Unavailable and locked."

My brows met my forehead in disbelief. Just how fast did that man drive? Ordinarily, the journey from Kano to Kaduna took two hours, or sometimes three, depending on traffic. Yet here was Tahir, barely spending an hour and a half on the road.

Reckless? The man was the epitome of the word! He drove too fast, yet he still didn't trust my driving skills.

Pursing my lips, I responded to his words. Last night, I had put my phone on airplane mode, and I slept like the dead after I was done sulking. I had no idea he had tried to reach me.

"Sorry, I had no idea you called. And I would've answered the door if I had heard you knocking," I explained, biting my lower lip.

Tahir made a sound of understanding. "It's alright. I just wanted to see you, make sure you were okay before I left."

Unsure what to say, my lips pressed into a thin line.

"Let me not take up your time. You sound busy. Sa'eedah will be coming later. If there's anything you want or need, please, Khadijah, do not hesitate to let me know. Malam Habu will be available for any errands, and Sa'eedah will be there to keep you company. Are we good?" he asked, his deep voice laced with concern.

"Alright. Thank you for everything," I replied, feeling his absence. It surprised me how easily we humans tend to get attached to people.

A week ago, if you'd asked me if I felt anything for Tahir, I would have said no. Now, despite everything that had happened between us, I felt a sense of attachment to him.

"It's no problem. I'll call you later. Take care of yourself," he said softly.

"You too," I whispered, unable to say anything else.

Several seconds passed without either of us hanging up. I could hear the faint sound of his breathing, knowing he hadn't taken the phone away from his ear, and I could bet my meager life savings that he could hear mine as well.

The chime of a bell in my head reminded me that I had to take a bath. With a small sigh, I ended the call, put the phone on the bed, and skipped to the bathroom.

...

Kaduna, Nigeria.

After the call with Khadijah ended, Tahir gently lowered his phone to the table, a small smile playing on his lips. He was amused by his wife's apparent inability to hold grudges. Given the nature of their encounter last night, he had assumed she would give him the cold shoulder. But Khadijah had responded as though their earlier disagreement had never happened.

Relieved by her short-term grudge-holding, he let his eyes wander over the familiar surroundings of his office, a space that always felt like a sanctuary. Yet today, he couldn't help but wish he were somewhere else. Wondering why Khadijah hadn't mentioned the note he had left for her, Tahir picked up his phone again, intending to call and ask if she had eaten. It was important that he ask.

However, as he lifted the device, a sudden knock on his door halted him in his tracks. With a sharp clearing of his throat, he gave permission for the visitor to enter.

His eyes were fixed on the entrance as Kamila daintily sauntered into the office, her heels clicking sharply against the tiled floor, the sound echoing around the room.

Tahir swore silently, massaging his temples in annoyance, wishing she was anywhere but there. Or, more accurately, that he was anywhere she wasn't.

Kamila was the embodiment of wantonness. She wore a fitted black skirt that stopped several inches above her ankles, coupled with a red cropped top that boldly exposed her midriff, and a black blazer presumably to lend an air of corporate respectability. Tahir knew better. She loved playing dress-up, and this outfit was just one of her games.

His eyes slid away from her form, a muscle tightening in his jaw as he sought the patience needed to endure the unwelcome interaction.

"Baby," she purred in a sultry voice, her lips forming a pout. "I heard you got married."

Tahir's scowl deepened at her audacity, which seemed to grow with each passing day.

"It's Tahir to you, Kamila," he corrected, his voice clipped. "Yes, I'm happily married. What brings you here?" he asked, wanting nothing more than to be rid of her so he could have some privacy to call his wife.

"She's too young for you," Kamila sneered. "You need someone way more mature. Someone stron—"

"Leave my office," he ground out, struggling to maintain his composure.

Kamila smirked, placing her fingers on the table between them and drumming softly. "Tahir, I won't accept you being married," she said.  "You'll need to divorce her." She chuckled, the sound dripping with sarcasm.

Deciding to beat her at her own game, Tahir leaned forward, his eyes narrowing. "That's unfortunate for you," he said, a hint of steel in his voice. "Khadijah and I aren't interested in third parties, either." He stood up, the movement decisive, authoritative.

With a slight nod of his head, he gestured toward the door.

Kamila bristled, taking a tentative step closer to him, her voice dripping with false sweetness. "I've heard stories about how lots of Nigerian women capture the hearts of the men they want," she drawled. "But I've never seen a man so thoroughly enchanted until you. This wife of yours must have done quite a tremendous job to have you so smitten already."

Tahir did her the courtesy of opening the door, barely able to restrain himself from raising his voice. "Get the hell out," he warned, his voice low and dangerous. "Client or not, you won't like what happens if you don't."

"Suit yourself, baby," she whispered. With a wink, she exaggerated the sway of her hips as she sashayed out of the office, assuming his eyes were following her every move.

Unbeknownst to her, Tahir was already reaching for his phone, his mind fully occupied with thoughts of someone else. Not even Kamila's unwelcome presence could divert his attention from the need to contact Khadijah.

Her name appeared on his screen before he could even dial hers. Releasing a deep breath, Tahir walked around the mahogany table, stopping by the window that overlooked the city below. He called her back, swallowing harshly as the sound of her voice came through the speaker.

After exchanging pleasantries for the second time, she spoke in a quiet, almost tentative voice. "I just found the note you left me on the fridge," she whispered.

"Can we talk on FaceTime?" he asked, silently praying she would agree. He wanted to see her face, even if it was just through a screen.

Khadijah's smile was evident in her voice as she acquiesced. "Alright then."

Unbuttoning the top button of his shirt, he tugged at his tie, which he had worn solely for the purpose of his earlier meeting. A wave of relief washed over him when her incoming FaceTime call came through. He picked it up without hesitation.

Khadijah's face appeared on the screen, looking pretty in a simple cream t-shirt. She held the note up to the camera, grinning from ear to ear. "I don't know how I missed seeing this. And the kitchen was my second stop after waking up!"

"Maybe you were too hungry to notice it," he teased, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

She shrugged, turning the note to face her as if re-reading it. "I would've called you if I'd seen it," she admitted.

Staring at her face, he couldn't help but wonder if she would've reached out to him if he hadn't called first. Knowing her penchant for speaking the truth, he refrained from asking, unsure if he was prepared for the response.

Tahir swallowed, watching her. "I was worried when I got nothing but silence from you," he confessed.

"I'm a heavy sleeper," she replied. "I'm sure you've realized that by now."

"So you weren't deliberately ignoring me because I refused your request last night?"

Khadijah shook her head once, then paused thoughtfully. "The honest, gritty, bitter truth?" she asked.

A smile tugged at his lips at the dramatic expression that crossed her face. With a nod, Tahir indicated he wanted the honest, gritty, bitter truth.

Clearing her throat, Khadijah avoided his gaze for a moment. "I was super annoyed with you last night. I'm sorry. But honestly, I felt like crying, yelling at the top of my lungs, and screaming my displeasure. However, I don't hold grudges, so it faded after I got out of bed this morning," she confessed, biting her lower lip in a completely innocent act.

Tahir bit back a groan, finding the little act sensual. He assessed her. "You love biting your lip, don't you?"

She released it slowly, smiling impishly. "Habit."

"I'm sorry for annoying you and making you feel like screaming and yelling." His voice softened. "But next time, I suggest you do exactly that so we can clear the air, resolve our differences. I don't like leaving you knowing you're not happy with me."

"A simpler solution? Next time, just give me what I want," she cheekily quipped, laughter dancing in her eyes.

Tahir couldn't help the chuckle that escaped him. He shook his head at her attempt at cleverness. "I'll take note."

She sobered up, her expression turning more serious. "A confession, though," she said quietly. "I was hurt when I woke up and saw that you were gone. I thought you were royally pissed at me and decided to leave without bidding me goodbye."

Swiping his tongue once over his lower lip, he shook his head, denying her assumption. "I couldn't have done that."

He watched as she got up and positioned her phone horizontally, propping it up with something he couldn't see, while she walked around the room. After grabbing a hijab, she shrugged it on, letting it flow freely over her body.

"Where to?"

"I want to go and greet Ammi and Abba," she explained. "I'll return later with Sa'eedah. The house feels way too quiet."

"Am I that big a noisemaker?" he teased, raising an eyebrow.

Khadijah giggled. "Absolutely not! But the space feels too big for just one person."

He nodded, understanding her point. "It happens. You probably won't find Abba around when you go home now, but Ammi should be there."

"Oh, okay then."

"Call me when you're back," he said, glancing at the time on his watch and then back at her face, his eyes lingering on her.

"I will, In Shaa Allah. Bye!" She smiled, walking quickly out of the house, waving at him as she went.

Tahir swallowed, a sudden pang of loneliness hitting him as he watched her go. "Take care."

With that, she ended the call, and he returned to his seat by the window, letting his eyes drift shut for a moment, the image of her smiling face imprinted in his mind.

...

Kano, Nigeria.

Khadijah felt boredom sucking the energy out of her very being. She'd spent the better part of her day at Ammi's rooms before Sa'eedah was due back from her Islamic Madrasah. With the promise that Sa'eedah would come over the moment she returned, Khadijah returned to her apartment in silence.

First, she went through her wedding pictures. Then, she tried to read a book, but it wasn't able to hold her attention the way she wanted it to.

Releasing a frustrated huff, she returned her iPad to the bedroom, suddenly itching to return to Tahir's room and curl up under the comforting duvet she had found earlier.

The temperature in his room seemed more accommodating to her. For some reason, her own room felt lacking in the comfort she craved, the familiar scent of his cologne lingering in the air of his room, a reminder of his presence. Sluggishly, Khadijah packed up her necessities for the time being, until Sa'eedah returned.

She balanced a glass of cold yogurt and a pack of M&Ms in one hand while also holding her iPad in the other. Satisfied with her impressive feat of multitasking, she dropped everything on his neatly made bed and got in, ensuring she was as comfortable as possible.

Playing a movie she had downloaded earlier, she settled firmly into the mattress, sighing contentedly. With a grin, Khadijah delved into the small world she had created for herself, the quiet hum of the movie filling the otherwise silent room.

...