[XV]

"Goodnight," Imran said.

Before Jadwa could pull away, her phone notifications chimed incessantly, drawing both their attention to the phone between them.

"Unblock me."

"I am so sorry. Please unblock me. How could you block me everywhere?"

"Jadu, please. Even if you don't want to ever talk to me again, let me talk to you once. Give me one last chance to tell you this."

"Just once. Once, please."

"I'll always love you, even though I know I may never have you again in this lifetime. Just know my feelings were true and I am sorry."

Jadwa tapped on the notifications with Imran's hands still wrapped around her. She read them, then blocked the account right then and there.

"I'll get going now." He placed a peck on her temple.

Jadwa removed herself from his hold, not caring if he saw the texts or not, which he most likely did. She was exhausted, annoyed, irritated, pained, and especially angry at herself and Imran.

Jadwa silently got out of the car, shut the door a bit louder than usual, and went into the house.
Meanwhile, Imran roared his engine to life immediately, speeding out of his in-laws' gates.

He knew how angry she was; he felt it and saw it. He decided to give her some space while he gathered his own thoughts. It was the same anonymous account on Instagram that messaged him a few days ago asking about his marriage and raining curses on him for taking what belonged to another person.

At first, he found it humorous and childish. One look at the profile and a brief investigation confirmed his suspicions about Abdulhakeem. He didn't just show up like that without knowing Jadwa's movements. From his cursory background check, he found nothing except Abdulhakeem's incompetence and cowardice, alongside his upcoming wedding in a few months.

Imran's thoughts juggled as he sped through the streets of Abuja. Imran scoffed; it was disrespectful to him. He was old enough to see through these machinations. He could only care less if Jadwa was angry at him now, especially since she might see him as controlling. What mattered more was protecting her. Abdulhakeem didn't just show up without reason. It wasn't paranoia or his anger; it was reality. He needed to keep her safe.

Imran picked up his phone and called Ibrahim to relax with his friend, just to take his mind off things.

Back in the house, Jadwa went straight to her room. Heat ran through her body. First, her now-husband, then her stupid ex trying to add more salt to her wound. She was met with the two women doing her gyaran jiki, as they did every day and night. Jadwa almost hissed loudly but restrained herself in frustration. She mumbled a greeting and went to the bathroom. A tear slipped from her eye, which she aggressively wiped away while undressing and wrapping herself in a tiny towel that barely covered her midsection.

She couldn't hold back the tears, even if she tried. How could he misunderstand her, just like everyone else always did? How could he lay down such rules for her? It was within his rights as her husband, but the way he did it, the control he didn't even smile or give her room to protest. It was a humbling moment, a realization that her life was now under another man's control. The way he kissed her forehead and told her she was a good girl why was he constantly changing? Jadwa took a deep breath, splashing water on her face, repeating in her head how much she hated control. She'd rather rot in the house than ask permission to go out.

Jadwa returned to the women moments later and sat on the protective mats they usually laid down for her. Throughout the intense three-hour session, Jadwa's thoughts filled only with the reality check she'd received. Marriage was starting to hit her even before she lived under the same roof with a man. She was terrified not of her partner, but of the realization deep within her heart. As much as he was wrong, she was equally guilty for her actions and choices, despite not yet being under his roof.

Her sisters came in along with Anaya, who was completely in awe of how Jadwa sat through her legs getting waxed without screaming. Anaya's facial expression made Jadwa laugh hard.

"Come and sit here. It's not painful, Lily. I promise it's not like the others. She's very light-handed," Jadwa joked, persuading Hajje Hilu to wax a part of Anaya's arms.

"If it hurts, I'm not going to forgive you," Anaya said, as Jadwa signaled Hanan, Zarah, and Ameerah not to interfere.

Jadwa had gotten used to the pain after many sessions, and she was sure it would sting Anaya. But she went along for the fun of it. Surprisingly, after the first two screams, Anaya let out, earning uproarious laughter from them. They sat there chatting, switching from celebrity gossip to wedding planning.

Jadwa chose a few fabrics Ahmad and Ammi had sent pictures of to use as laffaya. Hanan chose hers as well, and they spent the whole night looking for a makeup artist for Hanan. Jadwa settled on flying in the same makeup artist who had done hers to meet Muhammad Imran after the Nikkah.

While planning, it dawned on Jadwa that this was permanent. There was no break or leaving. It was a permanent thing, whether they were on good terms or not. Accept or reject, love or hate, there was no going back; the marriage continued.

Ameerah, on the other hand, was engrossed on a call with their designer, preparing for the pre-wedding pictures for which they had yet to choose a date. While she watched Ameerah choose separate days for Hanan and her pre-wedding, Jadwa picked up her phone and saw no notifications or missed calls. It was past midnight, so she simply switched her phone off and returned to the conversation, which distracted her until they all retired to bed.

[XVI]

Two days had passed since she had heard from Muhammad Imran or received a single message. The past forty-eight hours had been a whirlwind of activity, filled to the brim with wedding planning meetings, choosing homeware with and furniture on video call with her parents with showrooms gleaming displays. Jadwa found herself engrossed in her usual daily routine, seeking solace in the company ofAnaya, Ameerah, Hanan, and Zarah. Their laughter filled the void, momentarily pushing away the disquiet that settled in her stomach each time her phone remained silent.

As the fiery hues of the sunset bled into the inky blackness of night, Jadwa picked up her phone with a habitual sigh. The familiar disappointment washed over her as the screen displayed no new messages or missed calls. She slumped onto the plush armchair in front of her vanity mirror, the silence pressing in on her.

Why was she even looking for his calls, his messages? Hadn't she resolved to push him out of her mind? Jadwa squeezed her eyes shut, a deep sigh escaping her lips. Images flickered behind her eyelids, memories surfacing. The way his strong arms had pinned her against the wall, the heat of his body branding hers. It was their second kiss, but unlike the first this one was charged with a raw intensity that left her breathless. She craved more, a yearning that gnawed at her insides. He always left her wanting, especially the last time. It wasn't just the kiss; it was the way his touch ignited a fire within her, his hands sending shivers down her spine. Like a bolt of lightning, a jolt of electricity surged through her with every memory.

Jadwa pressed a hand to her chest, the frantic flutter of her heart mimicking the frantic rhythm of her thoughts. "This is madness," she whispered, forcing her eyes open to meet her reflection in the mirror. A ghost of a smile played on her lips, a stark contrast to the turmoil within.

He was angry with her, that much was clear. Yet, here she was, a tangled mess of emotions. How could she be experiencing such a potent mix of desire and anger? Frustrated, Jadwa flung her phone onto the bed and stormed into the bathroom, the cool spray of the shower washing away the day's grime. She wasn't naive to the intensity of the feelings that flared up every time she was around him, a potent mix of attraction and something deeper. It scared her, this undeniable pull she felt towards him. Why did he have this effect on her? Why did he always leave her in this state of emotional turmoil? Over her dead body would she ever reach out to him first!

Emerging from the bathroom, she slipped into a loose, flowing bubu, the cool cotton a welcome relief against her heated skin. Determined to clear her head and banish these unwanted thoughts, Jadwa headed straight for the kitchen. The rhythmic chopping of vegetables and the hiss and sizzle of ingredients hitting the hot pan became her therapy, pushing away the intrusive thoughts and replacing them with the calming routine of cooking.

Anaya's stay at their house was coming to an end, and she was leaving tomorrow. So, Jadwa decided to make a variety of dishes and order pastries and desserts, just to make today's sleepover worth it. She also got some cards and games from a party shop, which were delivered before she finished cooking. Hanan had hired a decorator to set up their living room for the small, intimate party they were having with just the five of them. By the time Jadwa was done, she set the table with food, desserts, mocktails, pastries, and snapped pictures to post some online.

She set the table and called down Anaya and Zarah before she went to her room. There, she dressed in a slim-fitting long-sleeve crop top and a silk maxi skirt. She applied a touch of makeup, tidied her edges, and added a small headband over her braids before descending the stairs with her Polaroid camera in hand.
Jadwa captured pictures of the beautifully decorated setup adorned with pink florals and balloons, exuding a feminine, glamorous, and elegant vibe.

Anaya and Lily joined her downstairs, both stunning in their pink maxi dresses with their braided hair cascading down their backs.

"I had no idea we were glamming up and going all out," Jadwa nearly exclaimed at the sight before her.

The duo laughed together, high-fiving each other in excitement.

"Oh my goodness!" Jadwa exclaimed, eliciting audible wows and gasps from the others at the sight of the stunning setup.

Hanan and Ameerah descended next. Hanan sported a Winx crop top and shorts, while Ameerah dazzled in a bright pink maxi silk dress.

"Everyone understood the assignment," Ameerah clapped, surveying the room and the beautifully dressed girls.

"While you guys were doing your makeup, I cooked my life away," Jadwa joked.

"You still managed to look sizzling hot," Hanan winked at her, and Ameerah nodded in agreement while taking a big bite of a glazed donut.

"Thank you!" Jadwa playfully stuck her tongue out at Anaya and Zarah.

"Okay, let's eat first and then play games," Zarah suggested, and the group unanimously agreed.

They indulged in their meal and were so full that they decided to save the desserts for later. Initially playing a board game, they grew tired midway and opted instead for a game of truth or drink.

"Ew, this looks disgusting," Zarah grimaced, eyeing the concoction Hanan and Anaya had mixed.

The drink contained pickle juice, mashed avocados, vinegar, ginger juice, and chunks of garlic.

"There's no way I'm drinking that! It's truth or die," Jadwa scrunching her face in disgust.

The game kicked off with questions circulating among the group, each mild in nature.

"Change a piece of clothing with someone in this room," Hanan read aloud from a card Anaya drew.

Anaya laughed and promptly swapped dresses with Zarah, who happened to be wearing a nearly identical outfit and was of similar size, albeit different heights.

"What's the most you've ever done with a man?" Jadwa burst into laughter reading from a card Ameerah selected.

Ameerah chuckled and the others suppressed their giggles.
Sitting upright, Ameerah placed a hand on her belly and jokingly exclaimed, "Make a baby?" This statement prompted a burst of laughter and screams from the girls.

"We're still babies ourselves!" Zarah laughed, covering her face with her hands, a gesture mirrored by Anaya.

"Send a flirty text to someone you're interested in," Anaya and Zarah read aloud from a card Hanan had just picked.

Hanan grabbed her phone and composed a message to her boyfriend:
Hanan: Unusual things are happening to me. I keep dreaming of you even when I'm wide awake.

The girls erupted in laughter and shock at the boldness of the message.

"Finally, it's my turn," Jadwa nervously laughed as she picked a card with her eyes closed.
Suddenly, Ameerah's voice broke through the room, announcing the challenge:
"Give a detailed account of your first kiss or give the person next to you a lap dance."

Jadwa gasped. How intense! Why did she have to draw the worst card? Jadwa's eyes darted to the glass cups filled with the foul shots before her mind raced back to her first kiss. She then glanced at Anaya and Ameerah before sighing deeply.

There's no way she's doing either of those. Not narrating the story with the person she experienced it with having his sister sitting opposite her. No matter how comfortable and close she is with Anaya, there will always be a part of me that's shy Jadwa concluded, shaking her head.

"Who am I going to dance with?" Jadwa asked, her voice laced with mock seriousness. The room fell silent for a beat, then all eyes turned to her with playful curiosity. Jadwa knew exactly what they were thinking; her refusal to reveal the identity of her first kiss when she could have easily lied and said "never" hadn't gone unnoticed. A sly smile played on her lips as she braced herself for their teasing.

"The chair!" Hanan exclaimed, her voice ringing out with laughter, earning a chorus of cheers and giggles from the other girls.

Zarah, the resident DJ, wasted no time in putting on a song. The first pulsating notes filled the room, sending shivers down Jadwa's spine in a pleasant anticipation. The music had a sultry, slow-burning rhythm, but Jadwa felt strangely comfortable under the encouraging gaze of her friends. They whooped and whistled, hyping her up as she stepped into the center of the makeshift dance floor.

Ameerah and Zarah, ever the documentarians, flashed their cameras, momentarily blinding Jadwa with the bright light. She blinked away the spots, a playful grin tugging at the corners of her lips as she moved to the rhythm. Her hips swayed gently, a soft shimmy rolling through her core with each beat. The music seemed to flow through her, guiding her movements as she sashayed across the room.

The air crackled with unspoken energy, the sultry rhythm of the music mirroring the growing confidence in Jadwa's movements. With each step, she approached her audience with a seductive eyes, her eyes locking with theirs for a fleeting moment before a playful smile danced on her lips.

Reaching a plush armchair positioned strategically in the center of the room, Jadwa lowered herself with a practiced grace. Her movements were deliberate and teasing, each dip and sway designed to send shivers down their spines. She pressed her body close to the plush fabric, grinding her hips in slow, circular motions that perfectly complemented the beat.

Suddenly, Jadwa arched her back, The movement was smooth, like a feline toying with its prey. Every gesture, every flick of her wrist, was designed to entice and enthrall.

The girls erupted in cheers and screams, their whistles echoing across the room. Jadwa couldn't help but join in their laughter as she finished her dance, the room filled with the joyous clinking of her waist chain and anklets. With a final flourish, she stepped away from the chair, a shy blush creeping up her cheeks as she raised her hand to playfully cover her face.

"I pity our poor brother," Ameerah chuckled as the music quieted.

The girls clapped and cheered, capturing the moment with photos and videos.
Suddenly, Jadwa's phone rang, breaking the festive atmosphere. She answered, expecting a delivery, and absentmindedly agreed, thinking it was something she had ordered earlier. Taking Zarah with her, she went outside and donned an abaya and veil before collecting the package.

Upon opening the door, she was greeted by a stunning bouquet of fresh red roses, so large and heavy that she struggled to hold it. Zarah held a matching large gift bag.

"When was this ordered?" Jadwa asked the delivery person, momentarily confused.

"Ma'am, orders for flowers typically go out within twenty-four hours. I'm sure this one was ordered yesterday," he explained politely.

"Thank you so much," she smiled warmly before returning inside with the bouquet.

Back in the room, the girls were in awe, admiring the beautiful display.

"He definitely knows what he has," Ameerah winked knowingly.

"It's so beautiful," Anaya marveled.

"Oh my God," Hanan gasped.

Jadwa opened the accompanying note and read:
Thinking of you all the time
~Your Albi

[XVII]

Jadwa almost rolled her eyes but couldn't help smiling slightly. She then opened a paper bag and retrieved a large, heavy box from Maison Francis Kurkdjian. Carefully placing it on her lap, she opened it to reveal four large bottles of perfume.

The scent set was extraordinarily expensive, and Jadwa hesitated before spritzing each scent on the back of her hand. With every scent, she fell more in love. It was beautiful, it was so amazing, she had one of the scents that she kept only for special occasions.
The special occasion being the day she met Imran first after their Nikkah and every day she had to meet him after that.
But... did he think all this would wipe away her anger or make her reach out to him? She scoffed.

"This is amazing!" the girls cooed, enchanted by the fragrances.

"Can I take pictures?" Zarah asked excitedly, prompting an impromptu photoshoot with Jadwa and the flowers, videos interspersed.

"Can I send them to him?" Anaya asked after they picked their favourite pictures and videos.

"Of course," Jadwa said shyly, her stomach fluttering beneath the tight, short crop top. Jadwa gulped, suddenly feeling unsure about inviting more rules or scolding... Would he call her now or ban her from parties but at the same time she could only care less, he could do whatever and she wouldn't listen, everything she did was intentional and he wanted to take it far, she gladly would.

Jadwa laughed at the thought and moved her eyes to the girls but her mind was elsewhere, was he going to call her? Or would he keep up with the silent treatment?

Minutes later, Lily got her out of her thoughts by excusing herself to take a call, and Jadwa saw his name clearly displayed on her phone. Later, Ameerah took over and they spoke, leaving a sour taste in Jadwa's mouth.

He didn't even acknowledge her Jadwa realized, hearing only snippets of their conversation in English rather than Kanuri, focusing on the time he would pick up Lily and her pending results.
After the call, Jadwa tried to divert attention by handing Zarah the card to pick.

"You two are still fighting, right?" Ameerah whispered beside her, and Jadwa responded with a small smile.

Her sisters knew things weren't normal. They always tried to cheer her up but never mentioned him. Their silence spoke volumes.

"Don't worry. Sometimes you can boil a man in cold water," Ameerah remarked smugly, knowing where her camera would end up if it landed on her.

"I don't even know what to do anymore. I've given up," Jadwa sighed. "I'm sure he'll react when he sees these pictures," she added nervously.

"Is it about the same thing? Or Abdul?" Ameerah inquired in hushed tones amid the laughter and chatter in the room.

"Both," Jadwa admitted quietly.

"He'll come around, but we also need to talk about your choices, Jadwa," Ameerah advised gently.

"Okay," Jadwa agreed gratefully. She always appreciated how Ameerah guided her without prying or demanding details.

"I don't know why it's hard for you to see how much this guy is into you," Ameerah continued, showing messages between her and Imran on her phone. He asked for pictures of his 'wife', inquired about her well-being, paid for their slumber party decorations, and sent a hefty sum of money to Ameerah after Ameerah teased him about having really beautiful pictures of Jadwa he was yet to see from tonight.

"I know Ya Moh can be intense, but this shows how he feels about you. Don't drag this out anymore, Jadu," Ameerah said earnestly.
"He still hasn't apologized," Jadwa rolled her eyes.

"He's more likely to stay silent than apologize. But you talk, right? He even sent you flowers," Ameerah reminded her, her tone understanding.

"Nope," Jadwa sighed.

"You're his wife now, and this relationship is new. This is the time to set expectations. I don't always have to tell you what to do, Jadwa," Ameerah added, starting into one of her lectures.

She lectured Jadwa about her choices, her dressing, and how to handle arguments. Jadwa thanked her silently, knowing she was equally responsible for her choices and the consequences they brought. Her thoughts wandered to the video Ameerah sent him. She hadn't pleaded with her to delete it. Deep down, she wanted him to see how far his silent treatment could go.

The night continued with games and dancing. By the end, Jadwa was exhausted. She didn't send the thank-you message she had in mind. He didn't call or text either. She let his thoughts evaporate from her mind as she arranged her flowers in a large vase, barely fitting them all, before drifting into a deep sleep.

MUHAMMAD IMRAN.

He sat alone in the soft glow emanating from his phone, the only light source in the dimly lit room. He scrolled through a collection of pictures, each one a visual testament to the blessing Allah had bestowed upon him. This woman, breathtakingly beautiful, was his wife, all his and his alone. A satisfied smile curved his lips. He didn't mind the occasional "small money" requests from his sister and cousin in exchange for glimpses of his radiant wife. These pictures were more than just snapshots; they were a daily dose of happiness, a reminder of the incredible woman he called his own.

His thumb swiped across the screen, revealing not a picture this time, but a video. He pressed play, the glow from his phone intensifying and casting an eerie light on his face. The soft strains of music filled his ears, spilling out from his headphones and creating an intimate, almost surreal atmosphere. As he watched her move on the screen, a strange connection bloomed in his chest, a feeling that she was dancing just for him, a private performance for his eyes only.

His gaze was glued to the screen, mesmerized by the slow, sensual grind of her hips. Her body moved in perfect harmony with the music, each graceful sway and dip a testament to her natural rhythm. Every time she let out a soft, breathy whine, a shiver danced down his spine. With each passing moment, anticipation built within him, a delicious tension that tightened his muscles. He could almost feel the heat radiating from her body, the friction of her skin against his own, an illusion fueled by the vividness of the video.

His heart pounded against his ribs, his breath quickening as he leaned closer to the screen, desperate to absorb every detail. He saw the subtle curve of her smile, the way her long braids cascaded down her back like a shimmering waterfall, and the glint in her eyes that spoke volumes of playful desire. His grip tightened around the phone, his knuckles turning white as he wrestled with the urge to call or text her, to bridge the physical distance separating them.

The way she bit her lip, a gesture both deliberate and teasingly provocative, sent his pulse into overdrive. The delicate clink of her gold anklets and the gentle sway of her waist chain mesmerized him. His mind conjured an image of her smooth, soft skin beneath his fingertips, the intoxicating scent of her perfume filling his senses. Her every move was an invitation, drawing him deeper into her captivating performance.

When she turned and pressed her back against an imaginary partner, a wave of longing washed over him. He closed his eyes, picturing himself in that spot, his touch replacing the empty space. Her head resting on his shoulder, her breath hot against his neck – the image was so vivid it felt real. The sound of her whispering in his ear, a soft murmur that sent a thrill through his body, left him dizzy and breathless.

As the video reached its climax, her final, lingering grind and the peak of her sensual whine felt almost tangible, a surge of electricity seemingly crackling between them. When the music faded, he was left in a daze, his mind swirling with the intoxicating experience. He let out a shaky breath, His skin tingled with the aftershocks of her sensual performance, a vivid memory etched into his mind. He knew it was just a video, but in those moments, he had been utterly consumed, bewitched by the fantasy she had created.

The images of her dance lingered in his mind long after the video ended. He replayed it again and again, each viewing fueling his desire and deepening his longing. Finally, with a determined glint in his eyes, he switched off his phone, the darkness a stark contrast to the vivid picture playing behind his eyelids.

The next morning, the memory of her dance still fresh in his mind, he made a decision. He couldn't let the misunderstanding and distance fester any longer. He needed to see her, to confront their issues face-to-face and, thankfully, a reason presented itself. He had to pick Anaya up from their house anyway, the perfect excuse for a visit.

[XVIII]

**Disclaimer:**

Chapter XIII and XIX contain scenes that may be disturbing or upsetting to some readers. The content includes descriptions of violence, abuse, blood and other mature themes that may not be suitable for all audiences. Reader discretion is advised.

JADWA

The next morning, after Jadwa had fallen into a deep sleep, a relentless pounding echoed through the house. It was like a rhythmic battering ram against her skull, pulling her from the cool oasis of dreams into the harsh glare of reality. She groaned, the sound lost beneath the insistent knocking.  Disoriented, she squinted at the clock, its harsh red numerals mocking her with the unnaturally early hour.

She remembered Hanan's promise to let her sleep in, a fragile hope dashed by the relentless knocking.  With a sigh that condensed the disappointment of a stolen slumber, she called out, her voice hoarse from disuse.

"Hanan, please, I'm extremely tired. Can you let me sleep a bit more?" she croaked, her voice cracking on the plea.  She burrowed deeper into the inviting warmth of her duvet, its downy embrace a stark contrast to the cold dread creeping into her stomach.

"Jadu, please wake up. This is the third time Uncle Nura and Salim are asking for you," Hanan's voice filtered through the door, laced with thinly veiled exasperation.

Jadwa winced. Great. Just what she needed – a family interrogation before she'd even had a chance to process a single coherent thought.  She reluctantly untangled herself from the sheets, the movement sending a wave of dizziness washing over her.  Her head pounded a relentless rhythm against her temples, a dull ache threatening to blossom into a full-fledged migraine. 

The exhaustion from all the previous day's festivities crashed down on her like a physical weight. The screaming, dancing.

She dragged herself out of bed, each step a monumental effort. The bathroom was a haven of cool tiles and dim light.  She splashed water on her face, the coolness briefly shocking her system into alertness.  Brushing her teeth felt like a chore, each movement heavy and sluggish.  She craved the revitalizing embrace of a hot shower, but the thought of the additional time it would take filled her with a fresh wave of guilt.

After a quick shower, she indulged in a small luxury – her favorite rose-scented oil.  The familiar fragrance worked its magic, calming her frayed nerves and momentarily pushing back the tide of anxiety.  She dressed meticulously, each piece a small act of defiance against the chaos outside her door.  The body-con dress hugged her curves, peeked out from under a maroon jilbab, a compromise between expressing her personal style and respecting cultural norms.

Just as she finished dressing, a renewed assault on the door sent her heart leaping into her throat.  She hurried out, the silk of the jilbab whispering against her legs as she moved.  There, leaning nonchalantly against the wall, stood Salim.  His arms were folded across his chest, a scowl etched permanently on his face.

"Ya Salim, good afternoon," she greeted politely, forcing a smile that felt strained and unconvincing even to her own ears.

He didn't respond, simply uncrossed his arms and moved past her towards the living room, leaving her standing awkwardly in the doorway.  She followed hesitantly, the silence thick and heavy in the air.

She settled onto the edge of the plush sofa, its softness a stark contrast to the knot of tension coiling in her gut. Salim perched on a nearby armchair, his posture rigid and uninviting.  His gaze was a physical weight on her, a silent accusation that made her skin crawl.

"How many times do you need to be called before you come when we ask for you?" he finally spoke, his voice laced with disdain.  The words were harsh, a stark contrast to the gentle teasing she was accustomed to from her older cousin.

"I'm sorry, I was asleep when you came, and I was getting ready to come down," she stammered, the apology tasting like ash in her mouth.  She hated the way his presence, usually a source of comfort, now made her feel like a cornered animal.

Salim let out a short, humorless bark of a laugh.  "Sannu, Amarya," he mocked  "Do we look like your husband that you need hours to get ready to meet?"  The bitterness in his voice was palpable, a sharp edge that cut through her already frayed nerves.

"Ya Salim, I'm sorry. I really just overslept. I didn't mean to keep you waiting," she repeated, her voice barely a whisper.  Part of her wanted to lash out, to defend herself against his accusations, but another, more cautious part, held her back.

He leaned forward, his eyes narrowed. "Is this the only thing you should be sorry for?"  The question hung heavy in the air, a challenge she couldn't quite decipher.  Was he angry about her oversleeping?  Or was this about something deeper, something she wasn't yet privy to?

Jadwa stared back at him, a knot of confusion tightening in her chest.  They'd never argued before, their relationship built on a foundation of shared childhood memories and playful banter.  Now, a chasm seemed to have opened between them, a silent wall fueled by unspoken accusations.

"I don't know," she finally admitted, her voice barely above a squeak.

Salim's face contorted in fury.  "You don't know?" he roared, his voice echoing in the confined space of the living room.  "You really don't know?"  His anger was terrifying, a storm cloud threatening to unleash its fury upon her.

She flinched back, overwhelmed by the sudden shift.  "Ya Salim—" her voice shook as she tried to find the words to appease him, to calm the tempest brewing before her.

"Please, let me go and greet Uncle Nura. He's waiting," she pleaded, hoping to escape the suffocating intensity of the moment.

Just then, Uncle Nura's voice boomed from the bottom of the stairs. "Is it raining today? Why am I hearing Jadu saying she wants to come and greet me?"

Jadwa scrambled to her feet, relief washing over her in waves.  She rushed towards the stairs, desperate to put some distance between herself and Salim's simmering rage.  She found her uncle standing at the foot of the stairs, his face creased with a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

"Ina yini, Uncle Nura?" she greeted him, crouching slightly as a sign of respect.  The familiar gesture felt grounding, a small act of normalcy amidst the swirling chaos of emotions.

He remained silent, his gaze unwavering.  The smile had vanished completely, replaced by a mask of disappointment.  "Barka da Sallah," she added awkwardly, standing straight after a beat of uncomfortable silence.

Uncle Nura's silence stretched on, heavy and suffocating. Jadwa shifted nervously, the air crackling with unspoken accusations.  Finally, he spoke, his voice low and dangerous.

"Eid? I saw how much you enjoyed your Eid with that husband of yours. Aren't you ashamed?"  His words cut deep, laced with a venom that surprised Jadwa.  She stole a glance at Salim, expecting some flicker of agreement, but his face remained an unreadable mask.

Before she could even contemplate a response, Uncle Nura continued, his voice rising in anger.  "While your cousin is still unable to walk properly with crutches, you are showcasing your useless relationship with a man like that everywhere!"  Spittle flew from his lips as he ranted, his disappointment morphing into a fury that sent shivers down Jadwa's spine.

She opened her mouth to defend herself, the sting of his words sharp and fresh, but the sound died in her throat.  Shame, hot and unwelcome, flooded her cheeks.  It was true, Adam's family had been distant, their joy muted by Adam's cousin's recent accident.  Had she been too caught up in the whirlwind of her own celebration to notice?

Just then, Hanan and Ameerah appeared at the top of the stairs, drawn in by the rising tension.  Their presence momentarily silenced Uncle Nura, but the air remained thick with unspoken judgment.

"This Eid, none of you could come visit!" he bellowed, his voice echoing through the house.  "You couldn't even come and check how he is feeling at the hospital! We came now, and you left us alone for almost an hour... who do you think you are?"

Jadwa flinched under the weight of his accusations.  They had come later than planned, caught up in the festivities, but an hour?  It couldn't have been an hour.  Panic clawed at her throat.  She tried to explain, to apologize, but the words wouldn't come.

Suddenly, Salim let out a sharp scoff.  "Exactly, Uncle Nura.  Where are her manners?  Does she think this is a hotel, where she can come and go as she pleases?"  His mocking tone sent a fresh wave of anger through Jadwa.  This wasn't about a visit, it was about something else entirely.

"Uncle Nura, I overslept. I am sorry. Immediately I got ready, I came out to greet you," she managed to force out, her voice trembling slightly.

He stared at her for a long moment, his face a storm of conflicting emotions.  Finally, he spoke, his voice laced with disbelief.  "Overslept?"

Jadwa, desperate to de-escalate the situation, simply nodded.  Salim's humorless chuckle cut through the tense silence, and for a fleeting moment, Jadwa's gaze met his.  There was a flicker of something in his eyes – pity?  Regret?  It was gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced by a cold indifference.

"Who are you looking at like that?" Salim asked in a sharp tone, his words dripping with possessiveness that sent a jolt through Jadwa.  She quickly looked down, the weight of his scrutiny stifling.

Uncle Nura's sigh filled the room.  "I don't understand what you're apologizing for, Jadu," he said, his voice heavy with disappointment.  "Is it for keeping us waiting?  For betraying Adam?  Or prostituting yourself to marry that disgusting contract killer?  That slaughterer?  That criminal?"

His words struck Jadwa like a physical blow.  The blood drained from her face, leaving her numb and speechless.

What he called her didn't hit her, it was the words he called her husband that riled her up.

"Why are you looking at him like that? Is he lying? Didn't you sell yourself up there? The pretending can work on your disgraceful husband but not us!" Her uncle seethed.

"Ya Salim please let's keep this between us, he didn't do anything to you" Jadwa said in a voice above whisper but clearly full of fury after Salim cackled at their Uncle's words.

"What did you say?" Nura got up.

"I-" she started but he closed the gap between them.

Jadwa moved back further earning a laughter from both of them, they were making a joke out of her fear, out of her shivering hands, out of her immediate shelling of her self when he got up.

He grabbed her by her jilbab and landed a hard slap on her face. Jadwa immediately hit the ground with a thud, her hands going to her face to soothe the piercing pain.

"Repeat what you said! You worthless whore!" Salim said, getting up and pushing his uncle back.

Jadwa looked up at him, her body quivering. She was a bit relieved he had pushed his uncle back because she knew her uncle was about to beat her black and blue. He had done it too many times before when she was a child and a few times in her teenage years.

Jadwa tried to leave, but Salim pushed her to the floor again.

"Ya Salim, don't touch me," she said, gritting her teeth getting up again and pushing his hands away.

Immediately her hands hit his, Salim shook his head in disbelief. He moved back, removing his belt, and Hanan ran forward.

"Jadwa, let's go. Ya Salim, dan Allah, kayi hakuri. Wallahi, we have visitors. Her in-laws are here," Hanan pleaded, holding Jadwa.

"Very good! I am happy to hear that!" he said, wrapping the belt in his hands.

"Move away, or I will flog both of you," Salim retorted. Hanan didn't let go of Jadwa. Instead, she got her own share of slaps from Uncle Nura, who kept shouting she had become mannerless like Jadwa.

Salim whipped Jadwa countless times, but she held it in until he kicked her in the stomach, causing her to scream. He grabbed her by her neck, making her jilbab slip from her head. He held her neck tightly and simultaneously pushed her to the wall. Jadwa's cries and whimpering were the only sounds in the house.

Hajje Amne, Hajje Hilu, Zarah, and Anaya ran into the living room. Their gasps and hushed tones barely registered in Jadwa's ears as she struggled to breathe and escape his hold.

The sisters watched with horror, Hanan's face turning red. Nura blocked all of them from moving forward. They pleaded for Salim to let her go, but it only intensified his hits.

Jadwa was clearly weak, unable to move. One of her hands pushed his face heavily, allowing her a moment to breathe. Blood dripped from her nose onto the floor.

Not long after, Salim launched at her again with full force, lashing the metal part of his belt on her legs and body. He dragged her by her jilbab, ignoring the women's voices begging him to stop.

He dragged her into the room and turned to them. "If any of you come in, just know you'll end up in the hospital today," he warned and shut the door loudly.

For the next long minutes, all they could hear were Jadwa's screams and cries until they turned into slow cries and quiet whimpers.

Anaya stood there, her eyes red and wide with fear. The others tried to call Ammi or their dad but couldn't reach anyone. Ameerah tried to reach Ahmad.

Anaya moved away from the room to the living room downstairs, dialing her brother's number. On the third ring, he answered.

[XIX]

Muhammad Imran was driving, his mind focused on fixing the rift between him and his wife. His friend Ibrahim was with him as they reached the streets of his in-laws' house to pick up his sister.

He laughed at Ibrahim's frustration about having to travel for an operation at the end of the month, coinciding with his son's birthday.

Imran's phone rang, interrupting their banter. They quieted down as he picked up.

"Lily, I'm on the street right now. I'll be there in a few," he spoke, his voice steady. "I hope you're ready," he added when he didn't hear her speak.

"Ya Moh," her voice cracked, making his face furrow with concern.

"Yes, honey, do you need anything?" he asked gently.

"Yeah, Moh, please come soon and take us away. I am so scared. I think they are going to kill her," Anaya's voice trembled with fear, making Imran's heart sink.

"What is it?" he asked, holding the phone closer to his ear.

"Jadwa... someone came and he was beating her up," Anaya said, her voice shaky, causing Imran's brow to furrow deeply.

"What?" he asked, his voice calm but his heart raced. When she didn't answer, he spoke again. "Lily, if this is a prank, drop it because I'll deal with you. Wallahi tallahi, what kind of joke is this?"

"I am not pranking you," she choked out, her voice breaking.

"Then fucking speak up!" he exclaimed his voice rising.. "Where is she now?" he asked, speeding through the gates of the house.

"He locked her in her room, and we don't know what he's doing to her," she said.

Those words made the hair on Imran's body stand on end. He felt a sickening sensation in the pit of his stomach, a feeling that made his head spin for a split second.

"Moh, what's happening? Is everything fine?" Ibrahim asked.

Muhammad Imran narrated the horror he just heard hastily.

"I'm coming. Please wait here. Call your boys," Imran said, getting out of the car without bothering to turn off the engine.

Imran walked quickly into the house, meeting Anaya in the living room. He could hear voices from where he stood and saw the refreshments laid out for visitors.

Imran didn't need to say a word; Anaya guided him up the stairs to where everyone had gathered. The sight made a knot form in his throat. He saw women rushing into a room on the side and two young men, one of whom he recognized as Jadwa's uncle. The other he didn't process, as his eyes went to his waist, where he was strapping his belt.

He heard her name being called and her small cries. He pushed the man aside and walked into the room. The moment he entered, he was engulfed by her scent, a clear indication that this was her room. The bouquet of flowers he had given her lay scattered on the floor along with a broken vase, and the women had taken off her jilbab.

He moved forward through the women, who gave him space.

He held her face, wiping the blood from her nose. Her eyes met his, and she shut them tightly. His hand caressed her face before he left her and turned to Hanan.

"What happened?" he asked, moving out of the room, his back facing the men and the women who had left to give them privacy.

Hanan stood in the middle of the doorway. "Our cousin hit her," she said simply before narrating the story, leaving out no detail.

"What are you going to do? You murderer, are you going to kill me too?" Salim shouted, coming forward. Imran remained silent, listening to Hanan. He didn't respond to Salim's taunts, remaining calm and focused on Hanan before going back into the room.

"Baby, did he do anything to you apart from this?" he asked, and Jadwa shook her head. Before Imran could say another word, Salim barged into the room, pushing Hanan hard. Nura followed him closely.

Jadwa shuddered visibly, moving away from the wall and clutching Imran's hands tightly. Imran studied her, noting her shaky hands, her bleeding ankle, and the bruise on her arm. He saw the hand marks on her neck before she hid completely behind him in fear as Salim moved closer.

"What are you going to do, you coward? When your little boys aren't here, or your soldier friend? Or do you have a gun with you?" Nura mocked. Imran picked up the jilbab from the bed and handed it to Jadwa.

"Stay here, kinji. Don't come out," he said, and she nodded.

"I'm talking to you, Muhammad! You useless little coward, son of a bitch. Your parents must be turning in their graves, ashamed of the embarrassment they left in this world," Nura spat, but Imran kept his attention on Jadwa, who wore her jilbab as he handed her a tissue from the bed.

"Your mother would have been so proud. You married a whore like her. Maybe it's a fetish you and your father share," Salim taunted, earning laughter from both Salim and Nura, but not even a glance from Imran.

Imran's calm demeanor only enraged the duo further. Salim, infuriated, tried to turn Imran by the shoulder. Imran didn't budge, but when he finally let his body turn, he delivered a powerful punch to Salim's face. Salim immediately landed on the carpet of her room. As he tried to get up, Imran landed another punch and grabbed him by the collar.

Salim wasn't lean; he was a chubby man who stood tall, but he was no match for Imran's height.

Jadwa gasped, moving to her window and covering herself with the curtains while still watching them. Imran pushed Salim against the wall next to him and landed more punches on his face.

"Why didn't you kill her before I came in?" he shouted, landing another punch. Imran's hands moved away, revealing Salim's visibly broken nose, the bone crooked to the right, and his eyes almost rolling back as if he would pass out any moment.

"Maybe it would have been worth your life," Imran said, removing the belt from Salim's waist, which he hadn't fully put back on.

Imran struck Salim with the belt repeatedly, the metal breaking off from the leather. He resorted to kicking him until Nura, paralyzed with fear, made calls. Imran's eyes focused back on Salim, dragging his weak body. Nura followed, holding onto Imran's arm.

Jadwa heard the screeching of a speeding car, momentarily distracting her and others from the blood-stained tiles and Salim's body being dragged to the front door like a rag doll. She had forgotten Nura was dragging her too, though she was walking unlike Salim.

Jadwa's body shook with fear for Salim, who seemed on the verge of passing out. The next sight made her shut her eyes and have a full-blown panic attack. She struggled to breathe as she saw Imran repeatedly slam Salim's head against the metal between the wooden door, blood splattering like a leaking pipe.
She watched as clots of blood threatened to fall and some did from the split opening on Salim's head. She felt suffocated like she was drowning in an invisible sea.

Jadwa, trembling, moved out of the door behind Imran. She was about to speak when someone pushed her aside, making her fall to the ground, gasping for air. The smell of cigarettes hit her first, followed by quick footsteps pushing Imran away, causing the lifeless body to fall next to her.

Nura's voice came sharp, "Ya kashe shi ya kashe ki! (He has killed him! Just like you did! You brought a murderer into our family, and now look! He's going to kill us too!)"

Jadwa's eyes widened in horror. It was Ibrahim, a thick brown cigar between his teeth, held Nura by the neck. He dragged him behind her, the smoke from his cigarette coming out through his nose. He took the burning part and distinguished it on Nura's lips, earning a scream of agony. He pushed him away and bent down to check Salim's pulse.

What Jadwa saw made her stomach churn. She had never seen her usually calm husband like this. She had never heard anything like this about him. She looked at Ibrahim properly, noting his white short sleeve, khaki pants, and uniform face cap. He terrified her, from his looks to his height. What she had just seen him do to Nura made it worse.

Ibrahim didn't spare her a glance before moving towards her husband, who was actively trying to move past Ibrahim's one hand holding him back from launching at Salim's body.

"Muhammad! This has happened before, you know that, right? And if this man dies, you have a whole family to look after now. You have a wife, man. It's not worth it," Ibrahim said calmly.

Imran's breath hitched as a torrent of curses ripped from his throat, each word a searing brand on the air. His head snapped up, and his gaze met Jadwa's for the first time. It was a collision, a raw exposure that left him breathless. A surge of regret, thick and acrid, clawed its way up his throat. He ran his hands over his face, scrubbing at the phantom stain of his blunder. Groaning, a low, tortured sound, escaped his lips. Every muscle in his body tensed, then coiled tight, as he paced back and forth, a caged animal trapped by his own misstep.

Two soldiers came almost running, saluting both Imran and Ibrahim. "Rush him to the nearest hospital. Make sure they attend to him quickly; we might lose him," Ibrahim ordered. In seconds, Salim's body was taken away.

Jadwa sat next to a pool of blood threatening to reach her side. She felt like throwing up, every strand of hair raised on her body. The liquid in her throat was swallowed back when Imran moved closer, her uncle's painful screams still echoing in her ears.

Imran exchanged words with Ibrahim for over five minutes while she sat there, completely zoned out and lightheaded.

"Get up," Muhammad Imran spoke, and she stood immediately. He led her into the house, where everyone stood in the main living room downstairs. She walked to her sisters, waiting for him to ask questions or say something, but he didn't. Instead, he poured himself a glass of cold water and gulped it down.

"Ya Allah, what is happening?" Hajje Amne exclaimed. She was about to speak again when he interrupted.

"I am taking my wife with me"