Dear readers,
As you start reading this chapter, I'll only ask one thing: please keep your engagements going by commenting! It goes a long way toward motivating your writer❤️

[XXVIII]

Jadwa sat there, listening to ameerah's words, they were like whispers to her, she didn't make sense of them or comprehend them, she just answered.

"Don't worry, I'll call Hajiya tomorrow InshaAllah all our planning won't go to waste" Ameerah said determined.

"Okay" was all Jadwa said absentmindedly.

"He will definitely deal with me but I've put so much effort in planning" Ameerah huffed getting up.
"Are you sure okay?" She eyed jadwa's heated face.

"Mhmm I am. Just sleepy" Jadwa said getting out of her trance.

"Don't catch a fever, you should sleep" Ameerah said, going out of the room with a suspicious smile.

Jadwa looked around the empty room, her fingers instinctively tracing the curve of her navel piercing as she recalled his touch. Alone in the quiet room, she felt no fear; she was accustomed to sleeping alone and moving freely without being tethered to anyone in the house now. Yet, whenever Imran was around, she found herself drawn to him. What began as initial fear had evolved into an almost magnetic pull, her legs carrying her after him without her conscious intent.

Jadwa shut her eyes, acknowledging the clinginess she felt. Her heartbeat quickened as her finger lingered on her lips, memories of his eyes and face flooding back. A shy smile crept across her face. He had fed her with his hands tonight, his gaze always so full of warmth. Her body found a peculiar comfort next to him, especially when he had gently caressed her waist chain. She glanced down at her gold anklets and toe rings, wondering if he'd appreciate them or even notice. She sprang up and hurried to her makeup bag, where she kept her favorite toe rings.

These rings were precious to her, a gift from her Ammi purchased at a gold shop in Oman, and she wore them only on special occasions. Jadwa chose three and decided to replace the silver rings on her left leg with gold to match the right.

Once she finished, she stared at her feet, puzzled by her sudden eagerness to impress him. Grabbing her phone, she opened Anaya's Instagram and found herself fixated on photos and videos of him. She lingered on an old video from when she first met Anaya at school—a gym photo of him. She stared a bit too intently and muttered, "Now all the girls following Anaya will see this?" Her voice carried a trace of annoyance.

It wasn't proper or appropriate. The thought disturbed her, and she wished she could remove it. She exited the app quickly, chastising herself for such thoughts.

Opening her photo album, she scrolled through her Nikkah pictures, pausing at one where he walked into the house with friends and another where he lifted her veil.

Jadwa curled up, absorbed in their pictures and their Eid photos. They appeared so familiar with each other, like a couple intertwined with each other's hearts. But they weren't—she wasn't. Now, though, it seemed she wanted it desperately.

Minutes passed as she waited for an answer from herself, but none came. She sat in stillness, grappling with her feelings.

"I can't," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

The realization hit her with force. She hadn't planned on developing feelings for him—not now, not this soon. But she knew, if she continued like this,she wouldn't be able to stop herself.

Her mind drifted back to his words. His voice echoed in her ears as he confessed his past—his prison time, his insistence on not being a victim. The sight of that terrifying scar replayed in her mind, juxtaposed with his words.

The weight of his confession settled heavily on her. The gravity of his past sunk in, the words finally processed. It was like a freight train crashing through her thoughts, leaving her heart squeezed and her mind scattered. Confusion and worry clouded her, her thoughts fragmented like a jigsaw puzzle. She should have let him explain, given him a chance to clarify. The unresolved questions gnawed at her, disrupting her ability to think clearly.

Jadwa sat up abruptly and made her way to Anaya's room, where lively chatter continued. She found a spot and sat quietly, though her mind was deafened by the echo of his confession. The laughter and conversation around her faded into the background as she sat there, her eyes closing despite the noise.

She was roused for prayer. Afterward, she remained on the prayer mat for a long time, long after Anaya and Zarah had retreated to sleep. Jadwa stared blankly at the wall, her thoughts a jumble as she struggled to piece together the fractured sense of it all. Nothing seemed to fit.

She checked her phone and saw it was almost eight in the morning. She took a long bath to try to wash it from her mind, but it didn't work. Her curiosity grew threefold. She tried to lose herself in her body care routine, but that too failed to distract her.

Jadwa wrapped herself in a towel, then dressed in simple baggy pants and a small black top. She picked out a veil and draped it before walking out of the room.

She descended the stairs, following the path that led to his door. Jadwa opened it and rang the bell.

She stood there for almost five minutes, nearly giving up, before deciding to ring it one more time. She waited, listening for any sound of footsteps, but there was none. Suddenly, the door opened abruptly, and she looked up.

He was shirtless, wearing only a pair of shorts that clung to his athletic frame. Jadwa stood there frozen, her breath catching in her throat. His expression mirrored her surprise, then softened as he cupped her face with both hands, his touch warm and reassuring.

"Are you okay?" he asked softly, a gentle smile playing on his lips. She nodded, unable to find her voice.

Bending down, he pulled her into his arms, resting his head in the crook of her neck. "My baby," he breathed lazily, "I missed you. Sorry I kept you waiting. I just got back from the gym and hopped into the shower."

"It's okay," she replied, her voice barely a whisper, as his fresh, clean scent enveloped her.

He held her a bit longer, savoring the closeness, before guiding her inside. She followed him like a puppy, her footsteps light and hesitant, until they reached his room. She perched on the side of the bed, her heart racing.

He stood over her, and she stared down at her fingers, fidgeting nervously. When she finally looked up, her gaze locked onto a scar on his chest. She reached out, tracing it gently with her fingers, as if checking to see if it hurt.

Imran caught her hand, bringing her eyes to his. He shook his head slightly to stop her and gently moved her hand to her side.

"I wanted to talk to you," she said softly, her voice trembling as she looked away from his body.

Jadwa bit her lip, chastising herself for touching him so thoughtlessly. She felt the need to apologize but couldn't find the words.

"Okay," he said, his voice calm as he moved to the closet.

He returned with a shirt, though he hadn't yet buttoned it. The fabric clung to his skin, emphasizing his muscular build.

"Help me with this," he said, and Jadwa looked up at him, her mind slowly processing his request as he sat next to her.

She quietly turned to face him, her fingers trembling as she buttoned the shirt. When she reached the top two buttons, he held her hand and asked, "What did you want to talk about?"

"Uhmmm," she began, her voice unsteady, "I am ready to listen. I want to have the conversation," she said, her fingers fidgeting nervously.

Imran sighed, then leaned his head on the headboard, taking hold of her hand.

"Are you sure?" he asked, searching her eyes for reassurance.

"Yes," she whispered, feeling a surge of determination.

"I told you, it happened a very long time ago when I was in the army," he said, his voice heavy with a burden of regret, but laced with a steely resolve. She nodded, sensing the weight of his confession.

"My friend had killed another soldier, and I was involved too. Only, I didn't end up killing the man my hands were on. It was a fight, a power struggle. I had my hands on another soldier because it was two against two. Unfortunately, my friend killed the other man."

His eyes darkened with the memory. "He went to prison, and I was crushed by the weight of guilt. I came back home, trying to settle the chaos of sharing our inheritance just so I could bail him out with what I had. But he refused. In fact, he denied coming out to see me whenever I visited."

"I was angry, frustrated, and weighed down by a crushing sense of responsibility with all the responsibilities now on me. Having to leave my job and start a new life elsewhere wasn't easy at all and I couldn't lose Ibrahim. His mom was already sick, and she was like a mother to all of us. She raised Anaya for me, and I wanted to do everything in my power to get her only son out and to make everything worse, his wife at the time gave birth to Khalifa which made everything a lot harder, especially leaving the armed forces"

His voice lowered of suppressed emotion, revealing the strain of the past. "So I decided it was time to share what my father had left for us. I insisted for everything to be shared, but my step mother and uncles kept dragging it out so we kept going back and forth but I didn't let my decision waver. I got it done."

He paused, taking a deep breath. "But it was still beyond that or trying to bail him. The victim's brother, Nabil, was doing everything to get revenge. I escaped many times, avoided him so many times, but it was an imminent threat. I couldn't prolong it. We were bound to meet."

His gaze turned over, lost in the abyss of the past, filled with a spectral dread by the memories. "It started with me alone, then towards his family, and then..." He stopped, opening a bottle of water. "Anaya."

"I was furious after hearing the insults, perverted words and rape threats towards my sister," he began, his tone sharp. Jadwa's brows furrowed in disgust and anger, yet her thumb gently caressed his hand, urging him to continue.

"I had warned him the day before it happened," he said, his eyes darkening with the memory. "I was at the barracks in Maiduguri, talking to Sadiq on the phone, when he lunged at me" he said pausing momentarily "Fortunately, I sensed his movement."

The calmness he still exuded completely shocked Jadwa as he spoke, the only thing that spoke with emotions were his eyes. "We fought physically at first. I managed to slide his gun away, not knowing he had a knife. That's when he slashed me from my neck down to my stomach."

"The blade sliced through my skin, I can remember my hot and burning blood gushing out in torrents. I felt the warmth of my own blood soaking my uniform and somehow that got me even more furious than I was, it blinded me. The pain fueled the anger inside me and it got the best of me. In that moment, I wanted him gone, I wanted him dead. The knife was still in his hand when I—" He stopped, looking down at his hands for the first time. She held them tightly, giving him the strength to go on.

"I beat him up with my bare hands. I ended him with them, to be honest, seeing him like that made me happy at that moment that the cut almost felt like nothing to me," he confessed, his voice heavy with the pleasure he once felt.

"He had stopped breathing, but I didn't stop. I didn't know if he was alive or dead; I just wanted to quench the thirst of my anger, avenge myself, for Ibrahim, my Lily, and for the victims of his brother." He searched her face and saw raw fear.

"All this happened so fast, it was so swift that In a couple of minutes, he was dead." The memory of the body laid crumpled on the floor, blood pooling around him, his eyes wide open but lifeless flashed in his eyes.

Silence enveloped them. Nothing moved, and nothing spoke.

"Jadwa, I don't want to lie to you or hide any part of myself from you. I did it, I took accountability for it and I take accountability for it, I always will. They ruled it as self-defense, but it would be hypocritical of me to say I didn't enjoy every bit of it in the moment. Even afterward, I didn't feel guilty." His words came like a wave of ice cold water drowning her making Jadwa shift for the first time, tears glistening in her eyes. What truly is this man?

"After that, what happened?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper trying to digest the gruesome words he just spoke.

"I lost a lot of blood and before I could call or do anything I collapsed and later found myself in the hospital," he said. "Then, I got arrested and went to military prison. For a year and seven months... that's after all the bail" He responded honestly.

Her grip tightened on his hand, never slipping, her every hair standing on end. Her breathing was uneven, and her nerves were frayed.

Imran stopped talking, hating dishonesty, lack of transparency, and secrecy in relationships. Especially because this was a marriage, a companionship that had become his world. Whether he liked it or not, people would rub it in his face, in his wife's face, and possibly in his children's. So he continued, opening his raw past, opening his heart and truth.

"For months, I wasn't feeling guilty. Not until I met his mother, a woman who lost two sons in the span of months," he began, his voice heavy with the weight of his confession. Jadwa's breathing grew heavier, and she shut her eyes, trying to steady herself.

"A mother lost her sons to sins that weren't meant for us to clean," he continued, as he remembered the pain etched in her face, the deep lines of grief and despair. Her eyes were hollow, red from endless nights of crying. Meeting her shattered something in he'd never be able to rebuild.

Jadwa's breath quickened, her chest rising and falling subtle with the effort to contain her emotions.

"From that day, the guilt never stopped. It haunted me for so long, for years," he said, his voice tinged with anguish despite his calmness as he remembered how he would wake up in cold sweats for years, her sorrowful eyes staring back at him in his dreams. The weight of it was unbearable, pressing down on his chest every day like a vice.

He looked at her, searching for something in her face, but only found fear and panic. Her hands trembled in his, her fingers cold and clammy.

"It wasn't until I had the forgiveness of his mother that the weight began to lift," he admitted, his voice softening. "Her words of mercy, her willingness to forgive, it was the only thing that reduced the burden. And the mercy of Allah," he added calmly.

He watched her closely, hoping for some sign of understanding, but her eyes were cast low, filled with fear and sorrow. Her hands continued to tremble, and he felt the fragility of the moment,.

Imran's gaze held hers captive, His eyes, meticulously scanned her face, etching every tremor, every subtle shift in her posture. The once vibrant color was draining from her cheeks, replaced by a sickly pallor that cast an eerie glow upon her features. Her shoulders, once squared with defiance, now slumped, bowing beneath an invisible weight that seemed to crush her from within. The physical force of her despair was a stark, silent plea, a haunting tableau that echoed in the quiet space between them. His heart clenched painfully, With a gentle tug, born of both empathy and helplessness, he released their entwined fingers, stood up and walked away.

[XXX]

Jadwa remained motionless, a statue of anguish. Minutes stretched into an eternity of stillness as she was trapped in the icy grip of confusion. Finally, with a surge of willpower, she shattered the chains of inaction that bound her. As consciousness returned, a profound realization washed over her: in the depths of her confusion and processing it, Allah's mercy dawned on her. Allah infinite mercy and forgiveness a verse came to her mind and cleared all her fears.

‎وَمَن یَعۡمَلۡ سُوۤءًا أَوۡ یَظۡلِمۡ نَفۡسَهُۥ ثُمَّ یَسۡتَغۡفِرِ ٱللَّهَ یَجِدِ ٱللَّهَ غَفُورࣰا رَّحِیمࣰا

[And whoever commits evil or wrongs themselves then seeks Allah's forgiveness will certainly find Allah All-forgiving, most Merciful]

Who was she then? To dictate or to judge?
It was as if a gentle hand had reached out to her, offering a purpose when all seemed to crush. The remembrance of Allah alone and His  Grace was a balm to her wounded soul, a promise of strength amidst the storm. In that moment of epiphany, she made her decision.

More time passed, She sat on the edge of the bed, her gaze fixed on the door, a flicker of hope dancing in her eyes. Eventually, he returned, his footsteps echoing in the quiet corridor. Over an hour had elapsed since their last conversation.

"You didn't go," he said, his eyes scanning her frame as he entered the room.

"I was waiting for you," she replied, her voice trembling slightly. "And you know... I'm scared."
She half lied, she wasn't scared.

Genuine confusion etched itself onto his face.
She offered him a timid smile. He moved closer, his shadow looming over her. "Get up. Let me walk you back to your sisters," he said.

Her hand shot out, grasping his and pulling him down to sit beside her. "You left," she whispered.

"You were scared," he answered softly, his voice filled with gentleness.

"I was," she confirmed, her voice a mere breath.

"I'll give you as much time and space as you need—" he began, but she cut him off.

"Why does a wife need that from her husband?" Her voice was steady, her gaze unwavering.
"Why would I need space and time?"

His brow furrowed as he searched for the right words. "It's been a decade, but people will still mock you for being married to me," he said, his tone serious and heavy with the truth.

"I know," she replied, meeting his gaze.

"They'll rub it in our children's faces," he continued, his eyes probing for her reaction.

"I accept it," she stated simply.

"If this becomes a reason you don't want this anymore, I'll still not let you go, I will never do that," he said, his voice filled with determination. His eyes held hers as he continued, "I'll stay selfish about you. I'm not afraid to keep chasing you until we work it out." He said, the seriousness in his voice clear as day.

A mischievous glint appeared in her eyes. Although letting him chase her sounded tempting, she voiced her thoughts. "Hmm... Will making it work from now be a bad idea, Ya Imran?" she asked, a playful tilt to her head.

A knowing smile spread across his face, the weight on his heart lifting visibly. "Not at all," he replied. She moved closer, enveloping him in a hug. His head found a resting place on her chest.

He stayed there in her hold for as long as he could before moving away. "You have not eaten," he mentioned, looking at the time.

"I want to sleep first," she said, stifling a yawn.

"Why didn't you sleep?" he asked, and she pouted slightly.

"I was busy having fun with my girls," she said, fixing her veil.

"Let me see your hair," he said, grabbing the edge of her veil.

She sat still as he took it away, then playfully shook her head to show off her braids.

"It's so tiny," he said, touching the braids. "Like you," he added, earning a glare from her.

"I am not tiny; you are just a giant," she said, making him chuckle.

"It's very beautiful, I like it," he said, making her smile.

"You are a very traditional man. Are you sure you are not older than thirty-three?" she asked, making him laugh.

"I am not," he said, distractedly tracing her braids.

"How come you have like ten occupations?" she asked, making him laugh again.

"Oh, that's what is making you think I am older?" he asked, and she nodded.

"I went to the military school really early, lost my job in my early twenties, and left the country soon after to work with the Russian intelligence alongside expanding my knowledge and eventually moving to Dubai  to teach and then after coming back this year, it was time to take lead of the family business" he said with a grin plastered on his face. "Losing both parents early made me grow up fast," he said, bringing her closer and twirling her hair in his fingers, playing with it.

"May Allah have mercy on their souls," she said, fixing the ring on her finger. "No one would have done better than you are doing," she said sincerely, wondering how he did it all, how much he worked hard and how much he hustled, she had so many questions but she left them for another day.

"Amin."

"I am sorry for touching it earlier," she said, her eyes catching the scar from neck down to where it peeked out from the undone buttons when she lifted her head.

"You can touch it whenever, but at your own risk," he said, placing her hand on his chest.

It took her a moment to understand his words after seeing the mischievous eyes he gave her, then she quickly took it away. "Are you always like this?" she asked, shutting her eyes.

"What are you thinking?" he gasped playfully, making her roll her eyes dramatically. "Your mind is so dirty" he added making her scoff unbelievably.

She got a flashback of how his dark skin glistened when he stood over her earlier at the door. His well-sculpted physique shined, revealing his strong, bulky chest, broad shoulders, and toned arms. The scar made him look extremely attractive; it looked so cool to her eyes.

Jadwa quickly shifted the thought, defending herself. "Nothing!" she pouted, earning a small peck on her lips.

"I want to sleep, Ya Imran," she said, throwing her head back in exhaustion to avoid the fluttering in her stomach.

"You are such a baby," he said, picking her up to sit on his body.

"I am not," she groaned.

"You are not my baby?" he asked, looking at her frowning face.

She ducked her head into his chest timidly. "Mmm mmm," she said, making him laugh.

His chest vibrated with laughter as he continued playing with her hair until she slept. He sat there, lost in his thoughts, until he too fell asleep.

*****

Jadwa woke up first. Unlike how she had fallen asleep, she found herself in the same position, with him mostly seated but asleep, comfortably. Her weight was as light as a feather for him.

His hands were slightly beneath her top, caressing her waist chain, and the other one was on her hair.

"You are awake," his deep, gruff, sleepy voice made her heart flip.

"I am," she said in a soft tone, her voice barely above a whisper.

"I got so lucky," he said, cuddling her more tightly, as if she might vanish.

"Why?" she asked, nestling closer, feeling the warmth of his body.

He sniffed her neck, his breath hot against her skin. "Your hair is so long, your waist is so small, and your skin is so smooth," he said sleepily, as if it was the most natural thing to say. He placed his palm at the back of her waist, pulling her closer.

Jadwa's heart sank into her stomach. His voice was the sexiest thing she had ever heard; the depth of it vibrated something deep within her.

She smiled shyly, hiding her face in his bicep. "Let me see your face," he said gently, and she tucked her head deeper, her cheeks burning with shyness.

Muhammad Imran smiled, his fingers still on her waist chain, his thumb caressing her skin with tender strokes.

A subtle silence settled between them before he surprised her with his words. "Do you really want to go back home?" he asked, his tone serious.

Jadwa tilted her head to look at him before speaking. "I do," she said, her voice steady.

"Why?" he asked, his eyes searching hers for the truth.

"Because we planned a lot, and I want to say a proper goodbye to my family," she responded honestly, her gaze unwavering.

"Hmm," he hummed thoughtfully. "Is going back three days before Hanan's event okay?" he asked, and her eyes widened with surprise.

"There's a lot we are doing, Ya Imran," she said, looking up at him with a hint of urgency.

"Like what?" he asked, genuinely curious.

"Fittings, choosing a lot of things, planning gyaran jiki, hair care, kitso; it's just a lot," she rambled, listing the tasks.

"Ahh yes, gyaran jiki. Can the women come here?" he said, placing his hand on her bare skin to feel its softness.

"No!" she exclaimed, and he chuckled at her reaction. "Please," she fluttered her lashes, trying to persuade him.

"I'll think about it. I'll let you go back, but not immediately. Just give me some time," he said, and she smiled, relief washing over her.

"Thank you," she said excitedly, holding back the urge to squeal with joy.

"You are welcome," he smiled at her excitement before checking the time.
"Baby, I need to get ready to go to the mosque," he added, gently extricating himself from their embrace.

"Okay," she said lazily, sitting up and picking her phone. She realized it was Friday and she had a few missed calls from Ameerah.

"Ameerah called me. I think I should go back now," she said, slipping off the bed and adjusting her clothes.

He escorted her to the door, watching her enter the main building before turning back to get ready.

[XXXI]

"Jadwa!" Ameerah exclaimed, eyeing her critically. "Do you know how many times I called you?"

"Sorry, Ya Imran was talking to me," Jadwa said, "and my phone was on silent."

"Get ready now. I picked out clothes for you. Hajiya is coming anytime from now," Ameerah said, looking at her with a sense of urgency.

Jadwa stood there, confused. Hajiya must be a significant figure for them. "Okay," she said her eyes moving around with confusion, making her way to the room.

She refreshed herself, splashing cool water on her face to wake up fully, and wore the deep green Ankara flare gown Ameerah had picked out for her. She tied her scarf neatly, draped the veil on her head, and sprayed her perfumes. Sitting down, she texted her brother to see what time they'd arrive.

She was about to update Ameerah about Imran's change of mind, but Ameerah was nowhere to be found until she barged into the room.

"She's here. Let's go," Ameerah said, and Jadwa nodded, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness.

"If she asks you anything about going back, just act innocent and say whatever she decides," Ameerah instructed, and Jadwa nodded again, absorbing the advice.

"But Ameerah, he said I should give him some time about it and he'll let me—" Jadwa began, but Ameerah laughed, interrupting her.

"You still don't know Ya Moh. Anything can happen, and he'll say no," Ameerah whispered as they descended the stairs. "And also, there's so much to do, you know," she giggled, her eyes twinkling with mischief.

Jadwa smiled as they entered the living room, feeling a flutter of nerves.

"Assalamu Alaykum," Jadwa said, her voice respectful and warm as she greeted the old woman seated on the couch.

"Wa Alaykum Assalam," came the dignified reply.

Ameerah moved forward, holding Jadwa's hand. She sat on the carpet, greeting Hajiya politely with her head ducked down in respect.

"MashaAllah, MashaAllah, Amaryan mu, please sit here," the old woman tapped the seat next to her wearing her glasses, and Jadwa nodded her head negatively, politely declining.

"Come on, get up," she insisted, her hand guiding Jadwa to sit next to her.

Jadwa saw her face and noticed the striking resemblance to Khalifa, Ibrahim's son. She was a beautiful old woman, clearly above seventy, with her walking stick next to her. Her fingers held Jadwa's hands as she said a few prayers for her and pulled her into a warm hug.

"Tabarallah, MashaAllah, he really got us a beautiful daughter," she said, making Jadwa smile shyly. "I've heard so much about you," the old woman chuckled. "Now I see why he couldn't stop talking about you until he married you," she said lovingly, pulling Jadwa into another hug.

Jadwa returned the hug, shyness creeping up her soul.

"Welcome to the family, but I heard my son is already giving you a hard time," she frowned dramatically, making Jadwa chuckle a little and shake her head.

"Answer me," she said, her whole aura comforting and heartwarming.

"There's nothing," Jadwa said softly, her voice barely audible.

"So you don't want to go back home? Then why is Ameerah stressing me to let you go back?" she said, making Jadwa's head shoot up in surprise.

"Hajiya, she's just shy. She really wants to go back, and Baba and Ammi are coming back at night, and he won't let her go back. Even her sisters are back," Ameerah instigated, her tone convincing.

"Oh Allah! Muhammad will be the end of me," Hajiya clapped her hands in frustration. "So because her mom and dad traveled, they can't stay at home?" Hajiya asked, and Ameerah nodded.

Jadwa gave her a side-eye, and Ameerah signaled her to go with the flow.

"Where are Anaya and the rest?" Hajiya asked.

"They are getting ready upstairs. They'll be down soon," Ameerah said.

"Don't worry, okay? He'll come back and meet me. You'll go back soon," she said, caressing Jadwa's arm soothingly.

"Thank you," Jadwa whispered with a smile, unable to meet her gaze.

Ameerah said a few more things to Hajiya in Kanuri, which definitely looked like she was feeding her more information to convince her to let them go back home so that her plans for the wedding would go as she wanted. By the old woman's expression, Jadwa could tell she was entirely convinced by whatever Ameerah was telling her.

Before they finished talking, she heard the sound of a car and her stomach flipped, her hands getting sweaty with nervousness for a reason she couldn't quite place.

Minutes later, Imran walked in with his imposing charisma, his muscles proudly displayed in the grey kaftan he wore.

He only noticed Hajiya when he walked further into the living room. Jadwa watched as a big smile graced his lips as he moved forward to hug Hajiya.

"Hajiya, what did I do to deserve seeing this beautiful face today?" he said, pinching her cheeks softly, and she swatted his hand playfully.

"Since you got me a co-wife, you forgot about me," she said, moving away from his hold.

Jadwa smiled at their banter; seeing his playful side was so refreshing.

"Da tsohuwar zuma ake magani, never heard of that?" He winked at her, making her eye him suspiciously.

"Lies! When you have this angel, how will you remember my wrinkly face?" she said, and Jadwa blushed at her comment, even though she couldn't agree with the wrinkle comment; she was a stunning woman.

"You are my first love; Jadwa can't come between us, right, Jadwa?" he asked, and Jadwa nodded agreeably, her cheeks flushing.

"I am tired of your flattery. I am here to talk to you!" she said, her tone turning serious.

Imran sat on the carpet facing Hajiya, thinking it'd just be her usual rants or marital advice. He braced himself, knowing that whenever Hajiya had that tone, it was something important.

"Ai nan karo mana fanum ba? Lenum fero amma gonimin." 
(Why do you not listen? You went ahead to take someone's daughter like that?)

"Hajje, a kai gi de." 
("Hajiya, it's not like that.")

"Mana fantu ba wan g na diya, fero diya fatoro yade." 
(I don't like stubbornness, take the girl home.)

"Nyi karama? Ai nankaro mana fanum ba Di? Fero amma napkata sha gonum kudimin? Sha fanzan wazana yediye."
(Are you a vampire? Why don't you listen? Why would you just go and take her, just like that? As if they don't love her at home.)

"Hajiya wa fane do," Imran said, his brows furrowed as he placed a hand on hers. (Hajiya, let me explain)

Jadwa looked at Ameerah in pure confusion. Ameerah called her, and they quickly left the room, giving them privacy.

"Chim zakkne! Halnum non g na. Yo wallahi kla chibbu numdi na lan dazina Muhammad. Nyi ro karunum bannan giya wanuma ma sha kallanne nyi ro amarya kelewa lan sauda." 

(Keep shut! I know you and I know how you are. Your stubbornness stops here, Muhammad. If you don't want me to unleash my anger on you, return the girl so they bring her properly.) Hajiya's voice raised slightly, making Ameerah tense from the stairs and thanking Allah Jadwa couldn't understand the language.

Hajiya continued unleashing her warnings in full when their figures disappeared. "Chaman lorusa Di ramma do kuredin wam? Fero shawa ruma Di dole kelam furumtin! Amman ai nankaro sha kudumin lorusa Di shawaro tartai Di? Sha lallane kau karu num bannan gin duro." 
("You want marriage this bad but you refused before? You saw a beautiful girl of course your head is bound to turn but why will you bring her without her having a proper wedding and conveyance? Return her before I deal with you.") She warned, taking breaths in between her words and glaring at him while  Imran sat there, his mood already ruined knowing exactly who plotted this.

He listened to Hajiya as she continued her scoldings until he gave up trying to explain. He knew exactly why Ameerah ran to Hajiya; she knew Hajiya was the only living being who could talk him out of any decision he made.

Hajiya got up after one last warning, and he kept following her with apologies until she entered the car waving his words off.

"When they bring my daughter-in-law to your house, bring her and all her sisters. I really like her," she said, instantly switching to the usual sweet woman she was.

"InshaAllah," he ground out, his voice a harsh tone that belied the simmering frustration within. His face, earlier open and inviting, was now a mask of forced willingness, his eyes narrowing into slits as he glared at the closed door. His shoulder muscles slumped, a physical manifestation of his surrender, but the tension in his jaw betrayed the internal battle raging within. With a dramatic sigh, he uttered another apology, his voice devoid of sincerity. The moment the door clicked shut, his carefully constructed facade crumbled. A scowl twisted his lips as he turned and stalked back into the house, the heavy slam of the front door a punctuation mark to his growing irritation as he walked up to meet his wife and sisters.

Credits for the Kanuri and translations belong to the kindest ameenaarfo  check out her amazing book! she went all out to make this chapter come to you all early❤️