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❤️

[XXXIII]

Imran marched straight to the upstairs living room, his footsteps heavy with purpose. When he entered, he found them all seated on the carpet, speaking in hushed tones. Their eyes betrayed the guilty conscience that weighed on them, each glance flickering with the weight of something unspoken. His gaze zeroed in on Ameerah and Anaya, sharp as daggers.

Jadwa watched him from where she sat. As soon as his eyes turned toward her, she quickly looked down, her fingers nervously tracing the intricate pattern on her Ankara fabric. Her heart beat faster, a steady drum of anxiety that made her stomach churn. Though she felt oddly calmer than Ameerah and Anaya, who had been panicking ever since they retreated upstairs, she couldn't shake the unease that gripped her.

"Who called Hajiya among the two of you?" Imran asked, his voice low but filled with a quiet menace.

The room fell into a brief but palpable silence before Ameerah finally spoke, her tone measured and careful, as though she was treading on thin ice. "I did."

"Why?" he demanded, his tone growing sharper, cutting through the tension like a blade.

Ameerah didn't respond, her silence speaking volumes. Anaya, perhaps sensing the mounting pressure, decided to step in. "Ya Moh, we are sorry—" She cut herself off abruptly, causing Jadwa to glance up in curiosity, her eyes meeting Anaya's before quickly dropping back down.

Imran's tone grew even more taut, his voice low and gruff. "When did you two start making decisions for me? When did you gain the right to take steps for this household, let alone concerning what's between my wife and me?" His words dripped with irritation, the accusation clear in his voice.

"We are sorry," they murmured, their voices so faint that even Jadwa, seated close by, could barely catch the words.

"And you," he continued, his gaze narrowing on Ameerah. "When did I start playing games with you?" Ameerah recoiled slightly, knowing full well that his words were aimed directly at her. Imran struggled to control his annoyance, not wanting to scare his wife more than he already had. But despite his effort, his frustration was evident—he was just as upset with Jadwa, if not more.

"Whatever event, wedding plans, or whatever nonsense pushed you to this, put a stop to it. Cancel everything." His command was final, leaving no room for argument. Jadwa's head shot up, her eyes darting between him and the others. She searched their faces for any sign of resistance or shock, but there was none. All she saw was the fear in their eyes, a fear that made her stomach knot.

"You're getting ready and running up and down to prepare to go back to your husband's house while plotting to take away my wife?" His voice was cold, and his gaze bore into Ameerah, making her stiffen. "Pack your things and leave this house before I come back. If not, let's see how you'll go back to your husband," he warned, his tone so chilling that it sent shivers down Jadwa's spine.

His eyes flicked briefly to Jadwa before settling on Anaya. "You too, Lily, pack your things and follow her before I deal with you. I don't want to see you and Ameerah here since you both lack common sense," he added, his voice unnervingly calm, the kind of calm that hid a storm beneath it.

Neither Ameerah nor Anaya dared to reply or argue. They knew it was wiser to stay silent. Jadwa, on the other hand, avoided his eyes, unable to look at him even once. The weight of his words pressed down on her, and she knew from his tone that they had messed up badly.

"Get out of my sight," he ordered, his voice harsh and final. Ameerah and Anaya scrambled to their feet, moving quickly. His gaze lingered on Jadwa, who seemed to think that she, too, was included in his command. But he could never speak to her like that, no matter how angry he was.

"Jadwa, come here," he said, his tone softening slightly, though the edge of anger still lingered. She got up and approached him, her steps hesitant.

She expected him to ask her questions or to address the issue that had brought about this confrontation, but he did none of that. The whole time, her eyes avoided his, though she could feel his gaze on her, heavy and intense.

"I'll come back home after Isha," he said, his voice steady. "Leave Hanan and Zarah with Fatima and go back to my place when the two are leaving." Before she could answer, he turned and walked out of the living room, leaving her standing there, the scent of his cologne lingering in the air like a ghost.

Jadwa remained rooted to the spot, trying to digest his words. First, he was essentially sending the girls away. Second, he was making them cancel all their events. And third, he wasn't letting her go home. A rush of mixed emotions surged through her—confusion, worry, and something else she couldn't quite place. She didn't have time to process these feelings fully before she found herself moving, following the girls to the room they had retreated to.

When she entered the room, she saw Ameerah sitting on the bed, her eyes void of their usual spark. Anaya leaned her back against the headboard, the same sadness reflected in her expression. Hanan and Zarah must have heard about Imran's decision because they, too, wore the same look of concern, their faces etched with quiet disappointment.

Jadwa felt something shift inside her, a strange, unfamiliar sensation. It wasn't just the disappointment she felt in sync with the others; it was something more, a new sense of responsibility that made her chest tighten. It was as though it was now up to her to fix things, to reverse his words. He was her husband, after all, and she was his wife—a title that now seemed to weigh heavily on her shoulders. The many eyes on her, filled with unspoken expectations, nearly overwhelmed her.

Ameerah was on the verge of tears, the silence in the room almost suffocating. The pregnancy hormones were clearly taking their toll, amplifying her emotions to the breaking point. A single tear slipped from Ameerah's eye, and Jadwa quickly moved to her side, bending down to gently wipe the tear away. "Please don't cry," Jadwa said softly, her voice filled with a tenderness that belied her own inner turmoil. She searched for the right words to console her, to make this right.

"I'll talk to him when he comes back," she promised, her voice soft yet firm. Ameerah looked like she wanted to say something, but Jadwa shook her head gently.

"I promise, he'll come around," Jadwa reassured her, though deep down, the reassurance was as much for herself as it was for them. She couldn't bear to watch everything unravel, especially not after all the effort the girls had put in.

"You should even stop by and do your fittings," she added with a small, teasing smile, trying to lighten the mood, though she knew it was a difficult task. Ameerah looked at her with wide eyes, disbelief coloring her expression.

"You want us to jump from the frying pan into the fire?" Hanan spoke up, a small chuckle escaping her lips, causing Anaya to smile faintly.

"Just trust me, right, Ameerah?" Jadwa said, wiggling her brows in a playful attempt to cheer her up, hoping to draw out even the tiniest smile.

"I don't know what you're going to do, but please talk your husband out of this," Ameerah said, her voice tinged with a desperate plea, her glare softening into a look of hope. Zarah laughed out loud at Ameerah's expression, the tension in the room lifting slightly as the girls joined in.

"I'm not him, you know," Jadwa replied, throwing her head back in laughter, the sound of it breaking through the lingering heaviness in the room.

"Please, Jadu, you should try," Anaya said, her voice earnest. Jadwa nodded, her laughter fading as she realized the seriousness of the situation. "I will try my best," she promised, though deep down, she knew the challenge ahead was daunting.

"You know your brother, Anaya. Let's just accept this and move on," Ameerah said with a small, resigned scoff as she got up from the bed.

Jadwa watched the girls, their earlier optimism quickly dissipating as they fell back into their sour moods. She herself, deep down, knew that the most she could hope for from Imran was silence. But she said nothing, quietly observing as they got ready and made their way out of the house, the weight of what had just happened settling heavily on her shoulders.

[XXXIII]

Jadwa sat on the couch, her phone in hand as she aimlessly scrolled through her social media feed. The house was eerily quiet, save for the occasional creak of the old wood beneath her. It wasn't until she heard the front door creak open that her attention snapped to the clock. It was past five.

Jadwa jumped up from her seat, her heart picking up pace, and quickly made her way down the stairs. As she descended, she caught sight of Fatima walking slowly, her hand resting on her waist as if she was supporting herself with each step.

"Welcome back," Jadwa greeted warmly, her voice filled with concern as she enveloped Fatima in a gentle hug. "You look exhausted."

Fatima chuckled breathlessly, the fatigue clear in her eyes. "Thank you, Jadu. I really am," she admitted as they made their way towards Fatima's side of the house. The climb up the stairs seemed to drain her even further.

Jadwa glanced at her with a worried expression. "Sorry, but isn't it time for you to take a break from work?" she asked, her voice laced with genuine concern.

Fatima let out a light laugh, though it was strained. "I'm still in my second trimester," she said, but when she saw Jadwa's eyes widen at the sight of her bump, she added, "Twins."

Jadwa gasped audibly, her excitement bubbling over. "Oh my God, that's so cute! MashaAllah," she exclaimed, her eyes sparkling with joy.

Fatima's tired smile widened, the excitement contagious. "But it's not easy at all," she admitted, her hand unconsciously rubbing her growing belly.

"Oh no," Jadwa responded, her eyes fixated on the bump, imagining the tiny lives growing inside.

Fatima noticed the awe in Jadwa's eyes and couldn't help but tease her. "With how much you're in awe, we should expect you to join the club soon."

Jadwa laughed, waving off the suggestion with a dismissive hand. "Nooo," she chuckled, shaking her head at the unbelievable notion.

The house was still unusually quiet, and Fatima's curiosity got the best of her. "Where are Ameerah and the rest? The house is so quiet."

"They left..." Jadwa's voice trailed off, and before she knew it, she found herself recounting everything that had happened to Fatima.

Fatima's eyes widened in shock as they reached the top of the stairs. "You're joking. They didn't," she exclaimed, struggling to wrap her mind around the situation.

"We did," Jadwa confirmed, biting her lip anxiously.

Fatima's disbelief quickly turned to understanding. "He must be so pissed. No wonder," she said, the gravity of the situation settling in.

"He definitely is," Jadwa sighed, frustration seeping into her voice. "I don't know how to go about it."

Fatima thought for a moment, her brow furrowing. "Hmm, you can try. Maybe he'll come around," she suggested, though her tone was uncertain.

"How?" Jadwa asked, her desperation evident.

Fatima paused, searching for a solution. "He likes your food, so maybe make something for him? And look good?" she proposed, though her idea was tentative. "It always works for me, but I don't know... Ya Moh is a bit more rigid," she sighed.

Jadwa chuckled lightly. "I was thinking of doing the same, but I'm not sure if it will cut it," she admitted, her voice tinged with doubt.

"You can just try, honestly," Fatima shrugged, knowing full well how much Imran was into Jadwa. There was no way he would make life hard for her.

After a moment of consideration, Jadwa agreed. She decided she would cook, and Fatima eagerly helped her plan a menu. They settled on traditional Arabian rice with grilled chicken, a Fattoush salad with pomegranates, shrimp mayonnaise spring rolls—which Fatima revealed were one of Imran's favorites—and a coconut lychee cocktail for the drink.

Jadwa spent hours in the kitchen, cooking with a sense of purpose that helped to calm her nerves. It wasn't until it was past Maghrib that she finally went upstairs to choose an outfit. She stood in front of box, staring at the options laid out before her.

"What do wives even wear to impress husbands?" she muttered to herself, frustration mounting as she compared the two dresses in front of her. Clearly, this married life was going to be more exhausting than she had imagined.

She picked up a sparkly dinner dress that practically screamed for attention but quickly folded it back into the box, opting instead for a more understated black dress.

Jadwa stepped into the bathroom, refreshing herself before applying the fragrant oils and designer perfumes that Ameerah had gifted her. She then slipped into the black dress, feeling its soft fabric glide over her skin. The dress had a pretty wavy neckline, tight from her bust to her waist before flaring out down to her ankles. A dramatic slit ran down the front, and the back was daringly open, stopping just above the dimples of her lower back.

She stood in front of the mirror, taking in her reflection as she carefully styled her edges and let her hair cascade down her back. It was almost seven. She whispered a small prayer under her breath before practically running down the stairs to his side of the house.

The door was unlocked, and she let herself in, arranging the food and lighting the bakhoor burner that Fatima had given her. The scent of the incense filled the room, blending with the aromas of the food she had prepared.

She set the table meticulously, making sure everything was perfect. Then she sat down, waiting anxiously for the sound of his car. Time seemed to stretch, each minute adding to her nervousness until, finally, she heard the familiar rumble of his car engine, followed by the solid thud of the car door.

His footsteps echoed down the hall, and Jadwa jumped to her feet, moving quickly to the door. She opened it with a wide, toothy smile, hiding the rest of her body behind the door in an attempt to appear demure.

Imran stepped inside, his expression unreadable, but he nodded at her smile before moving further into the house.

Jadwa locked the door, feeling the weight of his gaze on her. She ran a hand through her braids, trying to calm her nerves as she greeted him. He responded simply, his tone neutral, as he moved deeper into the room.

She could tell he was still in a bad mood. His body language was stiff, his movements purposeful but lacking in warmth.

"You kept me waiting," she said, wrapping her arms around him in a hug. He didn't return it at first, but then he placed one hand lightly on her back before speaking.

"I said I was coming back after Maghrib," he replied as she released him from the embrace.

"Sannu da zuwa," she said, her smile unwavering despite the uninterested look on his face.

He moved further into the living room, the scent of bakhoor mingling with her perfume, enveloping him. The beautiful scent held on to his mind, lingering even as he tried to focus on something else. His eyes flicked to the table, where the food was neatly arranged. But instead of sitting down, he made his way towards the stairs.

"You should eat first," Jadwa said softly, her voice almost a plea as she took hold of his hand.

For the first time, Imran really looked at her, his eyes scanning her face for longer than a second. He noticed the smile that seemed permanently fixed on her lips, and though he still felt the weight of his irritation, he allowed her to lead him back to the table without putting up a fight.

[XXXIV]

He sat down and was about to serve himself when she stopped him, taking the initiative to serve his food and pour him a drink. He remained silent, his gaze fixed on her, taking in her entire figure from head to toe. Despite the way her dress clung to her body and her back was exposed, Jadwa remained composed, continuing her task unaffected by the intensity of his gaze.

As she placed the plate in front of him, she avoided meeting his eyes and walked around the table to get ice from the fridge in the kitchen. She returned and sat quietly, watching him eat, while her mind was occupied with the email from the photographer she desperately wanted to hire for her post-wedding pictures. She bit her lip in frustration, realizing how tight the schedule was and how she might miss this opportunity, especially since she couldn't proceed with the payment due to her husband's earlier decision.

Imran noticed the discomfort on her face as she looked at her phone but didn't bother asking about it, continuing to eat in silence. Jadwa, hoping to start a conversation and ease the tension, asked, "Can I taste your salad?" as she stood up.

Imran watched her walk over to him slowly, standing in front of him. He looked at the untouched salad and then up at her, his eyes demanding her attention. "Sit," he said, motioning to the seat beside him. But Jadwa, misunderstanding his instruction, shyly sat on his lap instead.

Imran's jaw worked slightly as he realized her genuine misunderstanding, but he allowed her to stay, enjoying the scent that emanated from her. She picked up his fork and took a small bite of the salad, humming in appreciation. "It's really good," she said, making him huff.

He knew she had prepared everything on the table, including the salad and the drink. Imran snatched back his fork and continued eating, ignoring her presence on his lap until she shifted closer to him, leaning in.

"What is it, Jadwa?" he asked, still not looking at her.

"Mm mm," she hummed, snuggling into his chest.

"Tell me or let me finish my food peacefully," he said in a flat tone.

"Finish your food," she replied, rolling her eyes with a smile as she noticed how hard he was trying to be dismissive. Yet his hand found its way to her open back, his fingers tracing the soft skin on her back dimples and waist chain.

He continued eating quietly, but when he was halfway through, he brought a bite to her mouth, which she took, chewing slowly and savoring the burst of flavor.

Jadwa couldn't help but wonder if something was wrong with the food since he hadn't complimented it or said anything at all. The small frown on his face gave her some explanation.

"Is someone disturbing you?" he asked, glancing down at her phone.

"No," she quickly replied, and he nodded, looking away from her and back to his plate.

Jadwa's hand went to his neatly trimmed beard, caressing it gently. "My dream photographer is about to slip right through my fingers," she sighed.

Imran hummed, sipping his drink. "Why?" he asked, making Jadwa look at him in disbelief. 'Why?'

"We were supposed to pay him today to secure a date within the week, but you asked us to cancel everything," she said in the softest, most innocent voice she could muster.

Jadwa herself was surprised by the new femininity this man was bringing out in her. Her heart skipped a beat as she waited for his response, his hand still tracing circles on her back. She couldn't read his expression, and his silence only heightened her anxiety, hoping she wouldn't anger him like she did the last time she tried to talk him out of something.

"How much is it?" he finally asked.

"I'm not sure..." Jadwa started, scrolling through her email to find the pricing guide.

"Send me the invoice," he said, returning to his food.

Jadwa's eyes widened in surprise, and a big smile spread across her face. She was about to express her gratitude when Imran shoved a spoonful of rice into her mouth, cutting her off. "Stop smiling," he said, his tone teasing but his expression still serious.

Jadwa stifled a laugh, trying not to choke as she chewed. She cleared her throat, releasing her hands from his neck, and sat up straight on his lap, swinging her legs.

"Get your things ready. As soon as I come back from the mosque, we're leaving," Imran said, making her neck snap back to face him with a look of pleasant shock.

Jadwa tried to read his face, wondering if he was serious, and yes, he was dead serious. She stared at him as he finished the last bite of his meal and took a sip of his drink.

He brought her closer with one hand while placing the glass on the table with the other. "Or do you have ulterior motives for staying?" he asked, his hand sliding to the slit in her dress.

"No," Jadwa defended herself, trying to move quickly, but the sound of her anklet filled the room.

Imran pinned her back in place, She crossed her legs, the jingle of her anklet a sharp contrast to the quiet intensity of the moment. His gaze dropped to the silver chain, and his fingers, slow and deliberate, traced the line where her dress parted, following the curve of her ankle.

Jadwa's heart pounded in her ears. A shiver, electric and involuntary, coursed through her body, from the crown of her head to the sensitive skin behind her knee. His touch was like a brand, searing a path of sensation.

His other hand found her bare back, a reminder to curse herself of her impulsive decision to wear this dress. The soft material brushed against his skin, and she imagined the heat radiating from his palm.
"You're testing my patience," he murmured, his breath warm against her ear. A shiver ran down her spine.

"Ya Imran, I—" she began, but his lips found her ear, silencing her words. The kiss was a gentle invasion, a prelude to what was to come.
His hands moved to her thighs, lifting her until she faced him. Her knees parted, and their bodies were dangerously close.
Her eyes pleaded, but his only response was a low, encouraging hum for her he to speak.

She closed her eyes, surrendering to the storm of sensations that consumed her. His lips trailed down her neck, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. When his mouth found the a spot on her neck, she gasped, arching into his touch. Her hands gripped his shoulders as the world narrowed to the intense pleasure and growing desperation that simple touch caused.

For what felt like an eternity, they were lost in the dance of fondle desire. His breath was ragged, his body taut with restraint. Finally, he pulled back, his eyes filled with a mix of frustration and desire.

"I can't be the only one suffering," he said, his voice low and husky.

Jadwa's gaze dropped to his chest. She couldn't meet his eyes. Her eyes timidly dropped to his chest, refusing to meet his gaze.

Imran held her close, his hands caressing her back as though to calm her down, his own heart pounding in his chest.

A few minutes later, the adhan sounded from her phone, signaling the time for prayer. "Get up," he said softly, and she did, feeling his gentle kiss on her shoulder as she moved away.

She fixed her dress, avoiding his eyes, though she could feel them lingering on her. As she turned to leave, his hand circled her shoulder, guiding her toward the main building.

She waited for him to let her go, but instead, he lowered himself to her height and whispered, "Change into something more appropriate. We're meeting my in-laws."

Jadwa narrowed her eyes at him, feeling a mixture of confusion and frustration. She tried to pull away, but he continued, "Unless you have other plans for the night, considering how much effort you put into impressing me today."

Jadwa silently cursed herself for her ideas, nodding simply before dragging her legs into the house, taking the stairs that led to her room.

She stood by the mirror, carefully cleaning her waterline with a cotton bud, pushing away every thought of him that clouded her mind. Her reflection revealed the struggle within, but she refused to let it show. With swift movements, she slipped out of the dress, not giving herself a moment to hesitate. The first Ankara bubu she laid eyes on was the one she chose, slipping into it with a practiced ease. She wrapped her head tie in a simple, effortless manner, draping her veil over her shoulders, its fabric barely settling before she was already moving on.

She might have searched for something else, something more fitting, but her mind was too cluttered to care. Thankfully, everything she needed was in its proper place, so she merely dragged them down, as though on autopilot.

When she descended the stairs, she found Fatima engrossed in a show. The moment Fatima saw her, her face lit up with a huge smile.

"It worked!" Fatima squealed, her voice filled with triumph. Jadwa couldn't help but chuckle.

"Even the toughest men are just men at the end of the day," Fatima said with an incredulous laugh, to which Jadwa nodded shyly, a slight blush creeping up her cheeks.

"All thanks to you and your help," Jadwa said warmly, pulling Fatima into a grateful hug, one that spoke volumes of the bond they shared.

Their conversation had deepened into the plot of the show, laughter and giggles filling the room, when Imran returned. His presence was announced by the creak of the door and a familiar greeting.

******

"Assalamu Alaykum," he called out as he entered.

"Wa Alaykum Assalam," Fatima replied with her usual cheer, and Jadwa's voice followed softly, almost as an afterthought.

"Fati, how are you?" Imran asked, his gaze shifting to Fatima, his concern evident in the furrow of his brows.

"I am good, Yaya," she answered, her smile reassuring, but Imran's worry wasn't so easily dispelled.

"Sure? Sadiq mentioned he was going to get some medicine," Imran said, his concern for her undeniable.

"Don't mind him," Fatima chuckled, waving it off. "They're just supplements for the baby," she added, and he smiled, though the worry didn't completely fade.

"You two are definitely a match made in heaven, equally dramatic," he teased, shaking his head with a laugh, a sound that made Jadwa smile at their easy banter.

"You're taking my friend away, Ya Moh," Fatima said, her tone playful but with a hint of sadness.

"No, Fati. Maybe this friend of yours is allergic to your house," Imran retorted, sending a pointed look to his wife. Jadwa, feeling the weight of his gaze, looked away, unable to meet his eyes.

"She's coming back soon anyway, so let her enjoy the little time she has," Fatima laughed, and Imran nodded in agreement.

"Better advise her to drop this jan aji, because she's going to be here forever," he grumbled, grabbing Jadwa's bags with a dramatic sigh.

"You hear your husband, Jadu," Fatima laughed, shaking her head, and Jadwa joined in, her laughter more subdued, tinged with shyness.

"Madam, Bismillah," he said, frowning slightly as he motioned for her to get up. Jadwa gave Fatima one last warm, tight hug before saying her goodbyes and following Imran out the door.

[XXXV]

He opened the car door for her, and they drove away in a peaceful silence. She felt his eyes on her many times, but she pretended not to notice, lost in her thoughts until they reached the familiar street of her parents' house. A rush of excitement surged through her, a wave so strong she almost wanted to jump out of the car. She was barely able to contain her happiness as they pulled into the driveway.

When they finally parked, Jadwa reached for the door, only to find it locked. "Relax," Imran said, his hand moving to the back of her neck, his touch gentle, yet firm. He caressed her neck softly, and she looked at him, confused, her thoughts flashing back to what had happened between them earlier.

"Are you sure you want to meet Ammi and Uncle like this?" he asked, raising a brow. She instinctively reached for her neck, her fingers brushing over the spot where his hand had been.

He reached forward and flipped down the sun visor, revealing the mirror. She stared at her reflection, a lump forming in her throat. Embarrassment washed over her, nearly suffocating her, but she quickly composed herself, lifting her veil and wrapping it securely around her head and shoulders.

"You're so evil," she whispered under her breath, rolling her eyes in exasperation.

"What was that?" he asked, his tone light, but there was an edge to it. She rolled her eyes again, this time looking away from him.

"I can still see you, Jadwa," he said, closing the mirror with a smirk. "You heard Fatima—only two weeks left. I'll see how you'll run away from me, or try to make life hell for me, and go scot-free." His voice was low, a challenge veiled in his words. She glanced at him, disbelief in her eyes.

"I didn't do anything," she protested, her smile innocent, as though butter wouldn't melt in her mouth.

"Yeah, I'm not doing anything, too," he shot back, his smile mirroring hers for a fleeting moment before his expression hardened again, his gaze cold and unreadable. It was almost as if he was mocking her.

She could tell he was still upset with her, but she could only care less—she was back, and that's all that mattered. He unlocked the door, but she hesitated, almost stunned by his actions. This man was probably bipolar, she thought, only just beginning to figure him out.

Imran moved to her side and opened the door for her. She stepped out, and they walked into the house together. As soon as they entered, the familiar scent of bakhoor filled the air, wrapping around them like a warm embrace. Jadwa turned to Imran, her face breaking into a huge smile.

"I've never seen you smile this much in my life," he remarked, glaring at her with a teasing edge before he sat down, offering a perfunctory "Salam," which she answered.

Jadwa pouted at his sulking, fixing her veil as she watched him tap the seat next to him. She barely had time to respond before she heard footsteps approaching. Her excitement bubbled over, and she leapt up, rushing towards Ahmad with a squeal of delight. She threw her arms around him, hugging him tightly, and he returned the hug with a burst of laughter.

Imran watched the scene unfold with surprise. Her excitement was infectious, as though she hadn't seen her family in ten years.

"Ya Ahmad!" she cooed, hugging him again, her joy overflowing. Ahmad held her close, glancing at Imran with an apologetic smile.

"Jadwa, you're a big woman now. Stop acting like a child," Ahmad teased, pushing her away playfully. She giggled, her laughter light and carefree.

"I missed you," she said, her voice softening, and he nodded, mouthing an "I missed you too" before turning to Imran, offering a handshake and a brotherly hug.

"How was your flight?" Imran asked as they sat back down.

"Alhamdulillah. How's the family?" Ahmad inquired, a hint of concern in his tone. "I heard they gave you quite the headache," he added with a laugh, and Imran sighed deeply.

"Do me a favor and scold your wife to stay away from these girls before she spoils them," Imran said, frustration lacing his voice, earning a roar of laughter from Ahmad.

Imran shook his head, looking away, clearly not in the mood to entertain the fun everyone else seemed to be having at his expense. His irritation grew as he watched them practically steal his woman from him.

"Don't worry, I gave her a stern word," Ahmad said, recovering from his laughter. "I can't believe she went to Hajiya," Ahmad added, and Imran nodded in agreement.

"I don't know how you deal with that girl," Imran muttered, and Ahmad smiled, casting a glance at Jadwa.

"She's still yet to unleash her natural powers of stubbornness, I guess," Ahmad joked.

"You don't want to hear it, Ahmad," Imran sighed heavily.

Jadwa sat there, listening to them discuss her and her sisters as though she wasn't even there, but she didn't mind.

"I'm offended you sent my wife and Lily away like that," Ahmad quipped, throwing in a joke to lighten the mood.

"I gave them what they wanted," Imran replied, a hint of resignation in his tone, and Ahmad nodded in agreement just as Baba entered the living room.

Imran stood up respectfully, shaking Baba's hand. Baba smiled warmly, patting Imran on the shoulder before his gaze shifted to Jadwa.

"Jadu na!" Baba greeted cheerfully, and Jadwa's face lit up, her smile stretching from ear to ear as she moved to greet her father. He enveloped her in a fatherly hug, one she was reluctant to release him.

Jadwa shook her head shyly before speaking again. "Hope you had a great flight. I am so happy to see you." Ignoring his tease completely, she blabbered away while Imran moved back and settled on the carpet.

"Jadu, I was away for just a little while," Baba said, and she frowned.

Imran watched as Jadwa transformed into a complete child, almost as if she were Anaya's age. The scene unfolding before him was a whirlwind of her blabbering, smiling, and running off to see her Anmi. Imran almost scoffed at her excitement, in than a week, she could probably give her family the impression that he was mistreating her.

"Muhammad," Baba called, drawing Imran's attention. "Don't mind Jadu and her childishness," he said, and Imran smiled as he watched her figure disappear from view.

Baba insisted that Imran sit on the couch, but eventually, Imran gave in and took a seat in the chair.

******

They exchanged pleasantries and discussed business matters, including Ahmad, the tension in the air palpable. Finally, the main topic surfaced.

Baba's voice was low, a stark contrast to the casual atmosphere. His eyes, filled with a storm of emotions, locked onto Imran's. "I want to say I am highly disappointed, and especially, I must apologize as a family—not just for what was done to my daughter, but for what was said to you, Muhammad," he began, his jaw tightening. Imran sat forward, his attention undivided.

"I will handle this issue. It is not acceptable at all," Baba declared, his voice rough with anger.

Ahmad nodded solemnly, his expression mirroring Baba's gravity. "I have already made some calls, and by morning, I will have all of them locked up," he added, his tone final.

Imran met Baba's gaze, his own eyes steady. "Uncle Hafiz, I understand your anger, but I promise you, there is nothing to worry about. We have settled everything," he assured him, his voice firm. He leaned forward, emphasizing his point. "No one will do this again, ever."

Baba fell silent, a flicker of pain passing across his face. He was reliving the explosive phone call with Hajiya Rauda, his sister. The memory of his rage, of finally severing the ties that had bound him to guilt, was still fresh.

"Muhammad, your anger may be justified, but please avoid taking matters into your own hands," Baba advised, his voice softening. He reached out and clapped Imran's shoulder, a gesture of paternal concern. "Anything could have happened, and you might find yourself stuck in that same situation again, especially now that you have a wife." A wry smile touched his lips. "You'll soon have kids running around here. Remember, you are bigger and stronger than the average man," he joked, a chuckle escaping his lips. Ahmad and Imran returned his laughter, the tension in the room easing slightly.

Baba continued to joke, the atmosphere lightening considerably.
Imran relaxed, a visible weight lifting from his shoulders. He reiterated his reassurance, determined to calm Baba's fears.
The conversation turned back to business, Imran's voice filled with the details of the farm's challenges. Baba listened intently, offering suggestions and advice.

When it was time to part ways, Baba stood, his expression sincere. "Thank you so much, Son. My daughters had the most comfortable and amazing stay at your home, and we are eternally grateful for your help," he said, his voice warm with appreciation.

"Stop thanking me, Baba," Imran replied, deliberately using 'Baba' to remind him that he was both his son and son-in-law.

Baba smiled and got up, walking away and leaving Imran and Ahmad to continue their conversation.

After Baba left, Ahmad led Imran upstairs, where they found Jadwa nestled on Ammi's lap. Anaya clung to Jadwa's hands, as if arguing about something, while the other girls chattered so loudly that they didn't notice their entrance.

As soon as Imran greeted them, the room quieted down. Ammi nudged Jadwa aside, eliciting a groan from her.

"Muhammad!" Ammi exclaimed with the biggest smile on her face. "I am so happy to see you, my son," she said, and Imran returned her smile as she moved forward and enveloped him in a motherly hug.

Jadwa took a seat beside the chair from which Ammi had just risen, and they all exchanged pleasantries. Once Ammi settled back, Jadwa tried to cling to her again, only to be gently pushed away.

"Ke ko kunyan mai gidan ki bakya ji? (Aren't you even shy in front of your husband?)" Ammi said, causing Jadwa to pout in disappointment.

Imran watched Jadwa's childlike antics, then shifted his gaze to Anaya and Ameerah, who were laughing together. He silenced them with a pointed look.

Zara gave him a fist bump, and Hanan greeted him, bringing refreshments.

"We ate at home," Imran said, declining the refreshments politely. Nonetheless, Ammi insisted he sit and chat with her for over thirty minutes, feeding him traditional sweets and snacks before he finally decided to take his leave.

"Ammi, I'll take my leave now; it's getting late," he announced, rising.

"Toh Muhammad, I set my rules for Jadwa earlier. As per our tradition, the husband can't see the wife before the wedding. So, after those pictures they've been insisting on snapping, there will be no further contact," she said firmly. Imran watched her with an amused expression.

The last time he checked, his wife was half Lebanese and half Hausa from Zamfara, so he wondered where this Maiduguri culture was coming from.

"You are from here, and so am I; you know the rest," she said, tapping his hand. Imran stifled a sigh of frustration.

He resolved to ensure they wouldn't see Jadwa for a year after she was taken to her new home. How could they deny him his rights so confidently, without his consideration or consultation?

As soon as Ammi left the living room, he turned to Ameerah and Anaya. "Send me everything that needs to be paid for the events and check your messages," he said in a clipped tone.

He didn't linger to see their reactions. Not in the mood for any discussion, he made his way down the stairs with Ahmad following behind.

Before he fully exited, he heard the loud screams and squeals of joy and excitement from the girls, which brought a small smile to his face.

LET ME HEAR YOUR PREDICTIONS.