A VERY LONG CHAPTER TO APPRECIATE EACH AND EVERYONE OF YOU❤️ THANK YOU FOR 6OOK!
This chapter says a a lot about my insane love for design!

The three days had passed swiftly, blending into one another. It had now been three days since Jadwa had moved in, and she had spent most of her time lounging around, catching up on sleep, texting her sisters, and watching videos of Hanan's grand events.

She had just finished a phone call with Ammi and began selecting outfits—something she thought she'd need to do, but Ameerah had already arranged everything for her in the couple's closet, inside her husband's room. The closet was massive, almost the size of her old bedroom, and she still hadn't gotten used to the grandness of his space. He had just left for Friday prayers, giving her the freedom to rummage through the closet at her own pace.

Finally, she found an Ankara dress that Grace had sewn for her. She carried it to her room, where she lit a few coals and picked her favorite marshoush scent from the countless glass jars of bakhoor that had been specially made for her. Buckets of it were stored away in the box room. Jadwa carefully set the new wooden ghaffas in her spacious closet, adding a thick black fabric and layers of dark clothes. She placed the dress inside, sprayed it with multiple perfumes, and covered everything with a heavy blanket to trap the smoke.

Once she was done, she settled into her dorot chair and began oiling her skin, her movements deliberate and unhurried. She sprayed herself with his favorite scent, smiling as she caught the aroma. Then, she slipped out of her robe and started dressing. She had already showered in his room before he left, and a warmth crept across her face as she blushed, remembering how close they'd been the past few days. When he said "khalas habibty no more" Trust there was more.

Her skin seemed to glow under the light as she looked at herself in the mirror, radiant and bride-like. The brutal gyaran jiki she'd endured had clearly paid off.

Sliding into the dress, she was relieved that it had an open back, meaning she only had to fasten it at the neck. She wrapped her scarf into a slim turban, allowing her hair to cascade down her back. A light layer of makeup followed, after which she tidied the room and decided to burn some incense.

She took out a new burner for his room, placing her special incense inside, then moved to the large burners in the living room, lighting another distinct scent. Incense jar in hand, she descended the stairs, her eyes taking in the transformed space.

Jadwa's mouth nearly dropped open in awe at the sheer beauty of the staircase and living room. Though she had seen it before when it was still under construction, the completed space was nothing short of breathtaking. The living room was enormous, with multiple sitting areas and a grand dining space. Every detail exuded quiet luxury—not loud, overly modern, or minimalist, but a perfect blend of sophistication.

She smiled as she ran her henna-stained fingers over the luxurious fabric of the furniture. Glancing at the dining area, she could already envision hosting large gatherings and perfecting the buffet setup. After a few moments spent marveling at the lights and chandeliers, she refocused on the bakhoor, lighting the coals and burning the incense. She was still admiring the space when the sound of a car pulled her from her reverie. She quickly fixed her lip gloss and made her way to the mahogany double front doors, opening them with a smile, expecting her husband.

Instead, she was greeted by a tall woman whose frame filled the doorway. Jadwa couldn't immediately place her name, but she recognized her from the wedding as part of Imran's family. With a polite smile, Jadwa greeted her.

"Welcome," she said, stepping aside as the woman entered, carrying a large food basket. The woman, after removing her sunglasses, returned Jadwa's smile, though her gaze lingered as she subtly took in Jadwa's appearance from head to toe.

"Thank you," the woman said in a slow voice, still scrutinizing her. She wore a fitted off-shoulder skirt and blouse, her attachment caramel-colored box braids cascading down to her hips, a loosely wrapped scarf atop her head. There was something familiar about her—a faint recognition sparked, as if she might be an influencer Jadwa had seen before.

Before Jadwa could ponder further, the sound of footsteps grabbed her attention. The woman next to her chirped, "Ya Moh," and Jadwa watched as her husband entered, a wide smile lighting his face when he saw her.

"Khayrah, how are you?" he asked, moving closer to Jadwa.

Her mind went blank as his arms enveloped her in a tight hug. "Hi, baby," he whispered into her ear, making her blush.

"Hi," she responded softly, stepping back with a shy smile. If there was one thing about Imran, it was that public displays of affection didn't scare him in the slightest. She had noticed how much he liked her close by, constantly tied to him in some way.

"Please, come in," Jadwa said, turning back to Khayrah.

"I just came to drop this off. I have plans for the day," Khayrah replied, offering a polite smile before edging toward the door.

"Send my regards to Maman Rahma," Imran said, his hand resting on Jadwa's exposed back as he tapped gently.

"Of course," Khayrah replied before gracefully exiting, the door clicking softly shut behind her.

Jadwa barely had time to process the unexpected visit when Imran scooped her into his arms, making her giggle as he planted kisses on her face.

"You look so beautiful," he said, setting her down gently on the carpet before gazing at her with admiration. His fingers traced the exposed skin of her back as he whispered, "So beautiful," leaning down to capture her lips in a slow, tender kiss that left her breathless.

"Thank you," she blushed, meeting his eyes with a shy smile.

Imran dropped his car keys on a nearby art piece something that seemed designed just for keys—and Jadwa admired it silently as they walked further into the living room. He looked effortlessly handsome in a navy blue kaftan with a matching cap, his presence commanding the room.

Settling into the largest sofa, he leaned back, still holding her hand, while she stood before him, smiling.

"Let me see this properly," he murmured, his voice low and soft. If she didn't know better, she might have found it intimidating.

She took a few steps back, turning around slowly to show him the full effect of the dress. His approving nod was enough to tell her how captivated he was, even if words failed him. She moved to sit beside him on the large sofa.

"You know, this has always been what I wanted," he said, removing his cap and running a hand on his freshly cut hair.

"What?" she asked softly, resting her head back against the sofa. His eyes lingered on her, as if he were gathering his thoughts, the silence stretching between them. She waited, her curiosity piqued.

"Mm?" she murmured, encouraging him to continue.

Instead, he gently lifted her legs, stretching them across the sofa so her feet rested on his lap. He began massaging her feet, his touch gentle and affectionate. Then, with a tender smile, he bent down and kissed her henna-stained feet, the intimate gesture filling the room with unspoken tension.

Imran reclined back, still holding her anklet as he spoke, his voice soft and warm, "To come home to a beautiful house filled with this amazing bakhoor, my pretty princess Jadwa, and..." He paused, his fingers tracing the delicate chain around her ankle.

"And?" Jadwa grinned, her heart fluttering at the teasing tone in his voice.

"And my daughters, who will look just like you," he finished, his gaze locking with hers, making her heart skip a beat.

"Just daughters?" she asked playfully, her voice barely a whisper, the moment thick with emotion.

He smiled, his eyes crinkling with affection. "A few boys won't hurt either," he added with a laugh, and Jadwa couldn't help but join him, the sound of their laughter filling the room like a melody.

"How many kids do you want?" she asked, her curiosity piqued as she tilted her head, studying his face.

He chuckled, his voice full of mischief. "Many. A lot. So many," he said with a nonchalant shrug, and she narrowed her eyes at him.

"How many?" she pressed, her amusement growing.

"A dozen or more," he replied, a twinkle in his eye.

Jadwa burst into laughter at his exaggerated response, shaking her head in disbelief. "Do you plan on having multiple wives, habiby? Tell me," she teased, sitting up, her eyes narrowing into playful daggers.

Imran's laughter echoed through the room, rich and genuine. He caught her expression and laughed even harder, enjoying the banter. "I already have one balarabiya," he said, his voice adopting a thick Zamfara accent, which made Jadwa giggle despite herself. But his next words made her expression harden.

"I want one Kanuri, one Fulani, and one Hausa," he added with a teasing smile, knowing exactly what buttons to push.

Jadwa's smile faded, and she tried to pull her legs away from him, but he gently held her in place, not letting her escape.

"Even a madman would know my words aren't true, and will never be true," he said, his voice sincere now. "And if, by some miracle, it did happen, whoever the woman is, her heart is to be pitied," he finished, his tone lightening.

She rolled her eyes, still trying to resist his charm. "I don't like overly sweet words that aren't real," she muttered, the frown lingering on her face thinking he was attempting to sway her with sweet talks.

"I don't say things just to make you feel good," he replied, his tone serious now. "Do I?" He asked, looking at her intently, waiting for her response.

She shook her head, her frown softening as she met his gaze.

"Exactly," he said, leaning back. "In fact, I've been hearing some rumors about you," he added, his tone suddenly playful again.

Her curiosity piqued, she perked up, her eyes sparkling with intrigue. "What are they saying?" she asked, eager for him to continue.

"That there's this beautiful Lebanese girl with red hair who bewitched me," he said, his voice low and teasing. "They say she took my name to the sorcerers of Lebanon and Borno," he added with a playful, suspicious glance in her direction.

Jadwa tried to keep a straight face, but a small smile broke through, and she quickly covered her face with her hands to hide her grin.

"Is that why I'm completely insane for you?" he whispered, leaning closer. "Why I'm so lost in you? And why I'm desperately hoping you feel the same?"

Her heart raced as she uncovered her face, meeting his gaze. The silence between them stretched, their eyes locked in a conversation deeper than words could express.

Long minutes passed by as they were lost in each others eyes before she spoke.

"Then the sihr must have backfired," she murmured, running a hand through her hair, watching the way his eyes instantly shifted.

"I need a tour," she said suddenly, her voice breaking the tension as she stood up, trying to regain her composure.

Imran chuckled, understanding the shift, and stood up beside her. "I didn't realize how beautiful this place is," she said, glancing around the stunning open-plan living room, her eyes wide with awe.

He led her around the room, pointing out the details. The living room was enormous, at least four times the size of hers. "This is unfair," she huffed, crossing her arms.

Imran raised an eyebrow, amused. "What's unfair?"

"Your living room and your room are bigger than mine," she pouted.

He chuckled, shaking his head. "Who said I have a separate room or living room? I should be the one complaining."

Jadwa's brow furrowed, confused. "Then explain this," she gestured to the grand space around them.

"This is our main living room, for both of us," he said, pinching her nose playfully. "And the room—does it look like it was made for one person?"

"True," she admitted, a sheepish smile tugging at her lips.

Everything about the house felt like it was made for them together except for her spaces, everything that is his was made for hers. From the couple's closet where her clothes were neatly arranged to the bathroom in his room. "Still feels like yours first," she said, a little defensive.

"Tohm, Hajiya Jadwa, ke ma din na waye?" He teased, raising a playful eyebrow.

"Naka," she muttered, and he winked, making her laugh as they moved into the sunken living room, then the office and library.

They stopped in front of a vintage full-length mirror, the intricate frame catching the light. Jadwa pulled out her phone, positioning it just right to snap a few mirror selfies. As she clicked the first one, he gently slid his arm around her waist, pulling her closer.

She smiled, capturing the moment, but before she could take another, he leaned in, nuzzling her neck and placing a soft kiss just below her ear. Jadwa clicked again, the intimate gesture freezing in time on her screen.

He straightened up, his arm slipping from her waist to drape casually over her shoulder. In the next picture, they both smiled together, a perfect reflection of their shared happiness. Just as she was about to take the final shot, he surprised her by turning her toward him and gently kissing her lips, catching her completely off guard.

Her phone captured the kiss, a spontaneous moment of love and affection forever saved in her gallery.

Jadwa was speechless as he showed her around. Suddenly, he stopped and gently grabbed the back of her neck. "I want to kiss you," he said softly before pressing his lips to hers in a slow, lingering kiss that left them both breathless.
They stared back at each other before he leaned down again to kiss her one more time.

"I'll be back in a second," he said, breaking the moment, and disappeared upstairs.

When he returned, he was holding two veils in his hands. "I don't know which one," he said, holding them up to her outfit.

Jadwa smiled widely, touched by the gesture. He kept the red one aside, carefully draping the black veil over her head. "Cover up more," he said softly, adjusting it for her.

"There are staff around, and I want to show you the exterior," he explained. She nodded, her heart warm at his thoughtful nature.

As they stepped outside, she marveled at the house a five-bedroom duplex with a sleek, modern design. The courtyard had an indoor-outdoor fountain, its glass walls giving a sense of openness. Four cars were parked outside, and there was still ample space.

Imran led her to the backyard, where a small garden flourished. Animals roamed... rabbits, tortoises, ducks, and even peacocks. Jadwa squealed in delight at the sight of a white peacock, immediately pulling out her phone to snap pictures.

"This is insane!" she exclaimed, turning to him with bright eyes.

Imran smiled, clearly pleased by her reaction. "You like it?" he asked, knowing the answer already.

"I love it! This place is amazing," she gushed, still in awe of the house.

"And you're thinking of moving out?" she asked, her voice carried genuine concern.

"Eventually," he admitted with a shrug.

"I don't want to," she said earnestly. "This is too perfect."

He smiled, amused by her excitement. "It's nothing compared to the family house," he reminded her, and she nodded, knowing the family home was grander in scale.

"I want to stay here for a long time," she said, her eyes sparkling.

He chuckled at her enthusiasm. "We might outgrow it, as our family grows," he teased, but she pleaded playfully, and he gave in.

"Okay, okay," he laughed. They continued exploring, moving toward the pool and hot tub, where Imran stood, watching her with an affectionate smile. Her reaction, filled with wonder and excitement, was everything he had hoped for.

The workers greeted her respectfully as they passed by, to which she responded with equal courtesy. She watched them return to their tasks, the hum of their activity blending into the background.

For days, Jadwa had barely left his room, so immersed in her husband that she'd forgotten about the ongoing world outside. Yesterday, the sounds of cleaning had stirred her from her solitude, reminding her of the world outside her door.

They strolled past the barbecue area, heading back toward the cars. As he approached the vehicles, Jadwa recognized two familiar ones he often used when visiting her: an Audi A8 and the imposing AMG Brabus G63. Three more cars were parked beside them—a Range Rover, another G-Wagon, and a Cadillac Escalade.

"I can see why Zarah can't stop raving about your cars every time she visits Lily," Jadwa said, her tone playful.

He clasped his hands together with a modest smile. "I'm grateful, ma'am," he replied, his humility causing her to grin.

"So, which one's the nicest?" he asked, and Jadwa took her time studying each one.

"They're all amazing," she admitted honestly. "I can't pick just one! But if I had to, I like these two the most," she said, pointing to the Range Rover and the Audi A8.

"Do you have a favorite car?" he asked, watching her with amusement.

"Not really, I just like Mercedes and BMWs in general," she shrugged. "But seeing your collection, Sir, I'm realizing I don't know cars at all," she chuckled, and he shook his head, laughing.

"I'm glad I impressed my Mrs. It feels good to show off now and then," he teased with a wink, making her laugh and roll her eyes.

"You really did. I'm definitely crushing on your cars," she said, her eyes lingering on the lineup.

"Not me?" he asked, leaning casually against the car with a look of disappointment.

"Not you," she replied, her gaze fixed on the cars, feigning disinterest.

"Pick one," he said suddenly, his voice serious.

Jadwa's head whipped around so fast she nearly gave herself whiplash. "What? You can't be serious!" she scoffed, her disbelief evident.

"You've been eyeing this one," he pointed at the Cadillac Escalade.

"No," she waved him off. "I'm just amazed at how huge it is! I'm way too small to drive that monster," she said honestly, making him laugh.

"Take the Range Rover then," he said, signaling one of the men over. As they exchanged greetings in Hausa, Jadwa watched, her thoughts racing.

Her attention snapped back when the man returned with the key. She stared at her husband, wide-eyed, trying to grasp what was happening.

"You're not seriously going to do what I think you're doing, right?" she asked, backing up slightly. He stepped forward, gently taking her hand, prying her clenched fist open.

"It's yours now," he said softly, placing the key in her palm.

"No..." she whispered, shaking her head in disbelief.

"Yes," he whispered back, his grin mischievous.

"No," she said, her voice returning to normal.

"Yes," he repeated, more firmly this time. "I didn't know which car you'd like, so take this as a wedding gift. We can get you another one later—something of your choice," he added.

Jadwa was speechless. She could only stare at him, her heart racing. After a moment, she stepped closer and placed her hand on his forehead as if checking for a fever.

"I'm never going to beat the allegations," she muttered.

"What allegations?" he asked, chuckling as he pulled her hand away from his face.

"The witch craft allegations," she said, her face serious.

Imran burst into laughter, throwing his head back and grabbing her to keep himself steady. Jadwa couldn't help but join in. Their laughter echoed around them, growing louder until tears filled her eyes.
They laughed non stop and uncontrollably unable to stop laughing.
But As soon as her tears spilled over, Imran's laughter faded. He stood up straight and pulled her into a tight embrace, the sun casting a warm glow over them. Jadwa sniffled into his chest, still laughing lightly.

"I don't deserve this," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "I did nothing to deserve this."

"You became my wife. That's everything," he said softly, wiping her tears and pressing a kiss to her forehead.

"Thank you," she mouthed, her voice too choked to speak.

"No more tears," he warned gently, and she nodded.

Turning to the Range Rover sport, she couldn't believe it was hers. It gleamed in a sleek Brasco grey, a car she could only have dreamed of owning. But now, it was real, right in front of her.

For the next half-hour, Jadwa explored the interior, marveling at the luxurious beige and brown design. The car was brand new she could tell by the fresh scent and the fact that she had to peel off the protective wrapping herself. The paperwork confirmed it was the latest model.

"I'm a true princess," she declared, flipping her hair dramatically as she held the steering wheel, glancing over at him with a playful smile. He stood outside, watching her with quiet affection, his own smile broad.

"You are, baby," he chuckled, snapping a few pictures of her as she beamed with excitement.

When she finally emerged from the car, she couldn't stop thanking him until he feigned annoyance, pretending to be overwhelmed. That's what finally made her stop.

As they walked back into the house, the late afternoon sun signaled that it was almost Asr.

"Let's check out the kitchen," he said, leading her inside.

The moment they stepped into the expansive, movie-like kitchen, Jadwa was struck speechless. It was a space she never imagined having in her life, with top-of-the-line appliances and an elegant design. If not for the presence of a middle-aged man standing in the center, she might have screamed in delight.

"Good afternoon, Hajiya," the man greeted, snapping her out of her daze.

Jadwa quickly returned the greeting before the man excused himself, leaving them alone.

"This is my favorite part!" she gasped, turning to Imran with wide eyes.

"Is it?" he asked, smiling at her enthusiasm.

"Number one! No exaggeration," she said, moving further into the kitchen to explore.

"I knew I had to get this right," he chuckled.

"You had to!" she laughed. "And you nailed it!"

"I know how much you love cooking," he said, watching her with a fond smile.

Jadwa turned back and wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him into a tight hug. "I'm so happy," she whispered into his ear.

"I'm glad you love everything," he said, kissing her cheek.

"Thank you so much, babe," she said, the foreign name slipping from her lips naturally.

"It's my responsibility, no need to thank me," he replied with a smile, calling the middle-aged man John, back into the kitchen. He introduced him as the chef, and Jadwa responded politely, still reeling from everything.

"They delivered food earlier, Alhaji," the chef said.

"Throw it out and continue with your work," Imran instructed.

"I'll set the dining table for lunch, is that alright?" the chef asked.

"Yes, please," Imran said, and the man nodded before leaving.

"Why throw it away?" Jadwa asked, opening the flasks and noticing the traditional dishes of masa and miyan taushe.

"We can have this for dinner," she started, but Imran cut her off, gently pulling her away from the food.

"Listen to me," he said softly. "Anything brought into this house that isn't from Sadiq and Fatima, Lily, or Ibrahim's family or yoursthrow it out. Don't touch it. Don't eat it." His tone was gentle but firm and warning, his eyes serious.

Jadwa nodded, trusting him without question, and turned back to her excitement over the cookwares.

"Babe," she called out, her voice light again.

"Yes, baby?" he answered, smiling at her enthusiasm.

"What do you want most in this world?" she asked, her tone curious.

The question caught him off guard. He smiled softly, considering his answer. "Want me to be honest?"

"Of course," she said, looking at him expectantly.

He scratched the back of his head, hesitating for a moment. "Children," he said simply. "I want children."

Jadwa blinked, not expecting that response. She had already started taking birth control pills, prescribed by their family doctor just days before. Imran was putting her education and dreams first, even though his deepest desire was clear as she noticed the past few days.

"We'll have a beautiful family, Insha'Allah," she said softly, her cheeks flushing as she looked away.

"Insha'Allah," he echoed, wrapping his arms around her from behind, holding her close.

It was impossible for him to not be near her, and if he was he couldn't stay still without touching her, kissing her, or wrapping her in his embrace. And now, she loved it—every second of it.

NanaAmiinah WORDS CAN NEVER DESCRIBE HOW GRATEFUL I AM💕