"Princess," his voice was low, almost tender.

"Uhm?" she hummed, opening her eyes to find him standing over her.

"Get up. We need to talk," he said, and she nodded, sitting up against the headboard, her knees tucked into her chest. He sat across from her, his expression serious but calm.

He took a breath before speaking. "About what happened earlier... I don't want to point fingers. Emotions were high. I was upset, and so were you. But I'm taking accountability for my words."

Jadwa nodded, her eyes searching his face.

"Baby, I didn't like the way we spoke to each other," he continued, his tone soft. "And I don't like how I responded especially."

"Mhmm," she listened carefully.

"There are many things that I thought time would unfold for us, but I guess the simple way to put it is: I am the head of this family. I make decisions for us, and especially when things like this happen, these kids have to be disciplined and shown how wrong they are. I do whatever it takes to protect everyone in this family, every one of you, even if it's from yourselves," he spoke gently, and his words scratched a place that had been itching her. She picked up on the way he spoke of her as blood, as part of them, and her eyes teared up.

"To me, it doesn't matter how anyone in this family sees me or feels about me. To be honest, I don't care if they hate me for it. If it's ruthless or if I'm a monster, it's for us, for them, and for the best of their future. They can hate me now and appreciate me later," he said with a shrug.

Jadwa nodded as she listened carefully and processed his words. "You are right, and I totally respect that," she said as she stretched her legs. He picked up her feet and placed them on his lap caressing her anklet gently"I do," she breathed, and he gave a natural nod before he continued.

"I understand why you don't see the gravity of it because you are all young, and these things, unfortunately, don't seem as big as they should for your generation. But regardless, we are Muslims. I don't operate this family or any of my affairs based on emotions or culture. It's solely based on Islam and will continue to be, even for our children, as long as I'm alive," he said.

Jadwa bit her lip at his perspective as her mind opened more to understand him.

"I have taken your concern about Lily into consideration. However, please..." he said, shifting closer to move away the hair peeking out from her face. He loved the way she listened carefully and didn't interrupt him, the way she glowed differently under the light, and how he could see her feelings on the surface and the guilt in her eyes.

"Don't raise your voice at me again," he said, holding her face in his right palm, and she nodded, looking down. "Sometimes I just need space, and I don't want to talk when I'm upset"

He lifted her chin up and made her look at him. "You are my wife, and you can fight with me, get angry at me, argue with me if you must, but there's always a better way to handle conflicts than raising your voice at me. There is a certain level of respect we must maintain. How would you feel if I had raised my voice at you?"

"I will feel bad" she whispered, looking him in the eye. "I won't do that again, I promise." Her voice cracked. "I really meant no harm."

Jadwa bit her lip, realizing just how much she had to learn about his perspective. His words opened her eyes, offering a glimpse into the weight of the responsibility he carried.

"I know. And I wasn't angry. Just upset with my angry bird," he said, his voice softening further. "Come here." He opened his arms, but she shook her head.

"I'm still angry at you, Ya Imran," she said, her voice more honest than she intended. He sighed, a small smile tugging at his lips.

"What is it with that name?" he groaned.

"You're not my mate," she said, crossing her arms. "I have to abide by that."

He chuckled, shaking his head. "You're not letting this go, are you?"

She shrugged. "Not until you apologize properly."

"Come on, baby," he coaxed, but she didn't budge.

"No," she replied firmly. "You were late, and you didn't even tell me why."

"Yeah, I was because I needed some space" he admitted, his face turning blank again as he lay down on his side of the bed. She must have had no idea how much he missed her, his wallpaper was all he kept looking at all day, he was upset yet he couldn't focus on anything except for her thoughts, how she felt and what she was doing.

Seeing her cook for him and wait for him downstairs he just wanted to hug her tightly and cross the bridge of the misunderstanding they were having, to hear her beautiful laugh, without it it was like living with torture.

"I'm going to the salon with Ameerah tomorrow. Is that okay?" She diverted the conversation since he wasn't saying sorry, she wouldn't back down.

"Yes. The driver will be around if you need him," he answered, settling in.

"Goodnight," she said, deciding not to dwell on his rigidness. If he didn't want to entertain her feelings, she wasn't going to give in either.

Later that night, she woke up to find herself wrapped in his arms. One arm held her tightly around the waist, the other tucked beneath her shoulder, pulling her close. Her heart swelled as she shifted slightly, his grip instinctively tightening as he pulled her even closer in his deep sleep.

Half-asleep and fully content, Jadwa let herself sink back into his embrace, the warmth of his body lulling her back into a peaceful slumber. Whatever had woken her, his unconscious act of holding her close made her smile as she decided what to do with his attitude in the morning.

They woke up for Subhi, and without saying a word, he left for the mosque. His silence was deliberate, as if he was purposefully avoiding her, and it irritated her deeply. After praying, she slipped back into bed, knowing he'd soon return to prepare for the gym or a run. After all, it was a weekday, and routine had a way of setting the pace.

•••

The next time Jadwa woke, she found herself alone in the bed. She sighed heavily, the weight of the growing distance between them pressing down on her. She thought things would get better soon, but it seemed they were still locked in this silent standoff. However, a note left on her bedside table caught her eye.

"Going out to see some lands with Sadiq and Dawood," it read, followed by a small smiley face. She rolled her eyes at his attempt to smooth things over with a note, yet a small smile crept across her lips. If he wasn't going to talk, neither would she. She decided to drag this out for as long as she pleased, knowing he would've normally woken her with a kiss before leaving.

Determined not to dwell on it, she got up, had a light breakfast, and prepared for her day with Ameerah. She chose a cream abaya, draping the matching veil into a neat hijab, before selecting a red Lady Dior handbag he had gifted her. Slipping into comfortable slippers, she heard her phone beep with a notification. It was a picture of soldiers walking around in an unknown location, accompanied by a message:

"With Ibrahim at the moment, are you having a great day?"

She left the message on read, resisting the urge to call him, her resolve firm.

After spraying her favorite perfumes, she made her way to the living room. As she entered, her eyes widened at the sight of a flamboyant bouquet of red roses. She couldn't suppress the smile that spread across her face as she moved closer to admire them. A note was tucked inside the arrangement, and as she read it, laughter bubbled up uncontrollably. "I am sorry, wifey," it simply said, yet it was enough to make her heart swell. Stacked beside the roses were bundles of crisp one-thousand-naira notes.

She shook her head in disbelief, fitting a few bundles into her handbag and taking the rest to her room. The temptation to text him was strong, but she decided against it. She wanted to play along with his mind games, at least for a little while longer.

Quickly, she called her friends, including Zarah, to meet at the salon. With the new money in her possession, she was eager to treat them and figure out how to start spending it. Before heading out, she carefully transferred the roses into two medium-sized vases—one for her living room and one for his. Satisfied with her work, she took a few pictures of the flowers and posted them on social media, then slipped on her sunglasses and hopped into her car.

Moments later, another text from him popped up on her screen: "What's my wife up to?" She grinned wildly, snapping a picture of her view from the car and sending it without a word. His response came quickly: "Have an amazing day, my queen." She left it on seem her smile growing impossibly bigger at the way kept texting.

The rest of the day passed in a blur. She got her hair treated, opting for a sleek, silky press that fell to her waist. Ameerah, on the other hand, chose loose curls that bounced softly at her back. The two of them chatted and laughed, even indulging in a bridal "gyaran jiki" touch-up at the spa. Afterward, Jadwa took her friends to a restaurant where she had arranged for a private chef and dinner as a farewell gesture. The lunch was perfect, the atmosphere filled with laughter and warmth. Jadwa's heart brimmed with gratitude. Six months ago, if someone had told her this would be her life, she would've laughed in disbelief.

Later, her phone buzzed with another message:

"Just got the most beautiful picture from Ameerah. You look gorgeous, habibty. No pictures for me today? :("

She bit her lip and set the phone aside, determined to ignore him a little longer.

By six o'clock, another message came in:
"I'll be back after Isha. Stopping by Dawood's house first."

She didn't react to that one as well, her heart aching with how much she missed him, but her playful mood still lingering. After bidding tearful goodbyes to her friends, she and Ameerah continued to catch up until Maghrib. They found a small prayer room and prayed together before parting ways.

On her way home, another message appeared on her phone: "Hey mama, I'm having chai... his wife used your recipe, and it tastes amazing!!!"

Jadwa read the notification, smiling despite herself. A second message followed, letting her know he'd be home soon, but she refused to open it. Her heart was softening, but she still wanted to play along.

After getting home, she took off her abaya, prayed Isha, and went downstairs in loose pants and a comfortable cotton tee. She found herself drawn to the flowers again, snapping a few more pictures of them in the mirror before heading to the kitchen for a bottle of water. As she emerged, she heard the front door open.

He was back.

••••

She froze for a moment, her heart racing as he stepped inside. Without thinking, her feet moved on their own, rushing toward him. In an instant, she was in his arms, her legs wrapped around his waist as he laughed softly, his chest vibrating beneath her cheek.

"Hi," he said, holding her close as he carried her effortlessly toward the stairs.

"Missed me?" he teased, his tone light as if he knew the answer.

"Not at all," she whispered into his neck, feeling the warmth of his skin as he held her tighter.

"I thought I'd have to come home and beg wifey to forgive me," he joked, climbing the stairs as if she weighed nothing. "I was getting worried about the silent treatment."

She lifted her face, her eyes meeting his. "I missed you," she admitted before pressing a kiss to his lips as they made their way up the stairs with her wrapped around him.

"God, I missed you too," he breathed, his voice thick with emotion. "You gave me a hard time today." He said honestly.

She shrugged, still in his arms. "Thank you for the flowers and the money," she said with a playful wiggle of her brows, making him laugh.

"And my apology?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Half accepted," she replied with a smirk, and he groaned dramatically before joining her in laughter.

"Anything you want for dinner?" she asked, her voice light. But before he could respond, she placed a hand over his lips, anticipating the words she knew would come next.

"Yeah... I've been starved by my dearest wife for so long," he teased, and she couldn't help but hop down from his body, feigning indignation.

"Babeeee," he dragged out the word, and she darted toward her room, almost closing the door behind her. However, his foot caught the door, leaving a narrow gap between them.

"I need to shower," she said, her tone slightly defensive as he rolled his eyes.

"Me too, join me," he said "when did you start leaving me out?" the suggestion obvious and almost impossible to resist.

"No," she giggled, enjoying the banter.

"I said sorry, baby," he pleaded softly, trying to persuade her, though a hint of frustration slipped through. The sight of his playful annoyance sent her into fits of laughter. "Stop punishing me," he added, but she shrugged with a playful smile.

"Okay, here are two options," she said thoughtfully, holding up her fingers for emphasis. He leaned in, eager to listen. "You can either get what you want now, or you can wait for something special. You choose."

"Both," he insisted, his tone laced with impatience.

"None then," she replied, shrugging and moving to close the door, but he stopped her with a quick hand.

"Uh-uh... wait. what do you recommend?" he asked, watching her twirl her hair teasingly.

"My special, of course," she replied with a wink, a mischievous glint in her eyes. He nodded, his impatience evident as she finally shut the door in his face.

Giggling to herself, she began to set her plans in motion. First, she sank into a long bath, soaking away the day's stress. She indulged in her dorot, savoring every moment of self-care, before applying her favorite humras and oil perfumes and body butters. With a careful hand, she mixed a concoction in fresh yogurt and gulping it down.

Next, she slipped into a bubblegum-colored long-sleeve set from Skims. The soft, cropped top hugged her body perfectly, while the matching bottoms were daringly short, barely qualifying as shorts. Standing in front of the full-length mirror, she admired her reflection, the fit accentuating her curves in all the right places.

Completing her routine, she filled the house with the warm, inviting scent of bakhoor, preparing the atmosphere for the evening. With anticipation, she waited for him to go downstairs and lock the door before making her way to his room.

Before the mirror, she admired her fine, bone-straight red hair cascading down her back. She brushed her eyebrows with care and applied a juicy lip balm to her rosy lips, feeling beautiful and sexy. She knew Imran would go crazy when he saw her like this.

Then, the door clicked open, and her heart sank into her stomach. A rush of electricity coursed through her veins, replacing her confidence with a wave of nervousness. She didn't turn to meet his gaze, but she could feel him pause, his eyes fixed intently on her.

The atmosphere shifted; her carefully laid plans faded away, leaving her a shy mess beneath his gaze. Imran watched her run her fingers through her silky hair, the warm light glinting off her soft skin, giving her a radiant glow. He sat on the bed, transfixed by her reflection in the mirror, captivated by the way her lips moved as she tapped more balm onto them.

Words failed him; he was utterly mesmerized, as always, by her beauty. Her scent enveloped him, intoxicating and familiar, pulling him into a haze he never wanted to escape. She didn't even acknowledge his presence, focused instead on her nervous movements, avoiding his eyes through the mirror.

He was patient for a moment until their eyes finally met. She quickly averted her gaze to the floor, walking past him toward the curtains.

"Come here, Jadwa," he said, unable to contain himself any longer.

She stood before him, an instinctive tension coursing through her as she bit her lip, her eyes following his as they traced the contours of her body. His hands glided up from the back of her knees to her exposed hips, the warmth of his touch igniting a spark within her. He looked up, their eyes locking for a brief moment that felt like an eternity, before he leaned down to press a soft kiss on the golden metal of her navel. His lips met the delicate jewelry, trailing kisses that brushed against her skin, the soft caress of his beard grazing her waist chain.

The heat that surged through her was nothing short of volcanic, an eruption of longing and desire overwhelming her senses. An eruption of heat coursed through her body as she stood before this gorgeous man, who was reverently worshiping her beauty. His eyes spoke volumes, conveying more admiration than any words of praise she had ever received in her life.

As she tilted her head, her hair fell gracefully to one side, and he leaned back slightly, his eyes captivated by the sight of her face.

Silence enveloped them, punctuated only by their synchronized heartbeats and the palpable tension that hung in the air like a live wire.

He tilted his head back, a hand running thoughtfully through his beard, watching her as if she were a breathtaking piece of art in a museum. He released his lip from between his teeth, pulling her closer until she felt the warmth radiating from his body. In response, she wrapped her arms around his neck, standing before him with a mix of anticipation and reverence.

Her left hand gently released its hold on his neck, fingertips tracing the scar on his left eyebrow—a mark of his past, Battles fought and won.

Hers, her man, her husband, her world, her life.

In that moment, clarity washed over her; there was no option for doubt, no better but him, to hold on to him.

It would always be Muhammad Imran Moriki, For Jadwa.

"Come here, let me teach you something," he said, his voice a low murmur that sent shivers down her spine. She complied, settling onto his lap, instinctively putting her hands back around his neck. Leaning down, she kissed him passionately, pouring out all the feelings she struggled to articulate and confess.

So uhm... what's next?🤭🤭 any predictions?
350 comments on the last chapter. I always fulfill my promises! Now go back, read again and drop your reactions and comments❤️