To my OG Jadwa supporters! The ones who were here long before I deleted the original version of JADWA in 2019
This chapter is for you.
Almost seven years later, you're still here, supporting and commenting. Thank you for continuing to love my work. I hope this dose of nostalgia brings you as much joy as you bring me every day!❤️

For an update from amiirahhh_a tomorrow, let's gather as much comments as we can. I'm so hooked on A THOUSAND TIMES OVER.

It was past eight in the morning, and Imran sat cross-legged on his prayer mat. His phone rested in his palm, its screen glowing faintly as he scrolled through his messages, hoping to see a response from Jadwa. But there was none. He sighed, running a hand through his face before making his usual morning calls to greet Hajiya and Mama and after he was done greeting them, his fingers dialed Khayrah's number.

She answered in a sleepy voice, but she quickly cleared her throat when she realized it was Imran. Before she could respond, his eyes narrowed at the screen, a message from Ammi had just popped up, inviting him over for breakfast. He ended the call abruptly, his fingers flying across the keyboard to reply. A breakfast invitation from his mother-in-law in the middle of wedding festivities was no ordinary affair. He rose swiftly and folded the prayer mat neatly then headed to the shower. Minutes later, he emerged, throwing on a crisp jallabiya and grabbing his car keys.

Imran sped through the streets, not even stopping at traffic lights, his grip tight on the wheel.
Ammi's second text "Are you on your way?" only made his foot press harder on the accelerator. By the time he pulled up to the house, his heart was racing as fast as the drive had been. Inside the house, he could hear chatter right from the foyer. Lily, Rahma, Zarah, and Jadwa's friends were gathered, their laughter filling the space. His sisters rushed towards him, wrapping him in tight hugs that nearly knocked him off balance. He tapped their heads affectionately, his gaze landing on Zarah, who stood slightly apart, arms crossed.
"Zarah," he managed a small smile.

"Ya Imran, Ina Kwana," she greeted, her voice soft.

"Ina kwana, Amarya. Running away from us already?" he teased, and she laughed shyly.

"Not yet. We'll be back in Abuja tomorrow afternoon, InshaAllah." she replied.

Imran nodded absently, his mind already elsewhere. He turned to Sarah, who stood with her sisters, and asked politely, "Where is Jadwa?"

"She's asleep. Feeling a bit under the weather. Ammi said she's not following us to Kaduna," Sarah explained, her tone tinged with disappointment. Imran nodded again, his expression thoughtful.

"Ammi is upstairs, right?" he asked.

"Oh, yes. She just went up before you came in," Sarah answered.

Before he could move, Rahma piped up, "Ya Imran, do you have some cash?"

"At home, I have nothing here," he replied, patting his pockets for emphasis. "What time is your flight?" he asked, glancing at his watch.

"By noon," Anaya answered.

"Message Henry now. He'll bring it before you leave," he said, already stepping away from the hallway. He wasn't in the mood for their banter and ignored their chorus of thank-yous as he made his way up the stairs.

The house felt unusually quiet, it wasnt as full as days prior. They must all be at the guest house, he thought. He paused at the top of the stairs, taking a deep breath before softly calling out, "Assalamu Alaykum."

"Wa Alaykum Assalam, Muhammad. Shigo," Ammi's voice came from the sitting room. She sat on the carpet, her posture relaxed but her eyes looking tired.

"Ammi, Ina kwana," he greeted, walking over and sinking into her embrace before sitting opposite her.

"How are you, my son?" she asked, her smile warm but tinged with something unspoken.

"Alhamdulillah, Ammi," he replied. "Ya hidiman biki?" he asked.

"Hidiman da duk ka dauke mana?" she smiled sweetly with a playful glare which made him chuckle.

"How is your health?" he asked, folding his legs and leaning back against the couch.

"Alhamdulillah, but the house is so empty now," she said, her laughter tinged with melancholy as she gazed into the distance. "You all came and took my daughters away in one year." She took a sharp breath, she shook her head.

Reaching to pour a steaming bowl of beef shurba.

"We are very sorry, Ammi," he apologized, his laughter returning as he noted the genuine upset on her face.

"Are you?" she asked, handing him a spoon.

Imran looked down at the bowl, his mind drifting to Jadwa. He wanted to see her, to check if she was truly unwell, to take her to the hospital if needed. The thought gnawed at him, but he pushed it aside for now.

"What are you thinking of? Eat, come on," Ammi urged, tearing a piece of pita bread and adding a slow-cooked rib to it before extending it to him.

Imran opened his mouth obediently, chewing thoughtfully before sipping the tea beside him. "Ammi, did you cook this?" he asked, his tone teasing.

She laughed. "What? You can tell Jadwa cooked it?" she asked, and he nodded.

"Shameless boy," she chided, smacking his lap lightly before feeding him another bite. "Your wife stole my recipe, and you're here acting like a detective, ko?" she teased.

Imran kept eating, nodding and smiling at her words. In truth, the food was exceptional—nothing compared to Jadwa's cooking, but this was the closest he'd ever tasted.

When they finished, they washed their hands, and Imran continued sipping his tea. "Thank you for the food, Ammi," he said with a smile.

Ammi smiled at him, her eyes softening before she reached for a beige gift box tied with a delicate bow. She placed it beside her, her movements deliberate.

"Muhammad," she began, her tone shifting to something more serious. "I don't want to sit here and lecture you for hours like I did Jadwa because I know you. I know what you can do and what you can't. When you sent a proposal for Jadwa, I felt like all my prayers had been answered. I know and trust the hands she's going into." She paused, her gaze steady as Imran ducked his head, avoiding her gaze.

"But no one is perfect—not Jadwa, and not you. Jadwa came home yesterday in a very bad state. She's probably still sleeping because I had to give her some sleeping pills to calm her down," she said, and Imran's eyes shot up, concern flickering across his face.

"I already told her, if you are adding a wife after her, no one can stop you. Not just because you're grown and capable, but because it is absolutely your right," she continued.

"Ammi," he interrupted, running a hand over his face. Could he just see his wife and clear this up? Why was Jadwa so clueless? Why did she constantly undermine his feelings and respect for her?

"Uh-uh, Muhammad," she shushed him. "Jadwa told me all the things she did and the nonsense you had to put up with," she said, exhaling deeply. "I have nothing to defend her about her actions. Only she can explain, and she must today. But one thing I want to discuss with you is the miscarriage," she said, and Imran's eyes lowered again.

"May Allah reward you for your patience, Muhammad, but I really wish you had brought this issue to us, her parents. It's a big issue, and when things get out of hand, you must involve your elders. But that's not the point. Regardless, not because Jadwa is my daughter or because I raised her, I know what silliness and mischief she's capable of. But I promise you, Muhammad, she wouldn't want any wrong to happen to her baby. She wouldn't harm it on purpose," she said, her voice firm yet gentle.

Imran listened, his jaw tightening. He already knew that.

"Ammi, I know... it's not what you think," he sighed.

"Then what is it that made you two—or rather, you in particular, totally refuse to sit down and fix this matter?" she asked.

Imran remained silent, not because he couldn't answer but because he didn't want to reopen the wound with her.

"Talk to me as you would your mother, Imran. If you really see me as one, talk to me," she pleaded.

"I too am disappointed in myself, Ammi. To be frank, things escalated beyond my control because Jadwa is upset with me, thinking I'm cheating. But I'm not," he said, sincerely. "I know it's my right and if I want to, I can. I know that very well. But that was never my intention. Haka Allah ya kaddara even if things happened differently, jarabawa ne and I'll never abandon Jadwa because of it." he said, still avoiding her gaze. "Ayi hakuri Ammi, we both made mistakes." he added.

"Jadwa did what she did, and I know very well why she did it. Even though I still need to sit her down and hear her out for the sake of it, wallahi, I already know it's because of her fears. She didn't have to tell me, amma i know her well enough," he said, and Ammi's eyes widened in surprise before she remembered this was Muhammad Imran. He was too intelligent, too attentive. It was his job to read people, to outsmart even the smartest criminals.

"It just feels like I failed my own family, that my wife couldn't even discuss her fears with me," he concluded, his voice betraying his strong facade. And even worse, she couldn't feel the same way he did.

"So, are you going to let go as she wants?" Ammi whispered, unable to say the word divorce.

"I'm not ever giving Jadwa what she's asking for," he said firmly, and Ammi held back her tears. If only Jadwa could see, if only she'd allow herself the freedom to love and be loved.

"Open it," Ammi said, her voice barely above a whisper as she handed him the box.

Imran didn't say a word. He simply unraveled the ribbon, the scent of Jadwa's favorite perfume wafting up to greet him. Inside were four items: a teddy bear clutching a pregnancy test, a tiny baby shoe, and an overall that read, Hi Baaba.

That silly girl, he thought, a small smile tugging at his lips.

Imran shut his eyes for a moment, unable to miss the way she'd spelled Baaba with a double 'a,' just as he did when he called her Maama. He picked up the brown paper with a message scrawled on it:

Albi,
First, I want to say I'm sooo sorry for keeping this a secret for so long, for letting my fear hold me back. But just like that, my worries are all gone because of your constant reassurances, with the way you care for me, always. You always remind me, even without voicing, through your actions, that I have nothing to be afraid of. That you will protect me. That you will protect our baby. *Haha, that sounds sooo weird to say!*
Sometimes I find myself thinking about what it means to be cared for, to have someone stand by your side, steady and faithful to you. It is a blessing and a miracle in itself how you put me first but writing this in a letter doesn't feel like enough; I don't think words on a page can hold everything my heart feels. So, I'll tell you after you read this. And, well... I suppose I also owe you an apology for something else. Since we got married, this is the first gift I'm giving you. Can you believe that? *Eye roll.*
You are my world, Albi.Thank you for giving me a life more beautiful than I ever imagined. Thank you for saving me, for standing between me and every obstacle, for making me feel safe even when I didn't know how to ask for it.
I'm praying you say the words after you see this, old man. Fingers crossed!
Lovingly yours,
Maama

Ammi watched the way he held the letter. She hadn't read it, nor had she opened it. But she could see the weight of it in his grip, the tension. It was the first time she had ever seen Imran filled with emotions. Even in his early twenties, he had never reacted to anything—at least, not like this. He wasn't showing much now either, but his eyes... his eyes said a thousand words.
She gave him a moment, leaving to check on Jadwa. She found her awake, carefully arranging their clothes on the ghaffas for tomorrow.

"Muhammad, yallah... I don't think there's anything more I should say," Ammi said with a small smile. "I'm waiting for you here. Go talk to her... and if she doesn't listen, I'll drag her ears for you."

Imran chuckled at that, amusement in his eyes before he disappeared down the hallway.

With long strides, he reached the door and knocked once before pushing it open. The scent of his cologne—woodsy oud mixed with something that is always distinctly his filled the room. Jadwa, now curled beneath her duvet, had her phone in hand. At the familiar scent, she raised her eyes briefly before quickly casting them back down to her screen.

He didn't speak as he stepped inside, but the air shifted. He felt the tension in her stiffened posture, the way her fingers hovered over the phone screen without really moving.

"Assalamu Alaikum," he greeted, his voice low as he walked further in.

Still, she didn't respond.

Imran sat down on the edge of the bed, too close for Jadwa's liking. If he had kept his distance, maybe he wouldn't have noticed the redness swelling in her eyes, the slight puffiness of her face, or the way her nose was still tinged pink from crying. He wouldn't have seen the way her entire body language shifted the moment he entered the room.

"Too angry to even answer my Salaam?" he asked softly. He reached out, gently placing a hand on her cheek, tilting her face towards him.

"I don't want to talk to you," she muttered, her voice slightly raspy.

Imran sighed. "I'm sorry," he said. "I'm so sorry, my baby." He tucked a loose strand of hair back from her messy bun.

Jadwa exhaled sharply, not in the mood for soft words or the apologies she thought meaningless. "Why are you saying sorry?" she asked, turning her face away but Imran turned her face back to meet his eyes.

With furrowed brows, Imran leaned closer resting his palm against her forehead to feel her temperature, he had noticed the way she blinked slower than usual and the heaviness in her eyes, the moment he moment laid his eyes on her.

"I'm sorry about the other day... with Khayrah. I promise you, it's not what you think. There's absolutely nothing between us."

She let out a small, disbelieving huff as he launched into a detailed explanation. When he finally finished, she looked at him briefly processing it all before suddenly looking away.

"Ohhh?" She asked.

He exhaled. "And I'm sorry for everything else—for not communicating, for letting things get this bad when they shouldn't have. I'm sorry I wasn't able to talk to you properly. I failed you." His fingers brushed another strand of hair from her face, his touch featherlight.

But all Jadwa could hear was what he wasn't saying. He was skirting around the real issue. Not a single word about Alina. Nothing about the possibility of him taking another wife. The thought made her stomach churn.

"Get ready. Let's go home and discuss everything, okay?"

Her voice barely rose above a whisper. "You're taking another wife, aren't you?"

The way she fixated on that single question baffled him. Before he could respond, she shot up from the bed, tears welling in her eyes, and ran out of the room.
Imran groaned, throwing his head back in frustration.

"This silly girl..." He ran a hand down his face, exhaling heavily. She would probably be the end of him with all this drama.

He sat there for a moment, gathering his thoughts, rehearsing his words so he wouldn't say something wrong again, something that would only push her further away.

Then, he stood and followed her.

"Jadwa!"

Imran called after her and he stepped into the living room. But she was already in Ammi's arms, her body trembling with silent sobs. Across from them, Ahmad stood, his stance tense, his expression hard.

"Ahmad," Imran called, but Ahmad didn't acknowledge him.

"What sort of stupidity is this, Jadu?" Ahmad roared. "And you still sit here crying like a victim?"

"Ahmad," Imran called in a warning tone.

"What's her excuse this time?" Ahmad scoffed. "He's adding another wife? Is that it?" He let out a humorless laugh. "If he doesn't add another wife, should he let a loser like you ruin him? Or should his life stop completely just because you say so, eh?"

"Jadu, get up and follow your husband, kinji?" Ammi said to Jadwa, and Jadwa shook her head.

"You don't want to go back, right? Baza ki koma ba?" Ahmad asked, and Jadwa's tears only fell more. "Then you will stay here, and you will never ever go back to that house. Mark my words."

"Ya Ahmad, aure fa zai kara! He's talking to some Alina girl, and he's going to marry her," she hiccuped, pointing at Imran, crying, with her lips forming a pout.

If not for the seriousness of the moment, Imran would have burst out laughing.

"And what did you do to your child?" Ahmad asked, and Jadwa looked at Ahmad with hurtful eyes. "I need the doctor's number. I don't believe this girl."

"Get up, Jadwa. Let's go," Imran said, his eyes narrowing at Ahmad.

"My child? You think I killed my baby on purpose or what?" she asked in the most stable voice, but the hurt was too evident in her tone.

"When all you do is play the victim, giving silly excuses about Mommy and saying he's adding another wife, of course I'd think so," Ahmad said.

"Ahmad, enough!" Imran said, but the anger between the siblings was too much for them to stop.

"I killed the baby. Now what?" she asked. "Get your friend four wives if you need to, but make sure he divorces me now."

She said it, but before she could add another word, Ahmad's hand raised high, ready to land on her right cheek, but Imran stopped him.

"Ahmad, I said enough!" Imran raised his voice for the first time. "Kanada hankali kuwa?" Imran asked, and Ahmad moved back.

"Ya Imran, can't you hear what she's saying?" Ahmad asked.

"Don't ever raise your hands on my wife!"

"Can you hear the kind of words you are saying? What gives you that right?" Imran asked, clearly pissed by the conversation.

"I'm her brother. I have to correct her," Ahmad said.

"And I'm her husband," he stated clearly. "I don't appreciate involving others in my marital affairs, and I'm sorry it escalated to the point that you had to hear about it."

"Ammi, I'm going to take my leave now. Nagode kwarai," he said and Ammi got up from her seat clearly taken aback by the situation while Ahmad furiously made his way up to the second floor of the house.

"Jadwa, get ready and meet me downstairs... don't keep me waiting" he said sternly, at this point he was annoyed by Ahmad's actions and he wasn't down for any more of her bratty behaviour either.

He picked up the gift box Ammi had given him earlier and walked down the stairs.

"Muhammad," Ammi called and he turned around when he reached the end of the stairs.

"Na'am Ammi?" He answered calmly.

"Don't bother with Ahmad, he's just as explosive as his sister sometimes" she waved off and he nodded but deep down he was pissed.

"Jadwa will come back later when she's all ready okay?" She said.

"Ammi, I can wait don't worry" he said and she sighed.

"She's going to take a while and I want to speak to her too, the only thing she's seeing right now is her anger of you adding another wife" Ammi laughed at the absurdity "I'll get her into her senses and send her back okay?" Ammi said.

"Ammi.." he started and she frowned.

"You don't trust me? No one will touch her I promise." she reassured and he nodded reluctantly taking her words for it.

It doesn't matter if Ahmad was her brother or not, he has had enough of her family raising their hands on her or beating her up as if that would fix things, maybe that was why she hid everything all along, thinking the moment she spoke up everyone would attack her and her brother had just proven him right.

Imran made a mental note to address Ahmad about this later. There would be time for that, but right now, there were more pressing matters at hand.

__________

The tone Imran used on both her and Ahmad made Jadwa flinch in her seat, but that wasn't what had her up on her feet immediately. It was the way his voice softened when he turned to her, asking her to get ready and not keep him waiting. The shift in his tone didn't lessen the impact of his words or the nervousness that coiled in her chest, but it added a strange, feathery sensation, the flutter that made her heart beat faster, even as her hands trembled.

As soon as he left the living room, Jadwa was on her feet, moving almost without thought. Her fingers brushed through her blow-dried hair, smoothing it into a neat bun. She reached for the closest laffaya smoking with bakhoor, the one she kept for everyday wear, its fabric scented with the smoky sweetness of bakhoor. She draped a veil over her head, the soft fabric falling into place just as Ammi walked in.

"Jadu," Ammi said, closing the door with a firm thud that made Jadwa's shoulders tense.

"Ammi," she turned around, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Is this how you usually behave?" Ammi's voice was laced with disappointment, a hurt that cut deeper than any sharp words could. Her arms were folded tightly across her chest, her gaze piercing.

"Why are you getting ready? I thought you said you wanted him to divorce you?" Ammi's question hung in the air, heavy and unrelenting. Jadwa felt her throat tighten, her words trapped somewhere between her chest and her lips.

"Ammi..." Jadwa began, her voice faltering.

"Don't 'Ammi' me!" Ammi scolded, her tone sharp. "Sit down here and wait for the talaq, please. Isn't that what you want?" The word talaq echoed in the room, cold and final. Jadwa's legs gave way, and she sank onto the edge of the bed, her body trembling as if the ground beneath her had shifted. The dizziness that washed over her was suffocating, and she gripped the edge of the mattress to steady herself.

"He said he would do that?" Jadwa's voice cracked, raw and tired.

Ammi sighed, her expression softening just a fraction. "I can't help your matter, Jadwa. Just like you concluded on your own that he's adding another wife, go ahead now and conclude that he's doing that too. go on, keep concluding" Her words were pointed, her eyes narrowing as she studied her daughter.

A breath of relief escaped Jadwa's lungs, loud and audible, making Ammi shake her head in disbelief.

"Your problem isn't just the fear you let consume you and your life, Jadwa. You've let it poke holes in every part of your existence, including your marriage. You've made yourself so blind that you won't allow yourself to love truly or let your husband love you. Allow yourself to love, and give him a chance to love you, you conclude on things without giving it any benefits of thought" Ammi said, her voice strict but not unkind.

Jadwa felt the words lodge in her throat, choking her. Maybe, she thought, there were moments in life when we simply drift, unaware of the deep-rooted issues that keep us from moving forward. Life was never promised to be easy, but it always got better. The clock kept ticking, and if it was going to keep moving, why should she remain stuck in one spot, frozen in fear for months, even years?

"Muhammad is not taking another wife. He never cheated on you, and he will not do that to you. Not now, not tomorrow. In his words, he won't abandon you and run to another woman just because of a small test," Ammi said, her voice steady. She paused, letting the words sink in before continuing. "Please go and fix this, Jadwa. Muhammad is already dealing with so much on his plate. Don't be one of those women who will be counted as ungrateful to their husbands on the Day of Judgment."

With that, Ammi stood, her movements decisive. "I asked him to leave first so I could have a word with you, so pack your things and go back. I don't want to see you in my house" The door banged shut behind her, leaving Jadwa alone with her thoughts.

As always, Jadwa felt the same when it was time to face a problem. She didn't want to face it. She didn't want to face Imran. But she had to. There was no escaping the nerves that twisted her stomach into knots. If she hid any longer, if she didn't sit down and communicate her truth, she would only hurt herself and her marriage. That much, at least, she knew.

Reluctantly, she packed her box neatly, dragging out the task to buy herself time. Just as she was about to leave, Zarah called, her voice panicked. "Jadwa, I think Grace left Zarah's laffaya for the Budan Kai in Kaduna at your house. And I have your stuff here too."

"Grace? When?" Jadwa furrowed her brows, confusion knitting her forehead.

"When she came for your fittings. Please get it to us now. We should be leaving for the airport soon," Ameerah said, her urgency palpable.

"You people will be the end of me!" Jadwa groaned in frustration, quickly packing her things and calling for help to carry her box down the stairs.

She grabbed her car keys and made her way out, bidding a quick goodbye to Ammi, who was in the kitchen. She didn't want to risk another lecture that would leave her in tears before she left.

As Jadwa drove to the house, her mind was a blank canvas. She blocked out every thought, every possibility. Maybe he's there, maybe he's not. It's a weekday, and he's probably gone back to the office, she told herself, trying to steady her racing heart.

When she arrived at the gates of her house, they were already open for her. She greeted the workers with a nod, her steps quick as she made her way inside. The house still carried the signature  scent of the bakhoor she had chosen for their home, mingling with the soft, lingering notes of Imran's oud. She walked past the foyer, slipping off her shoes, but as soon as she stepped into the living room, she froze.

There he was, seated in his usual spot, his head leaned back against the couch. It was a posture she had come to recognize, one he adopted when he was stressed or frustrated. Her heart skipped a beat as she offered a small, barely audible salaam, her voice trembling as much as her hands.

She said a small Salaam, barely audible to her own ears, before she started walking. She could see the way he looked at her from the sides of his eyes, and she prayed on her trembling tongue as she tried to walk past him. But he suddenly stands up, coming to tower over her, holding her hand before she walked past him.

"Jadwa," her name rolled off his tongue easily, softly. His voice was calm as always, but it carried a weight that made her chest tighten.

"Na'am, you asked me to come back," she answered, her voice trembling as her heart pounded in her chest. She waited, bracing herself for whatever he was about to say.

"Can we talk?"he asked, his tone gentle, almost pleading.

"Uhm... Zarah..." She started, her words stumbling, but the palm he rested on the side of her face silenced her. His touch was warm, his fingers brushing against her cheek in a caress made her shush.

"Can I at least say something before anything?"he asked, his eyes locking onto hers. He stepped closer, his body hovering over hers, his hand tilting her chin up to meet his gaze.

"What do you want to say?"Jadwa asked, her voice barely a whisper as she met his eyes.

"I love you"

I love you. He said it.

Maybe love isn't supposed to be cruel like his. But she's the most precious purpose of life. There was always purpose in life even before Jadwa, but he never thought life would be as bright as it did when he fell in love with her. And now that she is his, he's afraid of losing her. A woman with feelings that can never compare to his and fire on her tongue has turned him to ashes.

One day he won't be this ludicrous, and the only way he knew to love is in his own way, slowly and silently. But now he will, however Jadwa wants it, and all he can do is pray he conquers her heart not as partly as he does now, but fully. Then she'll allow him to reign over it.

"I'm sorry I didn't say it sooner, even though it was all I had in my heart for you," he apologized.

"I love you, Jadwa. I have loved you for years, and it only got stronger than it was the first day I laid my eyes on you."He spoke from the depths of his heart, his words spilling out the confession he had held onto for too long.

"Knowing you didn't even know about me, let alone the love I had for you... loving you wasn't something that happened just because it swept me off my feet."

Jadwa's eyes pooled with tears, and his thumb brushed them away before they could roll down her cheeks. I a gentle, almost reverent touch.

It was a conscious choice," he continued, his voice softening. "Whether you felt the same or not never mattered. I knew." He smiled lightly, a small, bittersweet curve of his lips. "Well, maybe along the way, my hope blurred it out a little, but I knew what I got myself into, Jadwa." His words were clear, his gaze unwavering as he watched her. Her doe eyes softened, and he saw the shift in them, the way her defenses began to crumble. A small smile almost escaped her lips.

Her heart was racing... No, it was pounding. She felt like she was floating, as though she were in a dream. Or maybe this was what people felt when they were on drugs, that addictive high that left them craving more.

This was euphoria.

"It did not upset me  that you don't feel as strongly as I do for you," he admitted, "Because  it was expected. What actually hurt was that my love and my intimacy were so trivial to you, as if there was never love." He laid his heart bare, his words a clear offering for her to see, for her to hold.

"I'm not going to change the truth, the first thing that grabbed my attention was your beauty," he said, his voice softening as he reminisced. "When I saw you, I felt like you were the most beautiful woman I had ever seen and I still feel that way. Your beauty pulled me toward you, and I am so very much attracted to you—disgustingly so. And now you are my wife, so it's only natural. As much as I love your face, your body, and the chemistry we have, it's only a fraction of a thousand reasons why I love you"

At first, the words made her daze out. They were unexpected, and her eyes widened slowly, slightly. She saw the way his throat worked as he swallowed, the way he took his time staring into her eyes. But silently, his gaze told her she didn't have to speak, his smile told her she didn't have to respond and she understood.

"You're my life, Jadwa," he said, his voice low and filled with emotion. "And in those long years I loved you, sent my proposal that got turned down, I didn't stop loving you. I only caged my feelings because I thought, 'How can a man like me have a woman like you?'" He stared down at her, and she faintly smiled at him. Then he chuckled at his own words, a soft, self-deprecating sound. "But my truth was always that I love you, and that I deserve you. I know that." His voice grew firmer, more confident. "So just like the stars are out regardless of whether it's day or night because the sky belongs to them, I knew I'd have you." He leaned down and placed a kiss on her forehead, his lips lingering for a moment. "And now that I have you, I will earn your love too"

Jadwa's hands clutched the fabric of his jallabiya, her fingers trembling as she looked up at him. No words came to her. Now she understood why he always looked at her the way he did. She saw what he saw, searched for what he always searched for, only to find it in his eyes always. And he had never found it in hers.

Her phone chimed, the ringtone loud and jarring, breaking the moment. She stepped back, her hands dropping from the hold she had on him. With one last stare and no words, she walked away from him and made her way up the stairs.

Imran stared at her swaying away, but he saw the tear that rolled down her eyes before she walked past him. He let her go because he knew. They are like a story of lovers where she's ignorantly on the run from him, and he's always after her in chase. In this game of love with her, he has traded his heart from the beginning, and she's playing with it, but he doesn't  mind.

"If your love destroys my sanity, it blesses my life too," he smiled, making his way up to his room after he heard her shutting the door behind her.

____________________________

After Jadwa cussed out Zarah for calling her, yes, she cussed out the bride for partly ruining her moment! she felt like screaming and jumping with joy. The phone call gave her an excuse to run away from him before she did something impulsive, like throwing herself into his arms and screaming at the top of her lungs.

Which was exactly what she did the moment she entered her closet, where she was sure he wouldn't hear her. She screamed into her hands, muffling the sound, and jumped up and down, replaying his words over and over in her head. Her heart felt like it might burst out of her chest, and she couldn't stop the huge smile that spread across her face. When she finally calmed down, she searched for Zarah's dress, glaring at it as if it were the reason for her emotional turmoil. She neatly folded it and placed it in a paper bag before heading out.

The grin on Jadwa's face refused to disappear. It was plastered on her face like a sticker, and when she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror on her vanity, her smile faltered. Her face was flushed red, and her eyes were tinted pink from the tears of joy she had shed while screaming. She quickly went to the bathroom and splashed her face with cold water repeatedly until the redness subsided a little. Then, before she could stop herself, she made her way to his room.

She had heard his footsteps earlier when he came upstairs, so she assumed he'd be there. Just as she imagined, he was sitting by the window, staring out at the morning sun. His back muscles were visible as he had removed his thobe and was now in his beige sweatpants, sipping his tea. The sight of him made her heart skip a beat.

"Uhmmm," she stammered, walking into the room. Why was she always this shy in his presence? Why did he turn her into a nervous wreck every single time? She kept her distance, standing close but not too close, clutching the paper bag tightly.

"The stylist forgot Zarah's laffaya here for the budan kai in Kaduna. I need to rush and give it back to her," she said, holding up the bag when he turned to look at her.

"Okay, I can drive you there," he offered, picking up his sweatshirt and slipping it on.

"No, no, please enjoy your tea. I also need to take some things from Amira's house. I'll be back soon," she said quickly, and he paused for a moment before nodding. She stared back at him nervously as her phone blared again with Zarah's calls.

"Don't stay too long," he said, stretching out a hand to fix her laffaya, adjusting it to cover the strands of hair peeking out. "We'll talk when you're back. I love you," he added in a low tone, picking up his teacup and leaving Jadwa utterly stunned.

Stunned enough to transport her out of the room while her brain seized function. She walked out of the room so fast, her heart racing. She had wanted to hear those words so badly, but now that he said them so easily and effortlessly, it made her feel like a jellyfish—weak, wobbly, and completely overwhelmed.

She got into her car and sped out of the house. For a moment, she considered driving back and handing the bag to the driver to deliver it, but she needed time to process everything. Is Muhammad Imran even real? Or is this some sort of lucid dream? she thought as she drove to Ameerah's house. Her mind was a whirlwind of emotions, and she couldn't stop smiling.

When she arrived, she carelessly parked her car and hurried upstairs, where the girls were all doing their makeup. Zarah sat chatting with Sarah, Asma, and Aya, while Rahma and Anaya jumped up to hug Jadwa the moment she walked in. She returned their hugs warmly, even giving them cheek kisses. After all, they were her husband's sisters, and whatever she felt for him was starting to rub off on them.

"Zarah, if you go to your husband's house, I'm begging you not to show your face in front of me for at least six months because I might choke the life out of you for making me trade what I traded just to deliver your dress!" Jadwa said, throwing the bag at her little sister. Ameerah and Fatima, who were in the corner feeding their babies, audibly gasped.

"ahh ahhnnn, Jadu, is it that deep and how are you feeling? You look so sick" Fatima asked, clearly concerned by Jadwa's outburst.

Jadwa glared at Zarah, hissing, "Don't even expect me to be there for you tomorrow."

"It is indeed that deep, Fatima," Ameerah said, tapping her, who still looked bewildered by Jadwa's actions.

"I'm fine thank you Fatima" Jadwa rasped moving to hold her baby and also caress Hassan's face.

A huge smile returned to Jadwa's face when her eyes met Ameerah's, and Ameerah shook her head unbelievably. "I'm leaving now. Safe flight, guys," Jadwa said, almost fleeing from the room, but Ameerah stopped her.

"Here, we took this thinking it was also for Zarah," Ameerah said, handing her a card. "Unfortunately the flowers are almost dead in your room at Ammi's" Jadwa took it, and the moment she saw the name of the flower shop, her heart skipped a beat. She froze for a second, and the smile on her face faded.

The words they had said echoed in her mind as she walked out of the room, eventually breaking into a run until she reached her car. She got in and locked the door, her hands trembling as she held the card. She opened it, her breath catching in her throat.

She remembered exactly what flowers had held this pearl-white card. The white bouquet of roses she had seen on Zarah's nikah day.

Inside, in Imran's perfect handwriting, it read:

I believed red was the most beautiful colour in the world until I saw brown on you. Then I realised, my world isn't what's beautiful after all. It's you. You're the one who makes it beautiful, Jadwa.                                                                                                                             And Can I come see you later? Just a moment of your time, that's all I ask. Please, give me a chance to explain myself and make all the wrongs I've made right.    
With love,
Muhammad Imran.