"Jadwa." He tapped her legs lightly. He had woken her up before he went out to pray, but by all indications, she hadn't gotten up.

He went back to the couch and grabbed the sweatshirt he had worn earlier in the day. Knowing Jadwa, waking her up and dealing with her shy act wasn't something he wanted to handle right now.

"Baby," he called, and she hummed in response.

"Maama," he called again, leaning down and caressing her hair before she finally opened her eyes.

"Mmm, Albi," she rasped, closing them again.

"Tashi, kiyi sallah," he said, sitting her up. She stayed limp, still sleepy, and utterly exhausted.

Not waiting for her to fully wake, he slipped the sweatshirt over her body, and she lazily pulled her arms through, her eyes still closed.

"I'm so tired," she whined, attempting to get up.

Imran held back a laugh as she tried to walk with her eyes still shut.

"Open your eyes, or you're going to hit your pretty head," he said. She finally blinked them open, and he got up, helping her to the bathroom.

She looked at herself in the mirror. Strangely, she found herself beautiful—even in this groggy state. Her hair was a pretty mess, and she ran her fingers through it, already missing her blowout.

He helped her squeeze toothpaste onto her toothbrush while he set the temperature for her shower.

"Don't stay too long, time ya wuce," he said. She nodded, hearing him over the buzzing of her toothbrush.

He stood there, watching her. Through the mirror, he could see the way her eyes shifted as she turned her neck and pulled down the sweatshirt, inspecting the marks on her body.

He folded his arms over his chest, his jallabiya draped loosely on his body. She sent him a sleepy glare, making him smile as he raised his hands in surrender. He held back another laugh, watching the love of his life look so effortlessly beautiful. As pure as she was, his heart overflowed with gratitude.

She sent another glare his way. The smile on his face was so big she thought he was mocking her state. So, cupping water in her hands, she aimed to throw it at him only for him to disappear into the room just in time with a rich laugh.

Jadwa listened to him and stayed no longer than twenty minutes, taking a shower and performing her ghusl before stepping out of the bathroom in a robe. She noticed the sheets on the bed had been changed, and Imran was seated on the couch, his laptop resting on his legs as he focused on whatever he was doing with their phones that he held together.

She dried her hair with a towel, packed it into a bun, then quickly buttered her body, sprayed a light perfume, and slipped into a maxi dress.

Moving to the corner of the room where they always prayed, she repaid her missed salah. After her supplications, she didn't say anything—just folded her jilbaab and walked to the bed.

"Did you sleep well?" he asked getting up and meeting her on the bed too. she lay on her stomach, her feet in the air, her face resting in her palms.

She rolled her eyes at his question, making him chuckle.

"It's just a question, baby girl. Ko yanzu kin dena magana?" he teased.

"Why would I stop talking?" She pushed her lips into a pout and huffed.

"Who knows? Maybe because you're all bold and talk big, but when you're in my hands, there's no action?" He sent a wink her way and inhaled deeply.

"Ka fara, ko?" she whined, covering her face with her hands and wiggling her feet in frustration.

Imran laughed heartily at her tantrum. "Is it not true?" he asked. She uncovered her face, looking him up and down with narrowed eyes.

"Yanzu, if I do anything, I'll be the one that's evil, ko?" he asked when she kept fluttering her lashes in mock disrespect.

"Try it." She stuck her tongue out at him, and he cackled.

"Yauwa! That's what I was waiting for. Come here," he motioned with his hands. Her eyes widened when he took off his thobe, revealing the black shorts he wore underneath, reaching just above his knees.

"Are you a hungry beast?" she gasped, sitting up. He laughed at the genuine concern on her face.

"I'm just addicted," he corrected.

She shuddered her shoulders as if cringing, but the sound of his words made her heart flutter, and the smile on her face betrayed her pretense.

"You know how bad the addiction is..." He sighed. "Or do you want to rehabilitate me?" he flirted.

She looked at him, and her heart dropped into her stomach. His words made her hunch low, holding her stomach as she closed her eyes.

"Baby." He moved closer to her immediately. "Are you okay?" His voice was filled with concern.

"No, I'm fine." She bit her lip, feeling bad about how worried he looked.

"I just get this feeling in my stomach whenever you say things like that," she admitted. He watched her, confused.
"You know, butterflies? But these are so aggressive, it almost makes me feel sick," she explained.

Imran removed his hand from her shoulders and shook his head. "You are a gone case."

Still, his heart swelled so much it felt like it might burst from the pride he felt.

Watching her fiddle with her fingers, his own heart fluttered. He burst into laughter, letting his body fall onto the bed, unable to contain it.

Seeing him like that, so carefree, made her laugh too. Tears welled in her eyes from how hard she laughed, her body shaking with it. Their world blurred into just the two of them—the deep timbre of his laughter mixing with her soft, sweet one, a melody only they could hear.

When they finally caught their breath, he looked at her, reaching out to remove her hair from the bun so it could air dry.

"Is that how much in love you are?" he asked softly.

"Mmm, that's how deeply in love I am," she admitted, looking at him. He tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

He smiled, and they gazed at each other in silence for over five minutes, finding comfort in each other's eyes.

"I didn't think you'd be this in love," he finally said. "I could tell you had strong feelings for me, even before you realized it yourself but I didn't think... it was like this."

She could only nod in agreement—it was nothing short of the truth.

"I'm jealous of you," she confessed. "You've loved me longer than I ever will."

Even if they spent a hundred years together, he had already spent more years loving her before she ever did.

"Speaking of jealousy... I didn't know my wifey was so feisty when it comes to that," he teased, rubbing his hands together.

A twist formed in Jadwa's heart, but she ignored it, more curious about something else.

"Aren't you upset that I walked out on you earlier?" she asked.

Imran laughed and shook his head. "I'm used to it. A man can't wait for years and not have patience for one day."

Jadwa groaned. "Don't be smooth about it. Tell me!" she pouted.

"Okay, here's exactly what I thought when you walked away." He sat up, pretending to be serious.

"I was like... hmm, what a hottie you are! To walk out on a man like me? To walk out on a confession of—what's that name you people say again?" He furrowed his brows.

Jadwa laughed out loud. "Alhaji Babba?"

"Exactly!" He snapped his hands "Alhaji Babba, Girls are lining up for a share of this hot thing," he boasted, flexing his muscles.

Jadwa scrunched her nose in mock disgust, laughing.

"I was like, hmm, let me just go spend on Khayrah and Alina. Buy them emeralds, diamonds, everything... Oh! And that property I showed you? Perfect for my third wife, ko?"

She threw a pillow at him, smacking his biceps with repeated slaps.

"Okay, okay! I'm sorry, princess!!!" He peeled her off him, setting her back opposite him cross legged.

"It was a serious question," she huffed.

"Okay, listen." He laughed. "I just said..." He smiled, staring into her eyes before shifting his gaze to her lips. "If loving you destroys my sanity, it blesses my life too."

Jadwa glared at him, but there was a smile on her face. "You didn't say that."

"I did." His face turned serious, but his eyes still smiled. "I don't joke about anything when it comes to how I feel about you Jadwa... About you, I don't."

She looked away, overwhelmed by the rush of emotions.

"What did I do to deserve you?" she asked, swallowing back her tears.

"Exist," he answered simply.

"I love you so much that it's beyond measuring its worth," he whispered. He leaned forward, pressing a kiss on her lips. Then he pulled back—but this time, she leaned in for more, kissing him again and mouthing the same words to him

"I love you too, Maama. Thank you for carrying my baby," he murmured, leaning down to kiss her stomach.

"You were as perfect as you could be," he continued. "And Allah didn't take away from us to not bless us with better."

Jadwa placed a hand on his head as he kissed her stomach again. A tear slipped from her eye, but she quickly wiped it away.

"You would have been holding a bump now" another tear fell from her eyes but there was a big smile at the same time.

She cleaned the tear on her face and he placed three light kisses on her stomach and he remained there a tad bit longer before speaking.

"We'll have fifteen babies running around the house before you know it," Imran said, looking up at her with a smirk.

Jadwa sniffed, then let out a small laugh. "Really? With your three wives?" She reached out and pinched his ear lightly.

He straightened, shrugging. "No, just you. I'm not taking another wife after you, Bi'iznillah . That's my promise." He took her hand and pressed a kiss to it.

Her heart fluttered for a second before she tilted her head, her voice lowering. "Then who is Alina?"

His expression shifted, and he ran a hand over his face. "She's no one," he muttered.

Jadwa hummed, unimpressed. "Right," she repeated, her tone unreadable. "No one."

Imran sighed and picked up his phone, his thumbs moving swiftly over the screen.

"I'm hungry," she announced, getting up from the bed. "I'll get some food."

Before she could take another step, his fingers curled around her wrist. "No, wait. I'll show you who Alina is. I just don't know if she's awake—it's already late."

Jadwa yanked her hand away, the ease in his voice igniting something hot and ugly inside her. *How well did he know this woman?*

Without another word, she walked out of the room, descending the stairs in hurried steps. She wasn't about to do anything impulsive—she just needed food. *And air.* But he just had to ruin it, bringing up this stupid Alina with that annoying smirk of his.

She turned on the kitchen lights, ignoring the sound of his approaching footsteps.

"Baby, please, listen to me." His voice was gentle, but she kept her back to him, rinsing a pot as though he wasn't there.

A phone rang, and she heard him answer. Then, a woman's voice rang out through the speaker.

Jadwa's grip tightened on the pot, her chest constricting. She wasn't sure why, but the sound of another woman speaking to him so freely made tears prickle behind her eyes. Why am I like this?

She forced herself to tune it out, focusing on her breathing, but then—

"Zaytuna, talk to Jadwa, she's here," Imran said, stepping closer and holding the phone toward her.

Jadwa turned sharply, her glare making him mute the call.

"It's Khalifa's mother," he explained, offering the phone.

The moment Jadwa laid eyes on the woman, her breath hitched.

"Ya Salaam! Such a beauty! Assalamu alaykum!" The woman's warm voice carried through the screen.

Jadwa tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear and collected herself. "Wa'alaykumus salam. How are you?"

"Alhamdulillah, finally! Imran finally got you on the phone." The woman chuckled.

Jadwa smiled, taking a moment to absorb her beauty. She could see Khalifa's resemblance so clearly now.

"Finally," she echoed with a polite chuckle. "It took a while."

"I've heard so much about you from Khalifa. He never stops rambling about Matar Uncle Muhammad."

Jadwa laughed, suddenly feeling shy. "Allah sarki, he takes after you a lot, Ma Shaa Allah."

"Says the beauty who stole our uncle," Zaytuna teased, her beige jilbab draping elegantly over her shoulders.

Imran groaned. "Zaytuna, please don't start."

She laughed, then turned slightly. "Where's Alina? Give her back her phone, tazo ta gaishe da matata."

Jadwa's stomach twisted.

The moment Zaytuna left to fetch her, she clenched her jaw. Her sister. Of course, she'd be just as stunning.

"Sannu, Mai Mata, mun shiga uku, wallahi," Zaytuna called out mid-laughter.

"Is this how overbearing he is with you?" she joked, and Jadwa could only smile, nodding at the screen.

"Since the day Muhammad got married, no one has had peace. Everywhere is just 'Jadwa.' Even Khalifa told me once, yace Mommy, Uncle Muhammad loves his wife too much."

Imran kissed Jadwa's shoulder as she shyly lowered her gaze.

Then, a loud squeal came from the phone, making Jadwa's eyes widen. A little girl with pigtails snatched the device.

"Uncle Moh!" she squealed. "I missed you soooo much—like this!" She stretched her small arms wide.

Imran laughed. "My baby, I missed you too."

Jadwa blinked at the screen, realization sinking in.

"Mommy took my phone!" Alina pouted, her thick British accent making her words even more dramatic.

Imran clicked his tongue. "I knew it. That's why you didn't talk to me for so long."

The little girl nodded solemnly before gasping and pointing. "Who's that, Mommy?"

Zaytuna reappeared, a baby now nestled in her arms. "That's Aunty Jadwa, Uncle Muhammad's wife."

Instead of excitement, Alina's shoulders drooped.

"Say hi to my wife, Alina," Imran urged.

The girl folded her arms on her chest with a huff.

"Uncle Moh!!!..." she pouted even harder.

Jadwa, amused, decided to intervene. "Hi, Alina. Pretty girl, how are you?"

The child stared at her for a long moment, then turned to her mother with an urgent tug.

"Mommy, I don't want to talk to him." She ignored Jadwa completely pointing an accusing hand at Imran through the camera.

"Alina! Don't be rude," Zaytuna scolded, though she was clearly entertained.

The little girl turned back to Imran, her lips wobbling. "Mommy, and she's so pwretty. That's cheating! I said I was going to marry him when I grow up!"

Her tiny voice cracked, and Jadwa had to bite her lip to hold in her laughter.

"Alina, baby," Imran cooed, clearly enjoying himself. "But she loves me. She said she'd die if I didn't marry her, so I had to save her."

Jadwa's mouth fell open. The audacity.

Alina, however, was unmoved. "No! My friend said boys only love pwretty girls! You love her too!"

That was it. Jadwa burst out laughing.

Unfortunately, that only made Alina burst into tears.

Imran shot Jadwa a glare. "Alina, come on, don't be like Jadwa."

The little girl stomped her foot, her tiny voice shaking. "Daddy!" she wailed before running out of view.

Zaytuna laughed. "May Allah guide both you and Alina."

Jadwa nodded in agreement, still giggling.

"Did she go to tell your husband?" Imran asked ignoring the prayers he made.

"Oh, definitely," Zaytuna sighed. "He'll call you soon and tell you to apologise to his baby. He spoils her rotten."

They continued chatting, with Jadwa joining in occasionally.

At one point, she tilted her head. "What's his name?" She gestured at the baby in Zaytuna's arms.

"Ilyas."

Jadwa cooed as Zaytuna brought him closer, praying for him with a soft smile.

After a few more minutes of conversation, Imran stretched. "Alright, get off my phone. My wife is cooking for me."

He ended the call with a smirk, turning back to Jadwa, who just shook her head.

"Seriously?" Jadwa turned around, folding her arms. "That's Alina?" She pointed at his phone, her voice laced with disbelief.

Imran laughed so hard he had to hold onto the counter. "What were you expecting? Some side chick?"

Jadwa bit her lip.

A soothing balm—that's what seeing Alina should have been. But it also ignited a slow burn of irritation inside her. She had cried for days, sleepless nights stretching into weeks, all over a girl in Moana pajamas with pigtails.

"Allah zai saka mun." She shook her head and moved away from him.

Imran only laughed harder. "Subhanallah! Baby?" He clutched his stomach, still grinning.

She whirled around, eyes blazing. "Do you even understand how miserable I was? I couldn't eat, I couldn't sleep! I was sick with worry, crying every night, torturing myself, thinking my husband of less than a year was taking another wife. And it was a six-year-old?" Her voice cracked with the weight of frustration. "You toyed with my emotions! You couldn't just say it was a child? No, you had to drag it out and make it a spectacle—and you think this is funny?" Tears welled in her eyes.

"She's five, baby," he corrected.

MIGHT AS WELL DROP A COUPLE OF CHAPTERS BEFORE THE END OF THE WEEK... IF YOU SHOW SOME LOVE ;)