PORTLAND, OREGON, USA.

"You promised to enjoy the day but you're being so boring. Why are you killing our joy? It's your fucking party." Chris Ross, one of Aman's friend commented with a sharp voice courtesy of the liquor he's been wadding his system with.

Aman brushed him off and went to the bar to lean on it, he asked the bartender to mix drinks for him so he can cool down. It's been a month since his return and in two months time, the FIFA World Cup is going to take place which means they are being pushed to their max by their coach because he wants nothing but the best and doesn't tolerate laziness. Aman could feel it in his bones that he's changed too, he is not too into the game like the coach had said. And that's true but only he knew the reason why. Mahnoor.

He sighed again, twirled the glass cup in his hand then took quick swallow before asking the bartender to add some more for him, which he did. A party is being thrown for him to celebrate his return, he declined the offer but his friends are party mongers so they forced the coach to make it happen in one of the most luxurious hotels in the country. He can see most of his friends mingling around with other teammates, a few guests not from their circle and media here and there with other celebrities that wanted to join.

All the teammates were asked to come with their plus one, half of them are married while the others brought their girlfriends or just anyone. He can see a few popular musicians, models, actors and so on. The whole party doesn't make sense to him, all he wants to do is go hide somewhere and drink more liquor into his system like Chris Ross but he remembered that he is not supposed to be drinking at all so he stood and watched as everyone mingled around with their partner or their friends.

Na'im waltzed towards him with his wife in his arms, he managed a polite smile. He is still in his right state of mind, senses intact and not at all tipsy. Na'im got married to the love of his life named Ikram who happens to be just the perfect match for him with her small stature, innocent eyes and dazzling smile. She stopped right around his shoulders with her high heels of several inches on, that's how small she is which reminds him of Mahnoor. He swallowed harshly, his eyes burning as he turned away to clear away his emotions and welcome them.

Like everyone else in the room, they are wearing black and white as the party's theme. Na'im having on wide notched suit, matching trousers but white crisp shirt beneath just like his own only that his suit is peak collared. His wife beside him is wearing a sable shirt dress that reached down the floor, leaving her dark soot pumps in view but the buttons on the gown are white.

"The party guy. What are you doing here all alone?" Na'im went ahead to give him that manly hug he's hated but slowly got used to. "I hope you are not taking the liquor?" He whispered in his ear before pulling away, his eyes scrutinizing him.

Aman refused to answer so he yawed his attention to Ikram who started a hearty conversation with him like always. Aman sighed, he doesn't want to explain himself to his friend and if he uses his wife as the distraction, Na'im must calm down and drop the topic till later. He hasn't smelled liquor since his return but today, something happened that he couldn't stop himself. Shit, he is slowly failing her. Maybe she knew this would happen and that is why she left.

"Do you think I look okay? He won't freak out and leave me alone there humiliated and embarrassed?" Mahnoor asked, staring at herself at the floor length mirror, she looks good, resplendent even.

"Never. Just go there and do as we planned, make me proud." Azima pushed her through the door with a thumbs up.

Azima now lives with her in her small house in Austria but Mahnoor wouldn't stop talking about Aman and stalking every piece of information about him. Azima got tired and tracked him down then came to the party that's taking place today. She managed to talk to one of his friends Malik, she knows him from her own personal stalking and he was more than glad to help them as long as Mahnoor is willing to go back to Aman. He's assured them he also likes her and things are going to go smoothly, she is holding onto that hope.

Now here she is, outside the huge ballroom that the party is taking place. She is so nervous. She might end up embarrassed and then she won't be able to pack up the remains of her broken heart. She'd be done for if that happens. She is ready to surprise him and take him in her arms, the marriage is not completely severed after all. The nervousness and anxiety is still there though, biting at her with it's claws and sharp teeth.

Does he still want her? Has he moved on from her? He's missed her mayhap? Or has forgotten about her completely and moved on with his life? So far she hasn't seen anything about him with another woman, not even simple affair or going on a date. Not spotted anywhere and the media are asking about the mysterious wife he has talked about in Nigeria but they couldn't find in Portland. If he still wants her, she is ready to go back into his arms and they can continue from there like he's suggested.

She couldn't stop herself from thinking about him even if she wanted to. Thoughts of him always meander around in her head and live freely in her skull. She's got nothing to do but taking care of Azima's cravings, she takes pleasure in fulfilling all the girl's wishes to keep her mind away from Aman but it's futile since she'll end up burning the food down. She likes Azima's company though, she insisted that she come stay with her since the Ajujis are traveling away for vacation and she cannot stay there alone.

She hates going from one place to another when it's clearly stated that a woman in her condition shouldn't be moving around but what else can she do? The Ajujis do not care about her and after the matriarch of the house left, the servants wouldn't listen to a word she says so she got tired and thought about going to her parents house. One of the maids tried tripping her, very disrespectful nineteen year old. She got the offer from Mahnoor, asked a few scholars if she can travel due to her reasons and they agreed because it is tangible.

Taking the advice from Azima, Mahnoor is wearing on a black evening gown too -a bit too tight around the bosom where an illusion neckline sat and her beautiful Morgan Bello 18kt yellow gold Victoria clover necklace, down to regular long sleeves then the gown flared from her lower abdomen- like everyone else. Instead of mixing it with white though, she is all black from head to toe. Her veil wrapped in muffler, a small glistening evening bag in hand down to her Christian Dior stilettos. She is ready to kill this whole party for her husband's sake, so she can become the woman he will be proud to show off.

Her makeup too was on point like every other else, especially her blood red lipstick. With that bold confidence sipping through her, she yanked open the door making sure not to attract anyone's attention then the song started playing. 'Clean Bandit ft. Zara Larsson, Symphony' and she knew there is no way he won't remember this song from their home. She was always playing it on repeat in the household, disturbing everybody with the only song she knew on earth then and the only one she loves till date.

Her eyes browsed through the crowd in rapid search then settled on him, leaning close to the bar and talking to a woman with a wide smile. Her chest tugged and jerked, almost thought she should turn back around and leave but his head snapped at the sound of the song, his eyes looking far away, totally disregarding the woman in front of him. With that sign, her footsteps hastened in an elegant catwalk seeing as she's started attracting attention from the people around. She is wearing a hijab after all, that's what is taking most of the attention and her closed face too with black cloth for suspense.

She didn't stop until she is standing right in front of him, he was startled. She can see it in his eyes, he's recognized her. Instantly, her niqab was snatched away from her face and the whole crowd let out an 'Ouu' clearly in awe of her beauty and some with the brutality in which Aman had used to remove the niqab. He thought someone was trying to trick him.

It is written all over his face, the sagged shoulders and rush of breath. His whole face became emotional and the room is now drop dead silent, no one uttered a word as if understanding what the couple in front of them are going through. He hasn't changed a bit, not one bit.

He seized her into a bone crushing hug, touching her waist and back to make sure she is here with him and in his arms. Mahnoor smiled, things are going to be alright from his reaction. She is now reassured that he likes her, maybe more than she does him after all. She pushed him away and landed her lips straight to his because that last kiss he gave her in the plane wouldn't stop playing out over and over again in her head. She won't be alright until it's repeated. The crowd went wild, too wild for anyone to organize but they were all happy for him.

There is no doubt this little woman is the one person that'll make Aman Zubairu Ajuji whole again.

Two months later, Mahnoor sat on the bleachers yelling at the top of her lungs when Aman won the last goal for the team in the last minute that remained for the game to be over. She is wearing on his jersey and jeans, her face mask on like he's forced her to wear because of too much attention and she wants no special treatment just because she is his wife. They agreed to sit down together with Ikram and watch the ball till the end.

Mahnoor sat back down with a happy sigh and large smile on her face. She is sure she cannot be anymore happier because so many things had changed in the past two months.

Aman helped a great deal to ease her worries. He never belittled her fears or lost his patience with her. If Mahnoor wished to speak with him when she feels like things are getting too much in her head, he would interrupt whatever he was doing, no matter how important. On the evenings when they attended dinners or went to events, Aman treated her with such attentiveness that other wives were moved to remark sourly that their own husbands should be half so solicitous of their comfort.

It was the subject of much conversation, how greatly changed the hard rock was, and how such a serious-minded gentleman could have transformed into an obviously adoring husband. Mahnoor thought that the reason behind Aman's devotion was quite simple, having been alone for so long, he had a hard-won appreciation for the pleasures of marriage.

He did not take his happiness for granted. And perhaps in some corner of his heart he feared that it all might be taken away in the blink of an eye, just as it had with Asad.

She loved him so much but he is yet to find out about that and she is willing to take her time.

Like she's planned with Ikram and Azima, Mahnoor and Ikram traipsed down the bleachers and into the field where the footballers are exchanging ecstatic smiles and laughter. She held a small balloon ball in her hand and went to Aman who yawed around to give her a bone-crushing hug, rising her off her feet in process. She giggled, holding onto the ball desperately so it won't fall and the whole surprise will be ruined.

Placing her down leisurely, he beamed, the whole football team now molding into mosaic blur behind him. Mahnoor pushed him back. "Stay there. I have a surprise for you."

"What is that?" A small perplexed smile is on his face filled with consternation.

"Just wait there. Are you ready?" She yelled out, looking at his teammates as they also stay back with excited and enthusiastic nods.

At that, she threw the ball up and kick it with her left leg, a burst of fuscia color punctured from it and the other teammates gave out loud joyful outcries but Aman stood rooted to his place as if afraid to move. He knew what that means, she isn't the first person to announce pregnancy and the gender of the baby in such a way. Mahnoor is pregnant with his baby!

She went to him instead, her smile blinding. He looked down at her in a way that he never had before. Her smile vanished slowly as she realized that they were not alone and that he was still holding her. Carefully Aman stroked the curls away from her face, and with butterfly lightness brushed a kiss on her forehead. She stared at him in shock and extreme awareness. It had been a brotherly gesture, but he stared down at her not with the eyes of a family member, but of a lover.

Someone he had kill for and die for like he did his brother. Someone he'd lay his world on the floor for. Their daughter is in for a treat for her father, a protective and possessive man.

Malik laughed at Aman's expression. They are forced to stay in the locker room by the coach but he cannot wait to go back to the comfort of his woman's arms. To disturb her small stomach and talk to his baby girl inside.

"Calm down, bruh. She is all yours and no one else's." Na'im hit his shoulder, a brotherly smile carved on his face.

"Whatever."

"No matter how strong our resolve, we eventually find ourselves enslaved by the compulsive preference for one particular woman. You've been caught, my friend. You may as well reconcile yourself to it." The coach had jeered before sending them all away, disregarding what he wanted to talk about at the look on Aman's face.

Who would've thought.

"When one of them first attracts your interest, all you know is she's the most provoking creature you've ever encountered. But then you discover that as maddening as she is, you can scarcely wait until the next time you see her. Like the progression of an remediless disease you can never convalesce from. It unfurls from one organ to the next. The craving begins. All other women begin to seem colorless and daft in comparison. You want her until you think you'll go mad from it. You can't stop thinking about her." He'd told his coach before leaving.

Aman pushed his head between Mahnoor thighs on the bed, lying there like a child while she plays with his hair. She's demanded that he shouldn't cut it and he obeyed.

"Lately I've become so damned distracted that I can't make a decision about anything. I can't think clearly. I've got knots in my stomach, and constant pains in my chest, and whenever I see you talking to any man, or smiling at anyone, I go insane with jealousy. I can't live this way..." He broke off and stared at her incredulously. "Damn it, what is there for you to smile about?"

Mahnoor stopped playing with his hair and perked his forehead. "You are in love with me."

Mahnoor fought to contain a rush of eagerness, afraid of appearing foolishly infatuated with him but she is and he is clearly in love with her. However, no matter how sternly she tamped her feelings down beneath the surface, they seemed to sift out like diamond dust, sparkling visibly in the air around her. The odd thing was, he seemed similarly glad to be in her presence, for once discarding the guise of a jaded rake, and smiling at her with genuine warmth.

Instead of arguing with her words like she'd expected, he furrowed his brows deeply then came to conclusion that he really is in love with her. He caught her mouth with a soft tug, one that should be innocent but it blazed. Her mouth was soft and hot, like sunshine, like the white blaze of a heartwood fire. She gasped as he touched her lower lip with the tip of his tongue. Slowly her hands came to his shoulders, and then he felt her fingers at the back of his head, sliding into his hair to keep him from pulling away. There wasn't a chance in hell of that happening. Nothing could have made him stop.

A tremor shook his fingers as he bracketed the exquisite line of her jaw in the open framework of his hand, gently angling her face upward. The flavor of her mouth, sweet and elusive, fueled a hunger that threatened to rage out of control...he searched the damp silk beyond her lips, deeper, harder, until she began to breathe in long sighs, her body molding against his.

He let her feel how much stronger he was, how much heavier, one muscular arm clamped along her back, his feet spread to hold her between the powerful length of his thighs. Her upper half was bound in a laced sport bra. He was almost overcome by a savage desire to tear it and everything in sight.

She fell asleep rapidly after another round of love making, swimming through a haze of pleasant images, walking through an anonymous forest in Portland, the smell of sun-warmed meadowsweet rose thickly to her nostrils. She closed her eyes and tilted her chin upward, relishing the sultry rays, while a butterfly's wings brushed lightly against her cheek. Entranced by the delicate tickle, she held very still. The silken strokes moved over the tip of her nose, the sensitive periphery of her upper lip, the tender corners of her mouth.

Startled off his wits, Aman continue to stare at Mahnoor for the first time with all of his concentration. Blaming the FIFA World Cup for taking away his time with his wife but he was thoroughly enjoying her presence and attention all to himself before Azima snatched it away few days ago when she gave birth to her baby boy named Asad.

Each and every single one of them was touched, even his mother who was face timed to see her grandson before she comes. When they heard the name she whispered, it was all silent around the room, eyes tearful and emotional. No one would've forced her to name her baby after her dead husband, that was totally her choice.

But right now with his eyes on his wife's exhausted sleeping face, he was galvanized because what he's been looking for in his entire life has been right in front of him, beneath his nose. The baby girl's photo he's had with him for more than twenty two years, the photo that serves as his wallpapers and the one that kept him sane in the prison. The baby girl he's watched pushed to the world, he'd helped name her after light and continue to think about her since then is actually Mahnoor. He cannot believe they actually named her Mahnoor with Noor....

How could he have forgotten? Why didn't it occur to him that something like this happened?

He remembered clearly what his father had told him about marrying Mahnoor just few days ago when they came down to Portland to see their grandchild.

"Her father forced me to get one of my sons married to her or he ruins my political career. You know those people in Agadez and their sorcery ways. He also blackmailed me into it or he takes me to court for killing his wife whom I've hit with my car the last time I was there in Niger. The truth now is, his wife is alive the entire time and nothing happened to her! I wanted to make sure he knows who he's messed with but that won't be worth it after all their daughter had endured." His father had said, looking a little bit remorseful.

He touched the little beauty mark by the side of her face and whispered in a morose tone. "Noor!"

THE END...