5 exams this week and I still managed to write you an update--a long one. I deserve comments for real.

      SA'ADATU'S POV.

MAIDUGURI, NIGERIA.

Perhaps, I was wrong.

Marriage can be the best thing that has ever happened to one—when one is with the right person that is. Up until months ago, I could not fully understand that concept, but I would like to think now I do.

Just as much as I realize the importance of other things we take for granted as well. Such as, one's health.

The smell of sterilizers welcomed me the moment I stepped out of the restroom, stepping back into the spacious hospital room in which I have been in for days now. My entire body still feels sore, but it is much better compared to a few days ago when I could not even bring myself to stand on my feet.

I took cautious steps, as I still do not have back my normal strength to go about my daily life without any worries, towards my bed, the silence of the room promising me much needed rest that I may, or may not have started to become bored of.

However, before I reached the bed, the sight of something on the bedside cabinet captured my attention. Beside the tablets of pills, piles of which I have started to hate at this moment truly, lay one of the most beautiful bouquets I had ever seen before.

The beautiful blood rose welcomed me from where it sat all perched up, and wrapped in a white paper with intricate silver designs. A smile immediately made its way on my face as I approached it instead, the card peeking from in between it welcoming me almost immediately.

I reached out and picked out the card, unfolding it to be welcomed by familiar handwriting I can now recognize anywhere.

Doesn't matter if you are in hospital uniform,

To me,

You are still, and will always be the most beautiful.

-MKW.

He needed not add the initials, it is already obvious whom it is from. Who else would send me bouquets of flowers every single day if not him?

The stupid grin on my face could not wipe itself away, and I bother not do that because there is honestly no reason to. I reached one hand out to admire the beautiful roses while the other hand held the card in place—no doubt to be added to the one too many write-ups I had gotten over the past months.

I will soon have a jarful of it at this point, trust me.

"Ah ah, see that grin, Mr. Husband must be on it once again," A familiar voice came, notifying me of his presence in the room. If the familiar annoying voice isn't enough to recognize the person, then the flash of black outfit that welcomed me the moment I turned around was more than enough. "I hope I am not interrupting any lovey dovey moment here."

I rolled my eyes, shaking my head in the process. "He is not even here."

"Does he need to be with you though? You two are always terrorizing the single people,"

"Except you," I pointed out as a matter of fact, giving him a look that dared him to say otherwise.

He flashed me his infamous boyish grins, shrugging his shoulders. "What can I say? Love is certainly not my forte. You cannot oppress the unbothered."

I could only hum, giving him a look that showed I do not believe him in the slightest. "I will be the judge of that later on in life," I made my way towards the bed, settling down on it.

Before I could turn around and fix myself up though, he was already by my side, his voice came. "Let me," He uttered, then made a move to adjust the pillow for me, so I can sit back comfortably.

I offered him a grateful smile, "Thank you," I so much enjoyed the change in position, I am tired of laying down all the time. But, lifting my hands to perform basic tasks is proving to be difficult—especially when I am alone.

With his exception of course.

Once comfortable, I gave him a onceover, his usual all black outfit contrast against the beautiful caramel skin, pulling it off weirdly enough. But, it was not the outfit that had me arching a brow. Rather, it was the helmet he held in his left hand—an accessory that has become a part of his looks. "Racing again, huh?" I gave him a pointed look.

Zaheer Wambai, Khalil's cousin like brother—and to be honest my favorite person in the Wambai family after my husband, obviously, could only flash me his all too familiar grin. "When am I ever not racing?" It was a rhetorical question, for the answer is almost never.

Zaheer has a dangerous hobby that no one in the family ever supports—car and bike racing. It does not matter who speaks to him about it—his parents, whoever, he never stops. I guess, you can say he is the rebellious kid who does whatever he wants regardless of anyone's words.

I guess it kind of helps that he is an only child. But that being considered, and the fact that his father is a businessman that naturally wants him to take over, you would think the twenty-one-year-old would show even the slightest interest in inheriting the fortune.

He does not. He would much rather 'waste his time away racing' as his parents like to say all the time. An act they probably would never accept.

His mother is one of those that came to my house prior to my marriage to Khalil, and I clearly remember recognizing her as one of those fancy aunts. My thoughts did not fall short after realizing she is indeed one. And if there is anything better than her warm personality, then it is the rebellious son that has somehow became a companion of mine in the family.

"You need to start taking your life seriously," I said, seriously, hoping he would take the words as such but who am I kidding? It is Zaheer we are talking about here. "You are done with university. Get your masters, and join the family business."

Zaheer hummed, pulling the chair by the bed and settling down on it, holding the helmet with both his hands as he gave me an unimpressed look. "So, are we going to pretend mom still hasn't given up on trying to get you to talk me out of this?" It was obvious from his tone; he knew he is right.

She did ask me to talk him out of it, countless times because apparently he tends to listen to me. What she fails to know is, he only does that when he wants to—and never when it concerns his racing and rebellious habits.

He's like a teenage boy in that phase that just won't go of it.

Still, I did not give up on trying. "You know she is only looking out for you," I stated, trying to reason with him. "Your racing is extremely dangerous, and you cannot keep living your life like this."

"Who says I can't?" He asked, his expression serious as he quirked a brow. "What if I want to become an F1 player?"

I gave him a deadpanned look. "You cannot be serious."

He shrugged, "Maybe I am, maybe I am not." I won't be surprised if he is actually serious. It seems to be the only thing he cares about. But, before I can dwell on that, he sighed, his playful expression returning as he expertly shifted the conversation. "While we are on that, then I cannot pretend as if your husband did not make me come all the way here from Abuja because he is worried about his wife being all alone in the hospital after getting a crisis attack." He gave me a teasing look.

My cheeks heated knowing Khalil is certainly capable of doing just that, and perhaps even more. "He is overreacting," I mumbled, trying to hide the fact that his actions still make me blush.

"He is not, and you know it." I know he is not. Zaheer then sighed again, his arched, and slightly messy brows drawing. "How are you feeling now though? Heard it was pretty serious, the maid had to rush you to the hospital."

I offered him a weak smile, the best I can muster at the moment. "Much better as you can see," My smile widened slightly. "At least I am writhing in pain." I tried to make it a joke, but it is obvious he does not share the same sentiment on my pain. Seeing the look on his face, I added. "I am fine, truly. It's cold season that's why."

That seems to in a way convince him, because he nodded. "Allahumma yashfiki,"

"Ameen."

"Speaking of which, where is the maid though?" He gave the room one more look, as if she would magically appear. "She is supposed to stay with you since you are alone here." I could tell from his tone that he is planning on rebuking her or something.

Did I mention Zaheer is like that annoying younger brother? No? Well, he is. It's like becoming part of the Wambai family came with a nonrefundable, annoying, younger brother that I obviously do not hate.

"She went home to prepare food," I said. Our home is in Kano, but given I am now in my final year, we decided I will stay in Maiduguri and complete it first before officially moving back to Kano altogether—which I am hoping would be in a month or two since graduation is approaching.

In the meantime, we have a live in maid in case I get crisis, while Khalil is not in town, which happens way too frequently now. Just a while ago I was glad about not having crises anymore, and now, I am back to square one.

Luckily, Khalil is almost always around—except now, as he had travelled back to Kano for a very important meeting scheduled for three days—today being the second. To be honest, I miss his presence but what can I do?

"Oh," Realization dawned on his features. Then, he faced me, and asked again. "Do you need anything? Khalil did stress that I am to do whatever you asked me to do, even if it is to jump into a well."

I narrowed my eyes at him slightly. "He did not..."

Zaheer arched a brow. Instead of responding, he brought out his phone, tapped it a couple of times before playing a voice note, increasing the volume to the max. Khalil's familiar voice flooded out, making my heart swell at its familiarity.

"...And just because I asked you to stay with my wife does not mean you are to disturb her. If you do, I am not getting you what I promised. Just stay and keep her entertained—but not too much enough to forget me. Also, do whatever she says. I don't care if she asks you to jump into a well, you will do that. Zamuyi janaizar ka after we make my wife happy, capisce?"

The last statement especially had me chuckling as the voice note ended, earning me a glare from Zaheer whom did not find this funny in any way. Instead, he tucked his phone away, then mumbled under his breath.

"Both you and your husband are crazy."

I shrugged, not refuting it. Instead, my gaze yawed to the bouquet of roses, and another smile took over my features, happiness swelling in my chest.

Oh, I love this married life. Could not ask for anything more.

~*~

A soft smile played itself across my features as I tapped the screen of my phone, moving to view the next video that was sent to me. In the video, it showed the cute baby girl now celebrating her one-year birthday. All the pictures and videos were of the girl alone, except the last one that was a selfie which showed the baby's mother, and the kid in the frame as well.

"Say hi to Anty Atu...say hiii." Faiza's voice came, the lightness in the tone matching the soft smile that displayed itself across her features, lacking any evidence of the hardship she went through in the past year—ranging from her divorce to the complications giving birth to her daughter—now, a single mother.

Faiza's one-year-old daughter, Amani, instead of doing as her mother asked—even though she's well aware she would not give the desired response—I mean, it's not like she even understands what she is saying, instead reached out for the phone, her entire attention more on the little device than the video her mother is taking.

Faiza moved away from the kid quickly, and now unable to grasp the phone, Amani instead reached her small hands, and took a hold of Faiza's exposed hair, pulling it with all her might.

Faiza flinched, her face contorting into that of pain, "Amani...no, stop it. Let go..." She tried to carefully get her hair out of the girl's hold, but the kid seems to find her mother's apparent pain amusing because she giggled, pulling the hair more.

The video came to an end as Faiza dropped the phone, focusing on her task of getting her daughter to release her hair. I could not help but laugh at her misery—it is funny when it is not happening to you. Besides, babies have this tight grip I simply bring myself to fathom where the hell they get such strength.

With the strings of pictures and video ending, Faiza's voice note followed, which I tapped almost immediately.

"So, your daughter has made it her life's mission to terrorize me. But, overall, aside from giving me a headache, quite literally and figuratively, her small birthday party turned out better than expected.

You should see the way she ruined her outfit though. I look away for one second, and the girl had herself entirely immersed in her birthday cake." A hiss followed that statement, evidence of Faiza's frustration. "Wallahi she should be grateful Yaya came to her rescue—as always. I would have whooped her ass tunda bata ji." Faiza then sighed deeply. "Girl, I miss you for real. I could have just dumped her on you and go about my life. But, worry not, I will—whenever we decide to return to Nigeria that is.

Forgot to tell you, heard I might be on the next cover of La Belle magazine issue of the month so...yay! I'm going international, baby!" Her excited squeal came, and it was so contagious I found myself sharing a face splitting grin as well. "Anyhow, I have to get going now—Amani will soon wakeup from her evening nap. Send my regards to the husband keeping you so entertained, you are slowly forgetting my existence. Just kidding...I'm not. Laters! Take care."

By the time the voice note, I made a mental note to give her a call once I am discharged from the hospital. I have been meaning to do so, but I do not want her to know I am hospitalized for she would worry for nothing, so I kept it to myself.

It is nothing new anyways. I am used to it at this point, just not the pain of course.

A slight sigh escaped my lips as I shivered slightly—a reminder for me to go back inside the hospital before Zaheer realizes I am missing. However, before I could dwell on that thought, a familiar voice came, interrupting my trail of thoughts.

"Should I be jealous of whoever is making my wife smile?"

My eyes dilated almost immediately, and I found myself turning around so quickly I almost had a whiplash. My smile broadened at the sight of Khalil, standing a few feet away from me, his own warm smile ever present.

"Hey..." My grin widened, as he closed the distance between us. My arms stretched out on instinct, and the moment he was within arms-length, he pulled me into his warm embrace, his familiar cologne embracing me as well, easing my worries.

"Hey, beautiful," He greeted back, pulling me closer to him. His lips brushed my forehead, leaving a feathery kiss there as he pulled back slightly, with me still in his arms. "Missed me?"

"Of course," Does he even have to ask? My brows then furrowed. "I thought you have a meeting today as well?" I do remember well enough his meetings is for three consecutive days—today being last and so, I am expecting his return tomorrow.

He nodded, "Yes. But, I pulled some strings and rounded it up earlier so I can come home to my wife," He leaned down to pull me into his embrace again, his tone softening as he added. "I missed you so much, you have no idea."

I smiled into his embrace, "I missed you as well." My voice dropped, enjoying being in his embrace.

He remained for a few seconds before he pulled back, his hand going to rest on my forehead, his brows drawing in and his lips slanted downwards into a frown. "Your body is still cold." He commented, then went ahead to shrug off the jacket he has on, draping it over my shoulders, before giving me a pointed look. "Also, why are you out when you should be in bed?"

"I was bored," I stated earnestly, "So I came out for some fresh air here," I added a cheeky grin, hoping that would make him forget the little act of mine.

It did. Instead, he directed his upset to the scapegoat as always. "And Zaheer?" He quirked a brow.

"Asleep," I chuckled slightly. "Kasan halin sa."

Khalil shook his head at Zaheer's evident character. "I don't even know why I bother anymore," Draping his arm over my shoulder, he guided us back into the hospital building. "I ask him to stay with you for a couple of hours and he falls asleep. Do you think he will ever take his life seriously?" The last question was asked seriously, for I know of his concerns over his cousin's direction towards life.

"I am sure he would," I do not know why, but I just feel as though Zaheer might get back on the right track when the time comes—or he might actually pave his own path, surprising them all. "I mean, after all, not everyone is book smart like you. Likita bokan turai," I use the phrase his family members use to tease him all the time regarding his habit towards his obsession with school and his work.

He explained it to me when we first got married—given the statement had me thinking he is a doctor or something. Apparently, they use that to address him ever since he was young given his dedication towards studies—they thought he would go for medicine. He was a science student back in the day, I recall that much.

So, I was surprised when he told me he became a lawyer. Apparently, he changed his career after secondary school, deciding to pursue law instead. He expressed his desire to help people through his job—just that he doesn't have to be in a white coat to do it.

I understood. His passion when he speaks of it is admirable—makes me want to take my studies more seriously to be honest.

Khalil could only hum, unable to refute the statement because he knows he cannot.

"So, tell me, how did the case meetings go with the clients?" I asked, referring to the case he was telling me about which he left for.

"It went surprisingly well. I am positive I would be able to win the case, I have enough evidence though there's still something I am expecting to get. If I do, it is a definite win for me."

"I am sure you would win," I said earnestly, lifting my head up to meet his gaze, offering him a smile. "I don't know the details of the case, but if the patient's relative trust you enough to ask you to represent them in court, then I have every confidence in you that you would win."

Khalil's smile was heart warming, I could see the relieve in his eyes—having someone trust him and have that confidence in him. He trusts himself sure, but it must feel especially nice to have someone you care about trust you as well.

"You know..." He started, his gaze holding mine. "...you are making me fall in love with you even more every single day."

"Am I?" I arched a brow, feigning indifference as if his words did not have butterflies erupting in my belly till this very day. "I guess I still got that charm."

"You always do. Always have." He leaned down and pressed a kiss to my temple. "You are all I will ever need. I mean it."

I could only smile, though deep down in my heart, I know his words extend beyond just superficial meanings. He was giving me assurance over my unvoiced concerns, ones I cannot bring myself to speak to him, but he never presses for it.

But even if he does not, I am not sure everyone else will share the same sentiment.

I looked ahead, as we walked back to my ward in silence—my mind plagued with thoughts. Faiza crossed my mind—of how she managed to turn around what was her worst nightmare into a chance for her to become a better person. Up until a year ago, she was a divorcee whom people on the internet still gossip about.

Now, she has managed to get a job abroad in a beauty company, La Belle, and might soon become a recognized model—a successfully career building for her which slowly overrides all the negative image of hers. Not to mention, she is a single mother of a cute girl—a blessing that most, myself included might not be opportune to have.

I could not be happier for her really. She is evidence enough that life might be shitty, but they are simply bad days, and not a representation of your entire life. Except for me, I could not help but live with this constant guilt.

Will what I have now be enough for the rest of our lives? Will I always be enough?

I guess you can't have everything in life after all.

~*~

Forget, I am team Khalil completely. The man just dey make us blush up and down. Enemies of Khalil stay away, my man is here for life! Yawwa. This love thing is for us. Shi da Sa'a tamu ta gargajiya.

So, you've met Zaheer. Any thoughts on his character? He is such a sweetheart really, I love his character.

For days, I have been thinking of what to write for this chapter, because it decides the direction this book will go. I think i finally found a direction, and I hope you stick with me enough to enjoy the ride.

Also, i wanted this book to be cliche and all, but it is slowly turning into a type of book i have never written before. It is hard to explain really, but I might be able to put it in words when my ink for the book runs dry.

Faiza's life is taking a turn for the better it appears. I love my girl, i cannot make her suffer for long now. And her baby girlllll, awwww. Make she bring her to us abeg, we will take care of her. Kodake, ni i don pack my slippers and UK must go, na kama hanya. Motar ce ta baci mana a hanya.

I will see you guys next week, maybe...still exams season so... let's meet when we meet kawai.

Wish me luck abeg, this exams is not easy. Allah ya bamu saa.

Stay safe.

Love, Jannah Mia.