I have no AN for the end of this chapter--you will get why.

Prepare yourselves. I am breaking Wattpad streets again with this chapter.

In fact, i am turning off my date because omo, wahala dey.

Prepare your hearts o! Get a cold pepsi and a snack. Make sure you are alone else when you scream, people will think you are mad. E get why.

Wato, akwai balaai a chapter nan. I am sure none of you will see it coming.

And that of course means i will need my comments else I go rest and forget Friday update.

Comments people! Let us reach 100+ Let me know your thoughts. Rant in the comment section! You will need it! Rant o!! Type it all out.

I am taking you all on a rollercoaster. No more peace!

Violence!!

SA'ADATU'S POV.

MAIDUGURI, NIGERIA.

"Gra-graduate! The latest graduate in town! Give way undergrad ladies and gentlemen. Ah ah, kaga degree holder, manyan mutane! Wallahi ke ba mutumiyar banza bace. Degree holder fa! Oya others should do it if it is easy. Kalli nan jama'a, she is a degree holder, ehen. Allah ya sawwaqe ki fara mota da EOD."

A slight hiss escaped my lips, despite a smile dancing across it as I narrowed my eyes at the lady on the other side of the phone, hailing praises at me all the way from the other side of the world virtually. "Allah ya shirye ki," I commented, shaking my head slightly. "Wai ni seff, come and tell me this girl, fadanci kike koya a nan ne? Or is this what your brand is teaching you? Why are you so efficient in it?"

"Yo toh if I do not praise you, who will? Iye? Degree holder fa!Wallahi you are no longer a normal oridinary Nigerian youth. You will soon be a copper, ehen! Government property. Kune alawee, kune 77k! Omo, see you una dey step into NYSC with the right leg, just in time the government approved a new minimum wage. Imagine getting that as alawee, ai kin zama mai kudin Naija, iyye!" When I tell you guys Faiza is not well in the head, believe me she is not.

The way she has been hailing praises the moment she called and I answered, you would think I have become a Professor or something. Speaking of which, I could not help but give her a pointed look. "Faiza, ko Professor na zama albarka. You will make someone think I am finishing school as a whole,"

She hummed from the other end, before letting out a slight scoff under her breath. "A piece of advice, leave that becoming a Professor for those that want to kill themselves with books. You should see Yaya right now, all the man does is bury himself in books and not have time for anyone or anything else aside from Amani. Ko ni he does not care much about me. The only thing he knows is his books, and his niece so no, do not joke about becoming a Professor. In fact, run away from the academic field if you have to. E get why."

This time around, it was my turn to hum as I focused my gaze on the mirror in front of me rather than the woman on Face Time just so I could draw my eye liner correctly. The mention of her brother joggled a part of my memory which had eluded my thoughts over the past few days. "Speaking of which, Khalil said something about working with your brother on a case, or something..." I stated, my attention partially on her and partially on getting this eye liner thing correctly.

The one thing I decide to take this makeup thing seriously; it wants to make me look like a banshee or something.

"Really?"She asked, and judging from her tone, she does not know of it as well—not that I am expecting her to.

I nodded, confirming my earlier stated words. "I thought he was coming back or something."

"Doubt it," She stated without a second word whatsoever. "At least, he will spend another year here to complete his studies. As for your husband, I am sure whatever it is it can be discussed over a phone call, yeah?"

"Of course..." I successfully managed to do the damn eyeliner correctly—after the fourth trial. I was truly going to give up if this failed. Picking up a tissue, I tried to wipe away the black stains from the other failed attempts.

Faiza took my moment of silence as a chance for her to make up a joke. "Speaking of my brother and your husband, kice abun na ex and husband ne. The ex meets the husband. Has a nice ring to it, it will make a great novel, or a movie."

"Faiza," I warned, shifting my gaze to her so I can narrow my eyes at her. My lips slanted downwards into a deep frown. "Don't start." I do not know what suddenly got into her. In the little over the year I have been married to Khalil, we seemed to have formed a unanimous agreement to never mention her brother for obvious reasons.

Of course, it slips in every once in a while during her conversations, but we never dwelled on it. So, I do not know where the sudden teasing emanated from.

Faiza made the zip sign across her lips as she folded them in. "Shut up. Got it." She nodded slowly, though her lips betrayed her to form a small smile. Before either of us could speak further though, a knock came on my door just as the sound of Amani's wails reached our ways, signifying her being awake. "Mommy duties calling," Faiza declared, getting out of the chair she was seated on earlier. "I got to go. Talk to you later, graduate, manyan mutane. Kuna Nigeria, in baku ai ba kasar."

"Bye, Faiza, go away." I shooed her away with a flick of my hand.

Her laughter reached both our ears, before she waved back. "Laters." We both ended the call.

The door to my room pushed open, and even before I turned around, his voice reached my ears. "Babe, are you done? Can I come in now?"

"Yeah, wait, give me a second..." I got out of the chair I am on, then turned around. Quickly getting rid of the invisible crease on my two-piece button up and straight pants. Picking up the graduating gown on the hanger, I shrugged it on, making sure everything is set right before I parted my lips to speak again. "...come in."

The sound of his footsteps came, and soon enough, he had emerged from the small corridor, and had stepped into the room. The look that took over his features made every single minute I had chased him out earlier to get ready worth it.

He halted in his steps, his lips parted and his eyes slightly dilated, frozen for a second. I could not help but chuckle at the look, and that seemed to pull him out of the trance he had found himself in. "Wow..." He shook his head, "...you look really, really beautiful. Masha Allah." He said, as he covered the space between us.

"On the scale of 1-10, how good do I look?"

"Add another zero. You look a 100 out of a hundred." He closed the space between us, leaving a few feet in between. In the next second, when he brought out what he had hidden behind him, I understood the need for the space. He pulled out a beautiful bouquet of fresh roses. Then, with a smile as warm as the summer breeze, he said. "Happy graduation, babe."

My grin was impossible to wipe off, as I extended my hand to take the roses. "These are so beautiful," I cooed, as I cradled the bouquet in my arms, staring at with admiration.

I have never been a flower girl before Khalil. I would much rather prefer a box of chocolates no matter how cliché to flowers. However, after him, I found them to be the most thoughtful gift ever. Nothing beats putting them in a vase later on, and keeping them alive till nature takes its course.

"That is not all," His voice had me looking up from admiring the roses.

I arched a brow, wondering what else could be there.

He lifted up a square box, and when he pulled it open, I could swear my heart melted right then at the sight of a familiar necklace I have been eying for a while now. I have checked the Swarovski webpage one too many times just to stare at it, see its price, and run away in I am too broke to afford it.

My words got stuck in my tongue though when he pulled it out of the box, the gestured for me to turn around. I did so, still stunned and then he stepped closer, his fingers cold against my skin as he placed the equally cold crystal floral leaves necklace on my neck—its price in my mind making it weigh more than it actually does.

When he clipped it in place, I could only stare at the mirror in front of us, staring at the necklace sitting right there perfectly. I eventually got over the shock, my eyes glossing over as I found my voice. "It is beautiful," I whispered.

Khalil's fingers caressed the skin above the necklace, then he whispered back. "It is nothing to compared to the one wearing it."

"Babe..." I turned around, dropping the bouquet aside as I wrapped my arm around him, pulling him into an embrace which he was quick to return—his familiar scent feeling like home. "...thank you so much."

"You are welcome."

"But really," I pulled back, though keeping my arms wrapped around his neck. "You should not have. It is too expensive." My lips slanted into a slight frown.

His ever so warm smile never faded. "Nothing is too expensive for my wife," He stated earnestly, his expression turning serious. "And I do not know how many times I need to say this, but I am really proud of you, more than you can ever know." I could only smile. His hand went to caress my cheek, then he added, his tone ever so serious. "You know when I tell you that you are all I will ever need, I mean it."

"I know," I whispered back, my smile never wavering. My gaze fell on a spot on his white kaftan, and I found myself wincing slightly. "I ruined your outfit with makeup," I said, gesturing to the smudge of black and powder now staining the crisp white outfit.

He threw it a quick glance before he shrugged. "It is just an outfit. I can always change."

"Let me pick out another one for you." I offered.

"Okay," He smiled back, but before any of us could say a word more, the sound of his phone ringing cut us off. "Excuse me," I pulled back as he brought out the phone, his expression visibly changed, his brows drawing and his lips slanting into a deep frown. "Give me a second to answer this, okay?"

"Of course, go ahead." I offered him a small smile.

He turned around while I made my way out of the room to go over to his to pick out another outfit for him. I picked out another crisp white one similar to the one he has earlier, then placed it on his bed before I made my way over to my room again, just in time he ended the call.

"It is on your bed. Change into it."

"Okay," I noticed his expression still seemed sour. "You know what? I have called Zaheer and he will take you to the university. You guys should head out first so you will not be late."

My own brows drew in, "Are you not coming along?"

"Something came up," He offered me an apologetic look. "I have to handle this now. But, I will make it in time before the event kicks off. I promise."

"Okay..." My mood dampened slightly, for I was hoping to truly enjoy this moment entirely with him.

"And, I have warned him to drive carefully by the way. I know how reckless he can he."

A small smile made its way across my face, despite the fact that it does not quite reach my eyes. "He is not so bad."

Khalil could only hum, not believing me.

Noticing my change in mood, he closed the distance between us, then pressed a kiss to my forehead. "I will head out first, okay? Stay safe."

I nodded, and with one last look at me, he turned around and made his way out. I could only stare at the door he disappeared off behind, then released a small breath. Shrugging off the dampen mood, I turned around and fixed my outfit once again. And after picking out my essentials, I picked up the bouquet and the hat before heading out.

I decided to check up on him and see whether he had left already. He has, but the sight of the outfit I had picked up laying untouched on the bed had me frowning slightly. He must be in a rush enough to not change it appears.

Before I could dwell on the thought, the sound of my phone ringing had me bringing up the phone. Zaheer's name displayed itself across the screen, and the moment I tapped the answer button, his voice came.

"Matar Lawyer, I have arrived. You can come out any second now. I will be here, safely waiting for you to come out so we can start our fast and furious. My car is ready as ever."

"I am coming," I could only shake my words at him, knowing he is only saying that because Khalil spoke to him.

I was right, he did drive safely all the way over to the school, and in the midst of my friends and family, my mood lifted almost immediately. Yaya came as well, bringing her kids along. In the absence of Anty and Yaaya, Hajiya—Faiza's mother came as well, along with Ya Mama whom came to town a few days ago and Faiza's other brother, Ya Yusuf. The little group, with Zaheer of course our personal photographer, formed my little group of family that graced my graduation ground, filling in the empty spaces.

Only, there is one space that cannot be filled, and I found myself dialing his number few minutes prior to the start of the name calling. He picked up on the second ring.

"Hey, babe,"

"Where are you?" I found myself asking, even before he could say something. I could not even hide the annoyance in my tone. "The event is starting. And they will soon call my name."

The sound of his chuckle came, "I am on my way. Give me five minutes, and you will see me there in shaa Allah." Something about his tone told me he was not lying, but I do not quite believe that as well. He must have sensed that, because he added. "I promise, I will there."

"You do?"

"Of course I do. I will never miss your graduation for anything. Gani nan na kusa isowa." Before I could respond, his voice came again. "Babe, I am sorry I have to end this. Dr. Adnan Bayero is calling me finally. I have to answer his call."

"Okay..." I sighed, "Drive safely."

"Always. Fi amanillah."

"Fi amanillah." I whispered back, then he ended the call, making another sigh escape my lips. My heart felt heavy for some reason, but I did not dwell on it. Instead, I shook off the feeling, and focused his promise that he will be here.

But, he did not, and my name was eventually called on stage. I plastered a wide smile on my face which eventually became real because the moment I was on that stage and the certificate was handed out to me, it all felt too real, and my happiness became genuine.

Five years of wahala finally came to an end—a chapter closing.

As I stood beside the woman that handed the certificate, and turned around to face the camera to get our pictures taken, my gaze drifted in the direction where my family is, wanting to share my happiness and expecting to see Zaheer flexing his camera as he had been doing as per the photographer he is feigning to be, but it was not like that. And expecting to see my husband keep up his promise as well.

It was not like that.

Khalil is nowhere in sight. Everyone else was smiling and cheering of course. But, not Zaheer. No, he had his phone pressed to his ear and a look I could not decipher took over his features, making my smile falter.

Somewhere between getting the picture taking and moving ahead so the next person could get their own moment, my gaze remained on the little group of my family. And with each step I took towards their direction, the more I noticed something off. Zaheer's words which I could not hear, everyone looking at him, the looks that took over their features upon hearing the words and the especially the look they gave me as I reached where they are.

"What is going on?" I found myself asking, sensing the tensed air amongst the group.

They all exchanged looks I could not fathom, their gazes and expression as gloomy as the weather promising rain any second now. No one parted their lips to speak, but they exchanged silent understanding between their looks, and it annoyed me because I could not understand.

"Meya faru?" I found myself asking again. "Ku gaya min mana. What is it? Why do you all look like this?" I focused my gaze on Zaheer, because something told me he knows best—it all started with his phone call. "Zaheer?" I pressed, my gaze pointed.

He looked away.

"Walida," It was Hajiya that finally broke the cold silence, as she moved to come and stand in front of me. Her serious expression told me that something is gravely wrong—I have never seen her with such an expression. She reached out and took my hands in hers, "I need you to calm down, okay?"

"Hajiya, what happened?"

Hajiya released a heavy sigh, "It is your husband," She said, and I could swear every sound in the background dimmed at the mention of him. Her next words being the only thing loud enough in that silence to register in my mind. "He met with an accident on his way here..."

"No, no, no..." I shook my head even before she could finish, already having the worst feeling about this. I tried to shrug her hand off me, "...no, it is not possible. No..."

"Walida, listen to me, look at me. " She shook my shoulder to snap me back into my senses before they could deter. "He is in the hospital right now, and is undergoing an emergency surgery. He will be fine though, in shaa Allah, kina jina?"

"Take me to him, please," I could hear my voice breaking, but nothing made sense to me at the moment.

"Of course, we will all go together." She turned to face Ya Yusuf, "Yusuf take Maryam's kids home kaji? Mama and I will go along with them."

"Okay, Hajiya. Drive safely."

Everything that happened after that was simply a blur to me. From Hajiya coming along with me in Zaheer's car, to Ya Mama and Yaya driving in her car, following behind us, to head to the hospital altogether.

Weirdly enough, no tears streamed down my face. No, I feel the pain deep within me, but I could not bring myself to cry. I was holding onto the fact that he will survive, that he will get through it. Hajiya's constant, assuring voice helped through the hazy fog of my mind promising chaos if things go haywire.

I have never witnessed Zaheer's reckless driving till at that moment, because faster than we are supposed to, we were soon pulling up outside the hospital. I was the first to step out, Hajiya stepping out soon enough. Zaheer stepped out afterwards, but he walked ahead of us, seeming to know the way better and we all followed closely behind.

I was muttering every single prayer that comes to mind, and the only thing evident of the turmoil going on in my head being my shaky hands firmly in the grip of Hajiya who became the only source of support I had at the moment. Soon enough, we pulled up in front of the OR, where a guy was waiting outside. Zaheer seems to know him, because he went ahead and they exchanged quick words and briefing, confirming that Khalil is indeed in there. I vaguely recognize the man as well as Khalil's friend, for he had come over to our house a couple of times.

However, as soon as the words were exchanged, the OR doors opened, and a doctor in scrubs stepped out with a facemask over his face. We all rushed towards him, and even before I could find my voice, Zaheer's came.

"Doctor? How is he?"

The doctor took off the facemask, and we all held our breaths as we awaited his words. I gripped Hajiya's hands tightly, my heart hammering behind my ribcage as I stared at the man expectedly.

Then, his voice came.

"I am sorry. Kuyi haquri. He is gone."

A loud, piercing scream escaped.

But, it was not from me. No, my knees weakened, but I could not bring myself to react. I felt frozen. And no, it was not from any of us. Not from our little group.

The scream had us turning around, just in time to see a woman, seemingly no more than thirty years, approaching us halting midway, her eyes firmly on the doctor. "No, impossible..." She shook her head. Tears began to stream down her face, and she fell on her knees, wailing. Two kids, a boy and a girl—identical twins it appears, I did not realize were with her, no more than five wrapped their arms around her as she cried.

My confusion was shared, and palpable with us all.

Zaheer once again became the one to break the silence. "Who is she?" His question was directed towards the only one whom seem to know her, Khalil's friend standing with us, frozen as well.

My gaze remained fixated on the woman, unable to comprehend anything, simply staring. But, just as the man parted his lips to speak and disclose her identity, something about her caught my attention.

And no. It was not the blonde hair and the American accent. No, it was something I could recognize anywhere.

A Swarovski necklace.

"She is first wife," The man declared, his voice low, and hollow. "And they are his kids."