I hope you've bright your tissues with you🫢
This is not a drill.
Jumuat Kareem💕

     SA'ADATU'S POV.

KANO, NIGERIA.

When Anty told me patience is one of the main cores of marriage, and that I would need to be patient to make things work, I did not think it would happen this fast—not this soon. Because for obvious reasons, I did not expect that patience to start to show up merely a day into our marriage, and for it to take root from his career—something I knew I would have to be patient with but not like this.

Just a day into our marriage, about twenty-four hours into getting all wrapped up in our married life, and living what I would have wanted to believe was my perfect life, the call came, late at night. I was honestly asleep then, and was only stirred awake by the feel of his hand caressing my cheeks lightly. I shifted in our bed, under the comfort of the duvet, and subconsciously leaned further into his touch, his ever so familiar scent stirring me awake.

Then, my eyes fluttered open, my lips curling downwards into a frown when I noticed him seated beside me, the dim light of the corridor being the only source of light in the room. Confusion dawned on me when I took in his attire, then my gaze flicked to the digital clock on the bedside cabinet which read 1:32AM, and then I found myself staring at him again.

"What is going on?" I asked, my voice hoarse.

He offered me a small smile, though it was more of an apologetic one. "I have to go," he responded, his voice small. He must have seen the questioning look on my face, because he then added. "I just got a call. There is an accident that took place, and they need me there—none of the other doctors are picking and available."

If possible, my frown deepened, for a moment pushing aside the fact that he said there was an accident. "But, it is Sunday."

"Technically, Monday." He offered me a tight lipped smile. "It is past midnight—they consider it Monday."

I narrowed my eyes at him, throwing him a pointed glare that had him chuckling slightly. Except, I did not find any of this to be amusing. "And you just got married," I found myself adding, now fully awake.

He hummed, his gaze dropping to my shoulders, now uncovered and bare since the duvet had pulled down slightly, then he nodded. His gaze lingered for a split second, before he held my gaze again, his lips curling upwards into a smoldering smile. "Trust me, Hayaty, I know more than anyone."

A slight gasp escaped my lips at his shamelessness. I heard it a lot before, but now I am sure that Adnan Bayero is indeed a shameless man—do not let the quiet persona fool you. The things that goes through this man's mind, you would not believe it if you do not know him well enough. Lightly, I slapped, his thigh, which earned a chuckle from him as he took the hand, brought it to his lips, and then placed a kiss on my palm, melting my earlier annoyance.

His eyes, smoldering as ever, behind those spectacles that he had already donned held mine—his expression softening and turning apologetic. "I am so sorry, Hayaty. I cannot refuse to go—people's lives are on the line here."

My glare remained, unrelenting though internally, I know he is right, and it is not like I would stop him. But, it does not change the fact that I am still upset that he is leaving. As far as I am aware, he took a break off work for about a week. And now what? They call him in the middle of the night because they cannot reach the others? He just got married, that makes him unavailable as well.

How did he even take the call this late please?

Swallowing down a lump, still very much upset, I threw him another glare. "Allah bada saa," I muttered, drawing the duvet up to cover my body properly. "Kuma Allah bada lafiya. Adawo lafiya." With that said, I flicked my eyes close, willing myself to go back to sleep.

"Hayaty," He called out again, his voice softened up and coaxing. His hand rested on my neck, his thumb rubbing soothing circles there. "I really am sorry. I promise, I won't take any calls after this one till my break is over, okay?"

I ignored him. Not wanting to be tempted in any way by him, I turned around, so my back was facing him—a silent gesture that I do not want to have this conversation any longer with him. I heard him sigh dejectedly, his hand now resting on my shoulder. He was silent for a while, and that silence was broken by the sound of his phone ringing, which he answered.

His voice came as he conversed with whoever is on the other end. "Yeah, I am coming. I will be there soon in shaa Allah. Go over the cases before I arrive so we can enter for surgery immediately. Alright, thank you." The phone call seemed to have ended then, and I could feel his gaze focus on me again.

I kept my eyes sealed, refusing to open it and spare him a glance. I felt him get off the bed, and then he leaned down, pressing a lingering kiss on my forehead while his thumb caressed the skin of my shoulder. "Good night. I will be back tomorrow morning in shaa Allah." When he did not get a response or a reaction from me, another sigh came from him, and then, I left his warm presence leave, the feel of his hand on my skin still there despite the fact that he was no longer there.

The lights were turned off completely, followed by him adjusting the air conditioner so it does not become too cold for me to handle. And then, the sound of the door softly being close followed as he left—and suddenly, the room felt colder—the house entirely and not just because of the ventilating system, but because he was gone.

A shaky breath escaped my lips, my heart weighing painfully as my eyes flicked open—sleep evading me as a whole because I know I will hardly be able to get any that night. And that was when Anty's words played in my mind again—patience she said. It appears it truly is more tasking than I had originally thought. I wanted to throw a tantrum, believe me and demand that he stays with me but I know that will be irrational, not when we are talking about people's lives on the line like that.

So, I could only swallow down the lump and pull the duvet impossibly closer to me as I just laid in bed, waiting for when the sleep would eventually come and fill in the void in my heart at that moment. I had no idea when it came, but it did. And I was only awoken by the sound of the alarm on my phone—weirdly enough because alarms usually never wakes me up. I mostly wake up on my own accord—kind of like when your mind is channeled to wake up because deep down you know you have something important to do.

And since Adnan and I became a thing, he has always been the one that woke me up—his phone calls that is. I begrudgingly got out of the bed, the cold spot beside me reminding me of the earlier events, and my heart clenched once again but I tried to push the feelings away so I do not dwell on it.

After praying, I found myself getting back in bed, desperate to get more sleep since I did not exactly get to sleep early during the night time. The next time I woke up turned out to be around eight, earlier than I had expected. And speaking of expectations, truthfully, I expected him to be back by the time I woke up, but he did not.

Once again, I found myself pushing the thoughts aside as I fixed up the room—knowing sleep could no longer be my companion. When I was done, I went on to take a shower, and afterwards, changed into the first outfit in sight. I could not even bother to dress up honestly, something in me did not want to. And so, I found myself simply donning on an off shouldered maxi dress whose fabric screamed comfort, after I had smoked it with one of the countless turaren wuta that had graced my new homes. I cannot explain it, I always find turaren wuta to be therapeutic really.

Just as I had decided to step out to the kitchen and make some tea for myself—knowing breakfast will be brought any minute now from the Bayero household, my steps came to a halt when the sound of my phone ringing came, filling the otherwise quiet air of the room. My heart leapt behind my ribcage, and for a split second, the thought that maybe, it could be him crossed my mind, making a small smile appear on my face—but I tried to hold it back, intent on holding up my upset persona because I still am truthfully.

However, my giddiness turned to slight disappointment for the first time in my life as my gaze fell on the caller ID, and instead of his name, Hajiya's name popped up on the screen. Still, I pushed aside the disappointment, and a genuine smile made its way on my face at the thought of conversing with the woman. So, without so much as a thought, I found myself tapping the answer button, then brought the phone to my ear.

"Assalamu alaikum, Hajiya, barka da safiya..." My voice held a sense of chirpiness, partially feigned, and partially genuine.

However, that chirpiness ceased to exist when a choke came from her end, followed by a slight whimper.

My heart dropped to the pit of my stomach, immediately knowing there must be something wrong—horribly so for me to hear Hajiya crying. "Hajiya?" I called out again, my voice shaky. "Hajiya what is going? Meya faru? You are scaring me." I did not mean for that last part to come out, but it truly did and I could not find it in me to care.

"Walida," She called out, her voice shaky, and I think it is the first time in my life I am hearing her address me as something other than 'Saadatu'. If I was not sure something is wrong before, I am now. "Walida, kizo asibiti. Now. Come to the hospital now."

Now more confused than ever, I still managed to reach out to pull open the bedside drawer where I had placed the car remote from yesterday, the phone held firmly with one hand while the other retrieved the remote. "Hajiya, what is going on exactly? I will come now amma, meya faru? What is going on?"

A heavy breath came from her side, her sobs impossible to miss. Then, her voice finally came, in a voice so slow if the room was not pin drop silent. I could not have heard her. "Accident..." She breathed out. "...Adnan, accident..."

I did not know when the phone slipped out of my hand and dropped on the floor, the sickening sound of its crack reaching my ears but it is nothing compared to my heart that has shattered into so many tiny pieces, I could dare not think, heck thinking is not a factor that exists in me any longer. All that replays in my mind are her words.

Accident. Adnan. Accident.

Despite the phone having dropped, I could still distantly hear her give me the room number, but I have no idea whether it had actually registered in my mind, or not.

Still very much confused and scared as hell, I was frozen where I am for a split second. I have absolutely no recollection of how I managed to pick out the first hijab in sight—which happens to be the one I used to pray earlier, and make it out of the house. I do not know how I managed to drive, or how I reached the hospital still in one piece. Wallahi I absolutely have no idea.

All I know is, the moment I stepped foot in the hospital, a suffocating feeling over me, and for a split second, I found myself once again frozen at the entrance while the world around me spun. Memories spilled into my mind with each heavy footstep I force myself to take—the vivid memories of my graduation day when I had to rush to the hospital. The feelings of when I was told Khalil had an accident, and when he was declared dead—his cold, lifeless body underneath my very hands, I could remember it all.

I could still remember how my blood ran cold, and every single emotion—it all came crashing on me, suffocating me with its weight. I found it hard to breath—and my head was spinning. Still, I managed to make my way in the direction of the room Hajiya informed me of, and the image of everyone in the hallway blurred out in my vision. I probably look calm to them, but I am a mess internally, a chaos.

When my gaze fell on the room number given, and my gaze fell on the slightly opened door, my heart rate accelerated behind my ribcage and I found myself hesitating, unsure of what I would encounter in that very room. Whatever it is, I know it will cause a shift in my life, and I am not sure if I am ready for anything like that again—if I will be able to handle it.

The longer I drag it on though, the longer my nerves grew. So, after a while, I forced myself to step forward, my hand taking a hold of the door handle and pushing it open ever so slowly. As I stepped foot inside the room, walking through the slight corridor leading to the room, voices from the room and the sound of someone crying—Hajiya's unmistaken sobs, reached my ears and I could have sworn I forgot how to breathe for that moment. I found myself coming to a halt once I stood by the entrance of the room, now getting a full view of the scene right in front of me.

A choked breath escaped my lips, gaining the attention of the other in my direction. My hand covered my mouth, and I found myself turning around, unable to handle looking at the scene in front of me. My knees weakened, and I was seconds away from crashing on the floor truly. One shaky breath after another, I tried to will myself to turn around once again, but I knew I would not be able to look at him without breaking down once again.

"Sa'adatu," Hajiya's voice was the first to come, the hoarseness in her voice impossible to miss.

I took in another breath, then willed myself to turn around, facing them all though my attention was solely focused on the man on the bed, whose eyes found mine—and his expression softened greatly. As Faiza pulled away from embracing him, his voice came, directed towards them. "Can you guys allow me to talk to my woman now?" It sounded like a question, but it was not—the seriousness behind his tone impossible to miss.

They all nodded in agreement, the entire Bayero family, the five of them slowly slipping out—Hajiya being the last as she casted one last glance at her eldest child, before she was pulled away softly by her husband. As Faiza and Ya Mama moved past me, they both offered my shoulder squeeze of comfort while Ya Yusuf flashed me a sympathetic look, but I could not care less about any of them. Not when my gaze is solely focused on the man on the bed—whose eyes refused to leave mine as well.

As they all piled out, he extended his hand out, his voice now softened following. "Come here, Baby." Just a single statement, and I found myself complying.

Once as I reached where he is, and my hand slipped into his—his warm hands acted as a sort of sign, a wake up call that had removed that very pin that was keeping me together, and I found myself breaking down at long last. My hands clung onto his like my life depended on it, and a sob escaped my lips as my knees weakened, and I found myself crouching down as I cried, one hand covering my face.

"Hayaty," Adnan called out, as he sat up, trying to coax me but it was not going to work, not with the scare I had gotten. "Baby, come on. Tashi kinji? Please, stop crying." He leaned down, pulling me up with softly.

I caved in, getting up and settling down on the space beside him on the bed, but my tears still had not stopped. Now close to him, I gave him a onceover, then found myself breaking down once again. "I thought..." I choked on my words, "...I thought I had lost you too."

Instead of responding immediately, his hand let go of mine as they wrapped around me, pulling me into his embrace which I melted in, allowing myself to fully cry in his arms. "I am fine," He whispered in my ear, trying to coax me. "I here, with you. You have not lost me. It is just a little accident, nothing much. Hajiya is just a bit too emotional amma I am fine, I am never leaving you."

I wanted to believe me, I truly do especially since seeing that he does not seem to sport any major injury or anything. But, that does not change the fact that I was still scared as hell—scared to the core even. Not even being in the safety and homey feeling of his arms could put an end to my tears, and so, I let it drop while I cried in his arms even more.

I have no idea how long I cried in his arms for, but I know it was for quite some time, and he simply embraced me back, his hands rubbing soothing circles on my back while he whispered sweet nothings into my ears, affirming me of his presence here. And ultimately, that is what mattered.

Adnan is still here. He has not left me. He is here.

****

Alright alright, your tissues have not been wasted after all. Even I shed a few tears now😭

But ngl it is emotional. I did not even plan on writing a scene such as this but my Adnan needs to see that Saadah likes him this much as well😭🫢

Alright alrighttttttt I did not kill him, are you happy? I know you are 😒 I should I have just ended him like that.

As I have been screaming I will add trouble you think say na joke? Well I guess it is to a certain extent. I just want this book to be a feel good book, which one can read without much stress. Just vibes and in shaa Allah 😎🥹🫢❤️😂

I'm so soooo glad you people are enjoying this really. My heart is full from the love Paper Hearts is receiving truly.

Love always, Jannah Mia💕