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Jannah Mia❤️

SAADAH SULAIMAN'S POV.

KANO, NIGERIA.

Perhaps, I am not such a hopeless case after all.

The idea of romance has always been fascinating, though I preferred to watch it from afar than to actually experience it. I still remember a well known line from Omar Sulaiman's ramadan series, where he said, 'Romance is like rizq, not everyone will be opportune to have it'. Did it get through to me? Yes, I admit—especially after the rollercoaster I had to go through. However, then came Adnan Bayero, my crush of six years turned husband after everything, and I would like to think I have been blessed with one of the best love stories out there.

Or so I believe on normal basis.

Never thought a day would come where I would miss Yaya Maryam waking me up in the morning with her nagging, because now, instead of her nagging which I could always ignore and carry about my morning sleep, I have another alarm that cannot be snoozed from bed.

The piercing sound of a baby crying reached my ears, j0ltingf me from my much-needed sleep, and my eyes peeled open almost instinctively. A groan escaped my lips as I sank further under the blanket, and I had to hold back a silent scream of mine as well as the crying intensified, and I knew from experience that it would only increase if I do not get up and pacify the baby.

But, I too am a baby please. I want to cry as well—something I have been doing one too many times and I am close to breaking down into at the very moment as well. A growing pounding headache began to resurface, and I found myself pushing the duvet off my head as I forced myself to get into a sitting position, my eyes instantly zoning to the baby crib.

However, before I could make a move to get out of the bed and make my way towards the crib, the door leading to the bathroom opened, and Adnan stepped out, seemingly all freshened up from his shower. He reached the crib, then leaned down to pick up the baby, placing it on his chest as he tried to shush him down. His voice followed, "Shh, it is okay, Farhan. Dada is here. It is okay," His hands rubbed soothing circles on Farhan's back with way more expertise than I have as his mother.

A sigh of relief escaped my lips when Farhan's cries down in only a couple of seconds, and a now satisfied Adnan looked up, his gaze finding mine and then he offered me one of his famous, charming smiles. He closed the distance between us, one of his hand holding Farhan while the other wrapped around my shoulder as he leaned down, placing a quick kiss on my lips.

"Good morning, Hayaty," He whispered against my lips as he pulled back slightly—his smile unwavering.

I huffed out a breath, then pushed him away from me as I groaned. "Good morning for where? Your son woke me up." Truthfully, it was not my intention deep down to be annoyed, but at the same time, no one really prepared me for Postpartum depression and postpartum irritability. Turns out, it does not matter how many times you hear it and try to convince yourself that you can handle.

When it comes, it just comes and you are caught off guard, and though I am close to getting rid of mine, two months postpartum—I had almost believed I was over it even, then it shows up every once in a while, like this morning.

Thankfully, Adnan seems to understand it, and never complains of it. One of the perks of having a doctor as a husband I tell you. And in response, all I get is some pampering as if I am the baby and not the mother, and I will be back on track.

Just as he did at the moment. "We are sorry, Mama," He said, his smile unwavering, and it annoyed me even more. Why is he smiling this early morning please? "Look, Farhan wants to see his mother as well, don't you, champ?" He pulled Farhan back, made some faces at him, and the next thing you hear are little baby giggles.

Then, he leaned down, and placed Farhan in my arms, and I promise you, the moment I saw that small babyish smile of his, all my earlier annoyance dimmed down, and I found myself in awe of how cute my two-months-old is. My pout melted away to a smile, and I held him closer to me, making faces at him as well. His giggles continued, and his tiny hand reached out, wrapping around my fingers and I swear to you, there is no better feeling than that.

"He is so cute, Masha Allah," I cooed, staring at my son with utter admiration—the kind that occurs when you see someone's extremely cute child, and you feel as though you would take the child away. That is how I feel as well, except, this is my child—my son, our son.

Farhan Adnan Bayero. Our little bundle of joy and the product of 15 hours of gruesome labor.

Adnan settled down beside me, one arm wrapping around me, resting on Farhan's head while he rested his head on my shoulder, "You did well, Hayaty," He whispered, then placed a kiss on my exposed shoulder, "Allahumma bareek."

"Of course, I did." I chuckled along with him. I reached my finger to caress his cheeks, then found myself adding. "He is my son after all."

Adnan hummed, his other hand going around to rest on Farhan's side, "Do you think we should have named him, Muazu instead?" He asked, his tone serious.

"God forbid!" I swiveled my head around to throw him a glare, earning a laugh from him as he threw his head back enjoying teasing me. But, I did not find it amusing at the very least. "Allah ya sawwaqe I name my child Muazu."

"But you did eat his chickens," He pointed out, as if that would change anything. It does not.

"Na huce takaici ne," I said, trying to defend myself. "After everything he put me through, I deserve that much."

When I tell you Muazu would never change, I meant it. Because tell me why the man chose to embarrass me the most on the day I was delivered off my baby. I do not know who told him—I am not surprised he found out I gave birth, but what I want to know however, is who told him the room I was in at hospital.

The man showed up in my room out of the blue, with two live chickens flapping their wings, and that goat like grin on his face. I was not sure what annoyed me more. Was it the stupid goat like grin I have always hated, or was it the live chickens that had Amani and her cousins scrambling away in fear? Ajebo kids I tell you—point is, after putting me through that, I was mortified to say the least.

Why will I not eat the chickens after all that? Takaici na huce kawai.

When Adnan's chuckle died down, his voice came again, sounding more serious this time around. "Since you are awake already, take a shower so I will drop you off at home first. The nikah will soon start."

My eyes dilated, as the crucial information that seemed to have evaded my mind chirped in place. "Oh my God, the nikah!" I have honestly forgotten all about that. My gaze flicked to the digital watch on the bedside cabinet that read 9:06AM. There is still some time left since the nikah is by 11, but I know Adnan, he hates being late more than I do.

Besides, it is his sibling that is getting married after all, he should not be late.

So, I found myself handing Farhan over to him, and then rushed to the en-suite to get ready for the day. It took about an hour for me to fully get ready, to have our breakfast, and to get Farhan ready as well though I will be honest, his father did most of his work but still, in the next hour, we were all ready to head out.

I gave myself one last look at the mirror, satisfied with my look and the pictures we had managed to get—which I had to force him because well, I married an old man apparently that does not like pictures. But truthfully, I barely post any pictures of us, because I know evil eye is real and I would rather keep my family peace and everything private.

The one that posts our pictures on the other hand is Faiza, especially during Eid—which truthfully I do not mind because there still seem to be some ladies after my husband. You would think after two years I would be free of that, but apparently not. Everyone prefers an older man apparently, even if he has a wife and a two-month-old baby.

I fixed my Chantilly veil in place, another factor that made us waste a couple of minutes because he does not approve of it—he hates my Chantilly veils more than anything and it took a lot of convincing to get him to agree and let me wear it—not without forcing me to take another which I should wear when the men drop by the Bayero mansion later on.

I agreed to that because it was the one negotiation we could come to, and then I made my way out. We got settled in his Lexus ES, my second favorite car of his after our matching BMW which he had to change after his accident back then, but still are matching.

I held Farhan in my hand as we drove off to the Bayero mansion, and once we arrived, the house was already bustling with people all here to celebrate the big day. He drove off after dropping me, not wanting to step in when there is this much crowd, and I found myself maneuvering my way into the house—instantly spotting some familiar faces I had to stop by and greet. Whenever there is an occasion that deemed meeting more of the Bayero extended family, I find myself in awe because there is always more people which I did not know before, but they all apparently know Adnan's wife so I could not exactly escape.

The only escape I had was when I found myself at Hajiya's room, where there happens to be only about two other guests which I am unfamiliar with. The moment Hajiya spotted me, her lips curled into a wide grin, "Ah ah, my Sa'adatu is here. Yalla, come here. Marhaba marhaba. Maraba da zuwa."

My face mirrored her expression, "Hajiya ta..." I made my way towards her, just as she extended her arms to pull me into an embrace. Once she pulled back, I found myself crouching low. "Barka da safe, Hajiya."

"Barka dai Sa'adatu. Ya gidan naku?"

"Alhamdullilah. Ya hidiman biki kuma?"

"Hidima alhamdullilah." Her gaze then shifted to Farhan, and if possible, her grin widened as she extended her hand out to take him. "Ga kuma angon nawa ya iso." Once she has him in her arms, she caressed his cheeks, then added in a lighter tone. "Wannan wankan nashi nawa ne."

"Gaskiya," I nodded in agreement, my smile unwavering. Hajiya's warm presence hasn't waned even after years of knowing her. She is still the same as ever.

And when she flashed me one of her grins which I am sure Adnan got from her, she ascertained my words. Then, she turned around to the two other women in the room, "Sa'adah, this is my elder sister, Giwa," She gestured to the first woman seated on the bed, leaned against the bedrest. "Maman Amir Qasim. I am sure you know him."

I knew from the moment she mentioned the name 'Giwa' that she is Amir Qasim's mother. Though I have met him a handful of times, even during our visit to Sokoto, we never got the chance to meet her. Now looking at her, she is worthy of all her image that goes around. I heard she is the epitome of regal grace, and truth be told, I can see it.

In the way she looked, the way she is dressed, and the way she was seated—everything screamed royalty, and she owns it. Contrary to Hajiya's warm persona though, hers was intimidating I admit.

Still, I found myself crouching as I greeted her. "Barka da rana, Giwa."

Her lips slowly curled into a small smile, but there was nothing welcoming about it—it just matched her general aura. "Barka," She offered me a curt nod. "Matar Adnan ko?"

I nodded.

She nodded as well. "Allah sarki. I remember when you came with him. I was a bit...occupied." Her lips widened slightly into a tight lipped smile, and I did not miss the seemingly double meaning behind her words.

But I did not dwell on it, and instead, offered her another smile. "I thought you were busy as well." I said, my own smile unwavering.

"Allah ya baku zaman lafiya ya kuma raya Farhan." And that was the last thing she said to me.

"Ameen ameen."

There was an air of awkwardness that followed the interaction, which everyone in the room seemed to share. However, it came to an end when Hajiya's chirpy voice came once again, breaking the silence. "And this," She gestured to the other lady, "Is an old friend of mine. Hajiya Usaima. Her daughter is a colleague of Adnan's—Dr. Amal, banson ko kin santa ba."

The moment Dr. Amal's name escaped Hajiya's lips as well as her relation to this woman, her mother, she was not the one that crossed my mind. Rather, it was someone else, her sister, Naima that crossed my mind. And all I could think of, was that this woman is the mother of the woman Adnan loved.

He had told me about her of course, and I still remember every word that he told me regarding her. It was shortly after the whole issue about Khalil's murder, and after the Wambai's sued Emily, that the conversation came up. I thought I had moved on completely from Khalil's death, I did not have much reaction when I found out about what Emily did but when the Wambai family sued her, it felt all too real, and I broke down.

I felt bad that he had to see that side of me when I promised myself I would leave Khalil in the past now that I am with him. But, he did not judge me, and that was how Naima's topic came about.

I had already believed we had an unspoken agreement to not speak of our exes, and I was okay with not knowing about her really because I believed she was in the past—but he brought her up then, and though I did not quite understand why, as he explained further, I understood.

"Naima was my girlfriend," He started, and I could tell instantly from his tone that she is not a memory he wished to relive, but he still did. "And she passed away three years ago," It should be about five years now since it has been about two years since he told me. "She had cancer, but it did not stop me from liking her. I had known her since we were young, and we started dating shortly before she was diagnosed with cancer. Still, I had hope that she would survive, that she would get over it, that we would get over it together but we had our plans, and He had his. She passed away about six months after her diagnosis, and truthfully, I took it badly. We were only together for ten months. I thought of all the times I had wasted before instead of being with her, and I hated myself for it. It has been years, but I still feel the pain.

So, Sa'adah, my point here is. I understand what it feels like to lose a loved on, and you can take as long as you need to heal. What I want you to know however, is that, you and I have each other now. It is best if we look forward to our future together and not dwell on the past. I am sure that is what they would have both wanted as well."

After that conversation, I do not think I harbor the same dislike towards the woman anymore. There was no such thing as jealousy, or dislike. He was right. Both she and Khalil are our pasts, and we cannot be defined and bound by them forever.

We all lose our loved ones in our lives. It is part of life. And to grieve is to be human as well.

And so, my lips curled into a genuine smile as I stared at the woman, then parted my lips to greet her. "Ina wuni?"

Her smile was warm, and gentle. "Lafiya qalau, Sa'adatu. How is the baby?"

"He's fine alhamdullilah," I then found myself adding. "Ya jiki kuma?" I heard she was diagnosed with cancer as well, but apparently she has survived as of last year.

She nodded as if knowing the thoughts running through my mind. "I am much better now, Alhamdullilah."

My smile widened. "Masha Allah. Allah qara lafiya."

"Ameen ameen."

Hajiya and I conversed for a bit longer, before I left in search for Ya Mama and Faiza, leaving Farhan with his grandmother as she had asked. Upon setting foot in Faiza's room, I was welcomed by the sight of the two Bayero sisters, along with a few of their cousins. The first person to notice me though was my beautiful daughter, who instantly squealed and then ran in my direction.

"ATU!!!" Her excited scream came, using the one title she still has not let go of.

I leaned down just in time she jumped into my arms, and I found myself chuckling when she giggled, her tiny arms wrapped around my neck. "Amanini na..." I cooed, patting the back of her now braided hair with beads dangling with every sway of her head. I pulled back so I could face her, then asked. "How are you, my baby?"

She grinned, her baby teeth on display. "I am fine," She said, "Uncle Lulu?" She asked, as always. I am telling you, this girl cannot see me and not ask of her Uncle. It is almost as if she knows wherever I am, he will soon follow as well.

"He is at the masjid," I said. "He will be here soon."

She pouted, but nodded instead. Then, she leaned her head on my shoulder, her small arms still wrapped around my neck tightly as I made my way further into the room, where everyone else seemed to be aware of my presence now.

"Allah ya shirye yarinyar nan," Ya Mama commented, shaking her head as she threw a look at Amani, before she met my gaze. "Do you know she has been throwing a tantrum since and refusing to speak to any of us? Wai she wants to go to Lulu. Wannan Lulu it is like Faiza would just give her to you two."

"We have already hijacked her," I teased, then closed the distance between us, leaning down to meet Ya Mama's outstretched arms as she offered me a quick hug, as much as we could get with Amani in my arms. "Ya Mama ina kwana?"

"Lafiya qalau matar babban Yaya," She said, with a teasing smile on her face.

I threw her a playful look. "You have picked up on Ya Yusuf's name as well ko?" I said, as he is the one person in the family that has refused to let go of the title. Faiza picked it up as well, but Faiza does not have a direction truthfully so she is just everywhere. Ya Mama though, she has been using it a bit too much lately.

And in response, all I got was a shrug and a grin, followed by the statement. "It is true after all." She said, making me chuckle and shake my head.

I exchanged light pleasantries with the others in the room—all of which I know superficially and nothing too deep because let us face it, I will never like people beyond superficial relationships. Then, my gaze settled on the last person in the room I am yet to exchange pleasantries with.

"Ah ah, see as you look fine like this," I teased as I made my way towards Faiza, then settled down beside her, Amani still wrapped all around me. "You are looking beautiful girl, Ma shaa Allah."

She grinned, then flipped her imaginary hair over her shoulder, "Well of course," She bragged. "I am the star of the day."

I huffed a breath, throwing her a glare. "Yeah, right."

"Where is my baby seff?" She asked, her brows drawn in.

"Yana wajen Hajiya,"

Faiza tutted, shaking her head. "Now none of us will see him again since she got him. Abun ka da masu jikoki." She lamented, her lips curling into a deep frown.

Light conversations were exchanged as time passed, food was brought, and laughter filled the air. Soon enough, it was announced that the knot has been tied and that was when the yodeling and all started. It did not take long for the men and the groom to arrive, and the air around the house changed as more excitement came.

I changed into the other veil, before the girls and I made our way to the private living room where Hajiya was waiting for them to arrive as they were there to greet her first. I took Farhan from her, and soon after, the men came pouring in—the groom taking the lead, his smile contagious as he made a beeline towards Hajiya, crouching in front of her while his friends, all dressed in white Babban riga as well, crouched as well.

Light chatters filled the place, and my eyes roamed the room, trying to spot the familiar spectacles anywhere. However, I found myself frowning when I did not spot him, but it only lasted a second before I felt an arm wrapped around my shoulder, his ever so familiar cologne wafting my senses, alerting me of his presence along with the warmth of his body.

I tilted my head up, my gaze meeting his before my lips curled into a wide grin, "Hello, Mr. Bayero." I greeted, in a light voice.

He smiled back, "Hello there, Mrs. Bayero." His gaze then moved to Farhan, and then he leaned down to press a kiss on his forehead. "And hello there, champ."

Farhan, as if recognizing his father's presence and voice, shifted slightly, his eyes flickering to rest on the man. Then, his small lips curled slightly, and in response, Adnan reached out and took him from me, so he was now in his arms. But, one of his arms still remained wrapped around my shoulder.

I sighed, leaning my head on his shoulder the chatters quietened down as Hajiya's voice came, uttering her advises. When she was done, a round of prayers were said, and a collective 'Ameen' came once it was done. And then, the photo session started.

My smile morphed into a grin as I watched the groom move to sit beside Hajiya as their pictures was snapped, and I found myself speaking. "I cannot believe Ya Yusuf is now a married man," I lamented, staring at the man who is all grins. Who would have thought he would finally settle down?

"Yace kin mishi gori ya ishe shi," Adnan said, his tone filled with amusement, and I found myself chuckling along due to how the words sounded. But, he was not wrong. "Besides, he has disturbed us enough. He is his wife's problem now."

I nodded in agreement, "That, you are right." It does not matter how long I have known Ya Yusuf for, but I believe he is the most unserious and unproblematic Bayero sibling there is. You will forget the man exists unless he shows up, he stays out of people's issues that much. The few times he does visit our house, it is always with his never ending teasing. So, seeing him getting married, I feel a bit emotional really.

The picture session soon became that of a family, and Adnan and I joined. The sessions took a while, but soon enough, they declared he was going to his wife's house to meet her so they had to bring the pictures session to an end. The groom and his friends left to head to the bride's home, and that was when my husband decided to call it quits and in his words, 'allow the young men to do as they please'. As if. He likes to speak as though he is a really old man truthfully. 35 cannot be that old—unless I decide otherwise when I am teasing him.

The day pretty much passed by in a blur, with Ya Yusuf's wife being conveyed and all, a part I stayed out of. Adnan and I stayed at the Bayero mansion, deciding to leave only after Isha prayers. By the time, the house was free of the people there and we found ourselves in the small living room.

It became more of a close family circle as it left on Hajiya, Ya Mama, Faiza, and Adnan. Faiza had finally gotten her wish, and has Farhan in her arms while Amani got her wish as well, and was now stuck to her Lulu's side. I left Faiza's room as I made my way there to meet them as well after praying Isha finally. And upon reaching there, I stepped in with a salaam which was answered by everyone there.

The moment felt very much like déjà vu to me, taking me back to four years ago on the day of Faiza's wushe wushe, when I went into Hajiya's room and was met with the Bayero siblings. Only now, they were in the living room, and instead of Ya Yusuf, Faiza occupied his position.

Ya Mama's teasing voice came, just like last time. "And here comes Hajiya's favorite child." She said, her back leaned against the couch behind her. "Sa'adatun Hajiya, matar babban Yaya."

Hajiya, who sat on the carpet just like everyone else threw her a quick, playful glare. "Leave my daughter alone," She waved her off, then shifted her gaze to me. "Ignore her, kinji Sa'adatu. Between she and Yusuf, I do not know who teases you more."

I offered Hajiya a small smile, not having the right answer as well because I cannot decided either. They are both teasing me, topping Faiza even. Except, they do not cross the line no matter what, and I would like to think I am used to it at this point.

I made my way further into the living room, and Adnan, who was seated to Hajiya's right side, with Faiza and Ya Mama opposite him, extended his hand out, the other wrapped around Amani.

I threw him a quick glare, but he ignored it, and instead offered me a smile in return. Blood rushed to my cheeks, and after two years of this habit of his, you would think I would get used to it, right? I am not. I do not think I would ever be, especially not in front of Hajiya like this.

I ignored the outstretched hand, but did settle down beside him. From the corner of my eyes, I could see him throw me a small glare, and it was accompanied by his voice. "Really, Mama?" He asked, as if he could not believe I snubbed him right in front of everyone.

As if it is the first time. It is not. Neither would it be the last.

He can shameless all he wants in front of his mother, but he should not get me involved.

Feigning ignorance, I turned my head around to look at him, then said. "Sannu, Malam."

He looked as though he wanted to say something, but before he could, the sound of his phone ringing came. He picked up the phone, and a look akin to annoyance flashes his expression upon seeing the caller ID. He answered with a breath exhaled, and the conversation ended shortly after before he rose on his feet, excusing himself and saying there is a guest that is here to greet Hajiya. He left, not before asking his sister to cover up as the guest is apparently a man—I did not escape as well, because he gave me a scrutinizing look that earned him an arched brow from me. He deemed me appropriate enough, before he left to bring in whoever this guest is—Amani clinging onto him and refusing to let go.

We exchanged light conversation between ourselves for a short while before he returned with the so called guest. He stepped in first, and our attention yawed behind him, curious to see who it was. I recognized the voice the minute his salaam came, even before I saw his face. And once my eyes fell on him, my lips parted slightly.

It appears I was not the only one stunned, because instinctively, my gaze yawed in the direction of Faiza now seated across me, who has her gaze fixated on him as well, her lips parted in surprise. She was awestruck to say the very least.

Ya Mama's voice came first, breaking the tensed air. "Ah ah, Zaheer, is it you I am seeing here?" She asked, sounding equally surprised.

Zaheer, offered her his ever so boyish smile that still seemed to be the same as he came to a stop, crouching low opposite Hajiya before his voice came. "Hajiya, barka da dare." He greeted, one of his arms wrapped around Amani whom seemed to have abandoned her uncle and found a new favorite person to cling onto.

"Zaheer, barka dai. How have you been? How long has it been since you last visited us? Over two years fa." She lamented, but her words were accurate. It has been two years since I think everyone here saw him. "How is work? That is what kept you away from us, right?"

"Work, alhamdullilah..." As Zaheer engaged in a conversation with Hajiya and Ya Mama, my gaze yawed to my husband who found his way to settle down beside me again.

"It is getting late, we should head home as well," Adnan said.

I nodded, though my brows drew in, "Of course. But, Zaheer just arrived--" I have so much to ask the man. He basically went MIA on us all, he has some explaining to do—and how does Adnan keep contact with him. I thought he disliked him? So many questions really.

"You will have all the time to ask him later on," Adnan said, in a small voice so only the of us could hear, then added. "He is back for good. But for tonight, I think there is someone else he would rather talk to, don't you think?"

As the words escaped his lips, my gaze flicked in Faiza's direction, who was looking anywhere but him. However, I knew her well enough to know she was nervous and has just as much questions for him as well. So, I reluctantly found myself agreeing with Adnan's words.

He announced our leave, and we exchanged farewell with them, not before I gave Zaheer a look that screamed we would definitely talk later, which he replied with a small grin and a nod. I could only stare at him in surprise, wondering where the old Zaheer that I have known all this while is.

He still looks the same, minus the beard he now keeps—surprisingly, only acting more mature—though it does not seem to be an act. Wonders will soon end at this point really.

Much to my despair, we had to leave before I could get some inside gist, but I made a mental note to call Faiza first time in the morning tomorrow and hear what is going on. But, that was only regarding Faiza. The minute Adnan and I were out of the house, I looked my arm around his, then leaned down to speak.

"Oya, spill, mister." I pressed, because something tells me he knows more than he is letting on.

He looked down, his gaze meeting mine, and then I saw him fighting back a smile. "Spill what?"

"Don't play dumb!" I shook his shoulder.

"Hey, hey, hey...you'll wake him up," He said, his voice low as he gestured to our sleeping son in his arms.

I threw him a glare, though paid heed to his words. "Come on, spill please. Tell me what you know."

He did not say anything as we reached where the car is. He pulled the door open for me, and once I am inside, he handed Farhan over to me, before he reached out and pulled the seatbelt, clipping it in place. But he had to lean down to do that, and he took the chance to place a quick peck on my lips, then he pulled back, his eyes meeting mine before he whispered. "Zaheer asked our father for Faiza's hand in marriage." He said simply, then pulled back and close the door.

My mouth dropped to the floor, and I found myself letting out a silent scream. "What?!" The actual hell...

The entire drive back home was filled with me drilling Adnan for more information, but he did not give me much aside from what I was already aware of. I am well aware that Faiza rejected Zaheer back then—not because she did not like him, but because she felt she was not ready to get married to another, or get in another relationship then—not to mention, Zaheer wasn't entirely responsible of his life then. He simply had his degree, without a stable job, or any plans for his future.

And so, he left to get a hold of his life so he would be worthy of her. He and I barely speak since he did go MIA on everyone, but I spoke to his mother on a couple of occasions, and she certified to me that he indeed went back to his father's company, which they have been urging him for all this while, and took control of it.

It took two years, but him being back now showed he has gotten a hold of his life, and I know Faiza is just as ready as well to dive into this story of theirs. I cannot imagine what would be the look on her face when she finds out about his actions. Now, I truly cannot wait until morning.

When we reached home, Adnan took a shower first while I got Farhan ready for bed, changing his outfit and all before placing him in his crib. By then, his father was done with his shower, so I took mine as well. When I was done, I changed into my night outfit, then headed to the kitchen to make a cup of tea for us both. We already ate at Hajiya's, so I doubt he would want any food as well.

Once I had gotten both our cups on the tray, I made my way to his study where I knew he would be. And I was right, because the moment I stepped in, I was met with the sight of him seated behind his table, his glasses in place and his gaze set on the Macbook in front of him.

He looked up when he heard the door, and then his lips curved into one of his charming smiles. I smiled back, closing the distance between us before I settled the tea on the table, which he mouthed a 'thank you' in response. Then, his hand stretched out, and this time around, I did not snub him.

Instead, I slipped my hand into his, and he pulled me closer to him softly, until I found myself seated on his lap, while his hands went to rest on my waist. My smile widened, then my gaze yawed in the direction of his computer, and upon seeing what is there, my voice followed soon after. "I am honestly missing being in your classes," I stated, earnestly.

He let out a huff like breath, as if he could not believe me. "You that slept the entire year away?" He asked, with a slightly arched brow. "You slept in every single class, Madam."

"And yet, I graduated with a B." I offered him a tight-lipped smile, before playfully glaring at him. "I still believe I should have gotten an A. I studied well enough."

"Be thankful you have the B," He said, "And if you miss school so much, why don't you return for PhD?"

"God forbid!" The words escaped my lips without a second thought, and I do not regret it. My fake life ended with masters please. I have left the PhD for those who want to do more fake life. He chuckled at the response, something he has heard one too many times already. I reached my hand out to take off his glasses, placing them beside the Macbook. Then, I traced his brows with my thumbs. "I am thinking of working at HGH as well. What do you think?" I asked, my tone serious.

His brows drew in, and he nodded slowly. "How about when Farhan gets older?" He said, despite it sounding like a question, I knew it was not. "Let us talk about it again then."

I sighed, then nodded because I knew it would be pointless to push it forward, he would not cave in now. So, I took his words for it. When Farhan gets older, I will bring the topic again.

"For now," He breathed out, pulling me closer to him. "Am I not spoiling you enough?"

I chuckled, "You are," I nodded. "And speaking of which," My arms wrapped around his neck, and I gave him a pointed look. "You know, you still have not told me when you fell in love with me."

He looked away, and I could tell he was going to avoid the topic as he always does. "I love your perfume," He said, then leaned down to place a kiss on my collarbone. "You should wear this more often."

"Lulu," I dragged, pulling his head back so our eyes meet again. "You can't avoid this again."

His lips slowly slanted into an amused smile. "Call me Lulu again."

"When you give me my answer," I said instead, refusing to be wavered by his words. "And I am not letting this go today. I want my answers." I have lost count of how many times I have asked him, and he always finds a way to evade the topic—always. Not today though, I am determined.

He held my gaze, his smile unwavering. He leaned back against his seat, then sighed, his shoulders slumping. When he realized I truly was not going to back down, he finally started speaking. "I have always been fond of you since when you first started liking me," He finally confessed, after a short while.

My eyes dilated slightly. "You have liked me since then?"

He hummed, then shook his head. "Not exactly. I just thought you were a fun person to be around, and I enjoyed your company more than I would like to admit. But then, we lost contact and I later on got with Naima." He breathed out, the air turning somber for that brief moment. "However, I think I fell for you later on."

"When exactly?"

"At Faiza's wedding." He said, a small smile on his lips as he held my gaze. One of his hands reached out to take a hold of mine, and he then interlaced our fingers. "During her wushe wushe. I was only there for a brief moment, and it was the first time I saw you in person, and you were too caught up with everything during the event, you were too caught up with everything and I felt, 'So, this is the infamous Sa'adah'. You genuinely seemed like a fun person to be around—you stood out amongst her friends."

I could not believe his words, they left me stunned. I never thought of that—and believe me I thought of when exactly it could have been countless times. The wedding never crossed my mind. "To think I was avoiding you during that event," I found myself recounting.

He arched a brow, seeming amused. "Really?"

I nodded, my cheeks heating. "I was embarrassed to meet you for the first time in person after everything. I desperately tried to avoid you during that event—I even thought you never showed up." I was so sure he did not go. To think he did.

He chuckled. "Oh, I was there." He affirmed, "And it was at that moment that I fell for you. You made my heart warm."

My mind went back to that day, and I tried to recollect the activities of the day. Then, a particular moment clicked. "But I remember meeting you at Hajiya's room later that night," I said, remembering that moment clear as day. "You were so cold to me—from the curt nod to how you did not even want to look at me. I thought you hated me or something."

He gave me a look, as if I am crazy for having such thoughts. "You made my heart race, Sa'adah," He then said, his gaze holding mine. "How could I look at you without making a fool of myself in front of everyone? Do you have any idea how hard it was for me at that moment? I did not know to act—I felt like a teenager or something."

It was weird really, how my memory of that night, and his memory contradicted each other. While I had my perspective—I never knew his was like that. To think the story has been different all this while.

"You rejected me later on though," I breathed out. "That time you took me back home. You told me you had someone else and that I should find someone else."

He sighed, his shoulders slumping. "It was just a few months after Naima passed away—I was not ready to move on," He said. "Despite liking you, it did not change that." His hand gave mine a small squeeze, his voice turning somber when he added. "I felt it was best if you found someone else. At that moment, I could never give you what you wanted. I wasn't healed—and it would not be fair to you...I would not be fair to you. It is not right to have you fill in the shoes of someone else. So, I thought it was best if you found someone else—and genuinely wished you a good life with Khalil. But after what went down with him, I knew it would foolish to let you go the second time."

By the end of his words, I was left without any words to say the least. I could only stare at him, letting the words process. Now hearing his side, I feel as though we truly deserve to be where we are right now—that we have come a long way to look behind and think otherwise.

That our story, after all, was meant to be—that we are meant to be. That I am his, and he is mine.

The next words that escaped my lips felt almost like an instinct, "I love you," I breathed out, my words earnest. "I love you so much, Adnan Bayero." I could feel my eyes welling with unshed tears. "I love you forever and always, Lulu."

He smiled, his lips curling into a grin. "And I love you, Sa'adah." He said. "Forever and always, Hayaty,"

My own expression mirrored his, and I found myself leaning down, capturing his lips with mine in a slow, passionate kiss. It was enough to express all our emotion—it was enough to tell our story.

That if two hearts are meant to be, they will be. It will break, shatter, and crumble. But, it will be mended. A paper heart may seem fragile. But when folded with care and written with love, it carries more strength and meaning than the toughest walls. Like our love, it is delicate but powerful, shaped by every moment we share for years that have passed, and those to come.

I am happy, that is for one. And I guess, we had our happy ending after all. All of us.

Forever, and always,

Love, Mrs. Bayero.

THE END.