•••

After that awkward moment with her husband, Janan prayed and finally — after a conflicted moment between her and her inner self — decided to wait for Ammar. She wanted to chew his ear off for embarrassing her like that, but decided against it since he had left for the mosque.

Eventually, darkness enveloped her.

The serene morning light escaped through a small line between the curtains to shine directly upon her eyes. She opened them reluctantly, feeling somewhat cold despite the duvet covering her. She noticed that Ammar wasn't next to her in bed. A sigh of relief passed her dry lips.

Janan sat up from her lying position, rubbing her weary eyes. They soon bulged out to take in the lit room before her.

'Seriously!? Must they make a big deal out of the master bedroom! How did I not see it earlier?! Maybe because the room was dimly lit and I could barely navigate my way around, but this...this is simply too much!' Her mouth hung ajar as she slid her — cotton pink covered — legs out of the covers to touch the cold tiles.

Janan looked around, but there was no sign of Ammar. "Such a horrible husband." She scratched the braids nestled at the crown of her head, feeling annoyed. What had happened earlier ebbed it's way back into her mind. Chewing the inside of her cheeks, she was about to stand up when she heard the click of a door across the room.

"And what a horrible wife. I even had to wake up before you." Ammar emerged from the door.

Janan scrambled for the sheets to cover her body, raising it to her neck level. Ammar crossed his arms and arched an eyebrow whilst Janan looked away before her eyes wandered onto his figure for too long. But she couldn't help but risk another glance towards his direction.

Ammar was sweating and had a towel around his neck, which meant he just came back from a run. Sweat trickled from his forehead, down to his neck, and disappeared into his clinging, drenched shirt.

Janan swallowed a nervous lump and looked away, yelping when he took off his shirt. Fatima was damn right when she said he was freaking shredded. Janan peeked through her eyelashes to look at the man parading around the room, comfortably shirtless.

"Stop staring, it's rude. Just take a picture and be done with it. I believe I don't need any unnecessary filter." He smugly said, rummaging through the drawers.

"Y-You know that's what the purpose of the walking closet is for, right? How can you be this shameless...?" Janan cursed at herself for stuttering.

Either she imagined it or he chuckled. She decided it was for the best if she brushed it away. She watched as Ammar kept to his business, while she sat awkwardly on the bed.

"Um, I guess I'll go cook breakfast." Janan had lowered the sheets and her leg was out when he spoke.

"No need, the maids have already cooked it. We don't want the house burning." He tried to say nonchalantly, but it seemed like he's trying to hold back his anger as much as possible.

'Bipolar much?' Janan narrowed her eyes, twisting her lips.

"Okay, but I'll —"

Ammar cut her off by aggressively tossing his sweat soaked shirt in a hamper, then turning around to give her a spine-chilling glare.

"Look, I don't care if you see me like this or care about me, don't even. Allah knows I'm not gonna touch you or even have any relations with you because I have completely no interest in you. So gara kidena tunanin zan so ki (better stop thinking that I'm going to fall in love with you). You are nothing to me!" He entered what appeared to be an ensuite, closing the door with a loud bang, startling Janan in the process.

Mouth agape and hurt by his harsh words, Janan jumped up and ran to the door Ammar entered. Her hands formed fists and banged on the door. "You don't have to fucking tell me that. Right back at ya, Ammar, you — argh!" Consumed by blinding rage, she screeched, "I should've never agreed to this ridiculous marriage!"

—
Meanwhile, in the bathroom, Ammar was frustrated beyond belief. Ever since he saw her in her sleeping state, he couldn't help but observed her. She might have been aggressive and foulmouthed, but Ammar had forgotten that she's just a harmless, teenage girl who was forced into this hellish marriage.

He was telling the truth when he said that he wasn't the one who changed her clothes. It was all the old maid's work. Although he had to be pushed out of the room, saying she needed privacy to change her. He almost slipped out that he was her husband, but he didn't resort to that type of dirty play. The least he could do was preserve her dignity.

Ammar huffed out, relishing the thought about how her small body was next to him. He ignored the banging coming from the other side of the door.

'Maybe I was a bit harsh about what I said...' Biting his lower lip, he started undressing.

—
After Ammar finished his business and angrily stumped out of their room, Janan quickly went into the bathroom. No matter how many times, the bathroom would always leave her in awe whenever she entered it.

The toilet was fancy and elegant but had sort of a vintage feel to it. She really liked it. Just how long were they planning this — her parents, that is. Since she had school today, she decided to shower instead. After a brief concert in her head while showering, she stepped out, wrapping a fluffy white bathrobe around her dripping figure. 

Janan stepped out the bathroom that has steam coming out, making her way to the other side of the room to open double doors that led to their walk-in closet. A hallway greeted her as she made her way towards the end where it was cut into a two-way. She wondered which direction led her to her section of clothes.

She heard a 'click' sound and quickly whirled around to spot anything suspicious. Instead, she was faced with the double doors. Creasing her brows in confusion, she continued to walk.

She soon came to the end of the hallway. To her left, she spotted different kinds of sneakers, loafers, and palms on a shoe shelf. Farther into the box room, there were multiple racks that were filled with men's clothing. She twisted her head to her right to spot another matching room. Only that it was filled with her clothes and accessories. Well, her new stuff.

Janan sighed, scratching her long braids. Sitting down before the enormous mirror reflecting her petite figure, she began applying her basic skin and hair care products.

With her bathrobe trailing behind her, she went to her underwear section, picking out matching cotton bra and panties, then walking to her uniform's.

"What in the name of Allah happened to my uniform!?" Two weeks ago, her uniform skirt stopped just above her knee. Now, it stopped above her ankle.

Janan miserably went downstairs to eat her breakfast.

—
Ammar was scrolling through his phone, eating his breakfast when he spotted Janan and immediately lowered his face, which was heating up nicely. He shouldn't have gone back to their room. He kept thinking about how her long, black braids cascaded down to her mid-back. Her smooth dark skin gleaming under the lighting.

Janan sent scathing glares towards Ammar but he paid no heed to her. He was too preoccupied with his thoughts.

They ate their food in silence, hating each other's presence.

Janan finished and washed her plate. Ammar came and rudely dumped his plate into the sink. Janan could do nothing but hiss quietly, grudgingly washing his plate.

Sitting on the couch, Ammar watched as Janan picked up her school bag."I need you to drive me to school." She had her hands on her hips, grimacing to Ammar, who was annoyed for no reason.

"Must I really bother?! Don't you have a driver for that? Your such a nuisance to my life. Sometimes, I wish I could change my fate!" He yelled at Janan. He knew the driver would start working tomorrow, but he wanted to release the pent-up energy within him.

"Kut... Yanzu ni na bata maka rai!? Dan Allah ka dena min wulakanci! Ni mutun ce. Gaskiya, ka samu babban kai! Toh, kaji yanzu, eh matar kace ni kuma baka so ka aure ni amma (Now it's me that pissed you off?! Please, for Allah's sake stop treating me bad! I am a human being. Seriously, you grew a colossal head! Listen to me, yes I'm your wife and you didn't want to marry me, but — ) I, too, deserve respect!" Tears gathered in the corner of her eyes as tugged on the straps of her bag, putting on her shoes, and swiftly stomped out of the house.

Ammar clenched his eyes closed and scratched his scalp . His short-tempered nature would get him in trouble one day. Heck, it already did several times. He had to apologize for his outburst.

Grabbing his keys, he ran out of the house. He entered his luxurious car, started the engine, and expertly reversed out of the gate. He spotted Janan far ahead, walking at a fast pace — going nowhere. Flooring the gas pedal, he sped until he approached Janan, slowing down to match her pace.

"Look Janan...I'm sorry." She adjusted her hijab, ignoring the moving vehicle beside her.

"Janan." Ammar bit his lip, trying once more.

"Janan Al-Jamila (the beautiful)?" She scoffed.

"Habibti, I'm sorry." He tried that one, but instead, she walked faster.

Ammar stepped on the gas and swirled round to block Janan's path. He came out of the car and towered over Janan.

"I said I was sorry. Please get into the car." He stared at her down-cast eyes. She hissed and was about to walk around him when he caught her arm and pushed her into the front seat.

"H-hey, Lemme out —!"  

"Just let me drive you, Janan. I know I shouldn't have said those harsh words. I...apologize." He shut her door and got into the driver's seat. Janan crossed her arms and huffed.

Arriving at the entrance of the school, sporting on Ray-Ban shades, Ammar stepped out of the car to open the door for her. Janan grimaced at his attempt at being a gentleman.

They were getting weird stares, and she knew today would not be a relaxing day. It was Monday, after all.

She got out and walked away before he could say anything. 

•••

Yes, I know. Their marriage did not follow the standard Hausa wedding but, since it's my book, I decide how everything goes. Besides, I found it rather tiresome trying to explain the process.