Translations are at the end of the chapter please.

It is always at the end of the chapter. Just check it first.

Asma, who usually battles nightmares in the middle of the night was awoken to another one of reality turned nightmares. She jerked awake, prying away from the arms wrapped around her as she sat up, her body shaking as she breathed heavily, trying to calm her steady heart.

She could remember everything that happened in the dream vividly, because she lived through it. The temperature in the room suddenly felt too high, and breathing became a difficult task. So, she pushed herself out of the bed, absentmindedly feeling the man on the bed stir awake but he was the least of her concerns as she bolted towards the en suite.

She stopped by the vanity mirror, tapping the faucet open. The sound of water swooshing out did little to ease her racing heart. She got a handful of the cold water, then leaned down and splashed it on her face, repeating the action a couple of times until she felt as though she could finally breathe.

Her hands dropped to hold the wash hand basin tightly, taking a few calming breaths to steady her racing heart, the sound of the faucet running in the background helping her calm down. She was not sure how long it took, but after a short while, she felt calm enough. So, she peeled her eyes open, and then reached out to turn off the faucet, unbothered to wipe her face off the leftover water.

When she straightened her spine and looked up, she was taken aback to find Amir Qasim standing by the door, staring at her. She could only guess he has been there for a while—probably since she felt him stir in bed earlier. From his expression she could tell he wanted to ask, to say something, but she was not in the mood for it in the slightest.

So, she looked away, and then walked past him quietly, making her way towards the bed again, noting how the digital clock on the bedside cabinet read 4:07AM. She was not feeling sleeping, and normally after these nightmares of hers, she does not go back to the sleep. She has gotten used to it.

But she knew she could not sit as usual, because Amir Qasim might find that as a chance to speak and she was not in the mood to speak in the slightest. So, she simply got back in the bed and laid down, closing her eyes and feigning to be asleep.

She felt him return after a while, and she kept her eyes closed shut. Instead of feeling him get back to his side of the bed however, she felt the space beside her dip as he sat down there, making her body stiffen, wondering what he could be up to.

And she felt it.

A soft towel on the side of her face, wiping away the water on her face. As much as she tried to fight against it, her heart actually fluttered at the action. Her eyes opened slowly, to meet his staring down at her as he continued to wipe away the water on her face, and the little that wet her hair as well.

He did not say anything. He did not ask. He did not pry. Nothing.

Rather, when he was satisfied that he has gotten rid of the water and her face was dry, he got on his feet and returned the towel back to the bathroom before he returned back to the bed, this time around getting into his side.

Asma felt his hand on her shoulder, as she pulled her over to him, so her head was resting on his shoulder. She did not fight against it. She felt exhausted, and she would hate to admit it but there was something about Amir Qasim's embrace. It was warm, and homey.

So, when her head rested on his shoulder while his other arm wrapped around her, she did not fight against it. Instead, she allowed herself to ease into it, her eyes flicking close once again. And for the first time in a very long time, she did what she never thought she could possibly do again.

She actually asleep once more—having a peaceful, and deep sleep this time around.

The next time Asma woke up, the time read quarter past eleven in the morning. She flicked her eyes close, muttering her waking up dua, pondering how she managed to sleep that late. She usually does not wake up early, but she does not sleep that long as well.

She was also aware that she was alone in bed, not that she expected otherwise really. But it was the weekend, and though Amir Qasim does not have to go to work, he usually goes to the polo club weekends, and usually spends the entire day there. She knew he was avoiding her by staying there, and truthfully in that moment, there is nothing she wants more than to not see him.

There was this barrier between them that was brought down yesterday, and she was not sure how to feel about his tender actions that seemed too good to be true. Actually, no. As she left the bed and went about to do her morning routine, all she could think about was what happened, and how she could not trust him especially because of that.

Amir Qasim would not be that nice to her without any reason, it is too good to be true, it just is. And thus, she came to a conclusion, she would be wary of him until she figures out exactly what was going through his head. It was with that determination that she went about picking her outfit for the day, deciding to go for something more colorful, but light at the same time.

Ultimately, she resorted to a sheer gradient evening set. From the peach-tined long sleeve top with high neckline, paired with a flowing mint-green high waisted skirt; and as an overlay, a pastel-toned kimono-style open jacket. For her hair, she simply wrapped it with a peach-colored scarf. She went light on the makeup, before finally spritzing her favorite perfume to complete the ensemble.

She picked up her phone on her way out, slipping into her shoes before stepping out of the room and making her way downstairs. The house was quiet that day, as the maids had already gone about their tasks for the day, done with the everyday cleaning and all. Asma was not expecting to see them really, especially not since she had Gwamma take care of them the day before.

From what she knows, they will be replaced with a new set, the old ones to be dismissed. This time around, Asma has requested for the numbers to be lower though, deciding on just three maids—Karima excluded. There was no need to have a higher number really. Especially not since Amir Qasim has called it quits on eating what they cook.

Speaking of which, what did they have in the morning? Asma wondered. He could not have gone out without eating anything, right?

The though plagued her mind as she reached the bottom of the stairs, her feet carrying her in the direction of the dining room as she was suddenly hungry—she did not eat anything for dinner aside from that tea, so of course she was bound to be hungry. The sound of familiar voices reached her ears, and the moment she stepped foot in the dining, she was met with an odd, yet familiar sight.

Sakina and Karima chatting away, weirdly enough. They were not close until a few days ago. Actually, all three of them are slowly becoming closer, the two women a step ahead of Asma it appears.

Karima, who was facing the door spotted Asma walk in, making the conversation come to a halt as her face broke into a wide grin. "Ranki ya dade," She called out, gaining Sakina's attention.

Sakina turned around, her gaze falling on the woman as well. Her lips formed a smile, and then at the same time, both she and Karima uttered their greetings.

"Barka da safe."

"Barka dai." Asma offered them both a small smile. Her gaze fell on the already set up table, where her breakfast awaits her. Her earlier thought popped up in her head.

Before she could ask the question though, Karima's voice came. "I did not know you would wake up late, so I prepared your breakfast a few hours ago." Her lips formed a small frown. "I can make something else if you'd prefer."

"No. It's okay." Asma shook her head, knowing there is nothing wrong with the food already made. Taking a few steps further into the room, she came to a stop by the chair at the helm, her hand resting there as she pondered her next few questions, before she decided to vocalize. "Did..." She lifted her gaze to meet the two of them. "...did Yerima have his breakfast?"

She was not even sure why she bothered to ask really. She never did before—even the two ladies found it odd given the way they exchanged looks between themselves.

Asma almost felt silly for asking so really. Who would she care? She tried to convince herself that she asked just to repay what he did for her last night. She feels as though she owes him one, so she wants to repay it.

Yeah, that is it. It was not because she wanted to cook for him. She just wanted to pay him back.

However, before either of the two ladies could answer her question, a voice she was certainly not expecting to hear then came, answering the question she asked.

"Why does it feel like you're worried about me now, Princess?" Amir Qasim's deep, husky voice reached her ears from behind.

Not expecting it, she could swear her heart dropped to the pit of her stomach, where butterflies miraculously appeared and fluttered, having some sort of circus show. Still, she managed to keep her expression calm, her hands curled by her side as she prepared to turn around and face him.

The two ladies crouched low to greet him, before she could answer. "Barka da rana, Yerima."

As always, his tone was dismissive as ever when he replied them, barely even sparing them a glance. How could he, when he had his attention on the woman in front of him—and her damn perfume that could be scented all around the place now.

Asma heard the sound of his footsteps approaching, and just as she turned around, he came to a stop in front of her—his height towering over hers easily. She would not regard herself a short person, but Amir Qasim still was taller, and she disliked that he has that advantage over her.

Still, she focused on his earlier words, keeping her tone blank when she responded. "You wish." She stated, without batting an eyelid.

"Are you sure?" Amir Qasim arched a brow, his expression cool, and calm. Nothing like his usual stormy expression. "For a second, I thought you were so worried about whether I have eaten or not? Otherwise, why would you be asking?"

"Because I wanted to know whether you'd bother me to cook for you again, or not." She lied easily through her teeth, though even she deep down believed that lie of hers.

Amir Qasim hummed, in a way that showed he does not believe her, but he did not prod into it. He let her be. Instead, he exhaled a breath, and then said. "Well, I am not as bad as you'd think I am," He gestured to the seat she usually sits down. "Sit and have your breakfast, I have had mine already. You owe me lunch and dinner though, there is no way around that."

Asma shrugged, already mentally debating what to cook later, and then moved to the chair on the right, settling down. She picked out a plate, only then noticing that the two women had since slipped out of the room and left them alone. They were fast. While she opened the coolers, her mouth watering at the sight of golden yam and egg sauce, another one of her favorites, she saw Amir Qasim settle down on his seat as well, though he made no move to get any food for himself.

"Are you going to sit there and watch me eat or something?" She asked, not bothering to spare him a glance, though she could feel his on her.

Amir Qasim did not reply immediately, and for a second, she thought he was back to his usual self—which she would much rather prefer than this new side of his she found all too suspicious. And then, out of the blue, he threw out one of his lines that left her speechless. "Have you considered what I told you yesterday?" He asked, ever so serious.

Asma could not think of anything worth her thinking about. So, she asked almost absentmindedly after getting some of the chicken pepper soup inside a bowl to get along with the golden yam. Oh, how she loves Karima's cooking—she feels proud to know she taught the girl really. "Think about what?"

"Kids, of course." He said, as if it is the most casual thing for them to speak of—as if they were speaking of threatening each other as usual. Except, instead of unaliving someone, they were speaking of bringing a life into the world. "When should we have kids?"

If Asma had started eating, she would have choked on her food with his words. She whipped her head around so fast she nearly got a whiplash, her eyes widened, and mouth parted. She was never at lost for words, and yet in the span of less than twenty-four hours, Amir Qasim has left her speechless countless times already.

"What is wrong with you?" She asked, truly in disbelief. Scooting closer to him, she leaned forward a bit, reaching her hand out to place her palm on his forehead. When his temperature felt normal to her, she pulled back and then said with a frown. "You don't have a fever. T'es encore plus folle que d'habitude."

As she brought her hand down from his forehead, Amir Qasim reached out and held it midway, holding onto her fingers, before slowly wrapping his entire hand around hers. Asma's breath hitched, the simple action of holding hands feeling too intimate for them, she could not even deny such action had her heart fluttering. She tried to tug her hand back, but he held it firmer, his big, warm and unexpectedly soft hands enclosing hers with such tenderness that left her wounded heart all warm and fuzzy.

But it was not just his touch, his hand holding hers. No, it was the way he stared at her, like a trophy he was admiring or something. His gaze felt too intense, it was soft, but she was not used to that softness—she did not want to be used to it. Yet, there he was, staring at her with such softness that left her a mess.

"What?" She whispered after a while, almost defensively when she felt he was staring at her a bit too much.

"I love it," He muttered, though loud enough for her to hear.

Her brows drew in, her lips tugged into a deep frown. "Love what?" He could not possibly be talking about her, is he? Because if he is, then so God help her.

"Your French." He stated, much to her surprise. "It is like you're a whole different person when you speak in that language." That was why he was admiring her, as if she was Mona Lisa itself. His lips curled into the smallest, faintest smiles—yet it was the best one could it from Amir Qasim, his voice came again. "Let me hear it again."

Her eyes narrowed.

He ignored it. "Speak, Princess."

If possible, her eyes narrowed even more. "T'es un fou, toi." She mumbled, but she was sure he heard her. "Je suis sûre qu'il y a quelque chose qui ne va pas chez toi,"

His smile widened slightly, though it was not big enough to be counted a wide smile per se. He then nodded to himself slowly. "I know you no doubt cursed me." Asma scoffed at that, because he is right, and she would not deny it. "But I love it still."

She gave him a weirded out look, and then mumbled again. "Homme fini." She tried to pull her hand from his again. "Let me go, I need to eat. Or would you feed me?"

"Don't tempt me, Princess." He warned, and though his tone was light, nothing about him showed he was kidding. And knowing Amir Qasim, he would really do so.

She swallowed down a lump, but did not say anything to tempt him. Instead, she tried to pull her hand away once again, and this time around, he let go. She released a sigh of relief, and then turned around to focus on her food.

However, just before she could take her first bite, a new voice suddenly came, seeking permission to come in. She recognized the voice as that of Sakina's husband, Khalifa. She did not miss the way Amir Qasim's expression seemed to harden upon hearing the man's voice, as if he could tell why the man was there.

"Come in," He gave the man permission regardless.

Khalifa walked in almost immediately, his expression his usual blank one. He gave Amir Qasim a nod of acknowledgement. "Yerima," He then acknowledged Asma. "Ranki ya dade."

She gave him a curt nod back.

"What is it, Khalifa?" Amir Qasim inquired.

He focused his attention back on the Prince, his expression showing something was wrong. Their thoughts were confirmed when he parted his lips to deliver the news. "It is Giwa." He declared. "She summons the Princess. And by the looks of it, there's trouble. Matar Sardauna is here as well, with Hadiza."

"Putain de merde." Asma cursed under her breath, clicking her tongue.

~*~

T'es encore plus fou que d'habitude: you're acting crazier than usual.

T'es un fou, toi. Je suis sûre qu'il y a quelque chose qui ne va pas chez toi: you crazy man, I'm sure there's something wrong with you.

Homme fini: finished man.

Putain de merde: Fucking hell.

Toh yanxu Giwa what are you up to? Are you sure you want to go down this lane??

Ke Kuma Hadiza small play Sai ki kawo Mama?😂😂 ma haza?? Miye haka??😂😂 bakisan wasa bane ke?

Toh ai hikenan 😂😂

Asma calm down, no carry petroleum go there abeg I know you can do that😂

Where's team we don't like Asma?😒 do we still have some left ko kun haqura?

Yanxu Nusaiba ko dawowa zatayi Amir Qasim don fall for Asma. We've lost him there tun tunin ba tantama.

See the way guy just Dey soft like this. Anya Lafiya kuwa?? I don't want to trust this guy kunsan lamarin rijalu. Ko Hanny ma yanxu zai sarki Maryam ballantana mu da ba son mu ake ba tun tunin😂😂

I sha pity my Asma, she's going through a lot and this family just won't give her a break😭 ba komai. All is well my girl.

And we're halfway through the book already. Ikon Allah.

Toh this is where I leave you guys. Stay safe as always.

Find man and let love enter that your bony heart, don't come and disturb us with aww kamar ambulance later on. Tam I've said my own.

Find love o, before you see Jannah getting married Kuce na ci amanar ku. Tam.

Stay safe.

Love, Jannah Mia❤️