Jannah sighed at the dinner table in front of her ladened with surfeit of food on it ranging from the ones made with vegetables, fruits, wheats and so on. She gave her all into cooking him those meals making sure everything is going to be to his liking only for that to come crashing into smithereens.

For the nth time, her husband's driver called to tell her that her husband just left the country to one of his many fishing expedition for oil. He's done that more times than she could count. She's lost count now on the times she had to begrudgingly pick her phone to answer the driver's calls. She loathed seeing his name flashing on her screen.

And the worst part? Her husband isn't the one commanding the driver to tell her about his departure but being the magnanimous guy the driver is —Edward— he calls her every time just so she could give away the food she's made before it gets wasted like it had a few times. And she shouldn't expect him home. In other words, not wait up for him. This is yet another day and she is going to give out every single thing she's made because she is suddenly not hungry anymore.

She is darn tired of this treatment but she got used to it with a man like her husband. There really is no much to complain about mainly because she's never been a nitpicker. She accepts everything the way it is and just go along with the flow, there is nothing else she can do when she lacks strength for all that. Anything that will disturb her peace of mind is not welcomed at all hence, her calm nature.

But this? This is getting too much and debilitating her peace at the same time. She's spent more than five hours making the dishes she's noticed that he loves after getting equipped by his mother on a few things to add to her menu. She wants him to be comfortable in his own home.

And now she is going to give all that away not because she wants to from the core of her heart but because she's got no choice but that. It's either give it away or it gets rotten, she cannot stand that. They always keep away the options to themselves leaving her with no escape itinerary.

She swallowed an acrid gob behind her throat before standing up to go call the gateman. She passed by her daughter who's happily watching 'Dora The Explorer' that girl that's always in the woods with her monkey. She's wondered one time why her parents never ask her to sit at home for once so they could film it there then remembered her mother-in-law telling her it's just a movie, there's nothing serious about it. Especially cartoons.

"Mallam Sani!" She called, adjusting her long hijab to close her head and neck. Her feet is also closed with it because of how long it is, like she loves them.

The gateman, Mallam Sani came out from his room at the end of the mansion because miraculously, he always apperceive her calls even from miles away and her voice isn't that large or echoish, just a bit throaty.

His room is as large as her parent's house back in her home, if not larger. The man lives comfortably and never works much. He only eats, listen to his radio, pray and sleep then repeat the same routine the next day until Adnan comes back home which happens once in a lifetime.

His trips are not short. It's either he spends the month digging up oil from where he is not supposed to —earning enemies from all over the world— or three months flying from one place to another in a private jet she'd wished more than million times to get burnt. Not her fault. She's a woman with needs and her husband is just never present and when he is, she's either off that or something is just not there.

She's not breached the line of questioning his loyalty to her, she won't make that mistake many women are doing nowadays that's breaking their marriage. Him being loyal to her is actually not her concern and that's not because she is not jealous but she hates the mere thought of it, it's seized from her head. It'll make her go crazy with overthinking and whatnot. And Adnan is not the type of man she could just ask about his whereabouts, nope. The guy hardly speaks more than five words to her. And honestly, she trusts his loyalty when it comes to that. Stupid? She just do.

And again, she makes sure the peace is there and never kvetched to anyone, not even herself. That's how she is, devoted, soft, well behaved, gentle and docile to her reserved, aloof and misanthropic husband—

"Na'am, Hajiya? Yes, Madam?" Mallam Sani cut her train of thoughts and she gave him a curt smile she's managed to muster around non-mahrams.

Mallam Sani is a geriatric in his mid fifties but he looks no day later than late forties with his activeness and agility. She's heard from her mother-in-law that he was a police once upon a time but resigned for reasons he alone knows when he clicked fifty. And now he works for Adnan, or is it because he wants nothing but the best?

"Akwai abinci yau ma... There is food too today..." That's all she needed to say and he understands what that meant from the way his expression yawed a little apologetic like he was the one who committed the crime.

"Babu almajirai yanzu. Ko zamu bari sai da safe? There are no beggars now. Maybe we should leave it till tomorrow morning?" He stuttered out after clearing his throat and marring his expression.

Her curt smile still intact, she moved back. "Toh shikenan. Sai da safe, Mallam Sani. Alright then. Goodnight, Mallam Sani." And she pivoted to close the door only for his words to stop her from doing so at the last second.

"You are a very patient woman but sometimes being patient is not the way out. Men like Alhaji Adnan want wild and untamed to bring them down from their high horse. Just a little reminder. Goodnight, Madam." And he swiveled around with his large soot boots and left, aligning with the light poles scattered all over the acres of land before the gates.

Jannah went back inside looking and feeling utterly chaotic and nonplussed. Her thoughts came to a cessation when her daughter came bounding in excited footsteps and stopped right in front of her with an enormous beam. She looks like the exact replica of her father which made her chest throb right at that instant for a bizarre reason.

Why? She's never reacted like that to her daughter's looks, ever. What changed today or this instant? An advise? What's it about Mallam Sani's words that tampered with her?

"Daddy is home?" Imara inquired tilting her ponytailed head to the side in this posh way only she knows how to.

Jannah scrunched up her face like she always does whenever she is about to break the girl's heart. "No, darling. He said he is going to get you those toys you wanted? And won't be back today."

Imara's face crooked to that of a mutinous little lass's. "I told him to wait until I show him what I drew yesterday. He always leaves when I don't want him to." She kvetched in her failed English.

"Don't be mad at daddy now. If he doesn't go now, he won't get the toys and then you'll be sad. I'm sure he didn't mean to leave before seeing your awesome drawing or do you think we should snap it for him and sent it? What say?" She played with her brows, her three year old daughter still not looking enthusiastic at the idea.

She finally shook her head negatively. "I want him to see it face face so no. He won't see it until he comes back." And then she ran away to the living room, the large house swallowing her up.

Jannah stood back to her full height and suspired for the billionth time. Adnan is slowly depressing the little girl with his absence and she hates it, more than she loathed his absence in her life. Maybe she should grow up some balls and finally talk to him about this? But she's tried a few times, came up empty since he's got this thing that makes her scared of talking to him. His face is always stoic, he is never around her much, he is either frowning or looking cold hearted which scares the living daylight out of her.

Adnan Ibrahim Attahir is someone she never wants to mess with and she is sure many people feel the same. There is no word for it but the man is downright dangerous and messing with him means you've dug your own abysmal grave of peril. He won't even kill you, but you'd wish for the death with every breath you take. That is just her talking about his looks and the air around him. Not what she knows.

Would he do that to her though? She is a woman and his wife and the mother of his daughter.

She knows close to nothing about her husband anyway. Just the basics. His name, family, work —she found out from his mother, that is it. 

Jannah found herself in the kitchen wiping away fat decalescent tears from her face with a Parmesan kitchen napkin after successfully tucking everything away in the large refrigerator. She pinched her lips tightly together so they won't tremble and a sob will extricate itself. Her daughter shouldn't be alarmed by her Mama's emotional self. Maybe because her period is around the corner? She's never cried over these things, they were never worth it. She'd thought but could it be because she's been bottling things up?

She took a tight grip of her hijab by the left side of her chest, something is happening there that she's never felt before. She slowly slid down the cool surface of the refrigerator bringing her legs to her chest and her head on them. A grimace bloomed on her face at the pain. Now even her stomach feels funny like she wants to regurgitate something out but nothing came out so she sat there for the next few minutes to cry her heart out.

Alas, she stood up with great difficulty. Hearing her daughter's excited squeals gave her energy, she is no more sad at her Daddy but her mama still is. More than ever.

She made her way to the living room, her large motherly smile intact. "It's time, baby!" She hollered in a singsong voice, her brows wiggling to avoid the few more minutes game.

"Mamaaaa..." She dragged the word but stood up which surprised Jannah but she didn't comment on it neither did she react. Or maybe her baby is still angry at her Daddy after all?

"How was Dora? Where did she take you today?" Jannah questioned swooping her girl in her arms placing her on her shoulders.

Imara giggled atop her Mama's head. "I was not able to understand what she did today but she was happy at the end."

"And that's what we want, huh?" They trudged up the spiral staircase with her usual routine of shutting off the lights downstairs with a remote at the top of the stairs.

"Yes, I love happy Dora and Eleanor and Marshal and Sky and Blaze and—" Jannah had to cut of her off in order for her to breath, she'd keep going on like always and mention like fifteen names leaving Jannah to wonder how she's managed to shackle those things in her young brain.

Maybe she should join school? She's already three years old and fit.

"Do we need bath or we can sleep like that? You're not sticky today so let's just brush our teeth and then sleep." She lowered a very much now sleepy Imara down on the fuscia bathroom floor of her room.

"Yes, no bath." She murmured sleepily, took her tiny brush from the elegant magenta holder then pass the other available brush there for her Mama. Jannah kept an extra brush there because they do that every night in Imara's room instead of hers.

After brushing their teeth, Jannah changed Imara to her punch pajamas, tuck her in bed and kissed her forehead. Seems like there is no use reading her a bedtime story today, she's already asleep. She turn on the bedside lamp for her, she hates sleeping in the dark like her mother then left the room to go face her own demons.