"Where the hell have you been in the last week?" Saddiq flares in heightened irritation. Aisha had just stepped on his last nerve. How dare her walk in here like she hadn't just disappeared without a word? There were lines that shouldn't be crossed, he knew that, he understands that, however, he didn't care. She hadn't just crossed those invincible lines first, Aisha had obliterated them. Why shouldn't he not do the same? And to think that he'd been worried sick about her.

The hour after her sudden disappearance had him panicking. Why marry him if she couldn't even last a week? He couldn't understand why she would just up and leave after turning his world upside down. However as that hour turned to hours, he had found himself getting angrier and angrier until he was downright mad. She had insisted. She wanted marriage. Why should her choice keep making him suffer? He couldn't understand. That night, he had tossed, turned, hissed, scoffed, and sighed until eventually, he'd decided he doesn't care.

It was for the best. She should stay gone. He doesn't care.

Unfortunately, his resolve only lasted from the moment his eyes succumbed to sleep and the moment he'd wake, screaming, drench in his sweat with his heart beat escalated to abnormal heights. It couldn't even hold for a mere hour. His mood had spiralled even further since, realizing his anger was more at himself than it was for his enigmatic bride, hating how much he cares despite not wanting to. And just as he began the night worrying, morning had found him in the exact state of mind, or perhaps, in an even worst state.

Zainab collapsed.

He knew something was wrong when he saw the overwhelming amount of missed calls on his phone that morning. It was unusual considering the kind of night he had endured but he had overslept —he'd been up most of the night despite his resolutions and it would seem the exhaustions of the past week had caught up with him because he'd dozed off on his sallaya where he had prayed fajr—and was in a race getting ready for work. It couldn't have been the worst day to oversleep; he has a very important meeting at 12pm which is critical to his plans of expansion into the Asian market but like the upheavals that was his life in the last week, that day wasn't any different. He'd woken up at a quarter after eleven by the ring of his phone which had seem endless.

It was Faysal, the youngest son of his father's older and only brother of the same mother, and perhaps, his only friend.

Their grandfather has four wives; Hajiya Hawwa, Hajiya Binta, Hajiya Rakiya and Hajiya Hassu, and 13 children. Hajiya Hawwa has seven; Fatima, Zainab, Ummu-Kulsum, Aisha, Asiya, Maryam and Hawwa. Hajiya Binta has two; Hassana and Hussaina (they're twins). Hajiya Rakiya has one: Muhammad kabir. Hajiya Hassu, their grandmother, has three children; Alhaji Jabir, Faisal's father who has two wives and seven children, Alhaji Ibrahim, his father who has a wife and three sons and Hajiya Zainab who has a daughter whom she died giving birth to; it was a child she had after twenty years of marriage and was named after her, Zainab,

He hadn't picked. Time had been against him deciding to call him on his way to work knowing it might not even be anything serious knowing his cousin. Nothing usually was with him. Some family gossip, a new restaurant —he is a food connoisseur, or news about his latest fling with some exotic place on earth; Faysal is a certified wanderluster and it's sometimes hard to keep up with his flamboyant taste for life—Saddiq, it would seem, is a magnet for the weird and crazy.

Nonetheless, if he is the black sheep of the Makama family, Faysal would undoubtedly be the blacker sheep; he might have dropped out of school but Faysal is simply refusing to graduate —he has four degrees so far in Law, History, Mass communication and Political science. It was strange. Saddiq still wonders why the ancient one was letting Faysal off the hook when his entire existence is put on a million thousand radars.

However, his phone wouldn't stop ringing and eventually, he'd picked it up as soon as he stepped out of the bathroom after taking his bath deciding he might as well get it over with slightly irritated. Faysal can be a pest sometimes like he'd told him a million times whenever he gets caught up in an idea. He just doesn't know how to quit.

Who else would keep calling him endlessly despite his lack of response? Even his secretary know to only call him twice same as everyone else. The only people who calls him more than twice are his mother and Faysal. Thankfully, they don't talk much on the phone with his mother since he never lets a day end without going home to see her—yesterday was the first time he hadn't gone home or speak to her and that was because his father had declared him persona non grata and she wouldn't pick his call.

What could Faysal want? He wondered as he waited for the line to connect. "As-salamu alai—,"

"Zee-Zee collapsed this morning," Faysal had cut him off and dropped this bomb on him. He wasn't the kind to be subtle about anything.

Zainab. Collapsed. Why? "Why?"

"I don't know the details but she's in critical condition. I thought you should know." Faysal continued as if he hadn't just asked a question and then a click. The line has died. Faysal wasn't the kind to be subtle or linger either.

Zainab collapsed? How? Why? And why did Faysal sound as if it was somehow his fault? His brain went into overcharge as he hurriedly dressed in a black sweatpants and a white polo shirt clearly not in the mind space to do anything but grab the closest and easiest attire before he grabbed his car keys and fled his home in uncommon haste. He couldn't think straight as it was with anything that has to do with Zainab or her already frail health.

What happened? Why did she suddenly collapse? She had been fine when he spoke to her yesterday even though, like the rest of his family and possibly everyone who knew him, she had been pissed at his unexpected marriage, but unlike the rest of his family and possibly everyone who knew him, she had quickly come around. Her and Faysal both. They had gist for awhile like they always do; she talking and him listening, and had ended the call after she'd made some corny jokes about him being a married man.

Thinking back, there had been nothing in her words or actions which might have made sense of her relapse and try as he might, he couldn't think of any reason why she was in dire condition. She hasn't had any attack in years, so why now? What could possibly have her worrying that has her life in danger. It couldn't possibly be. . .

. . . him?

It couldn't be, can it? Zainab couldn't possibly be in that condition because of him, can she? Was it because of the marriage proposal? Was it because she didn't want to marry him too? They've never really talked about it but he knows she has feelings for someone. She told him. She just hadn't told him who it was.

Could that person be him? He shakes his head in disagreement deciding he was merely over thinking the whole thing. He couldn't be the person she had feelings for. She couldn't have. He shuddered as goosebumps crashes his body at the mere thought that she might have feelings for him, sending cold shivers to his very core.

Besides, she had been cool about his marriage. It was one of the reasons why he hadn't taken up his father's offer. She had told him, times without number, how she would never marry a man who has a wife. And besides, she's like a sister to him. He has never, not once, acted like she was more or could be anything more even if he might have treated her differently, specially. He has his reasons. She knows. Everyone does. Zainab is special to him because of her late mother. What kind of nightmare was this anyway?

His aunt, Zainab, was his favorite aunt. He had liked her best of the entire extended Makama family and had been sure to extend the same love and attention to the child she had desperately wanted but hadn't lived long enough to see.

Saddiq had once suspected his grandfather might have let him be all these years because of her—when she was born he was already fifteen, she's eighteen now, but he hadn't given it much thought because he hadn't given much thought to marriage. He'd supposed he would do it when the time was right but not any sooner and as to the bride, he figured time would take care of that too. But truth was, he couldn't be bothered.

And now, all of a sudden, she collapses? Why? Can it truly be a coincidence? Or does she have feelings for him? But after that episode eight years ago. . .

140. . .160. . .180. . .Saddiq drove fast and hard to the hospital knowing and not caring about the hundred traffic rules he had violated. He had only relaxed when the gates of Manaal Specialist Hospital came into view. It was undoubtedly a miracle that he'd made it there in one piece. Parking his car, he ran as fast as he can into the building only for him to get there and have his father's security personnel stationed at the door turn him away.

He had screamed, threatened and tried to force his way into the room but to no avail. At the end, he had been escorted out of the building and from that day, the security of the hospital had increased tenfold; he wasn't even allowed within ten feet of the gates. It doesn't stop him from going there everyday and creating a scene. He just wanted to see her to make sure she was doing okay but they won't let him see or hear of her—Faysal had suddenly gone AWOL; his phone was unreachable and he was nowhere to be found. It was deliberate, he know. It was obvious his father was punishing him. Or was it his grandfather? Saddiq wasn't sure he care anymore. He was in hell and he was tired of falling.

And just like that, Aisha waltzes back into his world acting as if she hadn't been the match which had damned him to hell and he'd lost his shit. What did she say?

"Hi! Husband!"

She had disappeared a week ago and 'Hi! Husband!' was all she had spared him before she had walked past him in the living room, heading to the bedroom as if she bloody owned the place. His anger was as instantaneous as it was venomous. He couldn't believe her. His life had gone haywire. Zainab is sick. His entire family is boycotting him. And for what? Her? And what—

'Hi! Husband!'

And before he could stop himself, he'd grabbed her wrist and pinned her to the wall fuming.

"WHERE THE HELL HAVE YOU BEEN IN THE LAST WEEK?"