Thank you so much for 700,000 reads. Your love, support, and prayers mean the world to me. They've not only uplifted me but truly saved me in ways I can't fully express. 🩷

•••

Two weeks crawled by, each one slower than the last. The air still carried the weight of sorrow, though the house buzzed with preparations. Imran's arrival the night before had brought some semblance of ease to Jadwa, but this morning they both stood on the cusp of an emotional challenge, the naming ceremony for Sadiq and Fatima's child. 

The tragedy of losing one twin lingered like a shadow, but Fatima's parents and Hajiya had stood firm. The baby, they said, deserved joy, love, and the full blessing of a proper celebration. "Accept qadr as it comes," Hajiya had insisted, her tone brooking no debate.

Earlier, Jadwa had been tossing and turning on her bed, the sheets a tangled mess around her. She stared at the ceiling, her thoughts darting between anxious and quiet apprehension. A small part of her felt relieved that Imran had been consumed with work since his return last night. His focus on the family business and whatever the current issue was had given her the space to breathe about the baby.

She'd toyed with the idea of skipping the ceremony altogether. It wasn't as though she didn't want to go; she did. But the fear lingered. If they spent too much time together, would he notice? Would the subtle changes in her demeanor or her body tip him off?

Her resolve had faltered as she rehearsed her excuses. She'd mumbled half-hearted reasons for staying behind, hoping they'd stick. But Imran, ever persistent, had refused to let her wallow. His teasing, his gentle coaxing, the way his words lit up the dark corners of her doubt he'd pulled her from the brink of retreat.

At her vanity, Jadwa glanced toward the door, the soft glow of the morning sun catching the glassy surface of the mirror. Imran had been immersed in paperwork when she left him in their room earlier. A quiet, forceful, intrusive thought struck her; I can't overthink this anymore, she thought loudly in her head.

It's taken too long to arrive at that but she did and now, before any of her brain cells decide to drift back to the constant past train of thought they have been going for weeks now, she's not going to be stopped. Without hesitation, she picked up a blank sheet of paper. Her hand moved with practiced grace, curving each letter into a beautiful flow of cursive she wrote her heart out with the biggest smile on her face regardless of the rapid rise of her heartbeat. She folded the note, slipped it into a box of things she shopped for yesterdav before Imran arrived. Yesterday, when she had a similar, intrusive thought that pushed her to not dwell upon the opposite she had been doing.

Her robe fell silently to the floor, pooling at her feet, as she stood in nothing but her underwear before the mirror. Her fingers brushed against the faint curve of her stomach. She tilted her head, studying her reflection with a mix of curiosity and amusement. "So, when are you going to start showing?" she whispered softly, a quiet smile curving her lips. She turned to the side, smoothing her hands over her skin, but the only change she could see was a slight bloat. A small laugh escaped her lips. 

Her cheeks had grown fuller, and she brought a hand to her face, gently pressing the soft skin. Her hands wandered further, tracing the subtle changes to her hips and chest. She had always carried her curves well, even when slender, but there was something comforting in the new weight. It felt like a promise of something greater. 

The dreamy haze broke as her eyes flicked back to the closet. Her fingers skimmed through the hangers until she stopped on a fitted Ankara dress with dramatic flared sleeves. Pulling it off the rack, she slipped into it and wrestled with the zipper, gritting her teeth as the fabric stretched snugly over her curves. "Ugh," she exhaled sharply, puffing air through her lips. It fit—barely. She twisted toward the mirror, She slipped into it, tugging the fabric into place. The fit was snug which is a common occurrence these days, but she managed to zip it up with determination, exhaling sharply through her teeth. The dress hugged her curves like a second skin, and she admired how well it suited her.

At the vanity again, she dabbed a soft blush onto her cheeks, brushed her brows into place, and slicked a glossy sheen over her lips. Her scarf came next, carefully wrapped to frame her face, with wisps of baby hair peeking out just so. A light mist of perfume settled over her scarf and shoulders, and with sandals in hand, she stood back to take a final look. 

A whispered prayer passed her lips before she headed to Imran's room. 

The faint sound of rustling paper met her ears before she stepped inside. He sat with his back straight, his shoulders squared, a pen poised in his hand as he meticulously signed documents. "Babe," she called softly, her voice barely louder than the rustling papers. 

His head lifted, and his eyes fell on her. They started at her feet and traveled slowly upward, lingering on every detail—the snug fit of the dress, the way it flared at her wrists, the sheen of her lips. His gaze didn't waver until it met hers. 

Under the weight of his scrutiny, Jadwa swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry. She pressed her lips together, waiting for some sign of approval, but his expression shifted, his eyes darkening ever so slightly. Without a word, he looked back down at his papers, returning his attention to the documents in front of him.

Her chest tightened, and her feet felt heavy as she turned on her heel and walked back to her room. He didn't need to say a word, he won't have her wearing this out. She sank onto the edge of the bed, hands smoothing over the dress she had fought so hard to zip. Her fingers brushed the fabric one last time before she stood and slipped out of it. 

From the closet, she chose a mustard lace dress. It fell just to her knees, loose enough to move freely, with a cinched waist and a straight skirt. The fabric was forgiving, flowing softly around her body. Sliding into it, she sighed. She adjusted her scarf in a simpler style and swapped her shoes for a more neutral pair. 

When she returned, Imran was no longer hunched over his work. He leaned back in his chair, his head tilted slightly as he placed a neat stack of cash into his briefcase. 

Jadwa let the veil she carried slip onto the sofa and moved to his lap, ignoring the way his brows rose at her approach. His hands found the small of her back, pulling her close, and his lips brushed hers in a soft kiss.

"My beautiful girl," he murmured, his voice low, as his head nestled against her chest. 

Her fingers threaded through his hair, her voice playful. "Ready?" 

He hummed, but his arms tightened around her. "I missed you so much. Can't we just stay home?"  She murmured like a baby in his hold.

"You are practically the oldest now" he teased "don't be a baby"

"Sorry, Oga Patriarch," she teased back.

He chuckled, pressing a kiss to her cheek. "Not the names again." 

She laughed, wiping the faint trace of gloss from his lips. "What's all this for?" she asked, gesturing toward the cash. 

"Our accounts are still frozen," he said simply. 

Her fingers rested lightly on his shoulder. "In Shaa Allah, everything will fall into place," she said softly. 

"It's necessary for the investigation," he explained. "The system here is painfully slow." 

She tilted her head, her voice dropping to a whisper. "So that's why you keep this much cash?" 

He laughed, shaking his head. "You know the nature of my work, it made me very secretive." He smiled sheepishly.

"Which one?" she asked, her brows arching.

He chuckled. "Ah, it's bad if even you're confused. I meant the intelligence work."

"Hmm." She narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "Are you on a mission?"

"Get your head out of the movies," he said with a grin. "Every transaction is monitored, and with the competition we have, I can't risk traces. We've been at the top for decades, and everyone's waiting to bring us down."

"True," she said thoughtfully. He nodded, then added, "I only keep this much in case of emergencies but it started when I served my time in prison, I didn't want anyone monitoring my family."

"Hmm. But I have a serious question," she said, squinting at him with a serious expression. "Why do you scold us for buying expensive things when there's this much money just here?"

He froze for a moment, then tipped his head back in a deep, booming laugh. It was infectious, and soon Jadwa joined him, tears brimming in her eyes from the force of their shared laughter. 

"That's your 'serious' concern?" he asked, still laughing. 

Embarrassed, she covered her face with her hands, but he pulled her into a hug, kissing her temple. "Thank you, baby. You're my peace." 

She sighed against him. "And I'm glad I am. Now, let's get going. We can't be late." 

He groaned dramatically, holding her tighter.

"Don't be a baby," she teased, caressing his fresh low cut until he reluctantly loosened his grip. 

Jadwa reached the door first, her fingers lightly grazing the frame as she turned to watch him gather his things. She squared her shoulders and, with a mischievous glint in her eye, dropped her voice to its deepest register. "Muhammad, come here," she commanded, her tone dripping with exaggerated authority. 

Imran froze mid-step, his lips quirking upward in a grin he tried and failed to suppress. His broad shoulders shook with silent laughter as he glanced up at her, amusement dancing in his eyes. 

"Muhammad, stop playing with me," she repeated, her mock-serious tone even more exaggerated. She folded her arms and arched an eyebrow, tilting her head for added drama. 

This time, he couldn't hold back. A laugh rumbled from his chest as he rolled his eyes at her playful mimicry. 

"You're not going out like this," she said, gesturing dramatically for him to turn back. Her hands flailed with mock insistence, her brows furrowing as she waved him away. "Go back and change." 

His deep laugh filled the room as he stepped toward her, taking her outstretched hand in his. "That's how I sound?" he asked bending down to kiss it, a mixture of disbelief and humor lacing his voice. 

"See? You know it," she said with a sheepish laugh, her teasing tone softening as her eyes sparkled with delight. 

"You make me sound scary, darling," he countered, his chuckle warm and light as he shook his head. 

"Now you know how it feels," she quipped, squeezing his hand as they stepped outside together. Their laughter lingered in the air, a bright thread cutting through the morning calm as they made their way to the car. 

•••

When they arrived at the family house, the grandeur they had initially envisioned was absent. Instead, it was a cozy, intimate gathering limited to just family. Imran, ever the gentleman, escorted Jadwa inside before stepping back out to join the men. Jadwa climbed the stairs, her heart heavy with both anticipation and unease. As she reached the landing, the first familiar face she encountered was Rahma, waiting near the staircase. 

Rahma squealed in delight, pulling Jadwa into an enthusiastic, crushing hug. 

"You look so gorgeous!" Jadwa said, her eyes scanning Rahma's dress, a perfect blend of elegance and color. 

"Thank you!" Rahma gushed, clasping Jadwa's hands in hers. But her expression shifted suddenly as she folded her arms and gave Jadwa a scrutinizing look. "Wait... I thought you decided to wear that Atamfa?" 

"I did," Jadwa replied, rolling her eyes dramatically. 

Rahma burst into laughter. "Let me guess..." she said, tapping her chin thoughtfully. 

"You know your brother," Jadwa sighed, her exasperation evident. 

Rahma doubled over, laughing harder now. "Ah! I knew it! Alhaji Babba kenan," she said between giggles. 

Before Jadwa could respond, Anaya appeared, a mirror in one hand and a brow pencil in the other. She raised a curious brow. "What did our Odogwu do this time?" 

"Shh!" Rahma whispered, motioning toward Jadwa. "Not your business. Go find your Zarah or something." 

Rahma and Jadwa exchanged a mischievous look and high-fived each other while Anaya, rolling her eyes, huffed and walked off. She joined them shortly after, leading the way to Fatima's room. 

As soon as the door opened, Fatima's voice rang out, warm and inviting. "Habibty!" She handed the baby to Ameerah and got up to greet Jadwa. 

"Habibty," Jadwa echoed with a smile, stretching her arms toward Fatima. 

"Sorry I couldn't come yesterday," Jadwa said, hugging her tightly. 

Fatima chuckled. "The Alhaji returned yesterday. How dare I be mad at you?" She gently pinched Jadwa's cheek, her shyness evident. 

"You look beautiful," she added quickly, steering the conversation away from further teasing. "Your look is flawless—wow!" Jadwa's tone was filled with genuine admiration, as the natural makeup accentuated Fatima's delicate features perfectly. 

Fatima grinned. "Thank you!" 

From the bed, Ameerah's voice cut through the moment. "I don't know when I turned into a statue." 

Jadwa turned toward her, her face lighting up. "My Meerah!" she squealed, rushing over to give her a bone-crushing hug. 

"Ouch!" Ameerah cried, playfully swatting Jadwa's arms. "I don't have the energy for this, woman! Don't crush my baby." 

"How is my niece?" Jadwa asked, placing a tender hand on Ameerah's baby bump. Her voice softened with concern and excitement, knowing Ameerah's due date was approaching fast. 

"Both she and her father are driving me mad," Ameerah said, clicking her tongue in frustration. 

Jadwa laughed. "I'll have a big problem with him if he doesn't shape up," she teased, careful to avoid looking at the newborn in Ameerah's arms. 

Since his birth, Jadwa had struggled. She couldn't bring herself to hold him for more than a fleeting moment, nor could she fully meet his gaze. Even now, as laughter and conversation filled the room, she masked her pain, unwilling to let it mar Fatima's happiness. 

Ameerah's perceptive eyes studied her. "How are you?" she asked quietly. 

"I'm good," Jadwa replied with a shrug, her voice too light, too airy. 

"Really? You're glowing, and you've gotten a little plumper," Ameerah teased, wiggling her brows suggestively. 

Jadwa shot her a sharp look. "Not here, Ameerah," she whispered, her tone firm, though a faint smile tugged at her lips. 

Ameerah laughed before holding up her phone. "Hold him for a moment, your brother is calling me." 

Jadwa froze but nodded, her hands trembling slightly as Ameerah placed the tiny bundle in her arms. Her breath hitched as she looked down at the sleeping baby. He was so peaceful, so fragile, yet so perfect. She studied his face, noticing the little rise and fall of his chest, the delicate curl of his fingers. He was, without a doubt, his parents' greatest blessing. 

But the weight of holding him was too much. Her arms grew heavy with grief she couldn't name, and goosebumps covered her skin. She handed him to Rahma quickly, muttering, "Let me see if Hanan's here yet," before slipping out of the room. 

She wandered down the hall, her footsteps slow and unsteady, until she passed Anaya's room. Pausing, her gaze landed on Khayrah, who stood near the door, looking at her. Their eyes met briefly before Khayrah turned away. The encounter was a reminder of their last interaction—one Jadwa would rather forget. Resolute, she decided to ignore Khayrah altogether. 

Inside Anaya's room, Jadwa collapsed onto the bed. The quiet there was a stark contrast to the lively bustle of the house. She lay still, her thoughts swirling. Anaya came in occasionally, chatting as she flitted about, but Jadwa stayed silent, lost in contemplation. Her life, her choices, her pain—they all pressed down on her in the solitude of that room.

Two hours had slipped by, and Jadwa was still lying there, motionless, staring blankly at the ceiling. Eventually, she got up and walked to the window. The view outside was lively, men gathered around a large barbecue setup, greeting one another with firm handshakes and hearty laughter. 

Her thoughts wandered to Fatima and Sadiq, who had insisted on keeping the baby's first name a secret until today. The air of mystery intrigued her, though everyone had already started calling him Hassan. 

Anaya's voice broke her thoughts as she entered the room. "Get your veil, Jadwa! The food's ready, and the photographer is already here," she urged. 

Fatima had chosen a stunning blue laffaya as her first outfit of the day. Jadwa watched from the sidelines as Fatima posed with the baby, her serene joy shining through each click of the camera. When Sadiq joined, they captured more family photos with Fatima's parents, Hajiya, and Khalifa. Even Ammi, after much coaxing from Fatima, joined the session. 

Once the elders finished their photos and moved to the separate living room, the younger ones took over. Jadwa stayed in a quiet corner, observing the scene. Her heart swelled as she watched Sadiq and Fatima posing for their couple photos, sometimes holding the baby, sometimes without. Their smiles, their glances, the way they looked at Hassan it was as though nothing else existed in their world but their love and their new family. 

Fatima eventually disappeared upstairs with Hanan, who was serving as her stylist for the day. "Time for your outfit change," Hanan announced as she gently took the baby from Sadiq's arms. On her way up, Hanan paused to glance at Jadwa, raising a questioning brow as if to ask why she was sitting so far away. Jadwa only shrugged in response. 

When Fatima, Sadiq, and Hanan left, along with Ameerah to help with the baby, the living room quieted. It was now just Rahma, Anaya, and Khayrah lounging around. The three of them stood by the glass door, watching the men laugh and chat outside with drinks in hand. From her corner, Jadwa let her gaze wander to the water fountain glistening under the sunlight, its soft splashes oddly calming. 

Her moment of peace was interrupted when Khayrah stepped in front of her, forcing her to look up. 

"Amarya, saura ke," Khayrah said with a mocking tone, folding her arms as a sly smile spread across her face. 

Jadwa stared at her blankly, refusing to engage, and turned away. 

"Enter and carry huh? No patience at all," Khayrah continued with a chuckle. "From marriage straight to pregnancy? That's quick." 

Jadwa clenched her fists, her tongue heavy with words she wanted to hurl but knew she shouldn't. She swallowed her irritation, but it surged back like bile. 

"That's the mindset for unmarried girls," Jadwa finally said, her voice calm but laced with an edge. "When you are able to relate, you'll tell me I said so, especially if your husband is healthy and obsessed with you. It's hard to resist." Her words dripped with quiet mockery, and she ended with a smile that didn't reach her eyes. 

Khayrah's face burned with indignation. Just as she opened her mouth to retort, the front door opened, and Imran walked in with Amir and Ibrahim, who had his fingers wrapped in a bandage. Imran was laughing loudly, clearly amused by his companion. 

Khayrah's laughter rang out as if she heard the conversation that made the men laugh , and Jadwa turned to find her gaze lingering on Imran. The way Khayrah looked at him, her smile, her laugh, ignited something raw in Jadwa. When Imran gave Khayrah a polite nod of acknowledgment, Jadwa's irritation boiled over. She looked away, her nails digging into her palms.

Ibrahim and Amir got into a conversation with his wife Hanan, Rahma and Anaya.
While Imran motioned for Jadwa to meet him outside by the door.

Imran turned to Jadwa, his voice gentle. "Fine girl, How far?" 

She rolled her eyes but smiled faintly. 

"Have you eaten?" he asked, stepping closer to her. 

"Not yet, but I will after the shoot," she replied casually. 

"You should eat now," he said, his brow furrowed. "I don't like seeing my wife like this. You're too beautiful to look so tired." 

Before she could respond, he bent down and kissed her gently on the lips. Jadwa froze, her eyes darting to the room. 

"They're watching!" she hissed in protest, pulling back. 

He shrugged, mischief twinkling in his eyes. "Let them." 

"Albi, don't!" she warned when he wrapped his arms around her waist, planting playful kisses on her cheeks. She burst into laughter, pushing him away. 

"Stop, please!" she begged through giggles. 

Releasing her, he gave her one last peck on the lips and walked toward the door. "Anything you're craving for dinner?" he asked, turning back with a grin. 

"Besides you?" she teased. 

He laughed, clearly satisfied with her lighter mood, "could just be me" he winked and stepped outside walking away.

Jadwa lingered for a moment, dreading the walk back to the others. When she did, she lowered her gaze, avoiding eye contact, and sank into a seat beside Hanan. 

"You and your PDA," Hanan muttered, shaking her head with a smirk. 

Jadwa ignored her. "Where's Ya Amir?" 

"He went to the rest room while you and Ya Muhammad were in your bubble," Hanan teased, making Jadwa hide her face in her hands. 

"Stop," she said with a chuckle. 

Hanan's tone shifted, her voice hushed. "Be careful with that girl," she said, nodding subtly toward Khayrah. 

"I know," Jadwa muttered, taking a sip of Hanan's mocktail. "I can't stand her." 

Hanan sighed. "When are you visiting my house?" 

"When are you visiting mine?" Jadwa shot back. "I've been to yours a many times, even with Ya Imran, but you're always off in Lagos." 

Hanan laughed, swatting Jadwa playfully. She was about to respond when Fatima and Sadiq descended the stairs in a stunning new outfit.

Fatima was now dressed in a stunning gold lace bubu, her headscarf wrapped elegantly around her head, accentuating her radiant features. 

"The most beautiful couple I've ever seen," Jadwa said with a wide smile, and Fatima playfully blew her a kiss. 

The photographer began capturing pictures of Fatima and Sadiq, their smiles glowing as they posed with their beautiful baby boy. Slowly, more family members gathered around to watch, adding to the warmth of the moment. 

Amir and Imran sat together nearby, engaged in a quiet conversation about life. Jadwa had exchanged pleasantries with Amir earlier before retreating to observe from her seat. 

As everyone settled into a comfortable circle, Sadiq cleared his throat, commanding the room's attention. Imran, Ibrahim, Khalifa, Amir, Ahmad, Dawood, and a few other men sat together, curiosity flickering in their expressions. 

"So," Sadiq began with a chuckle, "everyone here knows his first name except for a few people." 

Khalifa clapped his hands excitedly. "Uncle Sadiq, say it!" he exclaimed, his laughter filling the room as he glanced at Imran. 

Imran narrowed his eyes at Sadiq, his gaze shifting briefly to Jadwa, who shrugged, equally clueless. 

Sadiq chuckled again. "Sorry for keeping you in the dark, Ya Muhammad," he said, his voice steady. 

He looked down at the baby in his arms, then back at Imran. "We named him Muhammad, after you." 

For a moment, Imran leaned back in his chair, visibly taken aback. A huge grin spread across his face as he ran his hands over it, his emotions barely contained. 

"I'm not going to give a speech," Sadiq continued, his tone heartfelt, "but thank you for being our support system, Yaya." 

Imran's gaze softened as it met Jadwa's before he stood without a word and wrapped Sadiq in a warm, lingering hug. "I love you, bro," Sadiq murmured, and Imran patted his younger brother's back. 

"Thank you, Sadiq. Really. And you too, Fatima," he said, his voice thick with gratitude. 

Fatima shook her head with a gentle smile. "Come on, you're more of a father to him than even Sadiq is," she said lightly. 

Sadiq, in turn, handed the baby to Imran. "Here, Muhammad Hassan Sadiq," he said with pride. 

Imran took the baby carefully, his face glowing as he whispered a heartfelt prayer. "Fati, Sadiq, may Allah put barakah in your lives, your marriage, and bless our children. May Allah make you a sea foam happier than you've made me in this life and the next." 

The entire room chorused a heartfelt Ameen. 

Imran hugged Jadwa first, then Sadiq again, his warmth spilling over. Across the room, Rahma dabbed at her eyes, while Anaya sniffled quietly. Imran turned to his sisters, holding them in a group hug and kissing their cheeks. 
"Congratulations Habiby, you deserve it" Jadwa said softly earning a kiss on her temple from him.

"We're making it a ritual to name all our first sons after you," Ibrahim joked, a mischievous grin playing on his face. His words sparked a ripple of laughter, and even Imran couldn't help but chuckle.

Imran turned to him, his expression light with amusement. "Thank you for starting the trend," he said, his tone laced with dry humor.

"When I have a son, it'll be Muhammad too," Ahmad chimed in confidently, but his declaration was cut short by Ameerah's sharp glare.

"Oh, absolutely not!" she interrupted, her voice animated and full of mock indignation. "He scolds me too much—he just scolded me
right now! because his wife didn't eat. So, NO! Never!"

Imran threw his head back and laughed heartily at her exasperation, his deep laughter contagious.

"Me too!" Anaya and Rahma chimed in simultaneously, their voices cracking with the remnants of teary laughter.

Imran placed a hand on his chest in mock dismay. "So it's like that between us now?" he asked, pretending to be hurt as he exaggerated a forlorn expression.

"Our sisters are right," Amir teased, reaching over to grab Imran's hand in solidarity, his laughter shaking his shoulders.

"But," Ameerah started, dragging out the word dramatically, her fingers rubbing together in a universal sign for money. "If you pay..."

Ahmad burst out laughing at her antics, shaking his head. The infectious energy spread like wildfire, and soon everyone was laughing, including Jadwa, who covered her mouth with her hand, her giggles soft but unstoppable.

"You married one hell of a businesswoman," Amir said, pointing at Ahmad through his laughter. "So, do you pay after fights?"

Ahmad's smile faltered for a fraction of a second as Ameerah shot him a warning glare that could freeze time. He shifted in his seat, suddenly bashful. "Amir, man, let's not talk about this," he said, avoiding Ameerah's gaze as she folded her arms, a smirk curling on her lips.

The room erupted in laughter once more, everyone leaning into the shared joy of the moment.

Imran he glanced over at Khalifa, who was sulking a little at being replaced in name by the new baby. With a teasing smile, Imran added, "Khalifa, don't worry. You're still the best man. No one can replace you." 

Hearing this, Khalifa's face lit up, and he gave Imran a big grin with an enthusiastic thumbs-up. 

The gathering continued with joyous chatter, laughter, and endless picture-taking. Imran posed solo with the baby, then with Sadiq, before joining Jadwa for a few family photos. His sisters and Fatima joined in as well, ensuring no moment went undocumented. 

Eventually, everyone began to settle down after the lively session. Jadwa found herself sitting beside Imran, while Sadiq and Fatima sat close to each other, their love evident in their stolen glances. Imran held the baby, cradling him with an ease that captivated Jadwa. 

She watched him intently, her heart swelling at the sight. The way he smiled down at the baby, the care in his every movement. It was a moment she couldn't help but savor. A thought crossed her mind, unbidden, painting an image of their future that she couldn't shake. 

"He looks like Sadiq, right, baby?" Imran said, breaking into her thoughts. 

But his words didn't register. Jadwa was too lost in her own world, her eyes fixed on him and the baby. 

"Jadwa?" Imran nudged her gently, a teasing smile tugging at his lips. "Doesn't he look like Sadiq? Especially in his baby pictures?" 

Jadwa blinked, snapping out of her daze. She gasped, then giggled. "Actually! I see it now wow, it's like copy and paste!" 

Imran chuckled, satisfied with her answer. Leaning closer, he whispered, "Are you tired? Should we go home?" 

Jadwa shook her head. "Not at all," she replied, though her eyes glinted with something mischievous. "But... I am craving the grills outside." 

Imran grinned. "Grills it is." 

After the photoshoot wrapped up, Imran ensured Jadwa got her fill of the barbecue, indulging her every craving. They lingered until the evening faded into night, relaxing and enjoying the family's warmth before finally deciding to leave. 

As they walked to the car, Imran turned to Jadwa, holding her hand tightly. "Did you have a good time, baby?" 

Jadwa looked up at him, her eyes shimmering under the soft glow of the night. "I did. It was a beautiful day."

•••

The next morning, Jadwa woke to the sharp, resonant voice of Imran booming from downstairs. Her eyes fluttered open, heavy with sleep, as she instinctively reached for the phone on the nightstand. Past nine. She exhaled sharply, brushing her hair away from her face. The muffled yet unmistakable cadence of anger in his voice prickled her senses.

Imran's shirt lay beside her, draped carelessly over the duvet. She picked it up, the faint scent of his cologne wrapping around her like a protective shield. Sliding it on, she padded across the room and reached for her ginger shot on the dresser. The fiery liquid burned her throat as she swallowed, but it did little to quell the unease creeping up her spine.

She brushed her teeth hurriedly, her ears straining to catch the words spilling from downstairs. His voice rose and fell, a turbulent sea of frustration. She spat into the sink and splashed cold water on her face, her palms pressing into the edges of the counter for a steadying moment. Then, with her heart quickening, she made her way down the stairs.

"Let me advise you, Malam Habib," Imran's voice was tight, simmering beneath a forced calm. He paced in front of the sofa, phone pressed to his ear. "Do yourself a favor and set yourself, your family, your house, and everything you own in this world on fire before I land in Maiduguri and do it myself."

The words were like a blade cutting through the air. Jadwa froze mid-step, her breath caught in her chest. Why would he say that? she wondered, the thought rattling her. The tone, the venom, it was nothing like the man she knew. She watched as he tipped back a glass of chilled water, his movements deliberate, calculated.

His head tilted to rest against the sofa, and he sighed deeply, his gaze lifting to find hers. In an instant, his expression softened. "My baby, finally awake?" His outstretched hand beckoned her, a smile pulling at his lips.

"You woke me up," she murmured, worry threading through her voice as she slipped her hand into his. She lowered herself onto the sofa beside him, her gaze searching his.

"I'm sorry," he groaned, pulling her into his lap with effortless ease, cradling her like a child. "I didn't mean to."

She cupped his face, her fingers light against his skin. "Is everything okay?" Her voice trembled, a crack betraying her growing anxiety.

"There's been a fire at our factory in Maiduguri," he admitted, his tone resigned yet tinged with bitterness.

Her hand flew to her mouth. "Subhanallah!" she exclaimed, the weight of the news sinking in. Her lips moved quickly as she whispered a prayer. "Allahumma ajirni fi musibati wakhlifni khayran minha."

He repeated the words after her, his grip tightening.

"How? What happened?" she pressed, leaning back slightly to look at him.

Imran shook his head. "You're too innocent to hear about the extent of evil people are capable of, habibty," he said, his voice low. She opened her mouth to protest, but he silenced her with a soft plea. "Can I just hold you for a moment?"

She nodded, and he pulled her closer, folding her body into his. His head rested against her chest, and she wrapped her arms around him, her touch gentle but grounding. His breathing, once shallow and uneven, began to slow. The tension in his muscles ebbed away as he melted into her embrace.

"You are the only place I find peace," he murmured, his voice muffled against her skin. "You are the only person who cools my life, my heart, my soul."

Her heart swelled at his words, and she pressed her lips against his temple. "I promise,, I'll always be Hayat." Her fingers traced soothing patterns on his back as his hold on her tightened.

They stayed locked in the moment, wrapped in their own world, until he broke the silence. "I need to go to Maiduguri today, baby." His tone carried a weight of regret.

Jadwa nodded, shifting to sit upright. "Of course, baby, I understand. Just promise me you won't overwork yourself."

Imran sighed heavily, his brow furrowing. She could see the storm brewing within him, the kind that made her heart ache. "Control your rage, baby," she urged softly, placing a tender kiss on his head.

He stayed silent and she pleased more"Please. No harm to anyone."

He didn't respond immediately, his jaw clenching. Then, as though her words had pierced through his turmoil, he nodded. "As you wish. I promise."

He rose and headed to the bathroom. Jadwa busied herself packing his box, her hands moving with practiced care. She could hear the sound of the shower running, water cascading over him as he prepared for the road ahead.

By the time he emerged, clean and composed, she had breakfast ready for him. "I'll come back as soon as I can, even if it's tomorrow. I promise," he said, his voice tinged with guilt as he stood by the car.

"Don't rush, take your time please," she replied, her voice steady but her heart heavy. "Just make sure you're safe and take care of yourself." She leaned in, her lips brushing against his in a soft farewell.

The moment he drove off, the weight of the morning pressed down on her. Jadwa wandered back to the bedroom, her eyes falling on the neatly arranged items she had set aside for him. She reached to tidy the bed when something on the nightstand caught her attention—a wooden box, ornately crafted with elegant cursive detailing. Her breath hitched. She hadn't noticed it before.

Curiosity piqued, she picked it up and opened the lid. The sight before her stole her breath. Tears pooled in her eyes as she gently lifted an emerald necklace, the large oval stone gleaming in the sunlight, framed by a delicate halo of diamonds. It was the very piece she had admired once and told him about it, he had even given her money for it but this is the bigger, more extravagant version.

A smile broke through her tears. She clasped the necklace around her neck and stepped in front of the mirror, letting the emerald rest against her collarbone. The light caught it perfectly, and she gasped softly at its beauty. She took a few photos, mentally bookmarking the moment to thank Imran properly when things calmed down.

She stepped into the shower, her sanctuary of late, and turned the hot water all the way up. The steady rush of heat poured over her, blanketing her skin and easing her tension. Lately, long, steamy showers had become her private escape, a place where she could breathe, reset, and let the world fade away.

The water streamed down her body as she took her time, cleansing her skin with deliberate care. She scrubbed away the residue of the day before, her movements languid as though the water could wash away her worries, too. Shampoo and conditioner massaged into her scalp, her fingers combed through her hair with practiced ease. Steam curled around her, thick and heavy, fogging the glass walls of the shower. She tilted her head back, letting the spray hit her face, her mind slipping into a haze.

A little time passed by before the heat became overwhelming. Her lungs felt heavy from the dense, humid air. She reached to turn off the water but paused, indulging in a final moment of warmth. She closed her eyes, letting the heat seep into her skin.

When she finally stepped out of the shower, the steam enveloped her completely, swirling in lazy tendrils that blurred her vision. The burning bakhoor in the adjoining room mixed with the steam, creating an intoxicating haze. She reached for the towel hanging nearby, but before she could steady herself, her foot slipped against the slick, wet tile.

Her body pitched forward, and time seemed to slow. She felt the cold, hard impact as she collided with the floor, her front taking the brunt of the fall. A sharp grunt escaped her lips, the sound startling against the silence of the steamy room. Pain radiated from the points of contact, and for a moment, she lay there, stunned and breathless.

She forced herself to move, her palms pressing against the slippery floor as she pushed herself upright. Her muscles protested, and her breath came in shaky gasps as she reached for the bathroom door, pulling it open to let the fresh air rush in. Get up, Jadwa. You're fine.

She rinsed off quickly under the warm water, trying to shake the lingering discomfort from the fall, and stepped out of the shower once more. This time, she gripped the counter tightly as she reached for her towel.

Not wanting to overthink the incident, she tried to brush it off. But unease lingered in the back of her mind, a quiet warning she couldn't quite ignore. She grabbed her phone and did a quick search, reading article after article about minor slips and their effects. The results reassured her: minor falls rarely caused harm. Her nerves calmed slightly, though the worry gnawed at the edges of her thoughts.

But less than thirty minutes later, the first twinge of pain made her pause. It started as a dull cramp in her abdomen, subtle enough that she thought it was nothing. Then it returned, sharper, spreading through her lower belly with alarming intensity. It's just nerves. It's fine, she told herself, but the pain didn't subside. It grew, tightening like a vice until her breath hitched, and she doubled over, clutching her stomach.

Her heart raced as panic set in. She grabbed her phone, her vision blurring as the screen lit up with notifications. Imran's name was there, but her trembling fingers scrolled past it to Fatima's contact. She hit the call button, holding the phone to her ear as another wave of pain made her cry out.

"Hello? Jadwa!" Fatima's cheerful tone cracked, transforming into alarm. "Habibty, what's wrong? Are you okay?"

Jadwa struggled to find her voice, each word squeezed out between shallow, panicked breaths. "No, Fatima. Listen... Ya Imran traveled to Maiduguri not long ago because of some issue, and I—" Her voice wavered, breaking into a sob. "I slipped in the bathroom, and now my stomach is hurting so much."

The words tumbled out in a frantic rush, her breathing sharp and uneven. She clutched the phone as though the sound of Fatima's voice could anchor her in the storm of pain.

"Wait, wait," Fatima interrupted, her tone shifting to professional urgency. "How did you fall? Where did you hit yourself?"

"I don't know!" Jadwa wailed, her free hand gripping her stomach as if she could quell the relentless cramps. The pain twisted and tightened, each wave sharper than the last. She took a jagged breath, tears streaming down her face, and blurted, "I'm pregnant, Fatima!"

The confession landed like a dropped vase, the silence on the other end briefly unsettling. Then Jadwa's voice, raw and trembling, filled the void again. "Do you think I'm losing my baby?" The words broke into a sob, her hands shaking as she clung to the phone.

Fatima inhaled sharply, steadying herself. "Jadwa, listen to me. I'm already in Maitama. I'll be at your house in five minutes. Don't worry. Take slow, deep breaths and stay on the call with me, okay? Don't hang up."

Jadwa nodded, even though Fatima couldn't see her. She gripped the phone tighter, holding it as though it could shield her from the mounting panic. Her body convulsed with pain, her mind spinning through worst-case scenarios like an unstoppable carousel. But Fatima's voice cut through the chaos—a lifeline of calm urgency keeping her from completely unraveling.

"First, lie down on your left side. Can you do that for me?" Fatima's voice was soothing but firm. "How far along are you?"

"I—I'm not sure," Jadwa stammered weakly, her voice faint as another sharp pang seized her, leaving her gasping.

"Can you estimate it?" Fatima pressed gently, her tone both patient and insistent.

"I really don't know," Jadwa managed, her words trembling. "I found out almost a month ago." Her voice faltered, stopping in her throat as the pain clawed deeper.

"Okay, habibty. Can you feel any movements? Are you bleeding?" Fatima's questions were steady, but they sent Jadwa into a spiral. A single tear slipped down her cheek as her mind blanked, the terror of uncertainty pressing down harder than the pain itself.

PHEWWWWWWW.... so what's next? A rollercoaster of emotions or some extra love?🤔