Kaduna State, Nigeria.

The soft glow of the morning sun seeped through the kitchen window, casting golden rays over the marble countertops. Siyama leaned against the fridge, her arms crossed and lips pressed in thought. The house was silent, save for the occasional rustling of leaves outside and the faint hum of the refrigerator.

She had snuck out of bed quietly after Fajr, careful not to wake Mahmud, hoping that maybe the act of cooking would fill the restless space in her mind. But now, standing in the middle of the kitchen, she felt stuck. What should she make? Nothing is making sense as she thought.

The fridge was stocked, their father had made sure of that with fresh vegetables, crisp and vibrant, lined the shelves alongside neatly packed groceries. He went all out filling their fridge. There was no shortage of ingredients, yet her mind remained blank.

Maybe toast would do. It was easy and simple. But was it enough?

Siyama sighed, rubbing her temples before stepping forward and pulling open the fridge door. Cool air brushed her face as she scanned the contents, searching for inspiration. Maybe something warm and comforting. Or maybe she should call Yasmin and ask for inspiration?

Oh dear God, she wasn't entirely ready for married life because of this. Why would she be the one to keep thinking about what to cook? Their mother usually does all the thinking and they do the coooing and the helping. This pressure is not looking good at all.

The soft sound of footsteps on the staircase pulled Siyama from her thoughts. She turned just in time to see Mahmud descending, his movements lazy and almost predatory. He ran a hand down his face, his bare chest illuminated by the golden morning light filtering through the windows.

The only clothing he was wearing was a pair of dark grey sweatpants that slung low on his hips and the sight made her stomach do an odd little flip. It wasn't helping that they had consummated their marriage just hours ago. She tried looking away but couldn't.

It's like her eyes were glued to every single move he made and she cannot fault herself. Mahmud made sure to remove every ounce of shyness from her yesterday though that didn't stop the discomfort. At the same time it was unforgettable.

Before she could react, he walked straight up to her and wrapped his arms around her from behind, pulling her into the warmth of his body. Siyama stiffened for a fraction of a second then melted into him, the scent of his skin —clean, fresh, undeniably masculine— filling her senses.

"Good morning, wifey." He murmured in her ear, his voice still heavy with sleep making it sound deeper with the baritone he's always had.

Siyama swallowed, her face heating as she felt every inch of his solid chest against her back. Not that she was complaining. She feels so fragile in his arms right now and she never knew that was a feeling she would love. It feels soo good.

"Is this... how you always walk around the house?" She asked, forcing her voice to stay steady despite the chaos his mere presence is causing in the nerves.

Mahmud chuckled, the deep rumble vibrating through her. "No. But since I noticed how much you love my muscles..." He flexed his arms slightly around her waist, making her gasp as she felt the shift of his biceps against her. "I figured I should flaunt them to your heart's content."

"You're ridiculous." Siyama scoffed, though the smile tugging at her lips betrayed her. She had told him she loved his muscles though at first she would just stare at it in fascination.

"But you like it." He grinned, kissing her cheek and lingering there till her face turned really hot from smiling.

Desperate for a distraction, she turned in his arms, hands pressed lightly against his chest as she looked up at him. Yes, she loves how ridiculous he is and that is the problem. Or... is it?

"I don't know what to cook for us," she admitted, trying not to think about last night by just looking at him. Trying not to think about his bare chest, his warmth and the way his hands rested so casually at her waist.

Mahmud tilted his head, his dark eyes studying her with quiet amusement. "Is that what's got you so flustered? Or is it something else?" His voice dipped lower, all dark and teasing.

Siyama cleared her throat and stepped back, at least as far as he would let her. "Just help me decide."

He smirked, leaning down slightly, his breath brushing against her ear. "Fine. But only if you promise to keep blushing like that while I do."

When he did things like that, it was impossible not to remember the intimacy they had shared. The way he touched her, the way he whispered against her skin... It all came rushing back in a heated wave, leaving her breathless.

Siyama leaned against the counter with her arms folded as she watched Mahmud rummaged through the fridge with far too much confidence for a man who had no idea how to cook. After they burnt spaghetti with Ahmad the other time, she had no hope for them.

She bit back a smile, knowing full well that anything involving a stove was out of his skill set. But he looked so determined and so effortlessly attractive in his half-dressed state that she let him try.

Her gaze drifted as memories from the night before tugged at her mind. It's not like she had to try hard to do so when she's sure that would be at her forefront for the longest time.

After ensuring Yasmin was safe in Abdullah's arms, they had returned home and prayed together. Then on a whim, she had reached for the perfume. The one he had warned her about earlier but she never listens anyway.

And after that, there had been no stopping him. Not that she wanted to.

She had been curious or maybe too curious. And maybe a little eager but she didn't care. Not when he had looked at her like that, not when his voice had turned low and rough and teasing and demanding all at once.

Her breath hitched as Mahmud suddenly turned, leaning one arm on the counter beside her and trapping her in place. When did he leave the fridge anyway? His dark eyes flickered with amusement but there was something else in them too. A bit dark wicked like he knew exactly what she was thinking.

"You're staring, wifey." He murmured, voice like silk and halal sins. "If you keep looking at me like that, I might just have to remind you why you couldn't stop saying my name last night."

Siyama's entire face burned like a freaking volcano erupted on it. She pushed at his chest —his very bare, very firm chest— but he didn't budge. Instead, he leaned in even closer, brushing his lips just beside her ear.

"Should I?" He whispered teasingly, his lopsided grin making him look boyish. "Or are you already thinking about it?"

She gasped and shoved him harder this time, scowling as he laughed and pulled away.

"Make yourself useful and help me decide what to cook," she huffed, turning to hide her flustered expression knowing she'd have to live with this forever. No regrets whatsoever though.

"I think I'd rather watch you do it. Preferably in that dress." Mahmud smirked, pulling open the fridge again then suddenly turned around to stare at her see through maxi dress that should be worn with an inner. She was in a hurry to think about that.

"Mahmud!"

"What? Just saying, last night wasn't enough. But I'll behave." He glanced at her from head to toe with a lazy grin. "For now."

*^*

They finished eating and went to get dressed, having already showered before Fajr. Around one in the afternoon, after Mahmud returned from the mosque, they settled in the living room, watching a random romcom. The peaceful moment was soon interrupted by a knock at the door.

Mahmud groaned and buried his head in her neck, making Siyama giggle. They both knew the guests had started arriving, and after this little moment, they might not get any time alone for the rest of the day. She heard him muttering curse words she had never heard before, and she burst into laughter.

"I'm not even allowed to have my wife to myself for a few days? What the hell is wrong with people?" He grumbled, lazily leaning away from her, looking like a sullen child.

"Well, it's kind of a tradition, so yeah..." she teased, gently pushing him away as she got up to answer the door. But before she could open it, Mahmud had already disappeared upstairs.

She shook her head, knowing he'd spend the rest of the afternoon grumbling while she was left to deal with the guests. Honestly, she wasn't looking forward to entertaining anyone, but there was no escaping it.

Siyama had dressed elegantly for the occasion, wearing an embroidered Super Chiganvy ankara. The fitted peplum blouse hugged her waist perfectly, while the fishtail skirt cascaded down in elegant eight-piece pleats.

Her head tie was tied in a beautifully structured pleated style, complementing her light makeup as the radiant Amarya she was. Everything had turned out perfect that even her walking style had changed with the regal elegance of the outfit.

She opened the door to find her neighbor, Maman Ihsan, along with a few other women from the area... some of whom she could barely recall. Forcing a polite smile, she welcomed them inside, shyly adjusting the potted plant they had shifted outside the door.

After exchanging pleasantries, she excused herself and went to the kitchen to prepare the traditional refreshments served to guests visiting a newly wedded bride —chin chin, dublan, alkāki and soft drinks. As Siyama set down the tray of snacks, the women's hushed whispers filled the room.

"This house suits her so well. Who would have really thought though?" One of them murmured, eyes scanning the elegant furnishings.

"It does fit her honestly. Everything looks like it was made just for her." Another woman agreed reaching for the chin chin they were served.

A third scoffed lightly at the compliment and couldn't help ruining it. "Hmph. Their father couldn't have furnished it this finely."

"Shhh!" The woman beside her nudged her arm, casting a quick glance toward Siyama. "You talk too much."

Siyama pretended not to hear and focused instead on pouring the drinks for them in glass cups. She knew that sort of gossip would go all over but she doesn't care. They never did. Just then, another woman spoke up, sniffing the air curiously.

"What kind of turaren wuta is this? It smells divine." It was one of Maman Ihsan's friends that's always in their house from morning till evening. But Siyama doesn't even know her name.

Siyama smiled at that since even Janan promised to come and steal some of the turaren wuta. "It's a special blend. Our mother's best friend brought it from Sudan."

The women exchanged impressed looks, nodding in approval, and Siyama bit back a laugh. That's typical of them. Once she was done with them them, she returned to the kitchen, where her phone kept buzzing with messages.

Mahmud: I think I'm going to fire that gateman right now. Do you have any final words for him? He clearly doesn't know what he's doing!

Siyama: Why would you do that?

Mahmud: You're seriously asking me that? Why didn't he inform us we had guests waiting outside before letting them in? This is entirely Abdullah's fault. Why would he hire an incompetent gateman?

Siyama: Maybe because he thinks it's normal for people to visit a newly married couple?

Mahmud: I don't care! You know what? We're going on a honeymoon.

Siyama: You cannot be serious.

Mahmud: I wish you could see me right now, you'd know that no one is more serious than I am. I'm going to get your visa today!

Siyama stared at the message, laughing. She wasn't sure whether to believe him, but knowing Mahmud and seeing the way he had stormed off, she had no doubt he would make it happen as soon as possible. They hadn't even discussed a honeymoon after spending time in Birmingham.

Siyama: Calm your horses. I think they'll be leaving soon. It's expected...

Mahmud: One more "it's expected" from you, Seema, and I'll turn this house upside down. They'll go back home telling everyone you married a caveman.

She bit her lip, suppressing another laugh. Life with Mahmud was never dull. At some point, he came down to greet the guests but the moment she turned to ask him for help in getting rid of them, he was already slipping away.

"Why are you running?" She called after him in quiet whisper.

He shot her a playful smirk over his shoulder. "They're getting a free meet-and-greet with a celebrity, Seema. My team taught me never to allow that!"

Siyama wiped her hands on her skirt as she walked to the door, expecting yet another set of guests. But when she pulled it open, she found no familiar faces just a delivery man holding a bouquet of red roses, a small card and an envelope.

"Who is this from?" She frowned looking behind as though expecting someone to appear and tell her.

The man simply pointed at the card, giving a polite nod before turning away. Still confused, she took the flowers and the envelope, stepping back inside. The scent of fresh roses filled the air as she sat down, heart pounding for reasons she couldn't quite explain.

Just as she turned the card over, Mahmud descended the stairs, dressed in a navy blue thobe that somehow made him look even more effortlessly handsome. The man knows just what to do to get her solar plexus in shambles.

"Planning on telling me something, Mrs. Wambai?" He arched a brow at the flowers in her lap.

"Did you send these, Mr. Wambai?" She gave him a questioning glance hoping he'd get her off the question swimming in her head.

Mahmud shrugged and pointed at the flowers again. "Open it and find out."

Narrowing her eyes at him, she slipped the card out of its envelope and read the neat familiar handwriting.

"I'm so proud of you, wifey! You aced it!"

Her lips parted slightly, her fingers trembling as she hurriedly tore open the second envelope. The moment she saw what was inside, her breath caught. Then, her heart stuttered to a stop before it spiked up again.

"Oh my God! Oh my! Distinction!" She screamed, jumping to her feet so fast that the roses tumbled onto the couch.

"Yes, baby, you did it." Mahmud's grin was slow and lazy and entirely too smug.

Before he could say another word, she launched herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck. He caught her effortlessly like she weighed nothing, lifting her off the ground as she buried her face against his shoulder.

"You got it before everyone else!" She cried, her voice muffled against his thobe trying to pull herself together. "How?"

As far as Siyama knows, the statement of result won't be ready this fast. She has even forgotten to check her results with the wedding preparations and all. She had thought that one stress is enough for a new bride.

He chuckled, squeezing her waist. "I have my ways."

She pulled back, her eyes glassy with emotion. "I can't believe this. I—I don't think I could've done this without you."

"You could have and you did. But I'll take the credit if you want me to." His gaze softened as he stared at her small adorable face. Oh... what he'd do to keep that smile forever!

She laughed, a single tear slipping down her cheek. He caught it with his thumb before cupping her face, his warm palms grounding her.

"You've always believed in me." She whispered with a pout not knowing what else to say. He really did help her study during that time that she aced the toughest course with an A.

"And I always will."

Her breath hitched and for a second, neither of them moved. The air shifted between them, thick with something deeper than happiness. Mahmud smirked, tilting his head.

"So... about that thank-you kiss?" He asked with one brow raised and a boyish smile on his face.

Siyama rolled her eyes but her lips twitched. "Is that all you ever think about?"

"When it comes to you?" His voice dropped lower, teasing. "Every second of the day."

Her cheeks burned as she tried to look away, but he wasn't having it. His fingers curled under her chin, guiding her back to him.

"Come on, Seema. Just one little—" He coaxed, bringing her face closer to his.

She surged forward, pressing her lips to his before he could finish. It was supposed to be quick but Mahmud had other ideas. His hands tightened around her waist, pulling her against him as he deepened the kiss to slow and thorough. A soft sigh escaped her, and he swallowed it with a satisfied hum.

When she finally pulled back, her breath was uneven, her heart still racing.

Mahmud grinned, running a thumb over her lower lip. "That's my girl."

Siyama had no time to think because one moment she was standing and the next, she was swept off her feet so fast it was all a blur. By the time she registered what had happened, they were already in their bedroom.

If she didn't know better, she would have sworn Mahmud had some kind of superpower. Not that she'd mind.

Her mind was pleasantly clouded soon after, focused only on the warmth of Mahmud's lips and the way his hands skimmed her back. He kissed her unhurriedly, teasingly, as if savoring every second.

But the more eager she became to deepen the contact, the lazier he got, making her work for it, making her chase his elusive kisses. Frustration curled in her belly, and with a breathless laugh, she tangled her fingers around his neck, holding him still.

Mahmud chuckled, low and deep before rewarding her efforts with a long, thorough kiss, his tongue sweeping into her mouth in a way that sent a delicious shiver down her spine. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she was surprised by how much she wanted more... more of his touch, more of his warmth.

Gently oh, so gently he curved her body into his, his hands tracing slow paths down her back before resting on the curve of her waist. Their bodies molded together perfectly, as if they had always belonged this way. Her soft sigh was lost against his lips, and Mahmud smiled against her mouth.

"You're making that sound again, my love." He murmured, voice husky and dark. "You know what that does to me."

His words sent a wave of heat through her, making her breath hitch. "What sound?" She asked, feigning innocence though she knew exactly what he meant.

Mahmud's lips brushed the corner of her mouth then her jaw, before trailing down to the sensitive spot just beneath her ear. It was just yesterday but he has already mapped her body like the back of his hand.

"That little sigh," he murmured against her skin, his voice thick with satisfaction. "Like you're trying so hard to hold back, but you don't want to."

Siyama shivered, her fingers gripping his shoulders as he kissed a slow, teasing path down her throat. She had no idea someone could be kissed around their throat. Hell, before mahmud she hated anything that has to do with kissing. But his skills kept her fiery.

"Maybe I'm not holding back at all," she whispered, surprising even herself with the boldness of her words.

Mahmud stilled for a second, then groaned. "Ya Allah, Seema." His hands tightened at her waist, lifting her effortlessly as he carried her to the bed.

She barely had a moment to catch her breath before he was hovering over her, his navy blue thobe now discarded somewhere on the floor. Her hands moved instinctively over his bare skin, tracing the hard lines of his shoulders, the solid warmth of his back.

He felt incredible beneath her touch, and the way his muscles tensed under her fingers sent a thrill through her. As usual, she went for his biceps and triceps, feeling it bulge beneath her fingertips.

Mahmud watched her, his stormy gaze dark with need, but still, he was patient as he worshipped her with soft kisses and slow caresses knowing despite her attempts to not be shy, she was still very much timid.

"Tell me what you want, my love." He murmured, his voice thick with restraint.

Her lips parted, a rush of emotions welling up inside her. The love, the trust, the desire... all of it threatened to overwhelm her. But instead of words, she pulled him down, her kiss answering for her.

Mahmud groaned into her mouth, surrendering to her touch as the night wrapped around them, warm and endless.

Iftar Mubarak!!! Allah ya amsa ibadun mu, Amin.
Happy International Women's Day, my girlies!

I don't even have much to say because I'm hungry🤣 we'll meet again soon. And I wanted to say something fa, I can't recall. Do you think you can take anymore drama? Is not much but yeah. It'll be there🌚 to end the book with a bit spice and reality sort of. It's still going to be soft and stinky cute thooooo

QOTD: Would you rather have a photographic memory or be able to forget anything at will? Photographic memory please😭 these exams won't suffer me like this.