Affairs Of The Hearts |✅

Epilogue

2026.
Five Years Later. Abuja, Nigeria.

Jalilah smiled, a satisfied grin spreading across her face as she smoothed a layer of her favorite fruity lip gloss on her lips. She admired herself in the mirror for a moment, then stood up, adjusting her floral gown, which reached just above her knees. The light fabric, a mixture of pastel pinks and blues, clung gently to her curves as she made her way toward the door. Her phone buzzed on the table, and she grabbed it, tucking it into the side pocket of her dress as she exited her room.

She pushed open the door to Jalal's room, her eyes immediately locking on him. He was sprawled on the bed, his attention fixed on his laptop screen as his fingers flew over the keyboard. A frown tugged at her lips without even thinking. He was always working, always absorbed in his world of deadlines and projects. Jalilah sighed dramatically, striding over to the bed. With a playful shove, she nudged the laptop away, then climbed onto his lap and made herself comfortable, her arms slipping around his neck.

"Workaholic," she pouted, and before Jalal could respond, she kissed him.

His lips curved into a smile, and his hand slid to her waist, holding her firmly. "I have to work to make more money for us," he murmured, tickling her side, which made her squirm with laughter.

"And my job is to spend it all," she giggled, her voice light and teasing. When the laughter subsided, she playfully pinched his cheek.

"Aren't you going to work today?" Jalal asked, his tone genuine but curious.

"Nah," Jalilah shrugged, making herself even more comfortable. "I'm too tired from Fayha's birthday party. And besides, you're home today, so..." She trailed off, letting him fill in the rest with a grin.

Jalilah had graduated three years ago with a first-class honors degree in International Relations. It had been a proud moment for her family, and from there, she quickly moved into a job at the prestigious Marhsall Group after completing her youth service. At just twenty-four, she had already built a solid career, juggling it with the responsibilities of being a successful wife and mother to two young children.

Before Jalal could reply, the door to the room was suddenly barged open with a loud bang. A tiny figure, about four years old, stood in the doorway with a pout, staring at her parents.

"Mimi!!!!" Fayha's voice whined in that familiar way, causing Jalilah to immediately slide off Jalal's lap.

"Go back and come in the right way, Fatima!" Jalilah scolded gently, narrowing her eyes playfully.

"I'm sorry, Mimi." Fayha's voice dropped, looking up at her mother with wide, innocent eyes before she retreated out of the room.

Moments later, she knocked softly before re-entering, this time announcing herself more formally.

"Assalamu Alaikum Mimi, Paapi." Her tiny voice carried a mix of formality and sweetness that had both parents smiling.

"Wa Alaikum Salam, Fayha," they replied in unison, their faces lighting up as they exchanged amused glances.

"What's the matter, my princess?" Jalal scooped Fayha up into his arms, his strong hands lifting her effortlessly as they left the room and headed to the living room.

Fayha's pout deepened as she pointed accusingly at her older brother, Fayzaan. "It's Yaya Fayzaan!" she whined.

"Paapi! She was trying to ruin my drawing!" Fayzaan's voice rang out from across the room where he was bent over, busy with his art materials. At six years old, he had already grown taller than most kids his age, inheriting his father's height and lean build, though he was chubbier unlike Jalal. He looked like a mini version of his father, a near carbon copy, with the same dark hair, striking eyes, and smile.