THE KHALIL RESIDENCE,
ASOKORO.
FEBRUARY, 2022.
Jamil felt warmth flood over him the minute Jamilah grinned.
When she'd come to him wearing that dress, before they'd left the house, he'd understood just how much Jamilah had been feeling when she'd seen him in his suit, or more than that.
His blood singed in his veins, and the restraint he'd placed on himself was beginning to take a physical toll on his body.
But he'd managed, limiting his appreciation to a single hug, and some.......promises for when they'd get back from the event.
As the evening progressed, his desire morphed into worry, into fear, into urgency.
After those tumultuous series of emotions, hearing Jamilah grin as she said his name, it was a welcome change.
"Jamil Khalil is.....", Jamilah started, and then paused to think.
"He's everything you don't want in a man".
The smile that had started to form on Jamil's face disappeared.
He looked at Jamilah on the stage, noting that she was still grinning.
Her eyes met his, but then she turned away from him, confusing him.
He'd have thought he heard her wrong, but he could feel the stares following him, the murmurs beginning to pick up again.
He grappled with confusion, hurt and anger, but couldn't quite find one to hang on to.
The person by his side glanced at him nervously, his eyes judging, condescending.
'Anger', Jamil decided. It was anger he felt.
His eyes refused to meet Jamilah's, even though he could feel hers seeking their audience.
He kept his head low, brewing with anger and wishing he could be out of the room in that instant.
Jamilah, on the stage, noticed that Jamil wasn't looking at her.
She'd taken it too far, she realised. She'd merely wanted to make a joke, lighten the room up a bit.
She'd failed.
But if she'd started, she might as well finish.
"Jamil is stubborn, he's firm and he's cold", she continued.
The next time she glanced at Jamil's direction, he was out of his chair and already making his way to the door.
Even Yahya looked confused.
"I'm sure that's what you all want to hear me say", she said finally, noting with relief that Jamil had stopped in his tracks.
However, he made no signs of turning around.
Jamilah detached the mic from it's hold, slowly making her way down the stage.
"Jamil Khalil is of me, and I'm of him", She spoke, eyes trained on him solely as she took one slow step after the other.
"He's not what most people want. He won't lie to you to make you feel better or pat you on the back when you've done wrong, but when he tells you the truth, he speaks it in a way that heals everything in you that's broken", she added.
"When he cherishes me, I feel it. When he speaks to me, I'm drawn to listen. When he encourages me, I draw courage in his trust, and when he corrects me, I know that I've given him cause to.
My husband doesn't suffer fools, or talk much,.... or smile much", Jamilah added, a small laugh escaping her.
Amongst those in the room who knew Jamil intimately, there was laughter.
YOU ARE READING
𝓜𝔂 𝓫𝓪𝓫𝔂, 𝓶𝔂 𝔀𝓲𝓯𝓮
RomanceWhen news of Jamilah Abubakr's death reached the world, it shook. How couldn't it? It'd lost one of the gems it had left....A young, cultured philanthropist with as much beauty within, as she had without. The Khalil household was one of the most af...
