A Promise to Aabidah (#1 Natives series) #ProjectNigeria

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Eight

          AABIDAH FLIPPED DOWN THE REARVIEW mirror of her car as she applied a little cake powder to her face. She had just gotten to the hospital and was parked at the hospital's parking lot. After she was done applying a little makeup, she flipped the mirror back to its original state, then adjusted the hem of her hijab to cover her bosom before stepping out of her car.

There was a light breeze that sent shivers down her back and rustled the branches of the trees in the hospital's compound. The hem of Aabidah's floral print gown floated behind her as she hurried inside the building and away from the unusual cold.

"I'm here to see AbdulAzeez Dawud, he's in room twenty-nine." She informed the young nurse sitting at the reception desk after exchanging greetings.

"Down the hall." The nurse instructed, pointing down the path for Aabidah.

"Thank you." With a nod, Aabidah headed for the hallway. A tangy scent hung in the air and the cheap antiseptic that was used in the hospital burned through Aabidah's nose and down to her throat, but she forced herself to keep going.

As her eyes scanned the numbers fixed to the wooden doors, her heart beat slowly began to increase. Questions swirled around in her head like a snowstorm. What was she going to see? What was he going to say? Would she let him explain? What would be his reason for what he had done? Why hadn't he called her?

Number 29. Aabidah froze as she caught sight of the door she was sure hid AbdulAzeez from her. She swallowed and took the remaining steps towards the door. Just as she raised her hand to knock on the door it burst open and an infuriated looking Isah stomped outside.

He seemed to be having a silent battle in his head on whether to let her in or not—he settled for not. Isah gripped the door's handle and dragged it shut behind him and caused Aabidah flinched when he gave her a look of utter irritation.

"Asalamu alaykum," she greeted him but he didn't respond. He moved towards her instead, forcing her to back away from him.

"What do you even see in him?" His voice was eerily silent when he asked. "Are you some kind of pushover? Do you really still want to be with him after everything he's done to you?" He asked still moving towards her.

Aabidah gulped before she answered. "I don't think that is any of your business." She gritted out.

Isah eventually stopped moving. He dug his hands into his pockets and stood up straight. He was wearing a polo shirt and perfectly faded dark jeans. "You're right," he confirmed, "it's none of my business. So, good luck." He wished sarcastically then took his leave.

Aabidah agitatedly watched as the man walked away, her heart hammering in her chest. She placed a hand over her heart and tried to soothe it. After calming herself down a bit, she walked back to the door and knocked on it once.

"Come in." AbdulAzeez called from inside.

Bracing herself and pushing aside every other conversation she'd had during the day, Aabidah took in a long amount of air then released it before opening the door.

"Asalamu alaykum," she greeted as she stepped into the medium sized room.

The walls of the room were painted with dark blue and cream oil paint. There were two beds in the room and a fan squeaked as it rotated from the ceiling. A small white wooden wardrobe was tucked to a corner of the room with two plastic chairs. AbdulAzeez who occupied one of the bed had a sling on and it looked like his face had been met with a very hard object.

"Wa alaykum salaam, Aabidah. I didn't know you were coming." He told her, settling on the edge of his bed and smiling up at her.

Aabidah felt her heart gallop at his smile that she also found herself smiling. She walked the rest of the way to him and sat down on the plastic visitor's chair, turning it well enough so she could take a good look at him. Her breath hitched as she looked him over. One of his eyes was bloodshot and the corner of his lips had been bursted open. Aabidah's heart ached for him.