One Wrong Move

1

The blaring ringing tone of a phone filled the eerie silent and dark room. Curled on a king sized bed in the middle of the room with the phone in hand, Azizah squeezed her eyes shut silent tears slipping as she contemplated on picking the call. Her heart singing 'yes' and mind screaming 'no' reminding her of the situation she's in, lastly shutting the phone. Hoping, wishing her brain – her memory box could shut down as well; rid her of all the voices, pity gaze and disgust looks.

"How could she do something so absurd?"

"To say she is married."

"Isn't she the daughter of Alhaji Shitu?"

"Naji cewa ita Agola ce."

"Turns out she is nobody."

Nobody.....

Clutching her head, Azizah cried silently asking for forgiveness to her sins, her mistakes. A mistake she never made but was accused of. None of this would have happened had Al-amin given her his full attention. Being married to him for a year, nine months, two weeks and four days feels like being confined in a damn tight suffocating door less cage. At first she was happy. Why?

Al-amin Kasim Shitu is the only child to Malam Kasim Shitu a brother of Alhaji Abdurrahman Shitu, Azizah's father. Al-amin had been her first crush since she was a teenager. She had been a goner when she set her eyes on him again after spending four years studying Business and Entrepreneurship Management in Canada at her graduation and homecoming party courtesy of her father. She was charmed by his smile and playful demeanor. She was a bubble of joy when her mother chooses him as her husband but had to hide her happiness from the dark looks of Zahira, her sister. She could lose him because of her.

Zahira and Abdul-Nasir Abdurrahman Shitu are the apple of the eyes to Hajja Hidaya Abdurrahman Shitu, Mummy dearest. Whatever they want, they get.

On her wedding day Azizah heard lots of things – gossips that she almost believed. Almost. That she had no choice but to ask her father the truth which lead to him laughing and denying such 'accusations'.

"Is it the first time you heard people talk? If you remember quiet well there was a time you came back from school crying, telling me you heard some parents saying you were stolen. That I stole you?" he reminded her.

Yes it wasn't the first time but this time it felt real, so real to be easily discarded.

"But dad -"

Alhaji Abdurrahman raised his hand silencing her in the process "You are my daughter no matter what they say or do you are and will still be my daughter. Nothing and no one can change it. This is your wedding day; you should be rejoicing not listening to those evil doers."

Azizah sighed, nodding her head. She believes her father but there are times she finds herself wondering if Hajja Hidaya is her mother. The woman is so cold towards her; it's so hard to believe she is her mother. But she trust and believe her father. He would never lie to her. With that she pushed all thoughts aside and decided to enjoy her day as advised by her father.

The creaking sound of door opening brought her back to senses, startling her. Azizah sat up abruptly, eyes on the door of her room. Seconds later, her door was opened revealing the silhouette of her husband. Her hand was immediately on her face shielding her eyes from the unexpected brightness that filled the room. She dropped her hand slowly looking at her husband, eyes searching staring at the face she fell in love with. His dark eyes that glints mischievously in humor, his delicate nose, his perfect pink lips that smiles all the time but all she got was a fierce scowl from him.

Al-amin stood at the door; hand on the light switch staring at Azizah with hatred, scowling fiercely at her.

"Didn't I tell you to leave my house before I am back?" he asked hot with rage as the veins on his forehead became visible.

Azizah stilled not daring to move or breath hard as she wordlessly stare at him. The man she loves. Loved.

His warm dark brown eyes stared at her coldly, lips that mostly smirk playfully now in a scowl.

"What are you still doing here, eh? Make sure you are out of here in the next five minutes or else, kin sanni ai." He chuckled darkly leaving the room.

Azizah heaved as another sob tries to wreak through her. But she doesn't want to cry, she is tired of crying. She stood up shakily picking up her suitcase, shoving cloths carelessly as tears she couldn't help leaked from her eyes.

×××××

Azizah knocked as hard as her strength could, wincing as her knuckle hurts from knocking on the large black and gold Iron Gate in front of her. Footsteps could be heard from behind the gate followed by a voice asking questions.

"Who is it?" the voice asked.

"It is me Azizah." Azizah answered.

"I said who is this knocking at my gate at this hour of the night, eh?" the voice asked again loudly.

Azizah sighed "I said it is me Azizah. Chika open the door" banging the gate as she spoke.

"Ah, Hajiya karama kece?"

Frustrated, Azizah said "open and see for yourself."

The sound of locks disengaging could be heard as the small door connected to the huge gate was opened with a head poking from behind the gate.

"Oh Hajiya karama kece? Come in, come in." he ushered her in, bombarding her with questions.

"What at you doing here? I thought you will be with ya oga at this hour?" he questioned closing the door.

"He traveled." Azizah said solemnly.

Chika the gateman is a huge tall built man, more like hulk except he isn't green but dark in complexion. He is from Sokoto state the southern part of Nigeria and a loyal worker. He is a warm person but can also be cold within seconds, like a switch. Tons of men were employed as gatemen but they either leave or are thrown out by Hajja Hidaya but Chika was an optimism to her.

"Is mummy at home?" Azizah pondered nervously.

"Eh, Hajja is home and everyone else except Alhaji." Chika replied taking her luggage from her.

Azizah flattered. How she wished her father was home.