AMAL: hope

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN 💤💤.

  * You become a king only when you have a queen.*
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AMAL.

   The Makila's private jet was waiting at their estates helipad. Well today's Sunday and for the first time in my life, am flying out of the country. I didn't even know how the Makila's got me a visa but I know I was given one yesterday. Speaking of yesterday, the stress was still embedded into my soul. I saw the video of the guys during car flirt and to be honest it was superb. Thanks to the arewa and northern bloggers, I got popular overnight. My newly opened instagram page opened by ofcourse no one but Khaulah started gaining followers without even a picture of the page. The Arabian nights was lit as the whole hall was decorated in a traditional Indian theme. Most of the girls chose to wear saree but I wore lapaya cause I could wear a head gear beneath. The girls wearing the Indian saree mostly had their hair out which I didn't support. Jummai was wearing a saree also so I just had to leave her to herself. I noticed Khaulah wasn't wearing an artificial hair and lashes and to me her natural hair was far better and long due to the fact she has arab gene in her. The budan kai took place at my in-laws mansion cause I can no longer call this a house. I guess I understand why Hajiya Zuwaira kept comparing our house to hers cause common, if her son's house could look like a mansion from outside the country evacuated and brought to Nigeria imagine hers. The decor and expensive antiques were so beautifully arrange shiny bright that I could see the grace and elegancy in them from beneath my veiled face. I sat on the black rug on the neat tiled floor and ran my finger into the soft hair of the rug. I could fall as sleep here. The whole house smelt of turaren wuta and I wonder how Jannah's faring since she's an asthmatic patient. 

  Upon all Hajiya Zuwaira's charade and lack of decorum and continuous verbal insults, I was still unveiled. I heard her mention that he was better off with Hamida and I couldn't help but agree. Birds of the same feather should flock together. Their arrogance and mannerless attitude make them very perfect soulmate, as for both of us our soul isn't mate. During Arabian night, Hamida was there with her baked face and hot red lipstick flirting with the groomsmen.

Okay that just angry me speaking but she was actually.

  Well this morning, I woke up at my in-laws mansion. Took my bathe and did all my necessities. I proceed to wear a cartoon colored lapaya with a black turtleneck body hug long sleeve top and a pair of black leggings beneath.

  When Hajiya Mamalee and aunty brought me out to the palour, I met Alhaji Zaid talking to his son, advising him on the dos and don'ts of marriage. Alhaji Zaid stopped talking when he saw me and came forward. He embraced me like how a doting father would. It took me everything not to shed tears cause I really felt the absence of my family.

  Mama would have been happy for me, hugging me and making sure I was comfortable. Abu would have gone all the way, wrapping me with his hugs and telling all his friends how much his proud of me. I didn't know I was crying till Alhaji Zaid wiped the tears rolling down my cheeks.

  " Amal everything will be alright kinji, stop crying no one died. If you are crying who will console your sister." He said as he held my shoulders. I sniffed in my tears back and try to relax my stance.

  " At any moment in this marriage you feel everything isn't working out for good and you want to end it, just call me. No one will force you to do what you don't want to do. If you ever encounter problem you feel you can't solve, am just a call away. May all mighty Allah bless your marriage. And home. This is my gift to you." He said and place a car key on my palm. I was delighted but I couldn't drive.