Mrs Ahmed Shehu

Prologue

AHMED

Abuja, Nigeria.

April 22nd, 2022

I think it's funny. It's not the type of funniness where you laugh until your stomach hurts. I'm not talking about that at all.

It's painfully funny when you wake up and say that you love the person you're married to before you leave the house and when you come back, you can't recognize her. It's painfully funny how fifteen minutes can destroy what should have been forever, leaving you and your lover as strangers.

There's a part of me that wishes for all of this to be a dream; that I'm stuck in a nightmare and that any minute now, I'll be awake and everything would be as it was. I'll still be in love with Asma and we'll still be happy, dealing with the kids, who are so different from each other, a perfect balance of crazy, calm and in-between. I really want all of this to be a dream.

"Mr Shehu? You can go in, whenever you're ready."

It feels like a bucket of cold water and the voice of the police officer brings me back to the ground. This isn't a dream and God, it's the most painful thing. I turn my head to look at the man who had spoken and he gives me a small smile. He pities me; that much is clear and I don't blame him. If I were in his shoes, I'd pity me too.

The door to the interrogation room is dark and it's the only thing separating me from the woman I was so sure I'd grow old with as at this morning. There's no growing old with anyone now. That much is set in stone.

I think about Zayd and how kind he was to let me be the one to decide Asma's punishment. If it was left to him, the Dantatas, the Muhammads and the Sufyans, Asma would be dead. She has no idea how lucky she is. She also has no idea how painful this is for me, and how painful it'll eventually be for the kids.

I think about Amal who has been nothing but genuinely nice from the first day we met. I always told Zayd she was one heck of a woman; strong, elegant, and the best friend you can ever have. I think about how broken she is right now, all because of the woman I loved and married; someone I thought genuinely loved her too.

I think about Hanan and the unborn kids currently in the hospital. I've been told she's doing okay but Allah knows I don't think I'll be able to show my face in front of her again. She didn't do anything wrong and just like Amal, she's an amazing woman but the woman I love and married didn't see all of that, blinded by envy that morphed into something ugly over the years. Envy and bitterness she hid perfectly well.

I think about the others; Hussayna and Salim, Catherine and Sunday, Jameelah and Luqman. I don't think I'll be able to face them either. And to think we were already making plans for Eid before this. Honestly, all of this is really funny.

I then think of myself. While I was ready to move heaven and earth to make sure Asma was happy, I was only a rebound to her. I've been a rebound since day one; a replacement because someone else got the man she wanted. And then our kids; Teslimah, Adeelah, and Nurudeen. Despite all she said, I don't want to believe that she's never loved them. I can doubt everything else but I won't doubt that. I can't doubt it. It'll break me even more.

"Mr Shehu?"

I draw in a shaky breath. I already know what her punishment should be and I know it won't seem enough to so many people but it's all I can do. It's all I can bring myself to do.

I draw in another breath and let it out before willing myself to be calm. I have a feeling I won't be calm by the time I leave the room but for now, I have to be calm. I breathe in and out again before I step forward and push down the handle of the closed door, letting myself in.