Mrs Ahmed Shehu

06

AHMED

Suraiya's presence in the house is a blessing I didn't know I needed until the moment I started crying in the privacy of my room hours after the kids returned from school. Dinner with them and with her was alright and I'm more than grateful they're warming up to her.

I gave my card (one of the silver ones) and I gave her access to the cars. She has access to everything else too. For everything she'll be doing in the year she'll stay here, it's the least I can do. I really hope she's as comfortable as she can be throughout the entire year.

The house is quiet; the kids are asleep and Suraiya's in her room. I should be asleep too, especially with the schedule I have tomorrow, but it's hard to fall asleep. It's hard to get my mind to shut down and trying to finish up one of the contracts I have pending didn't do anything to help.

The main lights of the room are off but the side lights are enough for me to comfortably stare at the ceiling above. The bed, like every other night, feels too big and I still lay on my assigned side. It's very, very hard to roll over to where Asma usually slept and I wonder how long it'll take before I'll be able to do so.

I stare the ceiling until I barely see it anymore and I'm too tired to close my mental gates when they go open, allowing memories flood in. I remember Asma and I touring the room the first time we visited the house to see if it was okay for us to purchase even though we originally planned on getting something bigger. I now understand why she wasn't willing to wait for a year for them to complete a villa for us and it's really painful.

I remember us laughing and I remember thinking she was the most beautiful woman I've ever met. She's still the most beautiful woman to me. It's not going to change soon even though I hate it right now.

I remember us lying on this very bed on the nights we were both home, whispering like people scared of being caught because we didn't want the kids to wake up despite the walls being soundproof to an extent. I remember us laughing at little jokes and the teases that always came from time to time. I remember everything else; the way I would lazily sit and watch her get ready for work, the way she'd come with gist about people I barely even knew, the little kisses and the times when those kisses led to something more. I remember all of it.

If everything was fine, I would have a smile on my face right now but everything's not fine and just like it has been since that very day, I try to decode what moments were real and what moments were fake. It's always hard. It hurts a lot too.

When I'm able to snap out of my head and my trip down memory lane, I turn to look at the clock on the nightstand. It's past 2AM. There's no way I'm sleeping tonight. I turn back to the ceiling and stare at it for a moment longer before I sigh and force myself up.

The floor is cold underneath my bare feet and the door opens silently, not disturbing the peace of the house. I let my body lead me to Adeelah's room. She's fast asleep, an alpaca plushie hugged tightly to her chest. I got that in New York. They said its name is RJ and that it belongs to the BT21 line. I didn't bother asking what that was. Adeelah loved it from the day it came home and watching her right now brings a small smile to my face.

I adjust her duvet and she stirs. I know she won't wake; she's that deep of a sleeper. Unable to help myself, I kiss her forehead and a ghost of a smile appears on her face which warms my heart. I stare at her for a moment longer before I leave her be.

Teslimah's just as peaceful in her sleep and I do the same; adjust her duvet and pillow (her neck was in a bad position) and then kiss her forehead. Nurudeen has me sitting down beside him. Now more than ever, he looks like Asma and it hurts a little bit. His chest rises and falls steadily, his breathing deep and even. He sleeps on his back, his arms and legs spread out. I sit there and watch him, taking in everything as though it's the first time I'm seeing him; from the full curls on his head to his little feet.