Married To Music (A Wizkid Fanfic)

108 - Aaliyah

5pm
London

I have sat in the alone in the dark praying and hoping endlessly for a miracle. I had just two prayers, one was for the strength to strong for myself and the other was for my husband who had lost his mother.

For the past weeks Ayo has been sat in the guest room, the last room his mother slept in before she died. The guest room was located downstairs overlooking the patio down to the far woods on the property. Plenty nights Ayo and I have gone to bed together only to be awoken in the middle of night to find that Ayo was no longer in bed with me.

The first night it happened, I freaked out, I almost lost my mind as I thought all the worst scenarios or everything that could go wrong. Ayo wasn't sucidal but he's been so withdrawn I feared he might hurt himself. After hours of searching the house from top to bottom, I found him curled up in the guest bed hugging his late mother's shawl.

The sight was so pitiful, never in my life have I cried so hard, Ayo held onto the shawl for dear life, he was crying and muttering inaudible words to himself.

After crying for hours, I sat all through the night watching him, I automatically became his watch dog. I constantly doted on him, neve leaving him alone for a minute, even when he yelled at me for being too clingy, or when he complained that I was being too fussy then when he started ignoring me all together.

Yet I stayed,watched him, prayed for him, I let him mourn, I held him when he cried, held his hand when he couldn't sleep, or when he woke up from sleep screaming, I stayed awake so he could sleep. I did everything all because I was scared, scared that he would shut me out, I knew what I went through to be able to break through to him, I couldn't afford to lose him.

Ayo was sat on the edge of the arm rest, his head rested on his chin, his eyes trained on the glass window, the same window that's he been staring at for hours now. I heard the digital clock go off. 8pm. I knew this because it was a reminder for Amaya's bedtime.

Speaking of her, even our baby couldn't get her father to smile. Amaya always automatically made Ayo happy whenever he heard her voice but no matter what she did, Ayo couldn't bring himself to smile. She's currently in New York with my mom. But forget about Amaya for a minute, Ayo was the main focus.

For the past two weeks, I've watched Ayo popped pills after pills, every hard drug available I watched my husband abuse. I watched him smoke and gotten so high off his head, I've poured him drinks, brought in bottles after bottles. In his defense he was trying to drown his sorrows, and I knew it was a bad idea but what could I do? I told myself as long as I was there, I wouldn't let him over dose, and even if he did I was on standby to get medical help.

My stomach rumbles and I tried to think of the last time I ate, I glance at the untouched breakfast on the table, one of the plenty meals that was forgotten just like I was.

At least he drank water, and other substance.

The other day I read all the article I could find online about grieving and Ayo symptoms matched. Many said not to worry too much, many said to give company, many said to talk about, and by God I've tried everything humanly possible but Ayo was unhinged.

I stifle a yawn before it came out and broke the quiet reverie. I stare at Ayo.

He wasn't the same man who couldn't stay a second away from me. He wasn't the same man that would complain if I wasn't bothering him, yes, Ayo loved it whenever I fussed over him and I did, in fact I did all the time, intentionally or not. He wasn't the same man who couldn't stand his daughter far away from him. This man before me was lost, lost in his head, lost in his mind, and I feared I was beginning to lose myself too.