Manifesting To Be The Rich Man's Wife

11

Amina's POV🩶

Things have not been the same since my father lost his job. He didn't say a word to any of his children about it, but perhaps he may have discussed it with my mother. Life continues to go on as usual, with no visible change in our circumstances at home. However, I can sense the weight of his struggles bearing heavily on him. Despite our unchanged lifestyle, I am acutely aware of the emotional and financial strain he is under. It pains me to see him carrying such a heavy burden, not only for his entire children but also for his four wives and relatives. I have secretly reached out to our uncle, my father's brother, to provide financial assistance. I have given him the one million to pass to my father, hoping it will alleviate some of the pressure on him. Of course, he inquired about the source of the money, and I lied, saying that I had been saving and engaging in small businesses within my school. Surprisingly, he not only believed me but also encouraged me to continue.

Well, I'm in my mother's room with her and my sisters. Our house is divided into seven separate apartments, each one a fully self-contained unit. The first four apartments are assigned to my four mothers, one for each of them. The fifth apartment belongs to my father, while the sixth apartment is shared by his female children, including me and my step-sisters. The last apartment belongs to my stepbrothers. Regardless, we all live in peace, even though disagreements occur occasionally. Still, we patch things up before the day ends. We never go to sleep having resentment toward one another.

Suddenly, a gust of wind billowed through the room, causing the curtains to sway. "You should all go and sleep," my mother gently admonished, glancing at the cloudy sky outside through her window. "The rain is coming." As she spoke, the sound of distant thunder resonated faintly in the background.

"Sure," my three sisters and I responded in unison before embracing her. After we exited the room and stepped into the short hallway, we were met with a strong gust of wind that swept through the corridor ferociously, its howling sound echoing ominously through the darkness. It whipped through the room with a ferocity that seemed to challenge the very foundations of the house. Nepa also did their thing, with electricity going off that hindered our view. Though the path was obscured, we still knew the layout of our unit and proceeded with confidence towards it.

"It's been a while since it last rained," my sister Amatullah observed contentedly. "I'm glad we're finally receiving these blessings."

We entered our shared unit and saw our sisters gathered in the living room, struggling to maintain the flickering candlelight amid the powerful gusts of wind pushing against the curtains.

Another one of my sisters asked, "Amina, where's your rechargeable lamp?"

I responded, "I'm sorry, I forgot to charge it." I then sank into our torn and tattered couch, the cushion beneath me squeaking softly. Despite its aged appearance, it carried stories, each tear and rip serving as a recollection of the laughter, tears, and memories shared by my nine sisters and five brothers.

My phone rang, and after I saw it was Abbah, a smile spread across my face. Stepping out of the living room, I quietly tip-toed towards the already-made bed in the bedroom, laying down before picking up the call.

"Salaamu alaikum," he said, and my smile deepened.

"Wa'alaikum salaam." I answered, a contented sigh escaping my lips.

"You remember when you sent me your matriculation number a few days ago and I said I wouldn't rest until I amended that carryover?" he asked.

I mumbled in response, "Yes?" His words piqued my curiosity, and I waited eagerly for him to continue.

With a hint of excitement in his voice, he said, "Guess what?"

I couldn't help but chuckle at his enthusiasm.

"It's very hard to amend a carryover in the health sector if you won't sit for another exam," I explained.

"Well, guess what? You'll be progressing to level three and won't need to repeat the second level. I managed to get you to pass the man's course," he asserted.

I withheld my excitement for a moment, needing more clarification. "How did you do that?"

"Indeed, it was quite difficult. Initially, when I approached him, he was reluctant to listen, as we're dealing with matters of people's health. However, we managed to strike a deal. I promised him money and a job for his son in the Nigerian military, and I guaranteed you would retake the course personally. I even took an oath, so please make sure you honour that. Despite his initial reluctance, he agreed," he explained.

"Abbah," I whispered, a smile spreading across my face. "Please, let this not be a joke. I haven't yet informed my parents about my results." I held my breath, my heart racing with anticipation.

"Feel free to check your school portal. You'll see you no longer have a carryover," he affirmed. "But I made sure the exam officer cleared it personally in my presence."

I quickly ended the call and proceeded to check the portal, my fingers trembling with excitement. Upon seeing that I no longer had any carryover and would now be paying the next level's school fees, I couldn't control my joy. I let out a loud, continuous yell, and soon, my entire family gathered around me.

"Father!" I exclaimed, jumping up and down on the mattress, struggling to catch my breath. "I've passed the second level!" My joyous laughter echoed through the room, and I proudly displayed my zero carryover on the school portal for my mothers and siblings.

"You see," he began, "I want you all to be like my Amina." He said that and hugged me, his voice laced with pride as he told my siblings. The room erupted in a chorus of heartfelt applause and congratulations from everyone to me.