Manifesting To Be The Rich Man's Wife

15

Amina's POV🩶


My eyes slowly opened, and I was greeted by the soft morning sunlight filtering through the window. Last night, after returning home, I changed and collapsed into bed, drifting off to sleep in no time at all.

I glanced around, looking for my phone, which was nowhere around.

Where could it have ended up this time?

My hand roamed around the mattress, nudging my sister out of the way while she slept soundly, her snores resembling a hippo's grunts. Just as I expected, she had fallen asleep on it. Annoyed, I hissed loudly and turned it on.

Abbah's call appeared on my screen, like he was waiting for me to switch it on. I cleared my throat loudly to smooth out my groggy voice, as it tends to sound rougher in the morning. I got up and moved to the living room in search of some privacy before answering the call.

"Good morning!" his energetic voice chimed through the phone.

I smiled, warmly greeting him back. "Good morning."

He continued, his tone now glazed with concern: "You disappeared last night. I gave you time to celebrate the news with our family and then tried calling a few more times, but your phone was switched off. I became worried."

The word "our" struck a nerve in my mind, causing my smile to fade. I understand that Abbah is a kind man, but now, with Ibrahim's attempts at making amends for the past, the idea of "our" being a reality seems uncertain. My goal is clear: to become the wife of a rich man, but if a very rich man comes along, I will unquestionably choose him over the first. Moreover, it would be a foolish decision to ruin my life for an older man, even if he appears to be in good health. But for now, I would still keep him around. Just as the saying goes, a woman should never confine herself to one man until she marries. It is important to keep her options open, to keep searching, and to keep upgrading until she finds the man who truly captures her heart and aligns with her dreams for the future.

"Are you still there, Amina?" his voice inquired.

I paused, scratching the back of my head slowly while a soft hum escaped my lips. "It rained, so I slept." I sighed, pulling the phone away due to its persistent beeping. Once before me, I saw an unfamiliar number appearing on the screen.

"Oh, it rained here in Jigawa too," he remarked.

We conversed for almost thirty minutes, talking about his life, his family, work, and an array of topics. Then he announced, "I have to go to work now."

"So early?" I queried, glancing at the clock. It said 7:30 a.m.

"Yes, I believe work is a better option for me than living in an empty house, but you needn't worry. Once we get married and you move in with me, I'll start leaving home late like everyone else," he playfully mentioned.

For some enigmatic reason, an involuntary blush graced my cheeks.

"Okay, bye. Have a nice day," I responded quickly, not wanting to dive into that topic yet.

"Before we end the call, I'd like to know, when should I visit Kano? I'm eager to meet your family," he inquired.

"Patience is paramount. It's too soon to decide now. Let's first become familiar with one another," I responded.

"I've shared everything about myself with you. I don't want to unnecessarily extend the dating period. It's even impermissible in our religion," he asserted.

"Abbah," I mumbled softly, not particularly ready to discuss that at the moment. "Let's continue our conversation after you've closed for work. Take care." and I ended the call without waiting for his response.

"Oh, go to hell!" I cursed softly as the same number who repeatedly continued to barrage my phone while I was in the middle of a conversation with Abbah called again. I answered angrily, ranting,

"Am I supposed to pay back a debt? No? Did someone from my family pass away? No? Is this a bank scam? No? Why can't you wait until I'm done with my phone call before calling me again?"

"Who were you talking with?" I recognised the voice immediately. It is Ibrahim, his tone dripping with suspicion, self-importance, and arrogance. He has a knack for making my blood boil.

"Of course, it was you. May I know why you called? I told you already. I don't want anything to do with you anymore. You fired my father, so please, let's both respect ourselves and forget we ever met. For example, I'm ready to forget everything that happened between us in the past, including your disgusting offer. I will forget it all, but you should also respect yourself and leave me alone." I said. Although I want him, I won't let him have a clue. He must work for me and make me forgive him for all he did.

"I called to discuss your father's employment situation," he informed.

"What about that? You stated that he wouldn't find work in the country again. That's alright with me. Let us be and move on." I responded, my frustration rising.

His slightly raised tone sent a shiver down my spine, despite his absence. "Will you let me speak?"

"No," I retorted defiantly. "Who do you think you are, yelling at me, especially when it was you who wanted to speak and called?"

I heard him release a breath, and then he asserted, "I called to discuss something important."

I remained firm. "To apologise for all you did? No, I don't forgive you. Countless innocent women have suffered because of your actions. For their sake, there is no forgiveness."

"I should never have called you." He sounded mad and abruptly ended the call.

"Did I go overboard?" For a brief moment, I pondered whether I had acted excessively, but then I reminded myself that I wasn't the type to immediately surrender to my emotions. After all, he had wronged me, and it was only befitting that he should work hard to gain my forgiveness. But I still want him.

I strode out, my mind revitalised by the smell of rain lingering in the air, before reaching into the kitchen, where my stepmother was frying akara. The enticing fragrance wafting from the frying pan sizzling over a burning fire filled my nostrils, evoking a pleasant sense of happiness.

"Who are they for?" I inquired while stealing one directly from the already-fried batch. The scorching hot temperature failed to prevent me from eating it regardless.

She responded with a gracious smile, "These delectable treats are meant for your father and everyone else. Akara paired with Kunun tsamiya. The perfect combination in this refreshing weather." With her encouragement, I happily snatched another piece, savouring each bite.

"Aunt," I addressed her, because no one else can take my mother's place or name, though I still respect her a lot, even more than my mother's sister. While she gently flipped the akara in the frying pan, she hummed in response.

I pondered aloud, "It seems as if my father has become troubled lately. He always seems moody. Is everything alright at work?" My curiosity led me to inquire because I wanted to know his job situation and future plans.

She softly chuckled before revealing, "He recently lost his job, but earlier this morning, the company reached out and explained they made a mistake while assessing the employee's performance. They reviewed his activeness and sought him back immediately, even offering him a promotion. Now he has a whole department under his supervision." She squealed in delight, but I responded with a faint smile, still struggling to understand Ibrahim's intentions. Is he genuinely trying to reconcile, or does he have hidden motives? I wondered what his true objective was.

"I'm going to see my mom." Take care," I informed her, going out of the kitchen.

Was that the important thing he wanted to say earlier? He definitely expected that I would thank him.

I rolled my eyes. "Why should I thank him? My father earned that promotion fair and square." I mumbled, distracted by the thought. "It's not as if he's doing us a favour. My father has been one of his most loyal and oldest employees, yet because he has no regard for loyalty, without a second thought, he fired him."

***

I went to Zoya's house to share the news of my results, but before that, I decided to finish the meal she brought. They had prepared a delicious pounded yam with egusi soup, which was delectable as usual. This time, I got a refreshing, chilled Coke instead of the usual exotic drink to wash down the food in my throat.

"So Abbah," I began, narrating my previous encounter with him on the train, as I hadn't shared it with her yet. "He cleared my carryover, saving me from repeating the second class."

"What about mine? You know my matriculation number. Have you spoken to him about it as well?" she asked.

I responded with a forced smile, shaking my head slowly and shrugging as I replied, "I didn't want to unnecessarily burden the man."

"Of course," she said, her face turning serious and inscrutable. "So, what happened yesterday?" she reiterated. "It was Friday evening."

I beamed and shared all the details of my encounter with Ibrahim, remarking, "He came to Kano. He's not entirely terrible, just slightly egotistical, but I'll manage. We can maybe be togeth...."

Before I could finish my sentence, she interrupted me with a raised voice, exclaiming, "Are you serious? What are you high on?"

I looked at her, perplexed, and said, "What are you talking about? The man recognised his error and rectified it. Not only has he reinstated my father's position, but he has also offered a promotion."

"You're mistaken. He holds no affection or care for you, nor will he ever."

I let out a slow chuckle. "He clearly told me that he came to Kano for me. He joined me in the rain, accompanied me home, and returned my father's job. How can you deny such care?" I defended, adding, "In fact, he even called me earlier this morning. He has shown genuine interest."

With an insincere smile, she placed her hand on mine and said, "You're being delusional. I'm sorry, but you're far from being beautiful enough for him to do all this. I'm your best friend. Please be honest with me."

"Have it your way. I will definitely send the invitation to the wedding, and then you can determine for yourself whether I'm being delusional or exaggerating." I gently freed my hand from her grip, finishing up the final of my Coke. However, she pushed it away, causing the bottle to slip from my hand and clatter to the floor. As she continued her raving, I cast another glance her way.

"Ibrahim and I love each other. Do you understand? Let me clarify, what you perceive as concern on his part is just an effort to lure you into his desire because his heart only belongs to me, and I know for a fact because he has been with no other woman longer than I."

"Ah, finally, you've revealed the identity of your wealthy ex-boyfriend. At long last," I responded with a calm smile, still composed and at ease.

"Yes, it was Ibrahim," she confirmed, and I nodded thoughtfully.

"I'm glad you used the past tense because, currently, I am his present-day girlfriend. During your relationship, he imposed so many restrictions—no public exposure, don't do certain things, and so on. However, with me, he wasn't hesitant to flaunt our love in full view of the public. Has he ever taken you on a proper date out in the open?"

"Listen here, Amina. If you continue to provoke me, I promise you, I will not hesitate to inform your father about how a man cleared your carryover. Who knows what favours you offered in exchange? Maybe even yourself." Her tone was harsh as she spoke to me. I could hardly believe the change in her. My heart sank for a moment, but I shot back,

"Go ahead, try me. In return, I also promise to tell your father that you've been intimate with Ibrahim. Or did you not? I'm certain his departure was an outcome of you satisfying his desires. He no longer needed you because he got what he wanted."

"Amina!" she shrieked, her voice echoing with anger as she pointed a threatening finger at me.

"It would be wise if we both kept our secrets to ourselves. Fortunately, Abbah has not demanded anything in return for his help. Also, unlike you, I do not engage in intimate relations before marriage." I stated firmly.

"Ibrahim will leave you right where he found you. I'm warning you to stay away...."

"If you really love him like you claim, tell him to stay away from me, or else." I removed the friendship ring she had gifted me from my finger, holding it in my hand. I met her gaze and continued, "I will not hold his past against him, since I'm not a judge or jury."

In a sudden fit of anger, she pulled out the ring that I had given her, which symbolised our friendship, and hurled it towards me, but it missed me and instead landed beside me on the bed. I threw hers on the floor too.

"Also," I smiled weakly, "again, unlike you, I'm not the one following him. Rather, he's the one chasing me. Therefore, I am confident that our relationship has a strong foundation. This will mark my final visit here. Goodbye." With that, I stood up and strode away, leaving behind all the memories that we had ever shared.