LOVE, BATOUL

9

Assalamu Alaikum my lovelies! Hope y'all are doing well? Ya ruwa? Ya protest? Hope y'all are staying safe.

Is it only me or it feels like Covid days? 😥 Inshallah it shall be well🥰

A chapter full of Bashir and Batoul's lovey dovey 🥰

Major Bashir dialed the number again, his impatience growing. When the person on the other end finally picked up, he barked out his order. "Mansur, I need you to pick up my wife from the hospital immediately."

As he turned the key in the ignition and reversed out of the driveway, Mansur's professional tone came through the line. "Yes, sir!"

But Mansur knew better than to take the 'please' in his boss's request at face value. In the army, 'Hurry' was a command, not a suggestion. As he grabbed the car keys from the desk, he muttered under his breath, "Oga doesn't joke with his wife, I'd better move fast."

As Bashir navigated the chaotic streets of Abuja, his mind wandered back to his wife, his thoughts consumed by her. Earlier, her call had lit up his screen, and a broad smile had spread across his face as he answered. But his joy was short-lived, as he quickly sensed a hint of distress in her voice. And when her words began to tremble, his composure nearly cracked, threatening to unravel his carefully controlled exterior.

Bashir floored it, racing towards Farouk's house with a sense of urgency, the distance stretching out before him like an eternity. His mind was fixated on enveloping his wife in a protective embrace, on coaxing out the secrets that had shattered her composure. Fatimè, his rock, his pillar of strength, rarely succumbed to tears – and that realization only fueled his anxiety.

Forty-five agonizing minutes later, he screeched to a halt in front of Farouk's house, his tires protesting the abrupt stop. As he killed the engine, his gaze darted to the parking lot, where his second car sat, a reassuring sign that Mansur had safely transported Batoul to her sister's haven. Mansur, ever vigilant, emerged from the driver's seat, his salute crisp and precise. "Sir."

Bashir's deep voice was laced with a hint of gravel as he demanded, "How long have you been here?"

Mansur's response was prompt, "Approximately twenty minutes, sir. I awaited your arrival to retrieve Madam's car from the hospital, as commanded."

Bashir nodded, giving Mansur the go-ahead to get the car, walking towards the entrance of the house. He rang the bell twice before it was opened by Maijiddah.

"Jabbama Major angon Doctor." She said with a teasing smile.

"Mama Jiddus." Bashir gave Maijiddah a polite smile in return. "Where are my girls?" He asked, following her into the living room.

"Both your girls are in a foul mood today, thankfully one is asleep so we only have the big baby to deal with."

Bashir chuckled as he took a seat on the couch, so eager to ask about his wife. "Where is she?"

Maijiddah smiled and shook her head. "She's in the room, Let me go and call her."

Bashir, lost in his thoughts wondering what could make his wife cry, didn't even notice she had walked into the room. Her familiar scent of Bakhoor and Patchouli made her presence known to him before he even saw her.

"Assalamu Alaikum. Sannu da zuwa." Batoul greeted in a low voice.

Bashir's deep voice soothed her as he returned her salam, his large hands enveloping hers as he guided her to the couch. "Fatimè, how are you, my love?" He asked, his eyes locked on hers with tender concern. As they sat, Batoul's fragile composure crumbled, and a shaky breath escaped her lips. The day's events came flooding back, like a tidal wave crashing against the shores of her heart.