Ties That Bind

EP8

The nikkah had been rushed, a necessity born out of the political chess game that Kabir and Fatima found themselves trapped in. There wasn't time for elaborate planning, nor room for personal sentiment.

Both families understood the stakes - this was a marriage not built on love or romance but on power, politics, and the need to secure alliances. The sooner the nikkah was over, the sooner they could move on to what really mattered: strategy.

The Balogun mansion was transformed quickly, dressed in understated elegance. Black and Emerald green decorations whispered of sophistication but lacked the usual exuberance of a lavish wedding. The garden, where the ceremony was held, was adorned with roses and lanterns, but everything felt hurried, as if the decor was just a formality rather than a celebration.

Chief Suleiman Balogun and Mrs. Mide Balogun sat in silence, both wrapped in an emerald green traditional attire. Alhaji Ahmad and his wife exchanged only polite smiles. There was no need for words - everyone present knew what this union meant, especially with the impending political storm. Kabir and Fatima were now bound together in a pact that extended far beyond the sacred vows they were about to exchange.

Kabir, dressed in black agbada with silver embroidery, stood waiting with calm resolve, though the weight of the moment was not lost on him. Fatima, dressed in a black and silver lace dress, approached the aisle with a composed exterior, but internally, she felt like she was walking into a game she barely understood. Her best friend, Beebah, whispered a few words of encouragement, but the whole affair felt like a necessary inconvenience rather than a celebration of union.

When the officiant recited the prayers, both Kabir and Fatima exchanged vows, their words spoken without hesitation but lacking the warmth one might expect. They were players in a larger game now, one where their marriage was just the first move on the board.

After the ceremony, the conveyance of the bride followed quickly. Fatima and Kabir rode in tense silence inside the sleek black Rolls-Royce, a reflection of the undercurrent that ran between them. The weight of her new reality, the expectations from both families, and the strategy that awaited them consumed her thoughts.

Kabir remained silent throughout, his attention focused outward as if already plotting their next move. The grand Balogun mansion loomed ahead, signaling the start of their new lives together.

But this wasn't about them anymore - it was about power, perception, and the battles that lay ahead.

The Rolls-Royce came to a stop in front of the grand house, a lavish gift from both families. As Kabir and Zara stepped out, the magnitude of their new home seemed to dwarf their recent hurried wedding.

Kabir led Zara through the expansive halls of the mansion, his manner brisk as he showed her around. “This is the master bedroom,” he said, opening the door to a room decorated in dark tones with accents of silver. “I hope you find it satisfactory.”

Zara walked in and glanced around, her expression shifting from curiosity to disapproval. “It’s not exactly my taste. The color scheme is... not my style at all. I’m definitely having it changed by tomorrow.”

Kabir’s eyes narrowed. “You plan to change it already? I thought we were trying to make this work without unnecessary fuss.”

Zara’s tone was firm. “Well, I don’t see why I should settle for something I don’t like. I'll be here for a god damned year so yeah, I’ll make sure this room reflects my preferences.”

Without another word, Kabir turned and started walking out. Zara, taken aback by his abrupt departure, called after him, “Hey, I was still talking!”

Kabir paused briefly at the door, his back still turned. “You weren’t talking to me. Besides, I have strategies to plan and a lot on my plate. I can’t listen to every complaint, especially not on the first night... or even the first week.” He gave a half-smile and a wink over his shoulder. “You’ll have to get used to it.”

Zara’s frustration boiled over as she watched him walk away. “Brat,” she muttered under her breath. The sound of his footsteps fading down the hallway only heightened her sense of isolation.

She stood in the middle of the room, her irritation palpable. The lavish decor felt even more stifling now, a symbol of the new reality she was being thrust into. The house, while magnificent, felt like a stage for the conflicts that were sure to unfold.