Life Of Imani

chapter 22

Later that evening, Nassim came back to his parents’ house to pick Iman up. His mother, Mami, met him at the door, her expression firm but concerned. As he stepped inside, she gave him a pointed look.

“Nassim, you need to be kinder to her,” Mami began in a serious tone. “I know this marriage isn’t what you wanted, but she’s your wife now. You can’t treat her with coldness and anger forever. She’s already suffering, and that’s not how you should behave.”

Nassim shifted uncomfortably, his face still cold, but he didn’t argue. “Insha Allah, Mami,” he replied, his tone neutral. He wasn’t making any promises, but he wasn’t outright dismissing her either.

Mami sighed, knowing her son’s stubbornness, but she hoped her words would sink in eventually. She sent a maid to fetch Iman.

A few moments later, Iman came down the stairs. She moved carefully, the bandage on her head still visible beneath the veil she wore. Her long, curly hair peeked out from the edges of her scarf, and she looked both tired and hesitant.

Nassim didn’t even look at her as she approached. Instead, he simply said, "Sai da safe," to his parents, not bothering to wait for Iman as he stepped outside.

Mami shook her head in disappointment at Nassim’s behavior. Iman, though, smiled politely at her in-laws, trying to mask the discomfort she felt.

"Sai da safe Ku," Iman said, offering her goodnight in Hausa. "Sannu Ina Ko, Allah ya kara lafiya," she added, wishing them well with genuine kindness.

Mami placed a gentle hand on Iman’s shoulder, stopping her for a moment. “Come here, Iman,” she said softly. “You need to be patient with him, ko? He is difficult, but you must do everything he asks of you. It’s the only way things will calm down.”

Iman nodded, understanding the advice, though it made her feel uneasy. She appreciated Mami’s kindness, but it was hard to imagine always having to bend to Nassim’s will.

Khadija, who had been standing nearby, smiled at Iman and escorted her to the door. She helped Iman into the car, carefully, given her injury. “Nassim,” Khadija called out to her brother, who was already sitting in the driver’s seat, absorbed in his phone. “Bring her to my house next week.”

Nassim barely acknowledged her, his eyes still glued to his phone. He nodded absentmindedly.

“Nassim!” Khadija shouted, snapping him out of his distraction.

He finally looked up at her, confused. “Naam, Adda?” he asked, referring to his older sister.

“Bring her next week, kaji ne ko? Don’t forget.”

“Yess, Adda,” he replied, though his voice lacked any enthusiasm.

Iman closed the car door behind her, glancing at Khadija one last time. “Good night,” she whispered under her breath, though no one seemed to hear her.

The ride back to the mansion was silent, as always. Nassim didn’t speak a word, his attention back on his phone, while Iman sat quietly, staring out the window. The tension between them was thick, but there was nothing she could do about it for now.

Before they reached home, Nassim made a stop at the 4U supermarket. As they approached, he glanced at Iman and said, “Fix your veil before you come out,” heading toward the store entrance.

Iman, adjusting her veil and wincing from the pain of the bandage on her head, replied, “The bandage yana mun ciwo” (The bandage is hurting me).

Nassim glanced back briefly. “Fine, whatever,” he said dismissively. Iman stepped out of the car, and as she did, a flash of a camera went off. A photographer had taken a picture of her, causing her to hiss in annoyance. She walked over to Nassim’s side and took his hand.

“What’s wrong now?” Nassim asked, still absorbed in his phone.

“Paparazzi are here. If you want to end up on a blog saying that the almighty Nassim Kassim doesn’t love his wife, what do you think your clients will think?” she said, trying to make her point.

“Well, first I don’t love my wife,” Nassim said, his tone still cold. “But I guess you’re right.”

Iman hissed under her breath, frustrated by his indifference, but followed him into the supermarket, hand in hand.

Inside, Nassim grabbed a cart and told Iman, “Pick what you need.”

Iman took the opportunity to buy some hair care products and personal hygiene items that were running low. She also selected various snacks, including chips, cookies, chocolate bars, and soda. Nassim seemed disinterested, occasionally glancing at his phone as she made her choices.

“Don’t you eat snacks?” he asked, somewhat detached.

“Pick, pick,” he urged her.

After they paid, they headed to the slush side of the store. Iman chose a couple of slushes, and they made their way back to the car, which was swarming with paparazzi. Nassim opened the door for Iman and then the boot, helping to load the items into the car before getting in and driving off.

As they approached the estate gate, Nassim took a turn in the opposite direction. “Are we not going home?” Iman asked, puzzled.

“No, my office,” Nassim replied coldly.

He instructed her to stay in the car as he entered the tall glass building. Iman, feeling a bit bored, started scrolling through TikTok. She recorded a quick lip-sync video to a popular sound, just as Nassim returned to the car.

Nassim saw her video and, with an amused expression, pulled out his phone to take a video of her. “Miki kaiyi,” he said, laughing, and he started to take a  video of her.

Iman stopped her recording and saved it in her drafts, feeling slightly embarrassed. “TikTok,” she muttered with a frown.

Nassim laughed, and it was the first time she’d heard him genuinely laugh. It was actually quite charming. “What?” Iman asked, surprised.

“Nothing,” he said, stopping the video and posting it to his Instagram story.

They drove back to the house in relative silence. When they arrived, Nassim went straight to his office, kicking the door open with frustration. He later went to the kitchen to get a cup of water.

Iman, feeling exhausted, prayed Isha in the living room and then fell asleep on the couch while watching TV. The day had been long and filled with a mix of irritation and unexpected moments, and she needed rest.