I WANT TO SEE COMMENTS!!!
Lagos, Nigeria.
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Aslam arrived home after what felt like a never-ending day. His elbow throbbed slightly from the sprain, and all he wanted was to rest and see Amna. He missed her, especially after spending most of the evening away. As he stepped into the house, he found her cuddle up on the couch.
"Hey, how's your headache?" he said softly, sitting next to her on the couch.
Amna glanced at him briefly, her lips tight, before sitting up and pouring some water into a small glass and handing it to him with a couple of pills from the side table. "Take your medication," she said flatly, not making eye contact.
Aslam raised an eyebrow, sensing the attitude. He took the pills and water from her hand, caressing her finger lightly with his thumb, but she pulled away. "Is everything okay?" he asked cautiously.
She crossed her arms, avoiding his gaze. "Just go back to her."
"What are you talking about?" His brows furrowed, genuinely confused. "Who?"
Amna rolled her eyes and took her phone from the coffee table, walking toward their bedroom. "The lady in the purple dress you were smiling at and talking to at the Polo Club. You seemed to be enjoying yourself, I hope kunji dadin ku after I left."
His jaw dropped and it hit him at that point- did she see him talking to the woman whose name he didn't even know? but instead of feeling defensive or upset, Aslam almost smiled. She was jealous. And he liked it. The possessiveness- though her pride wouldn't let her admit it easily. He was about to tease her, to say something to melt the ice, but before he could, she walked into their room and slammed the door.
"Amna, are you serious? You think—"
The door clicked locked and Aslam stood there for a moment, stunned by the abruptness of it all before he stifled a laugh after the shock wore off, she couldn't be for real, he thought. He walked over and gently knocked at the door.
"Amna, open the door," he called softly. There was no response.
He knocked again. "Amna, come on, don't lock me out like this."
"Ohhh, Amna koh? Because ka samu Lagos baddie koh?" She shouted back from the room.
"Nooo, babeee, babyyy, my queen... please open the door," he said. "Come on, this is ridiculous." He knocked again. "Please."
"You know what's ridiculous? Smiling at another womannnn!" She shot back.
"Very foolish on my part, I agree, pleaseee, open the door, will you?" He pleaded.
Silence.
Inside the room, Amna had propped herself up against the pillows, and decided to even put on headphones and continued watching Emily in Paris on Netflix. She heard his knocks but ignored them. It was petty, and she knew it, but there was something satisfying about making him plead and wait, he needed to learn the lesson. Eventually he retreated from the door and there was silence but the longer the time stretched on, the harder it became to ignore the guilt creeping in especially because of his sprained elbow, and the idea of him lying uncomfortably on the couch all night worried her, he could sleep in any of the other rooms but she knew him well, he'd sleep on the couch.
After finishing a couple of episodes, Amna slowly took off her headphones. The apartment was quiet now—too quiet. She assumed Aslam had fallen asleep, and a small pang of guilt fluttered in her chest. She waited a few more minutes, then slipped out of bed, carefully unlocking the door. She tiptoed toward the living room, her heart beating a little faster with each step and peeped first at the couch, which was backing her and there he was, lying on his back, eyes closed.
