ORNAMENTS ✅

Chapter Fifty Eight

Dasuki State, Nigeria

2023

All the color, excitement, and happiness drained from my face today. It was the last event, and I just wanted to get it over and done with.

I was already dressed in a perfectly sewn straight gown. My hair was gelled and neatly tied into a low ponytail, with the headtie revealing both the beginning and end of my hair—the ponytail.

The pictures and videography were still going on, but I couldn't even bring myself to smile. Not after what I'd realized yesterday. Not with the gnawing doubt I had about my husband possibly having blood on his hands. It's just a doubt, though. It's not true... right?

We got ready and shuffled toward the hall. Not a word was exchanged between us. Yazid and Anwar were in the car, one driving and the other in the passenger seat, teasing Nabeel about his wedding night.

The words "Wedding Night" lingered in my head, and I scoffed, turning their attention toward me. They thought I was excited, but it was definitely something else—not excitement. Would I really be shameless enough to show how excited I was? Not that I was, anyway, but even if I were, I wouldn't show it.

I'm not Nabeel. I'm his wife.

"Cover your hair," I heard Nabeel's voice, and from the tone, you could tell he wasn't asking, he was commanding. But since when have I ever been sweet and obedient? The answer: Since I left Marari.

"My makeup artist says I look gorgeous like this, and I like it this way. So, no," I said, defiantly.

"Fine. I have hands," he snapped, yanking the scarf off my gelled hair and trying to cover the ponytail. Then he untied my scarf entirely.

"You'll have to tie it back. I'm not attending my wedding with a loose scarf."

"It's better with a loose scarf than with my wife's hair on display. I'm kind of not okay with that."

"Aww, couple fights!" Anwar teased, earning a glare from Nabeel.

"Yazid, call someone from the event hall to fix her scarf," Nabeel ordered.

"I'll get it tied the way I want it. You messed it up, so I'll fix it the same way," I replied.

A smile crept across his face. He didn't say anything, but his expression spoke volumes.

Anwar and Yazid kept teasing Nabeel after Yazid made the call.

"Stop making me laugh. You're draining my energy, and I need that energy for later on." Oh, there it is—his shamelessness peeking through.

I rolled my eyes as we got out of the car. Nabeel pulled my hand, but I quickly pulled it away. Why is he acting like nothing happened yesterday? We have a lot to discuss, and I'm not just going to pretend everything's normal. He should know that.

As we walked toward the building, a group of girls came up to us. "Nabeel!" they squealed, excited. I just stood there, wondering, what do they want?

"Can we have a picture, please?" They begged, eyes wide with excitement.

"I don't see why not," Nabeel replied, posing for the pictures.

I didn't want to, I swear I didn't. But my legs betrayed me, moving toward the camera, and I shoved my head into the frame.

"I think I should be in the picture too," I said, pushing the girl whose shoulder was touching Nabeel aside, replacing her.

"Sure, why not," the girl grinned, not even bothered by my push—either because she didn't care, or because she decided to let it slide.

After they took the pictures, they moved away, and we continued toward the room where we'd meet the artist.

"Jealous, huh?" He asked grinning

"You wish," I replied, annoyed.

"You were," Nabeel stated firmly. "Don't worry. You're allowed. I'm all yours, after all."

I scoffed again. His dialogues? Not intriguing today. The butterflies? They finally died because, somehow, my trust in Nabeel was shaken. I didn't want to believe my husband could be a murderer, like the first one.

The artist began tying my headtie. "I don't want even a single strand of hair peeking out," Nabeel commanded, his tone serious.

The artist nodded curtly and continued tying the headtie. She didn't dare argue, not when Nabeel looked so determined.

We entered the hall and settled down. The event unfolded, but neither of us looked at each other with admiration like yesterday. Maybe it finally sank in.

"Please, Hajiya Nana Shamaki, come on stage and say a few words about the groom," the female MC announced.

Now, who let this woman be part of the speakers, and why? But if she says anything foolish, she'll embarrass herself, not me. And considering her public image, I doubted she'd risk it.

She walked to the stage, showing off just how powerful and rich she was, before grabbing the mic.

"Nabeel has always been close to our hearts. He's endearing," she began, then paused, looking me dead in the eyes. Her next words seemed aimed directly at me. "And I hope he finds happiness in the decision he's made."

She handed the mic back. Her words were clear: She hoped he wouldn't regret it. I rolled my eyes. Some people never change.

I didn't enjoy today's event. I was eagerly waiting for it to end, and when it finally did, we didn't exchange a single word on the drive home. The elders were supposed to speak with me, and then I'd be taken to my new home.

Now, about that. I had been giddy and desperate for the wedding to end so I could start my life with Nabeel. But as the day unfolded, I wasn't so sure anymore. I'd had so little time with Nini and Abba. I felt like I shouldn't go, but as the saying goes, bakin alkami ya bushe.

I was dressed in a laffaya lace, my face covered, sitting in front of Nini, Hajiya Kaka, and Aunty Nana.

"We don't need to tell you the basics of marriage—you already know them," Aunty Nana began. "I've never liked you, nor do I like you, but I can't deny that you'll be a good wife to Nabeel. The love he has for you is endless, at least to the best of my knowledge, and I'm sure you feel the same. I wish you a happy married life."

The tears I'd been fighting so hard to keep in began to fall. Aunty Nana had just said something nice to me. Seriously.

Hajiya Kaka did her usual nasiha, and everything started to make sense. I hugged Nini tightly, maybe tighter than I did at Sauban's funeral, and she whispered in my ear.

"Go. Go and find your happiness, the one you've been longing for. It's calling you. Take it."

She let go, and I was in the car with Zayyanah and Maria by my side, Samha in the passenger seat. The driver took us to the estate—my new home with Nabeel—our home.

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