Life Without You✔️.

31: From Different Eyes

Ayman's POV
Abuja, Nigeria.

Later that evening, As I drove back home. The sun was dipping, gold bleeding into the horizon like the pages of a forgotten du'a book. I clutched my phone tight.

I hadn't called him in weeks.

Didn't even know what I'd say. But my fingers dialed on their own.

It rang twice.

"Assalamu Alaikum Ayman" Yusuf's voice was alert. Serious. Like he already knew something was off.
"Wa'alaikumus salam," I said, voice low. "You free?" "Yeah I just got home. What's going on?"

And just like that, the floodgates opened.

I told him everything. The pregnancy, the miscarriage, the fear, Bilkisu's apology, her confession about the vitamins and the eating. I told him how Bibi had shown nothing but grace. How I felt like I was drowning in regret.

There was a long silence. Then... "Wallahi, I told you. Fayha told you multiple times she had complained and look where not listening has landed you."

I stayed quiet.

"I told you this would happen if you didn't slow down and think things through. A man with two households cannot afford to be careless, Ayman. Not with emotions, not with schedules, not with health. You married two women, not two dolls."

That one hit hard.

"You're not a tourist in either house, bro. You live in both. You breathe in both. That means equal mental presence not just money and time. And what's worse? You didn't listen."

I pressed the heel of my palm to my forehead.

"She lost a child, Ayman. Your child." Yusuf's voice cracked slightly. "Do you know how heavy that is? She's probably blaming herself. And now you're blaming yourself. And Bibi... Bibi's probably still trying to make herself smaller so she doesn't cause problems. Ya Allah..."

"I messed up," I whispered.

"You didn't mess up. You broke down. And now you rebuild."

He took a breath, more composed now.

"First, you need to make sure Bilkisu is occupied with something so she doesn't begin to over think things. And if it gets worse get her into therapy. Because she might need grief counseling and you do too. If she's carrying trauma, she can't just sweep it under the rug."

I nodded even though he couldn't see me.

"Second, go back to Bibi and check in on her. Not just 'how are you' and then bounce to Bilkisu. I mean really check. Sit with her. Speak to her like a human being not a burden. She didn't ask for this arrangement. She's been more patient than I think even you deserve."

I swallowed hard.

"And third, pick a side in your own heart."

"What do you mean?" I asked quietly.

"I mean stop playing referee between your guilt and your desires. Love both if you must, but don't let one woman carry all the hurt while the other carries all the reward. This isn't a game of favorites it's a contract. With Allah and with them."

Silence stretched again. "You still there?" he asked.

"Yeah," I said, my voice tight. "I hear you."

"Then act like it." He exhaled. "And Ayman, be kind. You're not the only one who's going through a lot." "Insha'Allah. Thank you I'll call you back with an update soon insha'Allah."

The door creaked as I stepped in. Bibi was already home.

She was kneeling on the prayer mat, whispering tasbih under her breath, her lips moving slowly, like every word was stitched with intention. Her back was straight. Composed. As if the chaos I'd caused had never reached this space.