Life Without You✔️.

37: The Third Wheel

Ayman's POV
Abuja, Nigeria.

I got to Bilkisu's place just after Asr. She'd already prepared dinner—tuwo with miyan kuka, her comfort food. The aroma hit me the moment I walked in, and for a second, everything felt simple. She smiled when she saw me. It wasn't wide or overly bright—just soft, like it carried a thousand unspoken things.

"Sannu da dawowa. Welcome back," she greeted.

I matched her smile and leaned in to kiss her cheek. "Thank you, habibty. I'm sure you missed me," I teased, dropping my bag near the entrance. Her cheeks warmed slightly and she nodded. I laughed, holding her hand as we walked in further.

"I like this new incense you're burning. It's really nice," I added. "I opened it this morning. Thought I'd try it. I'm glad you like it," she replied, glancing over her shoulder.

We sat at the dinning table and ate quietly, but it wasn't awkward. After dinner, her maid cleared the table while we headed upstairs to watch a show she'd been raving about. She leaned into me, and I held her, her fingers drawing lazy circles on my wrist. It was familiar... warm. But not quite whole.

I stepped out for Maghrib, and on my way back, my phone rang. It was Bibi. I picked up right away.

"Assalamu Alaikum, are you missing me already?" I teased. She laughed. "Wa'alaikumus Salam. No, I called for something else." Her voice had this brightness—excited, almost breathless.

"I got accepted," she said. "I just opened the letter!"
My chest swelled instantly. "Mashaa Allah. Congratulations, Bibi. Allah ya bada sa'a. I know you'll ace this just like you did your bachelor's," I said, stepping into the house and settling into one of the chairs.

We spoke for another minute or so before I ended the call. What I didn't notice was Bilkisu standing silently at the doorway.
She didn't say anything. Just turned and walked away.

At this point, wallahi, I don't even know what her problem is. I don't even remember who's older between her and Bibi anymore. Sighing, and already feeling a headache creep in, I followed her upstairs.

So much for hoping she'd give it a rest for these next three days.

When I got to the bedroom, the warmth from earlier had disappeared. She was sitting on her side of the bed, typing furiously into her phone.

"Bilkisu," I called, but she ignored me.

"Haba, Babyn Ayman," I teased, sitting beside her and lifting her chin gently. "She only called to tell me she got accepted for her master's. I was just congratulating her—same way I'd congratulate you. Don't let these things bother you."

She finally nodded, but the softness from earlier didn't return. We finished the night as if nothing had happened, but I could feel the shift.

The next morning, breakfast was already set when I came down. I was getting dressed when I saw her arranging a few shoe options for me.

"Good morning. How did my beautiful wife sleep?" I asked, hugging her from behind. She smiled. "Good morning, baby. Breakfast is downstairs—or do you want it up here?" "No need. I'm headed down anyway," I replied, kissing her cheek. "You look beautiful."

We ate together, mostly in silence but with ease. As I sipped my coffee, she said, "Ayman, I want to visit my parents this afternoon, insha'Allah."

"Can you wait until I'm back from work? We'll go together." She nodded, and I finished breakfast and left.

After work, I drove home. And as expected, she was ready. "I'll just change quickly and we'll head out, koh?" I said. "I brought out a matching kaftan for you. It's already on the bed," she called from the living room.

I laughed. This girl and her obsession with matching outfits.

We made it to her parents' place in less than twenty minutes. She was so excited, she didn't even wait for me to turn off the engine before running to the door. And it's funny because she visits every other week.

By the time I got inside, she was already wrapped in her mum's arms. Perks of being the last born.

"Inna wuni, good evening Mama," I greeted, crouching beside them.

"Lafiya lau, I'm fine Ayman. How have you been fairing with this ball of energy?" she asked, chuckling.

"Haba, Mama," Bilkisu pouted.

"Alhamdulillah. Sai hakuri, I'm managing. I said with a smile. "Your father just went to his study. Go, he's expecting you," Mama told her. We made our way to the study. She knocked gently, opened the door, and ran in.

"Baba!" she squealed, hugging him.

He laughed, wrapping his arms around her. The love was obvious. She's his only daughter, the youngest of three, and both her older brothers spoil her endlessly. That's why she's used to always getting her way.

"Sannu, Baba. Inna wuni, good evening." I greeted.

"Lafiya lau, Alhamdulillah. How are you doing?" "Alhamdulillah Baba." We spoke for about ten minutes before I told her I'd return after Isha to pick her. I had a few errands to run.

I made a quick stop at a flower shop. Ordered two bouquets. One for Bilkisu. One for Bibi. I had Bibi's delivered with a note saying, Congratulations. I'm proud of you.

Then I drove to Muhsin's to drop off some documents, and we prayed Maghrib together before I returned for Bilkisu. The call for Isha rang out just as I arrived, so I walked to the mosque and prayed with her dad.

On our way back, he said, "I hope Bilkisu isn't giving you much trouble?" I chuckled. "Not at all, Baba." "Tell me if she does. She tends to go overboard."

"Insha'Allah."
When he got in her father sent for her and she appeared with a box "You and clothes, Bilkisu," I muttered. "Don't judge me. I love fashion," she said, playfully hitting my shoulder. We said our goodbyes and walked to our car.

In the car, I gave her the flowers. "For you, habibty. Thank you for standing by me, despite everything. I love you." I said leaning down to kiss her on the forehead.
Aww, thank you so much, Ayman. I love you too." She pouted.

The drive home was calm. No tension. I was starting to hope she was finally beginning to understand where I was coming from.

When we got home, I headed up for a quick shower. But when I came back, something was off. Her mood had flipped again.

"What's wrong?" I asked. "Nothing," she said, brushing me off.

I didn't push. I grabbed a bottle of water from the kitchen. That's when it hit me, I hadn't heard from Bibi. I'd asked her to keep her phone nearby for a delivery. But there'd been no confirmation.

I returned to the sitting room an I checked my phone on the sitting room table. She had replied but the message was already opened.

Only one person could've seen it.

I turned back to Bilkisu. "Why are you doing this?"

"What did I do Ayman?"

"Stop lying to me." I kept my voice calm, but firm. "You saw the message from Bibi and now you're upset again. She's my wife too. Whatever I do for you, I'll do for her."

I paused, letting the words sink in.

"She's not disturbing you. She's minding her business. It's you who's letting her live rent-free in your head."

She blinked, clearly stunned by my tone.

"I just want peace. For all of us. Please, Bilkisu. Let it go. Focus on yourself."

She didn't reply. She just stood up and left the room. So much for a drama free three days stay.

السلام عليكم
Omo this Bilkisu is stressing me o😭 I'm tired of this her small small drama pesin wey suppose dey complain nobi she dey complain o😂 Anyways they all warned Ayman but he refused to listen it's his wahala now 😂😂👩🏽‍🦯.

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