The Price Of Revenge

Eleven

Flashback.

Mutassim was seated in his parlor, cradling his one-year-old son, Abdulwahab, when his phone buzzed.

He hesitated, not wanting to answer, but he knew ignoring the call would only upset her.

"Hey... what's up?" he said quietly.

"I... we need to talk," she said, her voice tight. "I don't think this can go on anymore."

Mutassim's brow furrowed, a flicker of agitation crossing his face.

"Wait... what? What are you talking about?"

"I... I don't like this, Mutassim. I don't like how things are between us. It's... it's too much."

He ran a hand through his hair, trying to remain calm.

"Look, okay. Just calm down. What happened? What's wrong?"

"It's not about something that happened. It's... it's just that we need to talk. Seriously, we need to talk."

"So... you mean you want to end this?"

She stayed quiet for a moment, and the silence spoke louder than words.

"Fine," he said, taking a deep breath. "I'll come and see you as soon as I can. You know I'm busy right now."

"I understand," she said, her voice softening slightly. "Which is why we need to have this conversation. I just... I don't think I can do this anymore."

"Okay, okay. Just calm down. We'll talk. Everything will be fine."

She exhaled shakily.

"I hope so."

Mutassim shifted Abdulwahab in his arms, glancing down at his son before looking back at the phone.

"Alright. I'll make time this weekend. We'll talk properly, face to face. Just... don't decide anything now, okay?"

She hesitated before answering.

"Okay. I'll wait."

"Good. I'll see you soon."

The tension remained unspoken as Mutassim ended the call and tried to refocus on his son.

Madina walked into the room and raised an eyebrow.

"Who was that? Dr. Jibril again? Tell him to let you spend time with your family!"

"You know I'd love that more than anything, but work is work," he replied with a small smile.

A message notification appeared on his phone.

"Yeah, he just texted me. But what would I do without him?" Mutassim said, referring to someone else entirely.

"Abba, can I go to Aunty Saffiya's house tomorrow after school?" Nabila asked, her eyes bright with hope.

"Why not during the weekend? I'll be going to Kaduna with her husband. You all can visit then, your mother too," he suggested.

"But I'll be busy," Madina protested.

"You need to rest too," he replied firmly, smiling at her stubborn little frown.

•

Present time.

The underground parking lot was quiet, the kind of silence that made everything feel heavier.

Mutassim sat in his car, his fingers tapping against the steering wheel as he checked the time for what felt like the fifth time that minute.

His chest felt tight.