Love And Revenge✔️

Twelve

"Momi, have you two spoken about your marriage?" she asked—for the sixth time today.

"No, we haven't," he replied, eyes still on the road. "And I don't think I want to."

"You have to." She adjusted her hijab and leaned back. "The wedding is approaching fast. You two only have a month left, and I've already started helping with the preparations."

She set her phone on the dashboard.

"Mami, don't keep it there. It's not safe."

"Fine," she muttered, picking it up. "Since I'm going to see her aunt, I want you to talk to her before you leave."

"I'll try." He exhaled. "Where is the wedding going to be? Here in Kaduna?"

"And in Abuja," she answered casually.

He turned to look at her. "Mami, I can't travel to Abuja in three days. What are the events supposed to be?"

She shot him a knowing look. "My son, you think I don't know you? Just stay in Kaduna. We're having the bridal shower in Abuja, and the dinner here in Kaduna."

Of course she understood him.
He didn't like moving around too much, didn't enjoy attention. But he knew he had no choice—she was Ali Bature's daughter, and he was Ibrahim Maitama's son. Certain things were expected.

"I just want you two to talk," Momi continued. "Sort things out with each other. Your father never got a second wife because he knew from the beginning that he loved me. And I know you—if you and Rumaisa still hate each other after marriage, you'll end up taking another wife just so that when you two fight, you'll have someone else to comfort you."

He sighed deeply.

"I know I can't change your father's mind," she added, "but maybe I can at least persuade yours."

"And what if mine doesn't want to be persuaded?"

"Ubanka, it will," she said confidently.

He burst out laughing.
"Maybe I really need to get married."

"Why?" she asked, suspicious.

"So I can stop telling people I live with my parents."

She clicked her tongue. "You know I just want you close."

"And after me, Fatima and Salis will also leave soon."

"Exactly." Then she looked at him sharply. "Now remove those glasses. You can't go there looking like a blind man."

"Momi, don't you think I should look good for my bride?"

"And that looks good?" she scoffed. "The youth these days."

"I don't think a 33‑year‑old qualifies as 'youth,'" he muttered.

"To me, you are," she said firmly. "You've even gotten skinny."

He parked the car and unbuckled his seatbelt.
"We're here," he said quickly, eager to end the conversation. "Let's go in."

•

The living room was quiet, almost unbearably so. Rumaisa sat on the couch, hands folded tightly on her lap, while Fuad stared at the floor, his mind a whirlwind. Sarah's words kept replaying in his head, each one sharper than the last. He knew she had done it—not out of malice, not because she hated Rumaisa, but because she had been naive, reckless. It wasn't an excuse, but he couldn't bring himself to hate her for it. Not entirely. And he certainly couldn't let Rumaisa know the full truth—not yet. That would hurt her more than it had to.