MINE (EDITING)

Chapter 39

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A few weeks later, things took a dramatic turn. Muhammad was supposed to be spending the night at Juwairah's house, but everything felt different now. He had arrived and was in the bathroom, getting ready for bed, while Juwairah sat in the room on the phone with her friend Safs.

"Juju, did you place it where Mallam told you to?" Safs asked, her voice urgent.

"Yes, Saf, I placed it on top of the AC," Juwairah replied, her voice laced with impatience.

"Okay, did you get his boxers? You know he said to bring it to him," Safs pressed.

Juwairah sighed in frustration. "Saf, where am I going to get his boxers?"

"Juju, you're acting dumb! You're his wife, think of something, please!" Safs urged.

Juwairah hesitated, feeling the weight of the situation. "Okay, okay, I will. But Saf, I still feel somehow. What if Muhammad finally wants to sleep with me, and he sees that I'm deflowered? What will he say?"

"He won't know if the charm works, all he'll think about is how much he needs and wants you," Safs assured her. "Just get his boxers, that's the last thing before the charm starts working."

Juwairah nodded slowly, her thoughts swirling. "Okay, I'll get it, inshallah. He'll hate her and love me, inshallah. That charm must work."

"That's the spirit, girl! Have faith in yourself—Muhammad is already yours," Safs said, her voice full of conviction.

Juwairah smiled weakly. "Kai, Saf, wallahi, I owe you big time. Thank you so much." She ended the call, then picked up her phone again to call her mother. She needed to share everything that was going on with her, hoping for some kind of reassurance.

Just as she hung up with Aunt Muneera, she turned around to find Muhammad standing in the doorway, his face twisted with pure anger and disgust. His presence felt like a slap to her heart.

"Y-ya Muhammad," Juwairah stammered, her heart racing.

"Don't even start," he cut her off, his voice icy.

"I can explain, please," she pleaded, her voice wavering with fear.

"I said I don't want to hear anything from you. Keep your dirty mouth shut." He glared at her, his disgust evident.

Juwairah's heart sank as she saw the look in his eyes. "Me, Muhammad Ibrahim Yerima, divorce you, Juwairah Abdullahi Wakili, three times," he declared coldly.

Juwairah's breath caught in her throat as she shrieked, "Ya Muhammad, Dan Allah ka rufa mun asiri! Na shiga uku."

"Rufin asiri? Juwairah, I cannot just leave a person who has committed not one, but two unforgivable sins," he continued, his voice bitter. "I want you out of my house first thing tomorrow morning."

His words hit her like a punch to the gut. She stood frozen, her mind reeling, as he turned on his heel and walked out of the house.

Muhammad was seething as he walked to Layla's house, his heart heavy with betrayal and anger. He entered her room, found her lounging on the bed, watching something on her laptop. Her eyes met his, and she immediately noticed the storm brewing in his expression.

"Babe, what's wrong?" she asked, concern flooding her voice as she sat up, her attention fully on him.

"I'll explain tomorrow," he muttered, exhaustion lining his face. "I'm so tired right now, I just want to sleep it off."

Layla raised an eyebrow, confused by his sudden shift in mood, but she didn't press him. "Okay, but aren't you supposed to be with Juwairah tonight?"

Muhammad's frustration spilled over as he dragged the duvet over the bed. "I'm not sleeping in her house. She's not my wife anymore. Not after everything that just happened."