Life Without You✔️.

22: The Moment Before The Storm

WARNING: This chapter contains multiple point of views.You may proceed.

Bibi's POV
Abuja, Nigeria.

A month had crawled by since the court hearing, and even though life was supposed to feel lighter At home, the weight was crushing.

I had started getting along with my step-siblings. We had a picnic last week with the three of them again. Alhamdulillah, small blessings.

But here? In this cold house? It was just Ayman and me strangers stitched together by a contract, nothing more.
Even though we weren't on speaking terms, he still ate the meals I cooked. It became our only form of communication.

Breakfast, lunch, dinner plates between us, knives and forks clinking on china the only sound that echoed through the house. No words. No glances. Just the mechanical sound of cutlery scraping plates, and two people pretending to exist side by side.

And honestly? That was the only time we could tolerate being in the same room without exploding. This morning felt like every other. I made breakfast because well, habit.
He sat at the far end of the table, scrolling through his phone, probably texting her.

He barely looked up as he ate. Not a thank you. Not a compliment. Nothing. After a few minutes, he stood, tossing the napkin onto the table lazily.

"I'm going out," he said bluntly. I didn't bother asking where. I just didn't care.

Still, something inside me maybe stubbornness, maybe pride made me call out, "I want to go over to Mama's for the day." He stopped. His jaw clenched. "No," he said.
Just like that. Final. No discussion.

"I wasn't really asking," I said, standing up too, meeting his eyes squarely. "I was informing you." He shouldn't even start this authority thing because let's be honest it's not like he's playing his role as a husband properly so he shouldn't do so with me over my rights what I can do and where I can go is none of his business and I am definitely not keeping quiet about it.

His eyes darkened immediately, his whole posture stiffening. "Don't you ever dare talk to me like that," he said, voice low and dangerous. "I tolerated your insolence before we got married, but now? Don't even think you can get away with it. I will fix this attitude for you."

I let out a bitter laugh cold and sharp. "Fix me?" I said, my voice dripping with disdain. "The only thing broken here is you, Ayman. And not even your precious Bilkisu can fix that." That was it. His whole body tensed, like a bomb seconds before detonation.

In one heartbeat, he closed the distance between us. His hand shot up quick, angry. My body flinched instinctively, heart hammering in terror. But he stopped himself. Hand frozen mid-air.

A beat passed. Then he dropped it. Without apology. Without guilt on his face. Just a small flicker of something discomfort maybe before he turned away, muttering under his breath.

I stared at him for a long moment, heart still racing, chest heaving from the adrenaline of it all. He had really almost hit me. And the worst part? He didn't even look sorry.
Without saying another word, I turned around calmly, grabbed my bag from the side table, and walked towards the door.

Every step I took felt heavy, but I kept my head high.
I wouldn't give him the satisfaction of seeing me crumble.
As I reached the door, I paused just for a second and without even looking back, I said quietly,
"You lost the right to fix anything about me the moment you decided I was a burden. And I promise you, the next time you do ever as raise your hand again with the intention to slap or hit me, then hope to God you live to see the light of day." I said calmly