*720 hours later, Afrah had drawn up a schedule which detailed every single detail of how Adnan spent his day. 4:50am - Wakes up from sleep. 4:55am - Slides off the bed after staring at the wall for five minutes straight. 5:00am - Sneaks into Afrah's room and wakes her up for Fajr. 5:00:44am - Kisses Afrah on the forehead. 5:10am - Prays Fajr with Afrah behind him. 5:20am - Showers and gets ready for work.5:30am - Sits on the balcony and reads until the sun rises. 6:30am - Has breakfast with Afrah while holding her hand 7:00am - Stands on porch and kisses Afrah on the forehead again. Waves goodbye before leaving. 1:00pm - Calls Afrah to ask what she's up to. 4:00pm - Calls Afrah to ask if she wants him to get anything on his way back. 4:01pm - Asks if she's sure she doesn't want anything. 5:30pm - Drives into the house. 5:31pm - Opens the front door, says "Assalamu alaikum" before yelling "Marco!" 5:31:23pm - Smiles when Afrah replies "Polo!"5:32pm - Follows the sound
*Afrah almost moved into the new painting room. Almost. If it weren't for the fact that it was too far away from Adnan's room, she would have done so. But for now, her choice of where to sleep remained unchanged. Most days however, she would sit in the room, occasionally staring at the backyard for hours on end. It soon became her dining room/study/sanctuary. She had brought a few books into the room, and she read them usually with a cup of coffee beside her and a bowl of noodles. The view was great, and Adnan had started a small garden beside the wall, where he kept several potted plants whose names Afrah didn't know. He watered them everyday before leaving for work, and he instructed Aliyu - the new security guard they'd hired - to water them in the afternoons. Mostly though, Afrah stared at the blank canvases and the paint brushes. The first day after Adnan showed her the room, she had spent hours running her fingers over the brushes and smiling like a little girl. She picked
*They left on a Sunday, buoyant smiles on their faces and fingers interlaced throughout. Nnamdi Azikiwe International Airport was fairly busy that day, and in the sea of ordinary humans, the two were soon lost. With the prospect of over twenty hours together, the journey seemed like it would be an aggravating one. But they enjoyed each other's company, and they had a four-hour layover in Istanbul so at least they wouldn't be crammed in the plane too long. "It's going to be cold in New York this time of year," Adnan told her the night before. "Keep a sweater at hand."Their packing had been minimal. Seeing as they would be spending the next few weeks traveling all around the world, it didn't make sense to pack so many clothes. Besides, the climates were much different and what might be perfect for one would become absolutely horrendous for another. Imagine wearing a coat in the Mediterranean. They would buy their clothes along the way. The decision had been made unanimously. Th
*Their suite was on the fifth floor, with a large living area and a small bar off to the right. The sight baffled Afrah, until a closer look revealed that all the drinks were nonalcoholic. Adnan had called ahead to request that the room be 'sanitized'. Their room was airier than Afrah had imagined it would be. It was off in the hallway to the left, with tall windows which afforded an alluring view of 57th street below. The bed was king-sized, gigantic and right in the middle of the room. There was a private terrace, with an indoor jacuzzi, an en-suite bathroom and a plush grey rug which covered the length of the room. A faint scent of pine hung over the room, its source untraceable. "That is the most beautiful sight in all of existence," Adnan sighed behind her."I know you're not talking about me," she laughed. "Would you please move?" He playfully shoved her aside. "You're blocking the love of my life."Afrah clutched her sight, laughing at the sight of Adnan as he ran into the
*They headed to the McDonald's on 3rd Avenue, just two blocks away. Adnan ordered a 'Double Pounder with Cheese Deluxe', while Afrah ordered the 'Quarter Pounder'. They also got 'Hot Caramel Sundaes' to go with the burgers, and a side of fries. "You should have gone for a 'Big Mac'," he said, eyeing her 'Quarter Pounder' with a look of disdain. "Don't trash-talk my burger," Afrah said as she took a bite. "You and I have very different stomachs."Adnan turned his nose up as he took a bite from his own burger. "Anyway," he said, "I was hoping we could take a tour of Fifth Avenue today. If there's still time, we can head over to Central Park afterwards. We can go to the zoo, the lake, or Strawberry Fields. I'm sure you'd love them.""What about Chris?" Afrah raised an eyebrow, trying to hide her irritation at the thought of him butting in on their honeymoon. "Don't worry about him," Adnan waved dismissively. "We'll be done with him in a short while. Then you and I can spend the entir
*Afrah had never been a nag.Throughout her childhood, she'd seen her mother constantly become the stereotypical nagging housewife. There was always something to complain about. It was either the fact that their father came home an hour too late, or he had forgotten to buy something she'd told him about in the past. Sometimes she even nagged over trivial matters, like the way their father chewed his food, or the way he couldn't seem to drink water silently. Either way, she had witnessed firsthand just how much her mother's nagging had ruined her relationship with their father, effectively pushing him away and putting a damp on their marriage. She had sworn an oath one day, in the confines of her bedroom, that she would never become a wife that nagged. No matter how bad things got, or how awful she felt, she would never complain about something indirectly rather than confronting the problem head-on. She had always been proud of that particular decision, and throughout the years, she'
*As suspected, Afrah had returned to the hotel. Relief swept over Adnan when he called the front desk and found out that she had arrived just over an hour after she left him - abandoned, rather - on the street. Before heading back, he googled 'How to appease an angry wife'. One can never be too sure, especially when it came to women. If indeed Afrah had spoken to Chris about what he thought they had spoken about, then he was definitely in deep trouble. As the cab took him back to the hotel, Adnan stared out the window solemnly, wondering if he wasn't re-enacting a scene from a sloppy romance movie Afrah had made him watch. Any minute now, the background noise would fade out, to be replaced by a sad and slow tune, most likely Alan Walker. The subtitles would probably show '(Sombre music playing)' at this point, and he'd be forced to lean his head against the glass and watch the streets of New York zipping past, random strangers hurrying about their business without paying any atten
*The next morning was spent in the confines of their suite. Adnan called for room service, and breakfast was a stately affair of omelettes, oatmeal, garlic bread with hummus and strawberry-flavored tea. They ate on the terrace, their silence occasionally broken by the clink of cutlery on ceramic. Below, the ever-constant turmoil of a thousand cars, buses and dreaded cyclists rumbling past reminded them that sooner or later, they would have to dive into the chaos at well. Afterwards, the remainder of the morning was spent touring the Upper-East side. Still looking to appease, Adnan took her to every jewelry store in the vicinity. Tiffany and Co. was their first stop, then they swept over to The Crown Building for a pitstop at Bvlgari, lingering just long enough for Afrah to choose a pair of diamond earrings. They crossed over to Trump Tower, where Adnan insisted on taking Afrah's picture before they headed into the Ice Cream Parlor. They popped into Gucci afterwards, where Afrah got
*The drive to the beach took longer than any of them had anticipated. The weather was dry, with the heat rising to a dangerous level. Twice, they had to stop to fix a punctured tyre. "Are we there yet?" "Just a little further," he replied, wading through the traffic. "It won't be long now."They had left his uncle's house early that morning, with a picnic basket which they filled along the way. They had hoped to beat the traffic by leaving early, but even so they only managed to cover eighteen miles in an hour. By the time they finally reached the beach, it was a few minutes past noon. The sun was high up in the sky, and their shadows had disappeared underneath them. There was a small crowd gathered on the sand, which surprised him as it was a weekday. "Come," he said to her, offering his right hand while he took the basket in the other. "I know the perfect spot for us."He led her away from the crowd, keeping his hold on her tightly. He recognized the group as students from the
* Azra was a bright-eyed, polite, little eleven year old who couldn't meet anyone's eyes when she was brought to the house by Adnan. Afrah, who had been discharged three days prior, watched from her window as he drove into the house with the little girl sitting beside him. Looking at him, she still didn't know what exactly she felt. Of course she still despised what he'd done, but she didn't necessarily hate Adnan himself. Forgiving him was hard. It was probably the hardest thing she would ever learn to do. But it would be worth it if they would learn to live happily for the rest of their lives. Azra's mother had been much too happy to let her go. They had been struggling to provide for the little girl with her new husband, who was significantly less-wealthy than Adnan. Layla knew the girl would have a better future with her biological father. When she got the call from Adnan, a part of her wanted to hang up on him. But since it concerned his daughter, she'd listened to his plea a
*Carpets and curtains. She dreamt of them both, not as separate entities, but as one. Throughout her existence, Afrah had been surrounded by carpets and curtains, each lending its own unique addition to the story of her life. They were always silent, never considered but ever present. She recalled the carpets in her bedroom, how soft and flat it was. Twice a year, the carpets would be taken out so they could be washed and returned. The curtains were washed every month, and Afrah remembered sitting in the middle of her room one time when both carpets and curtains were removed, and she simply stared at the barrenness of her room. Strange how something as insignificant as carpets and curtains could change the entire appearance of her bedroom. She recalled the carpets in her father's room, the plush cream color stretching from wall to wall. His curtains were white, which she remembered complaining to her mother about once. "Why can't I have white curtains as well?" she'd asked. "Bec
*Afrah didn't know she was capable of doing it until she'd done it. Spontaneous action was never her area of expertise, knowing fully well that she was more of a reactive person than a proactive one. But the sight of Fahad falling to the floor jolted her to action. It was like a spark had awakened in her, grinding the gears in her brain. She began by lunging for the gun. Yusuf wasn't expecting her to move. Neither did he hear her move, since the carpet muffled her footsteps. He was still pointing the gun at Fahad's twitching corpse when Afrah's hands suddenly wrapped around the gun and yanked it out of his hands. He staggered back, bewildered by her action. And then she brought the gun to his chest, looking him dead in the eye. Time seemed to freeze in that moment. Neither he nor she dared to move. Between them was their hateful glare, separated by the barrel of the gun. His breathing was calm, while hers was irregular, coming in short bursts. In that moment, their roles were rev
*Every movement caused Afrah to jump; every second his eyes spent watching her made her skin crawl. She didn't sit. Instead she remained where she was standing, her arms folded in front of her. Yusuf meanwhile had leaned back into the seat, sighing comfortably. "What would you like to have?" he asked nonchalantly. "Some water, perhaps? I have some orange juice which still happens to be fresh. Or would you prefer a coke? I have some wine as well, but then knowing how close you and Adnan are, I'm sure he's taught you to stray away from fine wine. So, which would you prefer to have?""I would like to have my daughter back," Afrah replied. Yusuf studied her for a few seconds before he chuckled. "Of course," he said. "It's why you're here, is it not? As for me, I'd like a Bloody Mary."He stood up then, stretched with a slight groan before he left the room. Afrah remained where she was, awkwardly staring at the stained walls with nothing but a single wall clock hanging on them. She tho
*"I remember it like it was yesterday," Halima said. "And I know how cliché that sounds, but it really does feel like yesterday even though it was almost thirty years ago."Adnan tilted his head to the side, trying to detect a hint of deception in her words. "I was a little girl, so foolish and ignorant. I guess I've always been like that. But we can say that my ignorance and foolishness were somewhat exaggerated at that point in my life. Before I tell you how it happened however, I think you should understand the beginning of it all. I believe I was on my way to my uncle's house that day. I'm sure your father told you all about the village we grew up in.""Bakura," he replied indifferently. "Yes," Halima replied, twisting her hands. "It's a small settlement, and we grew up so close that everyone knew the name of everyone else. It was so small that it was impossible to leave home without everyone being able to give a detailed account of where you went. Your paternal grandfather and
*Adnan couldn't bring himself to do it. All through the flight to Kano, he kept staring at his mother in-law's phone number, debating whether he should do it or not. He couldn't. What exactly would he say?'Hello, yes I was just wondering if you have a hand in kidnapping my daughter and I was just wondering if you knew where she was so I can get her back?'Stupid. He couldn't tell Afrah either. Not when it involved her mother. She would be heart broken if she found out. But then Zainab might be lying. She was a pathological liar after all. Why wouldn't she lie to him? It didn't make any sense. Surely she must have just said that to throw him off their scent. And stupid as he was, he'd left the state knowing that she'd been pardoned by the governor. Now she was free; free to wreak her havoc over them once again. He was trapped between a rock and a hard place. When they landed in Kano, Adnan's first stop was the police station. The sergeant was eager to help, and very soon all t
*Some say terror brings an overwhelming sense of confusion, so sharp and painful that the person isn't able to decipher his left from his right. It robs the mind of its tact, and ensnares the person in its claws. For Afrah, terror brought an overwhelming sense of calm. In the seconds after Adnan spoke to her on the phone, her senses heightened, and something inside of her seemed to snap. She was neither aware of walking out of the hospital, nor was she aware of hopping into her car and driving off. Her heart was racing, and the wailing of a thousand exhausted cars desperately trying to maneuver around each other was lost to her. All she heard was silence, so pure and complete that even her breathing was faint, almost nonexistent. And then she screamed.No one heard her, of course. No one heard the anguish in her voice, or the desperation in her every breath. The pain came from within her, seeping out of her pores and wrapping her in a dreadful blanket. Remarkable however, was the f
*Hafsah grew rapidly. It was almost as if one day she went to sleep a baby, and woke up the next day with a vocabulary of over five hundred words. Her growth spurt happened right around the time that Afrah and Adnan moved to Kano. Amina called it their migration, while everyone else called it a relocation. Like birds which migrated south for the winter, Amina told everyone who listened that they'd migrated north for The Long Winter, one which would stretch on for years if care was not taken. Adnan was much too happy to move. Knowing they were leaving the danger of Abuja behind was the only thing which finally made him able to sleep. That, and the knowledge that Zainab was serving a life sentence. The charges leveled against her would have easily amounted to culpable homicide punishable with death, but an unknown party was said to have bribed the judge and reduced the charges to culpable homicide not punishable with death. Adnan had been ready to appeal, but Afrah assured him that