Amara lay in bed, her eyes fixed on the shadowy ceiling above, her thoughts swirling like leaves caught in a storm. The house was too quiet, too vast and unfamiliar. The grand furniture and tall windows felt oppressive, as if they were pressing down on her from all sides.
A part of her wanted to laugh bitterly at her predicament. A bride, alone in her husband's house, with no husband in sight. It had been three days since Laila and the others left, and the so-called ango hadn't even bothered to make an appearance. Not even a phone call. How was this supposed to work? How was she supposed to feel like this was her home when everything about it screamed foreign?
Her fingers tightened around the edges of the blanket as a chill crept through her. It wasn't just the emptiness of the house that gnawed at her. It was the looming rocks and dense trees in the backyard that seemed to breathe with menace. Every creak of the house made her heart race.
She thought of her father and Sha'aban, their protective presence now a distant memory. Back in Yobe, she had always felt secure, her family a constant shield against the world's uncertainties. But now? She was alone, adrift in a sea of expectations and uncertainties, with nothing familiar to anchor her.
As the oppressive silence settled in again, Amara forced herself to take a deep breath. She had faced worse than this, hadn't she? She had left behind her home and family, endured the judgmental whispers of strangers, and stepped into a marriage she hadn't chosen. If she could do all that, she could survive a few restless nights in this cavernous house.
But then came the sound.
A sharp crash shattered the stillness, jolting her upright. Her heart leapt into her throat, and her hands clutched the blanket tightly. She froze, listening intently, her pulse pounding in her ears.
A moment later, the faint clatter of metal echoed through the house, sending a shiver down her spine. Amara's mind raced. Was it her imagination? Perhaps it was just the wind. But no, this was different. This was deliberate.
Her throat tightened as fear clawed its way through her chest. What if it wasn't her imagination? What if someone had really broken in?
She glanced at the locked door of her room, her thoughts teetering between running and hiding. But then, another sound came, this time more closer and that made her decision for her.
She wasn't the type to cower.
Vulnerable as she felt, she had always been taught to face her fears head-on. If something or someone was out there, she needed to know.
Swallowing her dread, she slipped out of bed and grabbed the bedside lamp, gripping it tightly like a weapon. The cool metal felt reassuring in her clammy hands as she inched toward the door.
Her fingers trembled as she reached for the knob, but she stopped short, pressing her ear to the wood. A faint shuffling noise confirmed her worst fears.
Amara took a shaky breath, her mind a battlefield of logic and instinct. She could scream for Audu, but what if he was already incapacitated? What if she alerted the intruder before she had a chance to act?
Her legs felt like jelly, but she forced them to move. Slowly, cautiously, she opened the door and stepped into the hallway. The lamp quivered in her hands as she scanned the corridor, her eyes darting toward every shadow.
The house was eerily still, but her instincts told her she wasn't alone. She crept toward the source of the noise, every step a fight against the urge to turn and run. Her breaths came shallow and quick, but she bit down on her fear, focusing on the task ahead.
When she reached the larger living room, she paused, her gaze sweeping over the darkened furniture. Nothing seemed out of place, but the faint light spilling from the room that was somewhat of a home office told a different story.
Amara's grip tightened on the lamp as she approached the study, her heart hammering against her ribs. Peering through the slightly open door, she froze.
A man stood with his back to her, rummaging through what appeared to be a filing cabinet. He was clad entirely in black, his broad shoulders tense with purpose.
Her fear surged, but with it came a fierce determination. This was her house now, wasn't it? And if someone thought they could sneak in without consequences, they were sorely mistaken.
Taking a deep breath, Amara stepped forward, raising the lamp high. Her hands trembled, but with the thought of her family, she steadied herself. She wouldn't let them or herself down.
With a sudden burst of courage, she brought the lamp down with all her might.
*
*
*
A growl escaped Ahmad's lips as he turned around, momentarily stunned by the sudden, sharp pain at the back of his head. For a second, all he could register was the sting and the crash of something heavy hitting the floor.
Before he could fully process what was happening, another object came hurtling toward him. He barely ducked in time, his instincts kicking in as he seized the hands of his assailant.
"Are you insane? What are you doing?" he barked, gripping her wrists tightly to stop her from swinging again. But the woman in front of him almost gave him a heart attack as she kicked out, missing his family jewel by an inch.
"You won't get away with this! I'll..."
Her words made no sense, and yet her determination to fight him off sparked a flicker of grudging respect. He clenched his jaws, trying to suppress the rising anger that burned hotter with every second of her irrational shouting.
But when her voice cracked as she accused him of being a thief, his frustration deepened. "For God's sake, stop acting like a madwoman!" he growled.
Letting her go abruptly, he watched as she stumbled back and fell unceremoniously, defiance still blazing in her eyes. It baffled him, this fierce energy from someone who looked so fragile. Was the woman always this unhinged?
Ahmad's jaw tightened. "What rubbish are you going on about?" he snapped, his irritation flaring. "How can I steal in my house!"
She froze, her lips parting as if to respond, but no words came out. Her breathing was rapid, her chest rising and falling as she stared at him in disbelief.
"I... I heard noises," she finally managed, her voice breaking. "I thought- I thought you were..." She trailed off, her eyes flicking to the filing cabinet behind him.
"A thief?" Ahmad finished for her, incredulous. The accusation was so absurd it almost made him laugh, but his frustration won out. "You thought you'd attack a thief with a lamp? What were you thinking?"
"I didn't know what else to do!" she shot back, her voice rising. "You were going through those drawers. You didn't belong here, how was I supposed to know..."
Her words tumbled out in a rush, but Ahmad cut her off, his voice low and dangerous. "If I were a thief, do you really think a lamp would stop me?"
Her cheeks flushed, but the defiance in her gaze wavered as the reality of the situation seemed to sink in. "I was scared," she muttered, her voice barely audible. "You were- I mean, I thought..."
He moved to the cabinet, picked a file and placed it on the desk then turned back to her. Ahmad exhaled loudly, "you're truly unbelievable," he muttered, touching the back of his head. "First you try to knock me out, then you accuse me of theft. And now..."
A loud knock on the window interrupted him, startling them both. Ahmad turned toward the sound, his annoyance deepening as he recognized Audu's voice outside.
"Alhaji, lafiya? Amarya na ta hayaniya!"
The words hit Ahmad like a punch to the gut. He froze, turning slowly to look at the woman sprawled on the floor before him.
"Amarya?" he echoed, his voice laced with disbelief.
She flinched at the term, her lips parting again as though to speak, but she quickly closed them.
Ahmad let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head in disbelief. "You're the bride," he muttered, more to himself than to her. "Of course, you are. What was I thinking?"
He strode to the window, waving Audu away with a quick assurance that everything was fine, before turning back to the woman who had just tried to bash his head in.
"You didn't know who I was," he said flatly, watching as she shook her head.
"You... weren't here," she stammered, her voice shaky but earnest. "No one told me, no one said..." She stopped, her throat working as though she was swallowing back more words.
"You haven't seen my picture then?"
"No. It was..."
Ahmad rubbed a hand over his face, his exhaustion catching up to him. He gestured toward the door. "Go to your room," he said curtly, not trusting himself to say more. "We'll sort this out in the morning."
For a moment, she didn't move, her gaze flitting between him and the scattered pieces of the broken lamp on the floor. But then she scrambled to her feet, turned and retreated with hurried steps. Her bare feet making soft sounds against the tiles.
*
*
*
Ahmad slumped into the chair behind his desk, his mind reeling. Of all the ways to meet his so-called wife, this wasn't one he'd ever imagined. As the silence returned to the house, he leaned back, his thoughts a swirl of disbelief.
'This is what I came back to? A lunatic wife who doesn't even know who I am?' He rubbed his temple, staring at the scattered papers without him really seeing them. His irritation simmered just below the surface.
He hadn't wanted this marriage. He still didn't. But now, faced with the reality of the woman his father had forced into his life, he couldn't shake the sinking feeling in his heart.
Marrying a stranger? It had been unthinkable. Yet, here he was, saddled with a wife he hadn't even met until she tried to bash his head in with a lamp.
Amara's behavior only added to his frustration. Her wild accusations and refusal to listen made his blood boil, but beneath that anger was something else-confusion. What had she been told about him? Had she come here expecting a knight? A ghost? A villain?
For all her audacity, though, there was something unnerving about her presence. The way she had looked at him, half terrified, half ready to strike again, unnerved him. Most women in his circle wouldn't have dared to raise their voice, let alone a weapon.
He leaned back in his chair, exhaling sharply. The logical thing to do was to send her packing. This sham of a marriage couldn't possibly work, and he had no intention of pretending otherwise.
But even as he made that decision, a small voice in his mind whispered that this woman was going to be more trouble than he anticipated.
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