✍️

After a few minutes, Pravin came out of the toilet, his face dripping with water as if he had just performed ablution. Instead of seeing anger on his face, she saw the opposite — he wore a cunning smile. That only annoyed her more. She frowned, turned her eyes away from him, and continued eating her food.

He sat beside her and said, “If there’s any punishment worse than the one you already gave me, I’m ready to take it. My only wish is that you forgive me so we can reconcile. My Sarah, I cannot bear your anger.” He continued pleading sweetly. Since he began speaking, Hajiya Saratu had not looked at him even once.

She kept eating. When she reached for an apple from the plate of fruits, Pravin quickly grabbed her hand. “You shouldn’t ignore me. I’ve been talking to you for a while, and you’ve been pretending not to hear me, leaving me to speak like a fool.” He ended his words pitifully.

That irritated her deeply — she hated being disturbed while eating. She turned toward him angrily, ready to unleash harsh words. But before she could, he quickly leaned in and pressed his lips against hers. She tried to pull away, but his hands firmly held her waist, and he overpowered her resistance.

She still struggled to break free, but he was stronger. Suddenly, she began to feel sensations she hadn’t prepared for. His kisses grew more passionate, his breath heavy like a hungry lion that had just seen prey. With practiced skill, he slid down her zipper, slowly lowering the neckline of her dress until her flat stomach was exposed. It was something he hadn’t managed to do with her in a long time.

His tongue traced from her lips to her neck, then toward her full breasts still held in her bra. Just as he tried to unclasp it to grab them, she forcefully shoved him so hard he fell onto the mattress. Quickly, she adjusted her bra and fixed her dress.

Her eyes were bloodshot with rage, her breathing fast and heavy.

Pravin closed his eyes, overcome by frustration and bitterness. Tears began to fall down his cheeks. In a low, broken voice, he said:

“Why would you do this to me? You’ve denied me joy as though I’m not your husband. You’ve completely turned your back on me, refusing to give me my rights. Saratu, you’ve been unfair to me. I have to suffer so much just to get your cooperation. You were never like this before. If I’ve wronged you, just tell me!”

His voice trembled with hurt.

Suddenly, she felt nauseous and rushed into the toilet to vomit. He grew even more upset, believing she was disgusted by his kiss.

Struggling, he sat back up and leaned against the headboard, his eyes red and swollen. No matter how much she humiliated him, he couldn’t let go of her.

Five minutes later, Hajiya Saratu emerged, one hand pressed against her chest. She froze when her eyes met his. She wasn’t surprised to see his tear-streaked face. In her heart, she muttered, “Shameless man,” but aloud she said:

“So you came into this room only to torment me with your lust? Why didn’t the woman who shared your bed last night satisfy you? You’re the one who told me yourself that she’s better than me at pleasing a man, isn’t that true?” She threw her words at him with a fiery glare.

Pravin held his head in his hand. Now he understood — she was jealous. Even though he knew she didn’t believe what he’d said, her pride had wounded her.

In a softened tone, he said:

“I was upset yesterday, that’s why I told you that — just so you’d feel the hurt I felt. But I wasn’t serious. Even if you don’t love me, I cannot replace you with another woman. You are the only one in my heart forever. That’s why I endure all your insults — I could never betray you.”

Tears continued streaming down his face as he spoke.

Despite her anger, Saratu felt her heart soften. Her expression began to ease. Pravin noticed her weakening and pressed on:

“Why do you want to hurt me? You promised we’d never make each other suffer. Don’t forget, I left my family because of you. You didn’t want to stay in India, so I followed you to Nigeria and even agreed to live in your family house, despite all the humiliation I faced from your relatives. I endured it all because of my love for you. We built a family together, and I never once complained about living under your people’s roof. I only did it because you wanted it, and because I love you.”

He paused, watching her face fill with regret.

“If I wanted, I could divorce you and move on, because I don’t depend on you — I depend on Allah. Don’t think I’m with you because of your wealth. No, never. I love you sincerely, for Allah’s sake. Otherwise, I’d have left long ago.”

Her knees weakened. She forced herself to the mirror chair and sat down, facing him.

“Saratu, tell me — do you not love me anymore?” His words shattered her.

She shut her eyes, confused about her own feelings. Deep inside, she knew nothing had truly changed — her love for him was still there.

She quickly opened her eyes when she heard him moving. He was heading toward the door, wiping his tears with a handkerchief. He grabbed the handle, praying she would call him back.

“Pravin.”

A sly smile crept across his face, but he hid it quickly, turning back to look at her as if he were in pain. Unexpectedly, she ran into his arms and hugged him tightly, whispering:

“I’m really sorry, my husband. I realize my mistake, and I won’t hurt you anymore.”

He rested his head on her shoulder, wrapping his arms around her waist. The warmth of her body reminded him of moments long gone. He held her tighter, inhaling her fragrance. Deep inside, he knew he had successfully deceived her again with his words.

“Promise me you’ll never make me unhappy again. And that you’ll always give me my rights whenever I ask.”

She hesitated. “I can’t promise that, you know humans are weak. But in sha Allah, I’ll do my best not to hurt you.”

He kissed her shoulder and clung tighter.

Minutes passed before he released her, holding her hand as they smiled at each other.

“I hope your head doesn’t hurt. Your eyes are swollen.”

“Don’t worry. You were my only worry, and now that you’ve forgiven me, I’m fine. May Allah bless our marriage with peace.”

“Ameen, my husband.” She called him “hubby” — something she hadn’t said in a long time. He was overjoyed.

She pulled his hand. “Come, let’s eat together. I know you must be hungry.”

He shook his head. “No, I’m not hungry, my wife.” (He lied, because he had already eaten well with Hajjaty earlier.)

Then he said suddenly: “I forgot to tell you — about what happened yesterday with the snake in the house…”

He narrated everything, even the lie he told Senator Lateef. At the end, he said:

“I only lied so they’d take the matter seriously. I don’t want anything to harm you or your family. I believe this snake wasn’t ordinary — it was a man who transformed. Likely enemies of Baba Obie sent it to kill him. That’s why it came here instead of the other houses nearby.”

Saratu was shocked. “You mean Brother Hateem arranged for a private jet to bring Sheikh Imam from Sudan? And the snake was actually a man? And he lives in Owais’ house inside this estate?”

Pravin nodded. “Exactly. If we don’t act quickly, Owais and the Prime Minister will bring calamity upon us, all in the name of helping that boy who can transform into a snake. I believe Baba’s political enemies are behind this conspiracy.”

Fear overtook Saratu. She rushed toward Baba Obie’s room without even wearing a veil. Pravin stopped her, fetched her scarf, and covered her head before she hurried out.

The moment she left, Pravin burst into a chilling, sinister laughter — so terrifying it didn’t sound human. Then he straightened his face as if nothing had happened, picked up his phone, and called someone.

In a sharp voice he said: “Everything is going exactly as we planned, Master.”

He hung up immediately and followed after Saratu.

---

Meanwhile, in Unaisah’s side:

She lay by Danish’s side like a guard, watching over his every move. Her head rested on his chest, her hand on his stomach, inhaling his scent. Sleep was overtaking her, and she hadn’t even prayed.

Suddenly, she heard a voice: “May Allah make him wake up.” Her heart dropped. The glass door slid open, and she quickly scrambled off the bed, hiding behind the curtains like a thief, trembling.

Prime Minister, Sheikh Imam, Chief Owais, Big Guy, Salsabeel, and Boss Man all entered. They gathered at the bedside, looking at Danish.

Hiding, Unaisah bit her fingers in regret — she had left his shirt unbuttoned, and they might notice someone had been with him.

Prime Minister asked, “He hasn’t woken up yet?”

Salsabeel replied, “No, but if you want him awake, we can wake him up now. Later he can rest again.”

“No, don’t disturb him. I’ll wait until he wakes on his own,” said the Prime Minister.

Boss Man frowned. “But who opened his shirt?”

Everyone looked at Danish’s exposed chest.

“Could he have opened it himself? Or did someone else come in?” the Prime Minister asked.

Sheikh Imam shook his head. “I doubt he opened it. Either it’s Allah’s will, or someone else entered after we left.”

“But who could that be? All the children are in their rooms, Unaisah is in hers, Ummi is in hers, and the men went to the mosque with us,” Big Guy explained.

They all grew uneasy. Chief Owais looked around carefully until his eyes landed on the rumpled bedsheet — clear proof someone had been lying there.

“The bedsheet is messed up. That means someone else was here after we left.”

Shock spread across their faces.

Boss Man muttered, “What if it was an enemy?”

The Prime Minister’s face darkened. “I had a feeling about leaving him alone.”

Sheikh Imam reassured them, “In sha Allah, nothing has happened to him.”

But before he could finish, Big Guy said, “Sir, let me check the CCTV footage. That way we’ll know if someone came in.”

Chief Owais was about to respond — but then his eyes landed on the curtains swaying slightly. He realized instantly: someone was hiding inside.