The gloom outside was a stark representation of the turmoil in Zeenah’s heart. As the sun glided up the sky on a bleak Sunday morning, she sat up slowly, the restlessness evident in her eyes. She’d slept preciously little that night, her dark thoughts always seeping into her dreams each time she fell asleep.

She slid onto the edge of the bed with a low grunt, her eyes blinking slowly as a cold gust of wind blew into the room sharply.

Abubakar’s words from the last evening suddenly returned to her, no doubt carried by the wind. Though they’d echoed in her head all night long, her insides still squirmed at the memory.

Zeenah couldn’t remember a time when she’d been as distressed as she was right now. It didn’t make any sense to her. Abubakar had been with her for three years. During that duration, he’d never so much as laid a finger on her. For some people, love was better communicated physically; the slight brushing of a lover’s fingers on their face or a soft kiss on the forehead was all they needed to be reassured that they were still desired. For Zeenah however, she’d never needed that.

Abubakar didn’t need to go the extra mile to show her that he loved her; she knew that already. She saw it everyday in the way he looked at her, that slow smile tugging at the corner of his lips while she spoke. She remembered it every time he sent her a text as early as 5am, reminding her to wake up and pray Fajr (morning Prayers). It was the little things he did, along with the bigger things that showed her he truly cared. He clearly loved her, wanting nothing more than to simply be with her.

Clearly, she’d been wrong.

Zeenah wiped the lone tear that escaped her eyes and looked at her phone on the bedside drawer. He hadn't even bothered to call last night, nor did he text her like he always did. Could he really be this angry?

She missed him.

It was stupid and irrational, but in spite of what he’d asked of her, despite the fact that she was never going to give into his request, she missed him dearly. The very thought of not speaking with him for an extended period of time ate at her soul.

Mustering some courage, Zeenah decided to call him and pretend everything was fine between them. That should work right? Her mother had once told her that the best way to deal with an angry person was to pull back and give them some space. Time and silence would cause them to see the error of their ways.

This time however, Maama was wrong.

Abubakar didn’t answer her call the first time. Neither did he do so on the second, third or fourth time she called.

Clearly, he wasn’t just upset.

He was livid.

She didn’t want him to be upset. Even though he had been foolish to suggest that they sink to that low, a small part of her still yearned for the affection she could only get from him.

A text message surely couldn’t go unanswered. Even he couldn’t be that cruel.

'Good morning, Sugarplum. Are you still angry with me? Please tell me you’re not. How do you expect us to work this out when you don't even want to talk to me? At least give me a chance to explain myself. Stop being so childish please. Love you!'

It was after the message had been delivered that she noticed what she typed at the end. Knowing Abubakar, all hell would surely break loose when he saw that she’d called him childish. Rather than be afraid however, Zeenah felt righteous in her action; he deserved to feel some of the hurt that she was nursing in her heart.

Harboring a faint glimmer of hope, Zeenah decided to wait for his reply. The Abubakar she knew usually replied exactly a minute after she sent him a text.

It took over thirty minutes of sitting in idle silence however before she realized that this new Abubakar was not going to reply.

Zeenah didn’t have time to dwell on the feeling of loneliness that was threatening to envelope her however, as the sound of her mother’s quiet singing sailed into the room, carried by another gust of wind. Funny how the wind had suddenly gained the power to control her mood. While one brought her pain to new heights, another put a smile on her face. Trying to put everything behind her, Zeenah left her problems and the bed and walked out. Inna was sitting beside the coal pot preparing Kunu and Kosai (Pap and Bean-cakes), Zeenah's favorite.

"I don't know when you'll learn to wake up early and help me with all the chores. You'll always sleep and wake up late,” her mother said by way of greeting. "Haka zakiyi in mun kaiki gidan mijinki? (Is that how you’ll behave when you’re taken to your husband’s house?)"

Zeenah's heart twisted at the mention of the word 'husband'. His words came back to haunt her once again. Could there have been an inkling of truth in his words? If her own mother saw her as his wife already, then why should she refuse him?

Or was it just a strange coincidence?

"Maama!" Zeenah sighed before sitting beside her and collecting the large bowl which was full of the raw gruel she was using to make the bean-cakes. “I had a long stressful day yesterday and a sleepless night all together. I'm sorry."

"Isn’t that your excuse everyday?” She shook her head. “Allah shiryeki. (May you be delivered)"

"Amin Maama. Baba is yet to return, right?"

"Indeed,” she sighed, brushing off a speck of dirt on her shoulder. "Zeenah, are you okay? You look stressed out."

Zeenah was far from okay. But instead she said:

"I'm okay; just a little tired. Can I please visit Samira later today?”

“What for?” She frowned.

“Girl-talk,” Zeenah replied, avoiding her mother’s gaze.

“In case you’ve forgotten, I’m also a girl,” Inna said with a slight chuckle. “Why don’t you share your problems with me?”

“Because you’re my dear old mother and I don’t want to bother you with such trivial matters,” Zeenah replied sweetly, placing a hand over her mother’s.

“You’ve always had a way with words,” she said, throwing her head back in laughter.

“So can I go?”

“In sha Allah.” (God's willing)

*

Abubakar read the message over and over again, wondering if he should reply, call or ignore her. He missed her nearly as much as she missed him. But she had to learn her mistake; she had to know his value and trust him as much as he trust her.

He failed to see what was so wrong in letting him exercise his rights? They were already engaged, and he needed to know what he was getting himself into by taking her as his wife.

Even traders give out free samples. Why couldn’t his betrothed trust him enough to at least consider it?

It wasn’t like he had any intention of letting Zeenah go after she succumbed to his request. He loved her immensely and nothing could change that fact. But why couldn't she just trust him? Did she think he was trying to take advantage of her and then call off the wedding?

Was that really how low she thought of him?

Wow!

He sat and thought on and on about Zeenah's denial to his rights. He wouldn't deny the fact that he was hurting after what she did. But if she won't agree to it, then there was no point in harnessing their relationship. Zeenah needed to trust him.

He switched off his phone, picked up his car keys and left.

*

Zeenah draped the blue veil over her head to compliment the blue ankara she had chosen to wear. Looking at herself in the mirror, she smiled before taking a mirror selfie of herself. She was about to send it to Abubakar when she remembered he was still angry and still hadn't replied her text nor called her back.

Should she also ignore him?

‘No!’ her subconscious replied. ‘You’re the one at fault, so keep apologizing.’

She then sent the picture with a caption 'I'm all yours sugarplum; now, always, and forever.’

He had to reply now right?

He had to.

"Maama, I'll be going now," she called as she stepped out of her room.

"Take care and come back before Maghrib," Maama's reply came.

"In sha Allah. Bye"

The ride to Samira's house was filled with thoughts on how to apologize to Abubakar; worse still, with preposterous thoughts about caving in to his request.

Almost as soon as those thoughts crept in, they were dispersed immediately. Zeenah wasn’t about to forget her upbringing. Her parents had taught her that a woman’s dignity could never be regained once it was lost, whether willingly or otherwise. Giving in to Abubakar’s request would go against everything she’d been told growing up. It wouldn’t be her.

She had no doubt that he loved her; it would be silly to assume that he didn’t. But did she love him enough to go against everything she’d been taught growing up just to please him?

"You're just coming? I've been expecting you ever since I woke up," Samira said the moment she opened the door for Zeenah.

"Do you really think Inna would allow me to leave the house that early in the morning?" Zeenah laughed as she hugged her.

"I thought Maama would understand if you said you’re coming to my place,” she said, frowning. “Why is she being strict these days?"

'"She's much better than Baba. Trust me.” Zeenah laughed. “Where's Inna?”

"She went out,” Samira replied. “But she’ll be coming back in a few hours. Now tell me, what is the problem? You look like you haven’t slept a wink."

"I'm confused," Zeenah said as she sat on the edge of the couch. "I don't know what to do, and even if I do, I don't think it's the right thing to do. Samira, I'm so stressed out right now."

"What is it?"

"Before I tell you, I have a question for you.”

“I’m listening,” Samira replied, albeit warily.

“What do you make of guys who ask their fiancée for a chance to exercise their marital rights before they are married?"

Samira was silent for several moments before she replied.

"I don't really get you, girl,” she said. “Like, when both parties are engaged to each other the way you and Abubakar are?"

"Yes."

“I’m a hundred percent against it,” Samira said. “Not only is it forbidden religiously, but it’s completely inappropriate morally.”

Zeenah scrunched up her face at the words. Even though she’d been expecting them, a tiny part of her still thought otherwise.

"Please don’t tell me you’re considering sinking that low.” Samira frowned at her. "Sorry for my use of language but it's total bullshit. If he does really love you, why not wait till the time is right? Is he stupid or what?”

“I never said it was Abubakar,” Zeenah said quietly.

“You didn’t have to,” Samira said. “I guessed as much.”

"How did you know?"

"How did I know?” She raised an eyebrow. “I've known you for too long not to know what is in that head of yours, Zeenah. If that is what Abubakar wants, you’d better dump him and move on."

"I'm confused,” Zeenah moaned. “I don't know what to do or even say. He's so angry that he doesn't call me nor reply any of my messages."

"Dump him and move on," Samira repeated. “How could he stoop so low?”

"But I love him.”

"Girl, you did not just say that. I know you love him, but can you at least think about how utterly insane he is to ask you to do that?"

"I..." Her phone buzzed suddenly as a message appeared. Avoiding Samira’s gaze, Zeenah swiped on the message.

'It’s a simple thing, really. Prove that you are mine; let me make you mine, baby. Just trust me a little.’

He replied.

He’d finally replied.

"You know what,” Zeenah sighed, “you're right. I'll still tell him no and see what he says. Thank you, girl."

Samira looked at her suspiciously with a single brow raised.

'I'm all yours already and you know that, Sugarplum. I love you too much to let something this trivial come between us.'

She typed back quickly while Samira kept looking at her.

"Are you sure you won't succumb to his wish?" she asked as Zeenah set the phone down.

"You think I’m that stupid?” Zeenah threw her head back in laughter, a million times better than she’d been earlier that morning. “Please, just go cook our lunch and let me rest. Yesterday’s festivities have drained my energy completely."

Samira looked at her again, sighing before leaving the room with a sense of security.

'Are you saying you'll do it?' Abubakar’s reply came moments later. Zeenah pushed every conflicting voice in her head aside and replied.

'I will. If that is what you want.’

*