Fargar Jaji Books 2 Complete By Jamila Janafty

Description

 They would say, “The way I see the day is exactly how I see the night.” She used to dismiss it as mere empty words, a baseless phrase with no real truth or substance behind it. In the past, whenever she heard that someone had spent the entire night unable to sleep, she would wonder in absolute bewilderment what could possibly keep a person awake. She assumed that unless one had suffered the devastating loss of a mother or a father, nothing—not even physical illness—could truly steal one’s sleep. After all, both Ammah and Baffa were alive and well, and she had never lost a single one of her siblings. Since her childhood, her life had been a continuous journey of happiness, deep affection, and immense privilege. This pattern of blissful comfort continued right up until she met Habib, who spent eight months showing her the absolute definition of love and devotion, proving it through both his words and his consistent actions.
Yet, she had never imagined she would ever find herself in the agonizing state she experienced that night. By the time the call for the Fajr prayer echoed through the neighborhood, her eyes were still wide open and streaming with continuous tears. Whenever her eyes grew completely exhausted and temporarily ceased weeping, it would only take a brief moment before the tears began gushing forth again, rushing down her face like an open tap.
A singular, haunting thought consumed her mind: Could all the intense love and affection Habib had showered upon her be a complete lie? Whenever she desperately wanted to force herself to believe his words from that night, her heart failed her. She found it much easier to convince herself that Habib truly loved her and had only spoken those harsh words out of sheer, blinding anger. But if he really loved her, why was he so adamantly opposed to building a family and sharing a lineage with her? She spent the entire night on the carpet, slumped against the wardrobe, completely indifferent to her physical comfort. Her only desperate hope was that she would open her eyes to find that everything had been nothing but a horrific nightmare. And if it were real, she prayed that Habib would walk in, kneel before her, beg for her forgiveness, and admit that everything he had said was a complete lie.
But none of that happened. As daylight broke across God's earth, there was still no sign of Habib. He had not slept in their matrimonial bedroom, and when she painfully crawled out of the room in the morning, she discovered he had already left the house. The ceaseless weeping she had endured through the night triggered a severe, burning fever. She lay there, fresh tears silently rolling down her face whenever she grew too exhausted to sob openly. Only the obligation of prayer forced her to move; she had been completely unable to keep any food down since the previous day. By nightfall, feeling as though she might literally die of exhaustion, she managed to prepare some instant noodles and a cup of black tea to eat. Even that refused to settle in her stomach; she threw it up almost immediately. She then resorted to drinking plain hot water, which finally managed to settle and remain in her empty stomach.
Just as he had left her sighing in distress the previous night, he returned to find her lying on the living room floor, shivering violently from the chill of the fever. Seeing that he couldn't even bother to offer her a simple word of sympathy or comfort, she made a solemn vow to herself that she would not utter a single word to him either. She resolved to remain completely silent until he realized the gravity of his actions on his own and apologized to her. In her heart, Ummu-Salma still clung to the belief that Habib loved her and would eventually return to his senses, apologize, and mend their broken peace. Even at this agonizing stage, the profound trust she had placed in Habib had not suffered the slightest crack.
It took a grueling two days before her health finally began to stabilize. She slowly recovered, relying entirely on paracetamol to manage the fever, while the persistent vomiting was simply the natural course of morning sickness, which had no real cure. Throughout those painful days, not a single spoken word passed between Ummu and Habib. He had completely altered the entire dynamic of their living arrangement. She no longer knew when he left the house or when he returned. Furthermore, he completely stopped sharing a bedroom with her, moving entirely into the second bedroom. That room had always primarily housed his personal belongings anyway, though he had previously insisted on using her bedroom simply because it featured an en-suite bathroom, unlike the second room, which required stepping out into the small hallway that separated the two bedrooms.
The moment she felt a bit stronger, she resumed cooking, neatly setting out breakfast and dinner on the dining table exactly as she used to do. However, the food was always cleared away exactly the way she had left it—completely untouched by him. They spent over a week living like ghosts in this manner. Initially, Ummu held onto the hope that Habib would show remorse, but as the days dragged on, her spirit began to break. Eventually, she swallowed her pride and began greeting him whenever their paths crossed in the morning, but he never once acknowledged her greeting. He moved around the house acting as though he had never known her in his entire life. When he returned home in the evenings, he never sought her out, let alone checked to see what state of health she was in. He was strictly executing the heartless threat he had made; he had explicitly warned her that she would deeply regret refusing to obey his command to terminate the pregnancy. And indeed, even though their journey into this conflict had barely begun, Ummu was already drowning in deep regret—yet she knew with absolute certainty that she could never bring herself to abort the innocent life growing inside her.
What truly tormented her was her complete inability to harbor any resentment or hatred toward Habib in her heart, despite how drastically and terribly their marriage had changed. She spent her nights weeping and her days crying, losing weight rapidly until she looked pale and entirely depleted. Yet, she kept the agonizing secret completely to herself, unable to discuss the matter with a single soul. In her mind and long-term vision, she remained convinced that Habib would eventually come back to his senses and beg for her forgiveness; she was fiercely determined not to rashly expose the intimate secrets of her marriage to the outside world. She loved him deeply, even until tomorrow; Habib still held that exact, sacred position in her heart, and she simply could not bring herself to feel an ounce of anger toward him.
If any of her relatives were to see her in the state she was currently in, they would have instantly and frantically questioned her to find out what was destroying her. Ummu-Salma had transformed completely; her fair complexion had grown dull and washed out, and she was battling an intensely severe bout of morning sickness. She couldn't consume anything except black Lipton tea; the moment she forced herself to eat actual food, she would instantly throw it up. She spent her days lying down, completely drained of energy, her body feeling as weak as water.
Yet, Habib remained completely unmoved and utterly indifferent. She would lie awake listening for him, noting that since their relationship soured, he would stay out incredibly late, sometimes not returning until 11:00 PM. Even when he did come home, he would retreat straight into the other bedroom, where she could hear him engaging in lengthy, muffled phone conversations, though she could never decipher who he was talking to. Occasionally, when she sensed he was preparing to leave the house in the early hours of the morning, she would painfully drag her weak body out into the living room. When he emerged, she would softly offer her morning greetings, but he never once replied. He would simply walk straight past her and exit the house without casting a single glance in her direction.
The entire world felt incredibly suffocating to her; absolutely nothing brought her joy or comfort. She became so intensely quiet that it felt as though she weren't even alive in the house. Ammah, despite her usual characteristic lack of outward warmth and affection toward Ummu, eventually noticed the prolonged silence and called her. By absolute stroke of luck, Ummu’s phone happened to be right beside her that day. Over the past few days, she had barely been able to look at her device due to the overwhelming lethargy and persistent fever racking her body.
"Ummu, it's been days since we've heard a single peep from either you or your husband. I hope you are all doing well?" Ammah inquired immediately after Ummu answered the call.
When Ummu managed to reply with a faint "We are fine," she had to forcefully pinch her lips shut to stifle a sob. Tears were pouring down her face in torrents, yet she couldn't bring herself to reveal a single detail to her mother. She kept reassuring herself that Habib would return to his senses, experience deep remorse, and that their marriage would eventually heal. She firmly believed it was entirely inappropriate to rashly expose the private trials of her marital home. Thus, she forced herself to endure the pain, lying to Ammah by claiming that both she and Habib had been battling a severe fever for the past few days, which was why they had been so quiet, but reassuring her that they were both recovering well. Ammah prayed for their continued health and recovery before they concluded the call.
Shortly after, Baffa also called, anxiously asking if she was safe and healthy.
"I am perfectly healthy, Baffa," she replied smoothly in Fulfulde. She kept the truth entirely hidden from him as well, ensuring he didn't sense even a hint of the turmoil she was enduring.
Mami, having also noticed her unusual absence, called her as well. Ummu gave her the exact same excuse, claiming she and her husband had been pinned down by a severe fever over the last couple of days. Even Baɗɗo called, noting that she hadn't seen Ummu come online in days; Ummu fed her the same lie about the fever. Baɗɗo then mentioned that her final examinations would wrap up that week, after which she planned to travel down to visit her. They caught up briefly before hanging up.
The only thing that genuinely puzzled her was why Bestie hadn't called. However, the moment she turned on her mobile data, she saw a series of messages from her. Bestie had reached out to inform her that she would be turning off her phone to focus intensely on her exams, only switching it on periodically until the examination period was entirely over. That explained why Bestie was completely unaware that Ummu had been offline for days, and it was the sole reason she hadn't called to check on her.
They spent nearly three weeks trapped in this agonizing, silent routine, and absolutely nothing changed in Habib's cold demeanor. However, the moment Ummu-Salma’s heart truly shattered and her caution turned into absolute terror was the night she caught him red-handed, secretly slipping something into the jug of Zobo (hibiscus juice) stored inside her freezer.
What Habib completely failed to realize was that, at this point, Ummu couldn't even drink plain water without throwing it up, let alone touch a jug of Zobo. In fact, that specific batch of Zobo was one she had prepared weeks ago, well before their relationship collapsed, and she had completely forgotten it even existed.
That particular night, her stomach was cramping painfully from sheer hunger, as she had gone the entire day without eating a single bite. She hadn't even heard Habib return to the house because she had managed to fall into a deep, exhausted sleep. The moment she woke up, she checked the time on her phone screen: it was exactly 2:43 AM. Stepping out of her room, she noticed a faint, dim light illuminating the kitchen.
A wave of intense fear washed over her, freezing her in place for a moment. Steeling herself, she began stepping forward with extreme caution, her bare feet making absolutely no sound as she crept toward the kitchen door. Because the door was wide open, she was able to peer inside perfectly.
There stood Habib. He was carefully pouring an unknown substance into her Zobo jug. She couldn't identify exactly what the substance was, but whatever it was, she knew with absolute certainty that it was dangerous and malicious. There was absolutely no legitimate reason for a person to wake up in the dead of night to secretly lace a drink unless their intentions were deeply evil.
Ensuring she made absolutely no sound to alert him of her presence, she stealthily retreated to her bedroom. She threw herself onto the bed and burst into a violent, uncontrollable fit of weeping. She sobbed as if her very soul were tearing away from her body, her mind racing as she desperately agonized over why Habib would commit such a heinous act against her.
Then, a quiet, chilling voice within her soul provided the undeniable answer: The pregnancy.
It was undeniably the baby. Whether she wanted to accept the horrific truth or not, Habib had made a demonic vow that he would rid her of this pregnancy, even if it meant resorting to the most brutal, underhanded tactics.
But instead of breaking her, this realization kindled a profound, fierce wave of maternal love within her heart for the unborn child. Right then and there, she made a sacred vow to herself that no matter what trials befell her, she would protect this child with her life. She would become an impenetrable shield for her baby, ensuring that Habib would never be able to lay a malicious finger on it.
The very next morning, the moment Habib left the house for work, she marched into the bathroom, uncapped the Zobo jug, and poured every single drop of the poisoned drink directly down the toilet, flushing it away repeatedly with water.
Her dark suspicions were confirmed beyond a shadow of a doubt later that evening. The moment Habib returned home, he actually walked straight into her bedroom to check on her. He had fully expected to find her in a state of physical collapse and agony, assuming the pregnancy would have successfully miscarried. But when he looked at her and realized she was completely fine and unaffected, a wave of sheer, unbridled fury washed over his face. He slammed her bedroom door shut with immense violence and stormed out of the room.
Left alone in the sudden silence, Ummu-Salma collapsed into a fresh pool of tears, the words pouring out of her soul in a broken whisper:
"Why, Habib? Why are you doing this to me?"
She broke down completely, her violent sobs echoing painfully in the quiet room. A sharp, burning ache radiated deep within her chest. She felt completely alienated from her own life, as though she were watching a tragic movie that couldn't possibly belong to her. She was Ummu-Salma—the very woman Habib had sworn stood entirely unparalleled above everyone else in the entire world. Yet, look at her now in his house; even filth held more value and dignity than she did. He had explicitly told her that he was entirely unready to become a father, and that because he didn't truly love her, he refused to bind his bloodline and lineage to hers. Yet, despite the horror of it all, she still loved him. Even until tomorrow, she did not regret marrying him. Wallahi, she loved Habib with every fiber of her being, and she was prepared to endure anything just to salvage her husband and protect her sacred marriage.
3:45 AM
Inside his own bedroom, Habib was pacing back and forth, completely unable to find a moment of peace or rest. His head was throbbing with a sharp, blinding pain from the crushing weight of anxiety as he desperately racked his brain for a way out of his predicament.
What acceptable answer could he possibly give to his true lover whenever she demanded an update regarding Ummu-Salma’s pregnancy? If he had to tell her that the pregnancy was still intact and hadn't miscarried, he would be admitting that he had broken his solemn promise to her—and that was a failure he could not afford. He had tried absolutely every psychological tactic to break Ummu-Salma's spirit and force her into submission, but her stubborn defiance far exceeded anything he had ever anticipated.
He had fully expected that his sudden, freezing emotional withdrawal and cruel treatment would quickly shatter her, forcing her to come crawling to him on her knees to beg for his forgiveness. He had envisioned them quietly and smoothly aborting the pregnancy at a clinic, allowing him to fully enjoy the remaining fruits of her dowry before ultimately discarding her and sending her packing back to her family. But she had proven to be incredibly stubborn.
Driven to absolute desperation by his lack of options, he had gone out and secretly purchased a powerful brand of sleeping pills. He had crushed a massive, lethal dose of the pills and dissolved them into the Zobo drink, knowing it was a beverage she absolutely loved. Yet, from what he could see, even if she had drunk it, it hadn't affected her in the slightest. Furthermore, when he secretly checked the kitchen, he couldn't find the Zobo bottle anywhere. He knew with absolute certainty that if she had actually consumed that heavily laced drink, he wouldn't have found her resting at home; he would have received a frantic emergency call informing him that she was hospitalized. But the perfectly stable condition he had found her in that evening confirmed that, yet again, his desperate plan had completely failed.
He brought his fist down hard against his palm, holding his head in his hands as a wave of intense frustration washed over him. Why was Ummu-Salma so utterly incapable of understanding the reality of her situation? Did she genuinely not believe a single word of everything he had spelled out to her? Did she still blindly believe that he loved her? Did she truly believe she was his ultimate choice? Or would he actually have to sit her down and spell out the brutal, unvarnished truth in plain, absolute terms before she finally understood the true, sinister motive behind his marriage to her?
As he was drowned in these dark thoughts, his phone, which lay discarded on the mattress, began to vibrate violently. The moment his eyes fell upon the flashing screen, his heart plummeted straight into his stomach.
"M.S.!!"
It was her calling. And right now, he had absolutely no comforting answers to offer her. He was constantly failing her expectations, falling short time and time again. He cursed his own stupidity; why had he been so foolish from the very beginning? Why hadn't he simply forced Ummu-Salma to a clinic and had the pregnancy terminated forcefully without her consent or knowledge? He had absolutely no desire to leave a single trace of his genetic footprint or bloodline in Ummu-Salma's life. His sole objective was to fully satisfy his hidden agenda with her, extract what he needed, and divorce her immediately—severing all ties permanently.
Furthermore, this current crisis violated the sacred pact he had made with his true lover. He had given her a binding, gentleman's promise that no other woman on earth would ever be the first to bear his children or carry his lineage, and as a man, he was fiercely determined not to break that promise. He was completely out of options. He had initially treated this entire marriage plot like a simple, easily managed game, but it had rapidly spiraled into a nightmare. The situation demanded urgent, ruthless action; if he failed to act decisively now, he would be left weeping over spilled milk when time had completely run out for him.
Seeing that the phone refused to stop ringing, he knew she wouldn't give up. He knew her character all too well; she was prone to extreme anxiety and obsessive worry, and right now, she was desperately demanding to hear that Ummu's pregnancy had been terminated. He simply did not possess a single pleasant update that could calm her down.
The final call eventually timed out and cut off. For a short while, silence fell over the room, but it was quickly broken by the sharp chime of an incoming text message. With trembling hands, Habib snatched the phone and opened the message:

"Habib, you will either pick up my call right now, or I will show up at your house tomorrow morning, and I do not care what chaos breaks loose as a result. Answer my call."

Panic seized his entire body. His hands shook violently as he attempted to dial her number, but before he could press send, the phone flashed with another incoming call from her. He answered it slowly, drawing the device to his ear in absolute silence, completely afraid to speak first.
"Habib, what on earth is going on?" she demanded. Her voice, echoing from the other end of the line, was soft, distinctly feminine, yet dripping with intense, demanding pressure.
He let out a long, heavy breath before running a hand over his face in deep distress. "I think... I think the pregnancy is still there," he admitted quietly.
"You think? You don't even know for sure, Habib?!" she shouted, her voice rising sharply this time, completely dropping her soft tone.
"Wallahi, I drugged her drink exactly as I told you I would! But..."
"But what?!" she interrupted, her voice burning with fury.
"I think she didn't drink it."
A sharp, furious shriek pierced through the speaker from the other end of the line.
"Please, my love, just have patience with me. I will find another way out of this, I promise."
"Another way out?! You completely squandered your best opportunities a long time ago, Habib! You are the sole reason we are trapped in this massive mess in the first place! From the very moment you two got married, I explicitly told you to put her on strict birth control planning so that the sudden appearance of a pregnancy would never become an issue for us. But no, you refused to listen to my advice! You sat there foolishly assuming that a single year was far too short a time for her to conceive. Have you completely forgotten that in this modern era, people conceive within the very first year of marriage? When her first pregnancy miscarried naturally, that was a pure act of God that saved us from disaster—yet you still failed to learn your lesson or plan ahead, Habib! I explicitly told you not to say a single word to her; I told you to simply drive her to a hospital, have the pregnancy terminated forcefully, and hand her the divorce papers right there! But you stubbornly insisted on your own foolish plan, and now look exactly where your 'brilliant plan' has dragged us! Good grief, Habib, I feel like I am literally going insane! Whenever I remember that that pathetic excuse of a girl has beaten me to the punch, hosting your very first child in her womb... I feel like I am going to faint from pure black hatred and grief!"
She finished her tirade in an absolute scream. Habib’s entire body was vibrating with fear as he desperately scrambled to find the right words of comfort and absolute submission to soothe her raging temper.
"My love, please, look at me—just calm your heart. I swear to you, I give you my sacred word that besides you, no other woman on earth will ever have the right to bear my first children. Just rest your mind; that pregnancy will absolutely be destroyed tomorrow, Insha Allah."
He spoke in a deeply pleading, submissive tone, frantically gesturing with his free hand in mid-air as if she could actually see his desperate movements through the line.
A long, tense silence hung over the call before she finally let out a slow, measured breath. "Habib... you know how deeply I love you, right? That is the only reason I allowed you to go through with this whole charade in the first place, do you understand?"
"I know, my love. I know."
"Then do not humiliate me. Do not make me lose my absolute faith and certainty in you."
"Insha Allah, tomorrow morning I will personally handle her. I will force her into the car and drag her straight to a clinic to have that pregnancy removed, whether she likes it or not."
A cold, mocking laugh echoed from the other end of the line before she spoke: "Habib, don't you dare be so incredibly foolish. If you attempt that, you will regret it instantly. Now that Ummu knows exactly what your sinister intentions are regarding that pregnancy, she wouldn't trust you even if you offered to take her to Saudi Arabia, let alone willingly get into a car with you. You need to come up with a far more clever way out."
As she spoke, Habib realized the absolute truth in her words. Given how ruthlessly he had already exposed his true colors, there was absolutely no way Ummu-Salma would ever lower her guard around him again. But despite the mounting obstacles, he refused to admit defeat; he was determined to try his luck again. They remained on the phone for an incredibly long time, with Habib continuously whispering intense words of love, devotion, and absolute reassurance into her ear until he was entirely certain her heart was completely at ease. By the time they finally hung up, he had firmly bound himself to a singular, dark resolution: come what may, he would ensure that the pregnancy was completely terminated by tomorrow, Insha Allah.
They had successfully finalized their dark human plots and machinations. But what neither of them realized was that the Almighty Creator had already finalized His divine decree long before them. Within the sacred tablets of destiny, the Almighty had already written that Habib and Ummu would successfully form a clot of blood, and from that clot of blood, a living, breathing soul would emerge.
The following morning, something happened that left Ummu completely stunned and deeply suspicious. Habib's sudden behavioral shifts had become a source of immense terror, forcing her to treat his every move with extreme caution.
In the early hours of the morning, right before he left for his workplace, he actually walked straight into her bedroom. He looked down at her and gently asked how her body was feeling, adding that he hoped she wasn't facing any severe health complications.
She was so profoundly shocked by this sudden display of concern that her throat constricted, leaving her entirely speechless. She could only stare up at him blankly as a warm, bright smile spread across his face—a smile that her instincts fiercely rejected, refusing to trust it for even a fraction of a second.
"Fret not, Baby. I'm heading out to work now," he murmured softly. "But I really want you to cook a delicious meal and dress up beautifully for me today. The moment I return this evening, we are going to sit down and have a long talk."
He turned and exited the room, leaving her sitting on the bed with her mouth slightly open, her eyes staring at the empty doorway in utter bewilderment. A small, desperate part of her heart tried to convince her that perhaps he had finally repented; perhaps he had realized the gravity of his errors and was preparing to offer a genuine apology. Because she loved Habib so intensely and had anchored her entire existence on his love, this hopeful side of her brain ultimately won the internal debate, convincing her that a heartfelt apology was on the horizon. Yet, deep in the shadows of her mind, a persistent, lingering anxiety remained, warning her to be careful and not to blindly trust Habib's instantaneous transformation.
Nevertheless, she did not hesitate to fulfill his explicit requests. As evening approached, despite the heavy, exhausting fatigue weighing down her limbs, she forced herself up and began working in the kitchen. Baɗɗo called her phone during this time, mentioning that she was considering stopping by the house that evening, but Ummu quickly advised her to postpone the visit until the following day. In her heart, a surge of pure joy and relief was bubbling; she was fully expecting a beautiful reconciliation with Habib tonight, and she wanted to ensure that when Baɗɗo arrived tomorrow, there would be absolutely no trace of marital discord left for her to notice.
She meticulously prepared a meal of white rice served with a rich savory stew and a fresh side salad. She even went through the exhausting trouble of brewing a fresh batch of Kunun Aya (tiger nut milk), frequently pausing to rest against the counter because her breathing kept catching heavily, feeling as though the air might cut off entirely. She managed to complete everything well before the Maghrib prayer. Once she concluded her prayers, she painfully dragged her weak body into the bathroom to take a shower. She could feel her skin burning to the touch; the severe fever had returned with a vengeance.
Yet, she pushed through the physical agony, determined to look beautiful for him. She selected a stunning, long black gown adorned with intricate red embroidery. To complement the outfit, she wrapped a vibrant red veil around her head. She looked breathtakingly beautiful; despite her minimal effort, her fair face possessed a striking, serene clarity, though it carried the distinct, delicate paleness of someone who had been battling a long, depleting illness.
Habib returned home exceptionally early, arriving well before the call for the Isha prayer. He walked through the front door heavily laden with shopping bags, having purchased a generous portion of Balangu (roasted meat) and several bottles of Exotic fruit juice. The moment his eyes fell upon her elegant figure, he threw his arms wide open, gesturing for her to come to him.
Ummu felt a wave of hesitation hold her back, her body refusing to fully relax, but she ultimately stepped into his space. He pulled her tightly against his chest, wrapping his arms around her as he began deeply inhaling the scent of her neck, whispering in a low, melting voice, "I have missed you so desperately, Baby."
Tears instantly spilled over Ummu's eyelids, but Habib didn't leave her to weep in peace. He gently tilted her face upward, using his tongue to softly lick away the tears streaming down her cheeks before beginning to passionately touch and caress her body. Although a frantic voice deep within her soul screamed at her to push him away and stop him, she found herself entirely paralyzed. She kept reminding herself that this was Habib—this was her husband, her true lover, her soulmate.
Right there in the living room, he ruthlessly stripped her of her gown. A sudden, violent chill struck her bare skin, causing every single goosebump on her body to rise as her skin burned with the heat of the fever, but Habib was far too consumed by his own desires to notice her distress. He aggressively guided her into their matrimonial bedroom, taking full advantage of her body with an intense, raw ferocity that far exceeded anything she had ever experienced from him before.
As they were in the midst of it, the loud, clear call for the Isha prayer began echoing from the neighboring mosques, but Habib refused to pause or grant her a single moment of respite. She was utterly exhausted, her body breaking under the strain as she silently wept, but he remained completely deaf to her pain. His actions were devoid of even a shred of mercy or tenderness; just when she thought he was finally about to conclude and release her, he would aggressively turn her over and start all over again. Ummu's silent, muffled tears eventually gave way to loud, broken sobs, her entire frame shaking violently from the physical toll. She felt a sudden, profound sense of alienation, as if this man taking her body weren't Habib at all. For the first time in her life, she felt absolutely no pleasure in his embrace; instead, a sharp, burning resentment pierced through her heart. Yet, he refused to stop until his own physical lust was completely sated. Without casting a single backward glance, he simply stepped over her trembling form and walked into the bathroom to perform his ritual ablutions.
Burrowing her head deep beneath the heavy blankets, she wept bitterly, forcefully burying her face into the fabric to muffle the sound of her sobs so he wouldn't hear her. She heard him emerge from the bathroom, his voice ringing out casually as he told her to get up, take a shower, and join him to eat because he was starving. Without even waiting to see if she could move, he turned and strolled out of the room, leaving her collapsed on the mattress in tears.
With immense difficulty, she painfully crawled into the bathroom, her mind spinning with a horrific thought: Why would Habib treat her with such absolute brutality? Could he be trying to forcefully cause a miscarriage and terminate the child's life through pure physical violence?
God is greater than him, she thought fiercely. Ever since she had discovered his malicious intentions, she had consistently woven a powerful shield of protection into her daily prayers, begging the Almighty to guard both her and her unborn child from Habib's evil machinations. Yet, what truly terrified her was the undeniable fact that she still couldn't bring herself to stop loving him. She loved him, she loved the innocent child growing inside her, and she desperately loved their marriage—which was the sole reason she had completely failed to resist or argue with him tonight.
Her body was burning rapidly with a severe fever as she painfully crawled back out of the bathroom and changed into a simple, long gown made of a rich material fabric, which happened to be the very first item hanging in her wardrobe. She joined him at the dining table and began serving his plate. Noting that she hadn't served a single portion for herself, he asked her in a soft, deceptively gentle voice why she wasn't eating. She replied weakly that she couldn't bring herself to touch food, because the moment she swallowed anything, she would instantly throw it up.
He immediately reached into the bag of Balangu he had brought, pulling out a tender piece of meat and holding it out to her, urging her to eat even a tiny bite.
"I really cannot eat it," she pleaded softly.
Setting his spoon down on the plate, he stared at her intently, gently taking hold of her hand. "Shh, look at me. Sannu, I'm so sorry. Just try to eat even a tiny morsel, and then you can wash it down with this juice. Insha Allah, you won't throw it up this time, I promise."
Despite her quiet protests, he persistently brought the meat straight to her lips. She tried to turn her head away, but he masterfully maneuvered it into her mouth. The moment she began reluctantly chewing, she realized the flavor was exceptionally delicious. Encouraged, she reached out, took another piece on her own, and began chewing slowly while keeping her eyes locked onto his face.
"See? What did I tell you? You're not throwing up," he said, flashing her a warm, beautiful smile.
She offered a faint, strained smile in return but remained entirely silent. However, a sudden detail caught her eye, causing a cold wave of suspicion to rush back into her heart, confirming that Habib was hiding something deeply sinister. He had purchased two separate bottles of Exotic juice. When he poured the drinks, he explicitly poured hers from one specific bottle into a porcelain cup, while he poured his own drink from the second bottle.
A sharp thought pierced through her mind: If we are both simply having a drink together, why on earth would he open two entirely separate bottles at the exact same time?
Instantly, her trust shattered. She knew with absolute certainty that Habib was not doing any of this out of genuine love or concern for her well-being. He was orchestrating this entire elaborate display of affection for a singular, dark purpose: to lull her into a false sense of security so she would blindly ingest whatever trap he had set. But she was fully prepared for him; with her eyes wide open to his treachery, she was fiercely resolved never to let him gain the upper hand over her.
After forcing herself to chew exactly four pieces of the roasted meat, she abruptly pulled her hand back from the table.
He locked his eyes onto hers. "Are you full already?"
She simply nodded her head in silent confirmation. Instantly and with an eerie quickness, he pushed the porcelain cup filled with the juice toward her, his voice dripping with forced urgency:
"Drink this—"