So Much For Love

Chapter Sixteen

Assalamu alaikum.

I apologise for the loonggg delay in getting this update!

So for that, I am giving the longest chapter yet as consolation.

As you all know, we are still at the emotional stave. So please, bear with me.

Don't forget to vote.✌

Zainab smiled as the little bundle in her hand cooed. He had dark eyes, sweet little mouth and a bald head.

His hair was shaven as per tradition on the seventh day after his birth. He was incredibly cuddly and she felt right holding him.

Her heart ached with a longing she barely acknowledged and wistfulness. And regret. 
She could hardly look away as something tugged at her heart, her expressions a mixture of pain and love.

She had missed her chance to experience that joy, all thanks to the man she loved.
“What are you thinking, Zainab?” Asma’u had asked, her eyes filled with concern.

Zainab didn’t take her eyes off the baby, “Nothing. It is just that this baby is so cute and innocent.” She said softly, her heart brimming with so much love.

Asma’u smiled and looked at baby Al-Amin, her eyes shone like the stars on a dark night, “Yes, he is cute, but not as innocent when night falls. The boy can cry nonstop for hours.” She huffed out some air from her lungs.

Zee chuckled and looked briefly at Asma’u, “He must have taken after you. Can you remember Inna always called you Akoke, the cry baby?”

Asma’u laughed a little too, “Yeah, even some of her friends and neighbors still call me by that name.”

“See? So, let the boy keep up with the inheritance.”

Asma’u rolled her eyes, “Hmm, I pity your children then. If they take half of your stubbornness then it will be one bumpy experience.”

Zainab merely smiled, but her eyes had a pained expression, “Yes, that would be something, wouldn’t it?”

Asma’u sighed, “When I asked you what you were thinking, I was referring to your case versus Aliyu.”
Zainab looked at her sister briefly, then back at the baby.

Her expressions were unreadable but her features hardened. Asma’u wished she hadn’t been the one to remind Zainab of her predicament. But ever since her big decision, they hadn’t discussed it.

Zainab kept the sleeping baby on the baby gently and wasted more time than was necessary adjusting his blanket and shaking him to sleep.

Asma’u knew she did that to avoid answering her question. She gave up, “Well, if you don’t want to talk about it then, don’t. I just feel talking would give you some closure, and would proffer a way for you to deal with everything.”

Zainab hated that Asma’u was right. “I just don’t wish to talk about anything now.”
Or ever, she added ruefully.

It was her decision to make, she’d taken it. It would be seen if her father would support her or turn his back at her again.

She’d understand if he did.

Earlier that evening, before the call to maghrib prayer, Malam had requested her audience. She’d walked to his room like she was walking on a tightrope. And for the first time in her life, she dreaded their meeting.

Zainab had never been one to be scared of any outcome, negative or otherwise once she’d set her mind to do anything she believed in.

She craved for freedom, and the only way she knew how to get it was the court.