Soiled #ProjectNigeria ✔️

Chapter Nineteen: Secondary Dysmenorrhea

"Salam Alaykum"

I looked up and stopped fiddling with my thumbs. I let out a harsh breath and tried to get off the bed. He holds out his hand and signals for me to take it. I look at it and decide not to.

Fate has other plans for me. The Alkaybba I'm wearing has tangled with my feet so I nearly fell while trying to get up. My bad

"Please perform ablution so we can pray. I'll be waiting in a room two doors down." He smiles and walks out of the door.

I ransack my small suitcase and take out a small container. I smear a small content of the container on my face. It's an alcohol free makeup removal.

While I press my fingertips to my cheeks, I look round the bathroom. It's tiled in white, everything in it is a blinding white.

A few minutes later I'm donning on my new pink hijab over my grey pyjamas. I open the door two rooms down and I'm struck foolish  by its sheer beauty. It has a large French window facing it that would look absolutely stunning during the day and when the sun is out. Brown carpet that compliments the cream walls of the room.

Two praying mats had been laid out and Adeel is standing in front of a small shelf. He picks out a green covered Quran and passes it to me. Mine?

" It's yours. I decided that the best gift to give you is the Al-Quran. Let's pray." He begins to lead prayers.

A few minutes later, we are done. He makes a dua and I follow. Somehow this puts things in perspective for me, I shouldn't be thinking like this but I can't help it. Husband Number one was this religious, if not more. He never played with prayers.

"Nabeela?"

I look up to see him watching me closely. I quickly get up from the mat and begin folding the mat. It's a pretty green one with the picture of the Kabbah  knitted tightly into it.

He closes his Quran after the recitation of Suratul Fathia. His voice is just there. Although his use of Arabic is clear and sound.

I walk back to my room and just as I settle back into my bed, someone knocks at my door. I wear my hijab back and walk to the door.

When I open up its Adeel, it takes all of my willpower not to scrunch up my face in annoyance. What the Janaham does he want from me.

"Aren't you hungry, let's go eat." He has changed out of his Jallabiya into a black tee and grey sweatpants. I glare at his turned back and adjust my hijab before following him.

The tiles of the stairs are cold and a pretty brown shade. The banister helps cool my nerves as its cold as ice. We reached the kitchen in no time and it's one of those large spacious areas that come with overly big houses.

"You don't have to cook till Sunday next week. Food will come from Mamma's house. She specifically asked me to tell you that."  I nod slowly.

He sets out plates on the center island that has four blue chairs around it. I sit in front of one and wait for him to finish.

"What would you like? Fried rice or Masa?" I look at him in surprise from where I'd placed my head on my arms. I had been waiting for him to finish taking his food.

"Fried rice." He scoops out hot rice to the plate he has set out and put a peppered chicken on top of it. He turns around to find me a fork and knife. He places it on my plate and sets it in front of me.

"Don't start eating yet. allow me put mine too."  His accent has a mix of British and Fulani just like Ajike's husband. Goes on to show how closely they grew up together.

He plates his Masa and walks to the living room. Earlier, when I was being taken upstairs I didn't look around. The living room has steps that lead to another smaller living room.

Adeel sets his plate on the table and removes the pillows on the couch. He resits comfortably and I do the same on a couch opposite him.

"What would you like to watch?" I stop in the process of cutting my chicken. What is his problem, you've forced me to eat, allow me to eat in peace. I shrug in nonchalance.

"You must have a station you love watching, or you like Netflix? I have an array of movies that I haven't seen." I roll my eyes slightly  and watch him stretch the remote uncertainly towards me.

When he sees that I refuse to take the cable tv remote from him, he changes the channel to Iqraa and they are showing a cause for all Muslims to donate to. I sigh in irritation and continue eating my delicious food.

After a few minutes of silence, I hear him clear his throat. "What should I call you, Nabeela or Afrah?"

I set my fork and knife down.

" What is it, what do you want from me? What is your problem? Can't you let me be?" I feel the beginning of tears smarting my eyes. For all I know Baba could have sold me off, he's used me to get a one billion naira loan from Adeel's father. And now this one is here trying to be Mr perfect husband. I open my eyes to see him watching me closely.

I angrily set the plate on the coffee table and stalk to the kitchen to drink water. Once I down a glass of cold water, I climbed the cold stairs to my room. Tomorrow is another day.

*******

Deep pain woke me the next morning, sheer blinding, gut wrenching pain in my lower abdomen and back. I blindly reach for my phone.

Three twenty-eight.

Ya Allah, take this pain away. I lay on my stomach to try to ease the pain. Then I realized I should have packed my usual drugs. I gingerly get up from the bed and walk slowly to the closet.

In a few minutes, I've gone through all of my boxes and I can't find none of my usual pills. I cry out in annoyance and pain. I blindly search my other bag for my hot water bottle pack. Tears stream from my eyes, The pain I feel is unspeakable.

*******

Who knows what is wrong with Nabeela, she's so angry and frustrated. I don't know too💆💆

By the way this chapter is for Naeemah, I be wan tag you oo but network no gree.

I love all of you, let's get to three thousand soon. God bless you. Sleep well.

To those I promised, here is the agreement oo.

                       TheOmoope