He dragged me into his room and smirked, then resumed his work like I wasn't even there. I stood awkwardly by the door, waiting for him to say something—anything—but he just let me stand like a statue.
I glanced around his room. It was sparse but elegant, everything was either grey or black.
Dull colors, just like him.
Eventually, tired of standing, I walked over and sat on the couch directly facing him.
Stupid Anklets , I thought, as I glanced down at my feet.
I remembered the first time I started wearing them. Every time someone saw me, they'd give me a lecture.
"Ke Khadija, kin san me wanan ya ke nufi?"
"Kin san yadda za'a rika kallon ki?"
And so what if they stare or talk ? At least they have eyes to look.
In Hausa culture, wearing anklets was almost taboo. It was always linked to unrighteousness or questionable behavior. To some, it symbolized rebellion or promiscuity, but to me, it was just an accessory, something I liked.
---
Afaan's POV
I tried to focus on my work, but I couldn't help glancing at her every few seconds. She had finally sat down on the couch, looking at her legs, lightly shaking them, causing those anklets to clink softly.
She rolled her eyes for what seemed like the tenth time, pulling a funny face, clearly lost in her own thoughts.
I held back a chuckle and decided to break the silence.
"what are you doing with your face like that?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.
She shot me a look, eyes wide, twisting her mouth in a dramatic expression.
"What face?" she asked, feigning innocence.
"Who gave you permission to sit on my couch? And what are you even doing here?"
She rolled her eyes again, leaning back with a 'duh' expression.
"What does it look like? It's my husband's room, and I'm here to sleep."
I got up from my chair and walked toward her. She stood up quickly, and with every step I took, she stepped back, until her back hit the wall. She shut her eyes tight, as if preparing for some inevitable punishment.
"So, who's your husband?" I asked, smirking. "Ba ki da kunya ko?"
"Zama da madaukin kanwa," she shot back, eyes still squeezed shut.
I leaned in closer. "In mutum ya san shi cikakken mara kunya ne, ya bude ido ya fada mana"
"Look, ya Afaan, I'm sorry, please let me go," she mumbled, panic evident in her voice.
"Who's holding you?" I stepped back, giving her space.
She muttered under her breath, "Whatever."
---
Afrah's POV
"Whatever," I muttered and tried to walk past him. But before I could take another step, he pulled me back, effortlessly lifting me over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.
"W—what are you doing?!" I squealed, wriggling in his grip.
He dropped me onto the bed and leaned down to my level. His lips brushed my forehead, then my nose, before finally pressing against my lips. I tried to resist, keeping my mouth firmly closed, but he bit my lower lip hard enough to make me gasp. That was all he needed to deepen the kiss, his tongue sliding in as he kissed me fiercely.
After what felt like an eternity, he finally pulled away, smirking in satisfaction.
"That's what you get, darling, for disrespecting Naseer Miko," he said, before turning and walking to the bathroom.
I sat up, catching my breath. My lips tingled from the kiss—my first kiss, And as much as I hated to admit it, it wasn't all bad...
I applied some lip balm, hoping the sting would fade by morning. Yanking back the covers, I snuggled into his bed, the sheets smelling faintly of him. Before I knew it, I had drifted off to sleep.
---
**15 minutes later**
"Haan, wallahi Zain! If I slap you, you'll regain your senses, toh!" I mumbled, half-asleep, turning over.
"Who told you to sleep on my bed, eh? A voice broke into my dream. I blinked my eyes open slowly, only to find ya Afaan standing over me, shirtless, wearing only grey sweatpants.
He looked... hot...
I closed my eyes again, too tired to process anything, but he shook me harder.
"Wake up!" he called out again, frustration clear in his voice.
I forced my eyes open, yawning. "Ya... yawn... Afaan... you look... hot..." I yawned again, pulling him onto the bed with surprising strength.
"Now... sleep... don't think... I'm here..." I mumbled, half-asleep, my words trailing off. "You're... a bad... husband," I muttered before drifting off completely,
---
Afaan's POV
She sleep-talks. I couldn't help but chuckle at her sleepy antics. I tried to free my hand from her grip, but she held on tight.
"Don't... leave... please," she murmured in her sleep, holding me even closer.
Sighing , I slid under the blanket next to her and used the room remote it turn off the light. Her head rested on my chest as I settled in.
"Bismika Allahuma amutu wa ahya (In your name, O Allah, I die and live)," I whispered, kissing her forehead softly.
Then, i leaned in close to her ear and whispered three quiet words before falling asleep beside her.
Translations
Zama da madaukin kanwa ~ staying with him taught her to be disrespectful.
the phrase is used to describe how someone has become tough or resilient by dealing with a difficult or unyielding situation or person over time. It's a way of saying, "I've become hardened or more resilient by dealing with tough people or circumstances."
In mutum ya san shi cikakken mara kunya ne, ya bude ido ya fada mana~If you think you're truly disrespectful, open your eyes and say it.
Lol, so what do you guys think he whispered ??? 😈😈😈😈
Ma'asalam habibties😂😂❤️❤️❤️
I love you all and God bless.
Oh and don't forget to press that tauraro/star.
YOU ARE READING
Just the two of us (EDITING)✔️
Humor"There's nowhere you can be that isn't where you're meant to be..." "This story is a gripping tale of desire , jealousy , and unforgettable characters as real as the emotions that bring them together" This is a story about Khadija afrah and afaan...
