The sound of birds chirping woke Zeenah up. She stirred slowly, involuntarily snuggling into the warmth wrapped around her. Sighing in content, she inhaled the deep scent around her and felt herself smiling. She was happy, and nothing was going to ruin the day for her.For some reason, the bed felt lumpy. Zeenah didn’t remember her bed feeling this way. She groaned as consciousness slowly returned to her, and she suddenly became aware of a hard body engulfing her.She heard a soft chuckle above her and stiffened. A chuckle? She felt herself being tightened in an embrace, and she widened her eyes in shock.Zeenah sat upright quickly, shoving the man aside. Sitting up, she looked around the room slowly, blinking at the unfamiliar walls before her eyes finally settled on the man lying beside her, his eyes glittering with amusement."Oh my God!" She exclaimed, as she quickly covered herself with the quil

It was exactly one week since Samirah put to bed, and as Hausa tradition demanded, the baby was to be named on the seventh day. There was to be a small celebration, where a ram would be slaughtered in the name of the child (although the slaughtering was not a prerequisite for the naming). It was always a festive occasion, and a naming ceremony was just always a cause for joy and celebration, especially if it happened to be the first child. Zeenah woke up that morning feeling giddy and excited. For some reason, the sun seemed brighter, the air smelled sweeter and even her breakfast tasted splendid. She hummed to herself as she set about cleaning, and even while she showered. It wasn't just the ceremony she was looking forward to, although it was always a joy to celebrate and socialize. Zeenah was looking forward to seeing Khadija as well, having been unable to contain her giddiness upon hearing that she would be attending the ceremony. Th

Zeenah debated getting up or trying to sleep for another hour. A gusty morning wind was rattling the windowpanes, threatening to smash them against the side of the building. The early morning light filtered through the drawn draperies. She loved a cold room and the tranquillity that came with it. Weird as it may be, Zeenah had always preferred the cold season to the hot season. She had been dreaming about Maama, holding a baby and smiling up at her. Who was she kidding? Ever since Samirah had given birth, she had been wondering how it would feel for her to also have a child to call hers.Groaning loudly, Zeenah tossed to the other side of her bed and stretched. She was still tired, despite the fact that she had actually slept early. Grabbing her phone, she checked the time and quickly sat up, almost hitting her leg on the edge of the bed. "Dear God! I must really have been so tired!" She picked up a wrapper from her closet and tied it over the

'How's work?'Zeenah typed away as she swallowed a spoonful of rice. It was a beautiful afternoon, and she had just come back from school. It's been five days already since she and AbdulRasheed had agreed to be friends, however, it was a gradual process for her. She still wasn't comfortable with the idea, but she was trying to.AbdulRasheed, on the other hand, Zeenah noticed, was as open as an open book. Even though he was yet to tell her anything about his life, he still tries as much as he could to make her feel as though she had been part of his life for a long time.She swallowed another spoonful the very moment her phone had beeped with an incoming message.'Hectic. I have lots of patients today, though, I'll be done in let's say two hours time. How was school?'She smiled before quickly typing away.'School was fine. Guess I won't be the only on

It was 8:30 pm, and Zeenah was already dressed for their date night.The woman gaping right before was entirely new even to her. There was a radiating glow about her, a kind of gleam in her eyes that was had never been present in her eyes before. This was entirely a new woman. This was a new Zeenatu, this was Mrs AbdulRasheed.She smiled at the sudden thought of being 'Mrs AbdulRasheed', and she even speculated she had imagined calling herself with the same tone he had used in calling her that morning. Carefully, she adjusted the purple veil she had rolled on her head around her face and pinned the hairpin more appropriate to bring out the curve of her face. She was wearing a black Abaya gown, mostly worn by Arabian women.It was black in colour, with touches of purple pearl stones by the neck and hands, so, she paired it with a purple small veil, which she had rolled around her face. She smacked her lips gently,