UNFURLING FATE.

Home sweet home? Not.

Maryaam.

My foot was thankfully much better when I woke up for fajr this morning, albeit lightly, I could atleast step on it now. General however, did not feed into that at all,

He made me pray seated, and even offered me Islamic backing to prove I was allowed to do so. I also got breakfast in bed, that I did not complain about, and to end my morning, he got on his knees once again and applied an ointment to my foot.

There were no words in the English dictionary to describe what that does to me, even while knowing it was out of obligation.

"We're leaving today, I will have someone else assigned to that project." My husband says to me as I sit by the dresser and apply my very light, barely visible makeup.

"No, please don't, I already got everything I needed yesterday." I told him, I had enough pictures and measurements.

I tripped on my way to the car, it hurt very much in the moment, but Robert definitely exaggerated the situation by calling general. I was not the first person to trip and I certainly was not gonna be the last.

"Regardless, you are not resuming work on Monday."

My brows furrowed as I stared at him but I didnot say anything to defy him, "Wallah it does not hurt much anymore, all I need is tomorrow to rest."

He completely ignored me and walked out of the room once he'd worn his watch, I rounded up my makeup and packed everything into a suitcase before following after him,

He'd informed me earlier this morning that we were having breakfast at Baabas house and then leaving straight for the airport, at my sight, he got up from the couch he occupied and walked to the door, pulling it open.

I wore my crocs carefully, because my foot was too swollen to fit into sandals. My legs limped to where he stood by the door, once again he cut me off guard by wrapping his arm around my waist to keep me upright and relieve my foot of the pressure, slowly we walked to the elevator and down to our car.

My skin was still tingling from my feel of his touch, there was no getting used to it.

"Good morning ma'am, how are you feeling ?" Robert asked after greeting General, as he pulled open the car door for me.

"I am better, thank you." I gave him a smile as I got in the car with utmost caution to avoid hurting my foot.

We set out for the presidential house immediately, and it did not take long to get there. General all but carried me into the house, he was definitely exaggerating my injury and treating me like an egg. I was not complaining though.

The living room we arrived into was wide and spacious, several feet of architectural perfection. It was modern and exquisite, it was breathtaking. Not that I expected any less from a presidential house.

Baaba walked into the room less than five minutes after we did, my husband knelt to greet him, so in a very difficult attempt I did so too.

"Maryaam Muhammad buhari. I never thought I'd see the day." His lips spread wide into a smile, I also couldn't help but smile and flush when I heard the name he'd called me. That was my official name now, it also reminded me that I still have to change my name on legal documents.

"Ina wuni Baaba." I repeated my greeting,

"How are you my dear, How is he treating you? You can be honest with me, I know how to deal with him the best."

I glanced sideways at my husband and back at the old man, deal with him? We must be talking about two different people.

"Alhamdulillah." My eyes cast downwards as I answered him,