ABUJA, NIGERIA.
JUNE, 2018.
The enticing trees in the parking space have their first autumnal blush and though the tarmac path was wet from the night’s rain, the sky above promises no more. In an hour or so, the path will dry up and the trees will spring up, their water weight gone. Breathing in the fresh air and feeling it on his face is tonic for Muhsin after the oppressive summer heat.
He stepped into his car and drove away as he was done for the day. His stomach growled and he squirmed in his seat to try to silence the rumbling. He glanced at the clock in the car. He hissed softly knowing he had no food waiting for him at home and he hated eating at the restaurant. He always wondered if that was how marriage life works or he was just unlucky. If that was how wives treat their husbands, he wouldn't have attempted marrying her or even any other woman.
He honked at the white ironed gate and waited till the gate man opened the gate for him before he drove in. He stepped out of the car and walked towards the entrance while he gazed at her car. He looked away and headed into the house. By one glance of the living room, you’d think they have five children already or a mad person was living there. He heaved a sigh and sauntered to the dinning area, there was no sign of any food, heck the only thing there was the mug he used to take coffee in the morning staring back at him. He entered the kitchen too, there was no sign of his dinner. He hissed softly and walked out of the kitchen. He uprise to the stairs and entered his room as he scanned the untidy room. He rubbed his temple when he felt a headache settling in. He hissed again and stormed out of the room to her room. He looked at her while she put on her makeup, as usual. “You're back early today,” she spoke not glancing his way.
Anger boiled deep in his system, to welcome him was a huge deal to Amira. He folded his arms on his chest and exhaled. “Amira is this how you’re supposed to welcome your husband? I don't even care if you don’t greet me. Have you looked around the house please? It’s so dirty and you don't even bother to think of cooking dinner for me when you know I will come back home hungry. Why do I always have to repeat myself everyday?” The anger churned within, hungry for destruction, and he knew it was too much for him to handle.
She dropped her brush, mouth open as she turned to look at him in disbelief. “Cook for you? Clean the house? In my father’s house I don't remember doing all that you mentioned and I don't see any reason why you are going to force me to do any because I am not your slave, and haven’t I asked you multiple times to hire a maid for me? You have the money to hire hundred maids but you chose to be ignorant about it so you don’t have the right to come into my room and start talking bullshit, I won't tolerate any of your...”
“Amira thats enough,” he yelled, his voice rumbling around the room. She looked away and hissed. “You can’t tell me what to do in my own house! You are the one that’s meant to do all the house chores since you refused to continue with your degree and get a job so you have to stay in here and take care of the house like the house wife you are...”
She let out a dry laugh and shook her head even though what he said really pained her. “I don't blame you for saying any of this. I really don't. My mother warned me not to marry you because you were obviously not the one in love with me but I refused to listen and I kept pestering you till I made you mine.... But it’s okay, one day you will regret uttering those words to me.”
He glared at her and hissed before storming out of the room. That was a daily routine for them now; to exchange words. They have been married for seven months now but things were not getting any better.
He went back to his room and took his car keys before he left to a nearby restaurant to eat. He was tired of going to his parents house to eat because his mother wouldn't stop complaining about Amira. His mother was right since day one when she warned him about her. Amira’s mother was her close friend as Amira’s father was his father’s closest friend which made them like a family.
He settled down in the restaurant and ordered his dinner. He checked the time on his phone. It was passed 9pm. He rubbed his eyes and sighed. He was distressed. He felt dead inside. Everything felt dry and empty. His throat felt as if someone thrust a handful of itching powder inside. His eyes were scruffy. The waiter finally brought his dinner and arranged it on the table. He looked down at the food plate, leaning back. He suddenly lost the appetite to eat.
He ate few spoons, paid for his bill and left the building. He went back home and even though he was exhausted, he fixed his room and had his bath before moving to his desk to complete some office work.
