CHAPTER 2:THE NEXT NIGHT

"You may now kiss the bride."

I forgot how to breathe.

I looked at Zayd, expecting him to be as uncomfortable as me. But he was just standing there, calm, like this was normal for him.

I whispered, "Don't even try it."

His lips twitched. "Try what?"

"You know what I'm talking about."

"I don't."

"Zayd."

He leaned close, I could smell his perfume. But he didn't kiss me.

"Congratulations, Mrs Alhassan," he whispered.

I shifted back. "Don't call me that."

"You will get used to it."

"I won't."

"We will see."

The registrar cleared her throat. "Sign the certificate."

I stared at the paper. My name was already printed there. Amira Yusuf. For a second I wanted to drop the pen and run out.

Then I remembered Mama in the hospital bed. I remembered landlord shouting. I remembered Layla crying in the kitchen.

So I signed.

Zayd signed under mine without even thinking.

Just like that, I was married.

Not for love. For 8 million naira.

Outside, Layla grabbed my hands. "You did it."

I forced a smile.

"The hospital called," she said. "Mama's bill is cleared."

I looked at Zayd. He was talking to one of his men.

"You already paid?" I asked.

"Yes."

"All of it?"

"Yes."

"You paid before the wedding?"

He looked at me like it was obvious. "I said I would."

He opened the car door. "Enter."

The drive was quiet. I was watching Lagos outside the window but my mind was far.

When the car stopped, I looked up. Huge black gate opened, revealing a massive house inside. Tall windows, fine garden.

"You live here?" I asked.

"Yes."

"Alone?"

"Most times."

We entered. The house was fine, expensive everywhere, but cold. It did not feel like people live here.

A woman in her fifties came out.

"Welcome sir."

Then she saw me and froze. Her face changed. Like she had seen ghost.

Zayd's face hardened. "Madam Safiya, this is Amira. My wife."

The woman looked at me again, shock and fear in her eyes.

"Welcome ma," she said quietly, then quickly walked away.

"Wait," I called. "Have we met before?"

"No ma," she said without turning back.

I turned to Zayd. "She recognized me."

"You are tired."

"I know what I saw."

He ignored me. "Your room is upstairs, second door left."

"Your room?"

"Across the hall."

"So we are sleeping separately?"

He raised eyebrow. "You expected us to share?"

"No!"

"Good."

I folded arms. "So what are the rules?"

He looked at me. "Three rules. One, don't enter my study. Two, don't ask about my family. Three, don't leave this house without telling me."

I scoffed. "You like giving orders."

"You like disobeying them."

He entered his room and closed the door.

That night I could not sleep. The bed was too soft. The ring on my finger felt strange.

Then I heard door close downstairs. 1:13am.

I opened my door small and heard voices.

"You can't keep hiding this from her," a strange man's voice said.

"Keep your voice down," Zayd said.

"She is your wife now. She has right to know."

"I changed my mind."

"Zayd, you promised she would be told after wedding."

Then Zayd said something that froze me.

"When I know she is ready to hear what happened to her mother."

My mother?

I rushed back to my room and pretended to sleep. Footsteps stopped outside my door. Handle moved. Door opened small. Someone stood there, watching me, then closed it and left.

My phone vibrated.

Unknown number: "Amira, you don't know the man you married."

Another message: "Ask him why he chose you."

Then a picture came. A young woman standing beside a little girl. The little girl was me. But the woman was not Mama.

Final message: "Your mother did not die the way they told you. And Zayd knows where she is."

I dropped the phone.

Before I could breathe, knock on my door.

"Amira? Are you awake? Open the door."

I stared at the picture on my phone, heart beating fast.

If my mother was still alive... why did everyone tell me for 15 years that she was dead?