Zainab felt it again,the small,hesitant flutter in her body that whispered of life,she counted the days twice,thrice.Her breath caught between relief and fear.she wanted to tell someone.Not Alhaji,not yet,there was no joy in telling him first,she wrote it instead,in the diary that had become her second skin
"It has returned.the tiny heartbeat that once slipped through my fingers.i am afraid to hope,but I do".
For a few weeks,she moved differently,cautious,careful,guarding the fragile seed inside her,Alhaji noticed her softer steps.
"Are you sick again?"he asked one evening
"No,Alhaji"she replied,her hands folded." I think...I might be carrying."
His eyes narrowed,then lit with a hunger that was not joy,but ownership.
"Good.This time,do not fail me".
Then came the day that everything burned.
It was a Thursday afternoon,Alhaji had returned early from the office,his face tight,his steps loud.Zainab was in the sitting room,sorting baby fabrics she got from the market.
He held a crumpled paper in his hand,the letter she has left for Yusuf two weeks ago.
"What is this?"he asked voice trembling with rage.
Her heart fell.The maid must have betrayed her hiding place,or perhaps Alhaji had been searching through her things again,she opened her mouth but nothing came.
"Is this the father of your child?,tell me,Zainab!"
The words hit harder than any slap,her cheeks burned,her vision blurred,she shook her head again and again
"No,she said in between tears,it's not like that,he is..."
"Silence!"he roared.
He called the housemaids,the driver,even two of his junior staffs who were around,and made her stand in the courtyard while he read the letter aloud,twisting every line into poison.
"This is the wife I feed,the one I clothed in gold,writing love letters like a market girl!"
She tried to explain about the pain,the silence,the need to write to someone,but her words were drawn in his laughter.
That night,the house was full of whispers,servants avoided her eyes,her cheeks were still wet when she lay on her side,one hand on her belly.
"Do not leave me too",she whispered to the child inside."please not you".
The night came with heavy thunder,rain lashed against the windowpanes,and the air smelled of the wet Earth and fear.Zainab had been pacing the bedroom since afternoon,her hands pressed to her belly,her breaths sharp and uneven.
The pain had begun like whispers.She called for help,the maid ran for the driver.Alhaji Kabiru was in the sitting room,scrolling through his phone as if nothing was happening
"It is too early",he said without looking at her
"I can't stand",she whispered,her hands clutching the chair.
"You will give birth here or there,it is your duty.Do not start your drama tonight.
The hours crawled,Every contraction was a wave that broke her body and rebuilt it wrong,the doctor finally came at dawn,too late,too calm,too clinical
Blood,screams,darkness.
She heard voices far away,the sound of metal,the cold press of hands on her stomach.and then nothing.
When she woke up,the room smelled of antiseptic and old rain,her hands reached for her belly,flat and empty.A nurse whispered,not meeting her eyes:
"I am sorry,the child did not make it"
Her throat closed,no tears came,only a hollow ache that filled ears with silence.
Alhaji Kabiru entered later,his face unreadable
" You cannot even do this right",he said standing at the door,"Do you know the shame you bring me?First you disgrace me with that letter,now this"
She turned her face away,the walls spinning around her.
By the third day,she could no longer breathe in that house