MY HUSBAND’S TRUE LOVE... AND IT’S NOT ME

Rating: 18+

How did I discover my husband’s true love?

On my wedding day.

I stared at the one million smiling faces in front of me as I sat next to my husband in front of our large wedding guests.

I watched as the traditional women danced to our traditional music to keep us entertained. But the last thing I needed was entertainment. I needed something else. Something more.

I turned to the man sitting next to me.

I needed recognition. To be recognised of the woman I am about to be.

I stared long at my husband sitting and dancing next to me in his white Babariga. He smiled like this moment mattered to him the most.

But I knew it wasn’t the thought of marrying me or the dancing traditional women in front of us that made him smile.

It was something else. Something that stood in a distance.

I turned my head to the side.

It was the ebony skinned woman in red. The one with the exposed ebony balloons floating on her chest and that coca-cola hips of hers.

She had just walked in with a man in blue suit. Her husband, perhaps.

But that didn’t stop my husband’s eyes from dancing with enthusiasm and interest. Interest he has never given to me.

Like one of my divorced aunties would say, “There was nothing more seducing to a married man than another man’s wife.”

And I was yet to discover how true this was.

“Alhaji.” I called out to my husband next to me. He didn’t hear me. He was still looking at Mrs Red Dress.

I looked away and felt that sting in my stomach. That sting of regret. The regret that was supposed to happen years after you were married, not on your wedding day.

The regret that asks, “Can I live with this forever?”

But it was too late as today was the last day before I officially became Mrs Abdulrahman Zakari.

The question is... how did I get here in the first place?

Let me begin.

My name is Hajiya Abdulmalik. Sorry. Now Mrs Hajiya Abdulrahman Zakari.

I am getting married to the late Senator Abdulrahman Zakari’s son, Alhaji Abdulrahman Zakari.

Alhaji and Hajiya. Our names blended like bread and butter.

Because of how our birth names suited together, everyone believed we were fated to be. Including the matchmaker from my father’s village that brought Alhaji and I together.

It wasn’t a forced or arranged marriage like people believed my religion upheld. It was more like a planned marriage between our families, Alhaji and me. We were allowed to do courtship for 3 months to see if we were a match.

Alhaji was very nice to me the entire 3 months and of course, I thought he was a good match. I thought he would make a good husband. And so, we proceeded to finally see this day.

The day we celebrate our wedding. And the day I discovered there was more to my husband’s wandering eyes.

****

That evening, my friends and an elderly aunty took me to my husband’s house. It was part of our tradition.

And do you know another thing that is part of our tradition?

Tonight. Rasa budurci (losing virginity).

All my life, I’ve been prepared for this moment. I didn’t care who it would be with, as long as I was married and ready to do it God’s way.

For years, I have envied my friends who were brave enough to lose theirs before marriage and went to kayan mata seller to restore their virginity before they got married.

But now was my moment.

I stood in front of the bathroom mirror, analyzing every single part of my naked body before I show it to my husband.

Why was my stomach looking too big? Would the acnes on my chest irritate him? Was my breast too small for him?

I debated over and over again what could go on in my husband’s mind when he sees this body. And so, I wore my jallabiya back and finished my make up.

I still wanted to do it. But with clothes on.

In anticipation mixed with anxiety, I opened the bathroom door and entered the room.

But the lights were off and my husband was snoring in bed.

It was our first night together, what was this rubbish?

I walked over to his side to wake him up. He groaned and pushed my hands away and went back to sleep.

That night, I cried. I cried till I could no longer feel tear drops from my eyes.

****