Chapter 3

Ousmane’s POV

I didn’t know what to tell her. On the one hand, I understood her. It was a pretty weird situation. Even if she didn’t want to admit it, she would always see her as a rival, especially since she was really my wife-to-be.

“They could just come and give her to me. I would have taken care of her instead of mixing things up like this,” I muttered. “One thing is certain—my mother is behind all this.”

“Darling…” I started, but Zayate cut me off.

“Ousmane, nothing you can say will make me change my mind, so save your energy to be able to face your family. Tell them that I, Zayate Moudad, say that this woman will not stay in my house,” she said firmly.

“At least stop shouting in my ears. We can talk calmly without getting carried away. I don’t like it, and you know it. If you keep screaming, I’ll hang up,” I said, feeling my nerves fray.

“No, I see what you have in mind, Ousmane. What you’re trying to do here won’t work. Your good French heart won’t save you this time.”

I sighed. I didn’t know what to do. I had already given my word, and if I backed down, people would know it was because of her. She was not appreciated, and I knew it, but no one dared to show it clearly out of respect for me. I didn’t want her to give them another reason to think they were right. I would try to change her mind later. For now, I needed to change the conversation. It would be better.

“Did you get the dress you wanted?” I asked, trying to shift the focus.

“First, I want you to assure me that you’re going to send her back tomorrow,” she replied, still clearly upset.

“Let me talk to her first. I didn’t have time to do it. Then I’ll tell you what I decided. I want to form an opinion,” I explained.

“Do what you want. Just don’t let her stay in my house,” she said coldly.

“Okay, I understand. Now show me your dress. Did you get the one you wanted?” I asked, hoping to lighten her mood.

“Yes, baby, but I can’t show it to you. It’s bad luck. But trust me, you’re going to be blown away when you see me in it,” she said, sounding more cheerful.

“It seems like a stunning dress, baby. But… I can’t take it anymore. I miss you, and I really want you,” I said, feeling a pang of longing.

“Cheer up, baby. Soon,” she reassured me.

“Step away from the camera a bit,” I told her, my voice tinged with excitement.

She appeared on the screen wearing a little baby doll dress that hid almost nothing, highlighting her magnificent curves worthy of the princesses of Arabian Nights. I felt myself hardening like a block.

“Turn around, baby,” I said, my voice husky with desire.

“Ousmane, I’m not in the mood for that,” she said, her voice tired.

“But, baby, I want you. What should I do without you here?” I pleaded.

“I’m tired,” she replied.

“Okay, just stay where you are. You don’t even have to move. Just remove your underwear and spread your legs,” I instructed her.

She complied.

“Show your breasts, baby, and spread your legs wide. Stay like that,” I said, taking out my erect penis and applying lubricant. I moaned with pleasure, imagining myself with her, but it wasn’t enough.

“Ousmane, you’re driving me crazy, honey. You know that, don’t you?” she said.

“I know, but I want you to join in a bit more. Ahhh…” I responded.

“I’m tired, Ousmane,” she said, sounding like she wanted to leave.

“Okay, okay, please stay like that, baby. Don’t move,” I said.

I continued until I ejaculated and then cleaned myself up with a sigh. My desire for her only intensified. I wanted to possess her, but for now, I had no choice but to be patient with my situation. We continued to talk about various things.

I looked at the time, and it was already eleven o’clock. It was time to go to bed.

“What time is it over there?” I asked.

“It’s seven hours ahead,” she replied.

“Okay, baby, I’m going to sleep. You know I wake up early,” I said.

“Alright, honey. Good night. Don’t forget to send that woman where she came from,” she reminded me.

“Baby, we’ll discuss it again when you get back. Have a nice day. I love you,” I said.

“No, no, that’s out of the question. You told me you were going to kick her out of my house,” she insisted.

“Zayate!” I exclaimed, frustrated.

“Alright, alright! But I’m telling you again. I don’t want any woman in my house,” she said firmly.

“We’ll discuss it later. Bye,” I said, ending the call. I already knew we weren’t going to see eye to eye on this.

I plugged in my laptop and turned off the lights before going to bed.

***

At five o’clock, I was already on my feet. To avoid the traffic, I left my house very early. I finished getting ready, went down the stairs, and found someone in the living room sitting on a prayer mat. She then got up and folded the mat.

Because of the sound of my footsteps, she turned around, and I finally saw her face. She was much younger than I had imagined, with striking doe eyes. She looked up, and our eyes met.

She came over to me, bent both knees, and lowered herself completely to greet me.

“Good morning, Uncle. Did you sleep well?” she said.

“I’m not your uncle,” I couldn’t help but say. “Yes, I slept well, thank you. And you?”

She looked at me with her frightened doe eyes before lowering her head.

“What, you don’t understand English?” I asked.

“I do, Uncle. I speak English,” she said with a slight Ivorian accent. ‘Weird,’ I thought.

“Uncle, don’t you have breakfast?” she insisted.

Why did she keep calling me uncle?

“No, I’ll have lunch at my office.”

“Alright. Allah bi tele yéré di ama (May Allah bless this day). Allah sigui ani keendèya di ama (May Allah give us health and longevity). Allah yi yarguè sabati (May Allah protect your assets). Allah yi tanga kodjou bhèma (May Allah protect you from all evil). Ka telé kaïra m’borin (Have a good day, Uncle),” she said, blessing me.

While she blessed me, I stood there, looking at her in surprise. She had a very calm and somewhat drawling voice.

I pulled myself together, said “Amen,” and wished her a good day, too, before going out.

I found my caretaker Camara wiping down the car as he had finished washing it.

“Hello, boss.”

“Hello, Camara. How are you?”

“Very well, boss.”

I opened the car, put my bag in the back, and got in, driving off. All the way, I thought about what had just happened. It wasn’t the first time I had received blessings in the morning before leaving home, but usually, it was my mother who blessed my days. Every morning, she would call me.

Make no mistake, I believed that these were signs of good education, weren’t they? And in this case, I believed that Zayate had nothing to fear. Either way, she looked polite to me and shouldn’t cause us any trouble.

I allowed myself the time to comb through her behavior because these villagers, some of them, played their games well at the beginning, but after being familiarized and impregnated, their dirty characters surfaced. I wanted to help, but I didn’t want it to impact my life or my relationship with Zayate negatively.

My mother called me, and all the way, I talked with her. Arriving at my office, I sat down, opened my computer, and launched myself into my files after drinking the coffee that my secretary had served me.

I had a meeting soon with my sales reps, so I had to hurry.

“Mr. Haïdara.”

“Yes, Mrs. Diallo.”

“A lady wants to see you.”