"I plan to transfer ownership of this apartment to you. Consider it as my marriage gift," Saint claims as we pass the security of our residence.

It is his day off today. He leveraged on Dato' Bahadin's business trip to accompany me for my prenatal on my 28th week check-up and fully utilised the day to shop for the baby.

"Please don't. I have no asset to give you in exchange. I don't think I can top that offer," I refuse gracefully.

"What are you talking about? I've been keeping the intention to share my assets with you even before the solemnisation," he responds, making me feel like I'm talking to a real estate agent rather than my husband.

"I thought you hate sharing. You even hogged all the Pokémon trading cards to yourself, remember?"

"We never traded Pokémon cards together," Saint squints his eyes. He's either denying it or genuinely doesn't recall it.

"Yes, we did. When I switched for the rare ones from your booster pack, you flipped on me," I refresh his memory.

He sulks to my reminiscing. "Why must you bring that up?"

I laugh hard at his reaction but the straining muscle and the minor back pain from the pregnancy slow my laughter down. They aren't agonising but more of a discomforting ache, like a reminder for me to be gentle with myself and to not distort my baby's development. I hold my growing belly, enduring mild ache before withdrawing a few deep breaths.

I glance down on my hand that rubs the belly, eyeing at the diamond studded gold ring band on my ring finger that catches my attention. The ring is a symbol of our betrothal, the closure to my saga in finding true love and Saint's triumphant success of becoming my last cub.

Our solemnisation held at the office of Malaysian Islamic Department (MID) was the most basic and simple wedding I've ever witnessed in my entire life, yet it was meaningful. It was a small event, accompanied by Sabina, a couple of my former sharia colleagues at TWIB, a couple of his friends and a representative from the Sharia Court to act as my wali hakim (legal representative) under MID's advice.

The solemnisation marks the beginning of a rapturous experience for us as a married couple. Despite the minimalist ceremony, we were showered with felicitations and wedding gifts from our friends, Sabina and Mom as blessings to our next phase of life. Sabina reminded us of the downside of a marriage if we lack collaboration and communication while Mom expressed her overwhelming joy to see me getting married, as though her duty as a mother has finally been fulfilled.

As a perk from being Saint's wife, I'm entitled for a maternity package under his employment benefits where all of my medical bills are paid for by TWB, in compensation to his strict ruling for me to remain as a housewife. I remember this has been his wish since he was a kid, even-handed me who wished for an affectionate husband.

I'm a sucker for dwelling on the past. Seeing where we are right now making me to have flashbacks of us once again, from running around the house at Freesia Court trying to avoid imaginary lava floor, to having simple lunch prepared by me and becoming his first aider when he had a bruise or scratch during his play time.

The thought of it rouses my exhilaration, and Saint would have a different reaction to my reminiscing, depending on which memory I refer to. He never liked any memories of his defiant self as a kid. Nevertheless, he loves it when I rekindle.

"Hi, Mom," Saint answers his phone as we both laze around his wardrobe room, unwrapping our purchases. "How's things with you? (pause) Yeah, I miss you too. We just got home from the check-up and did some baby shopping. (pause) Doctor says the baby's stable and in good health. Apparently, we don't get twins to name them Luke and Leia."

He resumes the phone conversation at the balcony for a smoke, while I continue with the unpacking. I'm amazed by the number of items we bought from our shopping. Turns out little purchases that we intended to make accumulated to several larger items including a baby carrier, a stroller, a set of storage baskets, soft toys, and baby suits. The list excludes bassinet, changing desk with drawers and mosquito net canopy with stand which will be delivered later today.

I wonder if Saint is aware of the amount that he had spent for the baby and whether he made any savings for us in the future. I also wonder if there's anything that I taught him from the Monopoly sticks in his head.

The notification ping from my Galaxy S9 phone, alerting me that someone tries to reach me via Facebook Messenger. I swipe the screen to my device and tap on its notification. My breath stops to see Anita's message pops open, responding to my initial message.

The message was in response to my inquiry a couple of days ago when I found an abandoned wine-coloured Loewe suede tote handbag in Saint's closet. I gauged that it belongs to Anita judging from a Jungle Fitness membership card with her name and photo printed on it, and a YSL blood red lipstick that was used once or twice were left inside the bag. Being a good Samaritan as always, I initiate to make a contact to reunite her with the bag.

'Thank you for contacting me. Please leave your email, contact number. My agent will reach you soon.' I read her automated response.

I'm not really sure if it's a sane thing to introduce myself as Saint's wife to her, but to private message her about her bag that is under my custody is fairly suspicious and questionable too.

Without hesitating, I type back, 'Hi, you may not know me but I want to return your Loewe bag I found somewhere in Bangsar. Please state your designated address for me to arrange courier. Tx.'

When I see that she's typing to respond, I wait for it with much anticipation.

'I know who you are. You're that bitch who stole Hussaini from me.' Anita texts back.

What is Anita talking about? Check out the next page to find out.

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Photo by Shelby Deeter on Unsplash