Chapter Three

LAGOS.

           SHE COULDN'T TAKE IT ANYMORE! Two hours of this argument and Aabidah Ali figured she might as well be talking to a mannequin. Figures, she thought, staring hard at her older brother, he looked like one and spoke like one. How his gorgeous and sweet little wife coped with him, she had no idea.

"You're not going and that's final." The tall and well built man thundered.

Unbelievingly, Aabidah gaped at her brother like he had just ordered she abort a child. Why was she even having this argument again? Who was he to tell her what to do with her life?

Fuming, she balled her fists, pressed them to her hips and stood there with a glare. Her chin high with that stubborn cleft that was second nature to her. "And you have no right telling me what I can and cannot do. I'm not a little child."

"No?" He asked mockingly. "Of course you're not a little child, but you're my little sister. And so long as I'm still alive and kicking you will do as I say."

She scoffed. "Because you're my father and I'm bound by obligation, right?" She wished it was all just a dream.

She had tucked her son, Bilal, in a few hours ago and had began sorting out the clothes she was going to take with her when she finally went back to her hometown. Her older brother, Sulaiman had decided to pay her a visit. Now she swore softly. If she had known he had come to force her to stay back in Lagos and just spew nonsense, she wouldn't have opened the door to her apartment for him. He had been yelling so bad she was glad her son was a heavy sleeper. 

When she opened her eyes again, she saw that her brother had loosened his tie, and was watching and waiting for her response.

What had happened? What had changed? She wanted to ask but decided she didn't need to further encourage the headaches she was already having. So, instead, she stood there at the opposite side of the large, polished mahogany dinner table and took her brother in.

He had always been a trifle big on the authoritative part. He was tall and broad shouldered, and among her three siblings, the one she looked like. Something that had kept them close together for years until she found out what he'd done years ago.

He had always been like her unappointed bodyguard ever since they were little. The contract was him being born before her and him signing in both places. As annoying as it had been, she had appreciated it in some cases then...to some extent. It had felt nice knowing there was that special sibling she could always count on.

But not anymore. Her 'special sibling' had taken the role too personal and had done things for his own selfish reasons. Things that had caused her great unhappiness. And for that reason he had lost every right to that position in her life.

Now she was older. Now she could handle herself and solve her little problems. Now, she didn't need protecting. After everything she'd gone through, she was strong enough to protect both herself and her son.

Still, her bodyguard found it difficult to accept. He wagged a finger madly in her face as he snarled on. "You're going back because of him, I know it."

She let out a laugh then slumped down in a seat, a glare aimed at her brother replaced the sheen of mirth her laughter had conjured. "If that's your reason for stopping me, then you must be getting old, dumb, and jobless."

But he was not what she'd consider old or jobless. Far from it, if she were being honest. At age thirty-four he was the general manager of their father's rice mill company, so he wasn't old or jobless. But if he thought she was going back after years in hopes of meeting her former best friend slash old flame while expecting to be greeted with open arms —and heart— he was obviously lacking in some mental areas.

"Ha!" Her brother spat out, bringing her out of her reverie. "Maybe, but I won't let it happen."

Sighing with fatigue, she enquired, "Let what happen? This is my life, it is what I want to do. You can't control it and you can not order me around. I'm not one of your maids."

He flared up. "What did you just say?!" He demanded of her in Hausa and reached out to grab a hold of her, but she got out of reach.

She walked straight to the door, her face set in a grimace and opened it for him. "Leave."

He stood his ground. His bare feet planted firmly to the rugged portion of the room. "Idan naki fah? (What if I don't?)"

"Then I'll have no choice but to call the police. You either leave now or you'll end up spending the night behind bars. You wouldn't love to crease those designer suits you go around town wearing now, would you? " she threatened.

Her brother's eyes turned to slits. "You wouldn't dare!" he hissed.

To prove she meant every word she had said, she dialed a number on her phone then placed it to her ear. Aabidah waited a bit for the 112 personnel to pick up the phone, there was silence as the phone vibrated in her hand, then someone's voice came through the crackling line. "Yes. Hello, I'd like to report a breaking and entering at —" she was saying when suddenly her phone got snatched from her hand.

Red with anger and insult, her brother frowned at her before flinging the phone away. It landed on the couch with three bounce. "You can go back if that's what you want. Do whatever the hell you want, I don't care." He went back to the pale yellow sofa in the main sitting room and picked up the suitcase he had left on the center glass table.

"Say hi to the locals for me when you get there, will you?" He asked with distaste as he brushed past her, then stopped just outside the threshold and looked back at her to say, "If you give anyone my number, I'll kill you." Then he was gone.

She slammed the door shut immediately he stepped foot outside and released a shaky breath. Her hands shook and her heartbeat was unstable. Why did he have to remind her of the past? She fumed silently as she made her way from the door to the loveseat in the large sitting room and slumped down on it.

Sitting always calmed her down, but as she sat there, the anticipation and brewing excitement she'd been feeling through the day had left, and in its place reigned anxiety and uncertainty.

Breathing out through her nose, she leaned back on the seat and tried to calm her jitters. She closed her eyes but popped it back open when her brother's contorted facial features loomed in her mind. She shuddered with a groan and felt the anger rising again.

Seven years back when she had gotten married, she hadn't even felt anything. She'd lost a lot of important things back then but at the same time had gotten something precious in return. Her son. Bilal. If nothing, he was the only thing that had kept her going when she heard of her husband's death on the news.

She had found out at the same time with her husband's parents and while she worked on comforting her mother-in-law, she had buried her own grief and had soon afterwards forgotten to grieve for the man who had been so nice and warm towards her.

Idris had been a decorated pilot with tons of awards to his name. Always traveling from one place to the other. The marriage had been a political and arranged one, so she had not really bothered about his trips. She had closed her heart to him because it had belonged to someone else. Her husband had found out about it and instead of getting riled up, he had told her that he couldn't stop himself from feeling what he was feeling and that he hoped one day she would at least give him a small part of her love.

He had always been so good to her, she always felt bad and guilty for exploiting his emotions. When she had given him the news that she was a few months pregnant, he had screamed with so much joy that she had cried after she had ended the call with him.

He had been away from home at the time but when she had gotten back from work the next day, she had been surprised and happy to see him in his crisp pilot uniform standing in front of their door holding the hugest bouquet she had ever seen.

"I just ordered a bit of everything because I didn't know which one you'd prefer and to be honest I was in a hurry." He had told her.

She remembered the boyish grin on his bearded face, the pride and joy that radiated from him with the news of becoming a father. The warmth she had felt in his arms as he'd embraced her. She had smiled and gratefully accepted the bunch of mixed flowers, but had sadly found out her strong Nigerian genes were allergic to a few of the flowers.

She had gotten sick from the reaction of the flower and had felt bad when her husband had had to throw them all out.

Their marriage might have been an arranged one, but Idris had given her the love and respect she had deserved. At that moment she had let him into her heart, prayed to always be there to see him in the uniform she pressed herself for him. And just when she had began to fall in love with him...he had been involved in an accident.

Shaking her head, she put a pause to her darkening thoughts. She couldn't afford to get emotional now by thinking about the past, she reprimanded. There was still a lot to do and since her brother had poked a finger into her past, she began to doubt her decision to leave Lagos and go back to her hometown.

When she thought about it clearly, both place were home to her loss. She'd lost her first love in Nasarawa and her husband in Lagos. Like her big sis always said "The best place to recuperate is the one place where you don't know anyone. That way you get to be by yourself and find the reason to live again."

But Nasarawa was home. It was where she'd grown up in, surrounded by the sweet, clean and clear fresh air, the exotic language, and her favorite; Mama's awara. She missed a lot of things. She wasn't just going back because she wanted to, but because she needed to.

She needed the familiarity of the sandy and uneven roads. She missed hearing the sound of men cutting through the hard thump of trees that was to be used later as firewood. She missed just going to the farm to climb trees and eat freshly plucked fruits. Missed washing at the river. Missed hearing the call of different adhans as they called to the believers. She longed most for the comfort her hometown had to offer. Something Lagos couldn't give her with its youthful zeal.

Her parents were natives of Nasarawa and so was she, born and raised there for fifteen years of her life. She had never wanted to leave. Not because she'd had someone who had meant a lot to her there, but because she truly loved the place.

"Yes." With a firm nod of her head, she stood up and switched off the lights in the sitting room. It was way past her bed time. If she wanted to be well energized for the work she had to do the next day, she needed sleep.

Her indoor slippers made flapping sounds as she ascended the stairs two at a time. She turned left when she got to the hallway and headed for her son's room.

An energy bulb that hung from the ceiling of the corridor spilled light into the room when she turned down the knob of the door and opened it. The light provided was enough for her to see that her son was still fast asleep and the blanket she had placed over him had been wrung carelessly to the side.

She laughed as she exited the room and headed for her own side of the house. Open luggage boxes, some half filled, others still empty greeted her as she stepped in.

Releasing a sigh, she wrung out her blanket before laying down. Tomorrow, she promised. Tomorrow she would finish packing up first thing after her morning prayers.

***
Asalamualaykum guys, hi. Hope you liked it. Don't forget to share, vote, leave comments. I'll see you in the next chapter.

Take care
Ma salaam.

—ZainaHijabi 😘