𝓜𝔂 𝓫𝓪𝓫𝔂, 𝓶𝔂 𝔀𝓲𝓯𝓮

4# DINNER

THE KHALIL RESIDENCE,
ASOKORO.
DECEMBER, 2020.

Governor Yahya was sat in the passenger seat, mulling over what had just happened.

His mind was on Jamilah's situation, one part of him exhilarated to know that the girl was alive, and the other, considering the reality of her situation.

He couldn't help but think he was taking a big risk. Would Jamilah really be safe with him?

He didn't want the girl's situation to be known so soon, not without her being able to deal with the pressures of everyone's thoughts and judgment.

He didn't know how much of her memories she'd lost, how much of her age she'd forgotten, at what stage of her life her mind was stuck in.

He could roughly guess she was about ten years of age mentally. So everything that she saw, she did through the mind of her ten year old self.

The upside to it was that Jamilah had always been a genius, even as a kid, she'd displayed maturity, kindness and awareness.

Governor Yahya wasn't worried about her condition in the least, it was a matter of retraining her, re-orienting her and trying to build her subconscious to her current age.

It could take years to fully achieve, but the man wasn't in a haste.

What really scared him was the backlash Jamilah could get from the media and other people in the socialite circle.

These were people who'd been envious of her, and try as they may to hide it, quite relieved at the news of her death.

Bringing her to them in her current situation was like waving a fat piece of juicy stake in front of starving, rabid wolves.

They would tear her apart without a shred of mercy.

And as much as the governor wanted to protect her, he couldn't always be in the country or even in the state.

An alternative was to adopt her. No one would dare come close to her, or even entertain the thought of hurting her if she had his family name, but for some reason, that idea didn't seem to sit well with him.

In fact, he had another idea that would take care of everything perfectly, one that had been brewing in his mind for years, but died along with Jamilah, or what he thought was her.

But now that he'd seen Jamilah again after so long, that seed that had died had begun to take root, nurtured by memories of the past.

And that was the reason he'd called for the dinner.

He wanted to resolve the matter, and he wanted to resolve it quickly.

As the car drove into the large courtyard, Yahya's anxiety only increased.

A glance at his watch told him the time was 6:45. He would pray first before any other thing. He needed some one on one time with God anyway.

As the car parked, he stepped out.

The chilly harmattan wind caressed his cheek, ruffling the sleeves of his babban riga before it passed him, going to join its other members as they rejoiced in the night air.

The winds celebrated, the members that had escorted Yahya to Abowa whispering their secrets for all who wished to hear.

And while all the humans would hear was the slight woosh of the breeze as it passed, the breeze was actually screaming good news.

Jamilah Abubakr was alive and well.

All the residents of Asokoro knew that night was that it was chiller than usual. They attributed it to the harmattan season and pulled up their window blinds, none the wiser to the good news.