Sadiya |REWRITING

Chapter Eight

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ABUJA, NIGERIA.

"I want absolutely no mistakes, Dana. Got it?"

She nodded in response and, "yessir. Trust me on this."

Yazid sighed. "I do. Just, just make sure it's done. Perfectly. No mistakes." He reminded. His secretary, Dana chuckled at her boss's dedication to doing his wife good. Men like him were surely difficult to find. A man - husband as her boss, was a partner every woman could wish to have. Caring, loving, respectful and the list went on. Yazid, ticked all the boxes...even her fiancé, Taiwo. The man of her dreams. Thoughts of him brought a faint smile to her lips, which she instantly welcomed.

Yazid later dismissed Dana for the 1p.m. lunch break and left his office to the Chief Executive's.

He did not bother putting back his suit, he hated it, anyway, but learnt to get used to the wear. The company couldn't have him wearing Kaftans, khakis or jeans to work - though it actually seemed like a great idea, not. He was to be a toff, not blend with his father's employees. Some too, dressed elegantly, but he had to be on a different level even without degrading anyone.

Kaftans were mostly his Friday outfit, khakis...not so much. Who ever wore khakis to work? Certainly not him, Ramlah would not even let it happen.

Alhaji Abdulfatah. A family man. Kind, generous, benevolent was he. A self-employed digital marketer like no other. His wife, Zahira, was a beautiful Shuwa woman - you could say some of their children's silky dark hairs and fair skin came from her. Her husband was a dark-complexioned Hausa man, born and raised in Sokoto.

The aged couple's first child, Imraan, was named after his late maternal grandfather.

The large door came to his view as he rounded the corner. His father's secretary dipped his chin in greeting, to which Yazid reciprocated. "Anyone in?" He pointed with his chin. The fifty-something year-old man shook his head. "No, young oga. I'm sure he's preparing to leave." Yazid nodded. "Should I tell him you're here?" The kind older man asked.
[Transl: Boss]

"No, Chibuike..." He insisted on being on the first name basis with his boss's son, albeit never fulfilled that on his part. "I'll go in, now. Thanks, though." His father's secretary smiled softly. He always treated Yazid and his siblings as he'd treat his. They liked him. And he had worked for their father for more than thirty years.

The young shirted man knocked on the Chief Executive's office door.

"Enter." You could say the man on the other side of the door was as strong as an ox, even from his steven.

"Sir." He stepped in.

"Yazid, it is you."

He greeted his father and superior. Then, asked, "Weren't you preparing to leave?" The desk looked almost empty.

"I can spare some time. What is it?"

He went straight to the point as always. "I came to request for a leave."

What? That's new.

"You?" The man was shocked. Yazid seldom came to his office, now was requesting for some time off? Had something happened?

"What happened?" He asked, as his father, not boss.

Yazid smiled. "It-it's nothing." He might as well just tell him. "It was Ibrahim's idea." He looked down.