OCTOBER 10TH

TWENTY SEVEN

BAUCHI STATE, NIGERIA.

Face taut and determined, Mahnoor allowed the warden to lead her to Aman's cell room. It's now or never. Today she is dressed in all black, ready to take any blow that'll come from Aman and also return one of her own. She's brought a lot of protection in her bag because after finding out Aman believes she killed his brother, she cannot be more dependent on pepper spray and small pocketknife. She's brought a gun, knife, scissors and even chloroform. Oh, yes, she trusts him not. Aman can do anything to her while the warden is outside, killing her would be very easy for him to do when he is in jail.

And maybe act psychotic this time around?

They arrived in a few minutes, she gave the warden a small smile and entered after he's opened the door. Aman was inside lying on his cemented bed with scratchy bedclothes, he stood up immediately in defense, his hands reaching out for something behind him but when his eyes settled on her delicate frame with the help of the small fluorescent light in the room, he retreated. Suspiring, he pushed his fingers through the full hair atop his head then glare at her. He almost smashed a large log on her head, he wouldn't have regretted it but that wasn't how he planned to make her pay for all she's done.

"What are you doing here?" He reached out to turn the other light in the room, his eyes steely on her. She quivered, his eyes are so frosty and more than evacuated.

She gulped, can she do what she said she can? He gets scarier every time she sees him. How is that even possible? All she wants to do now is bolt out of the room and forget about everything but it clicked into her head again, she needs the fucking closure only he can give her. After that, she is going to run back to Agadez and live with her family till he comes out from jail looking for her. She knew it's only a matter of time before Zubairu Ajuji gets his son out of this place which means she needs to act fast. Maybe leave the whole Africa and go to another different continent.

"I'm here to talk about the murder. I want to know everything!" Whoa, she sounds she intrepid and impudent or maybe that's because of the outfit she is wearing?

You just never know sometimes, a bit shade of lipstick can make you smile countless times without realizing.

She is wearing on all black outfit for the day, not bothering to be unadorned since she clearly wasn't married to Asad. Oh, she hates that notion. Despise remembering that she's been betrayed by the one man she's acquiesced her heart to fall in love with.

Snug in an onyx body hug, palazzo leather pants, boots, large coat from her shoulders to her calf then she did a nice turban. Her eyes are shielded with Dior sunglasses, that is also helping her. Her eyes are filled with tremor and timidity, if he sees that, he won't tell her what she wants and continue to ridicule her for it but she doesn't have much time. She needs to extract the truth from him and get the hell out of the place.

She looked at him good through her spectacles. He looked as weary as she felt, with faint smudges beneath his brown eyes. The skin over his cheekbones was taut, and he was pale beneath the sun-kissed tint of his complexion. His night beard, which was inclined to grow quickly, was a shadow of glittering grease stubble. Somehow the roughening of his looks made him even more handsome, lending a textured grace to what otherwise might have been the sterile perfection of a marble masterpiece.

Aman's dark brows rise upward, his mouth twitch at this new found boldness of hers. "What do you want to know? Aren't you satisfied seeing me rotting here? What more do you want? See me hanged for killing your son?" He kept quiet when he saw her flinch, clenched his teeth in indignation and looked away. She always makes him feel like a sinner, knave and a deceitful scoundrel which he is. But she is there to remind him of that all the same time.