𝓜𝔂 𝓫𝓪𝓫𝔂, 𝓶𝔂 𝔀𝓲𝓯𝓮

42# PRODIGAL SON

THE KHALIL RESIDENCE,
ASOKORO.
MARCH, 2022.

Ayman had never known the feeling of toeing dangerous waters, not particularly. He'd lived a privileged life and had known very little strife.

Sometimes, he'd wish his life had been a bit more difficult, no matter how ungrateful it might've been. Strife built character, it built resilience. Hardships had their own way of coercing people from their shells, to explore their potentials...to shed away the limits they'd placed on themselves.

Ayman didn't have those moments in his life. He hadn't shed anything. He hadn't discovered anything. He certainly hadn't become resilient or built character.

Even standing now, in front of the home he'd known all his life...where he'd grown up, where he'd played...where he'd been humiliated thoroughly, he couldn't find the anger he thought he would when he returned.

He'd replayed the moment he would come back to the Khalil mansion more times than he could count, since he left.

In his mind, he knew he would only ever return when he was made, when he'd become successful, when he was confident that he would make them regret what they'd done to him.

Simply put, he'd achieved none of that. In his Nollywood daydreams, he hadn't imagined a possibility that he'd return home in the manner he had. Not successful, not made, and because of his mother. 

It didn't help that the only thing he felt was the overwhelming urge to breakdown. His eyes stung with the promise of tears, and the only thing that held them at bay was the knowledge that Rahma was just behind him, watching him intently. He couldn't spoil his rep.

"Guy, should I open the door?", Hamdan asked, exasperated.

They'd been standing in front of the door for almost ten minutes, the three of them.

Ayman couldn't muster up the strength to knock but Hamdan just wanted to be done with it all.

"Guy, chill", Ayman said, eyeing Hamdan distastefully. Hamdan got frustrated very easily and he hated disturbances. Ayman was probably the only person he'd leave his home for and travel with.

And what did Ayman repay his kindness with? Making him stand at the door under the ridiculously hot Abuja sun while he gazed melodramatically at the house.

Rahma watched the two men bicker with a small smile. Earlier on in the plane, the atmosphere around them had been a lot more tense. They'd barely exchanged a word.

The only indication that both of them weren't strangers, was how tightly Ayman gripped Hamdan's hand, like if he left her brother's hand, he'd crumble.

He looked outside the window the entire time on air, and Rahma couldn't help but think Ayman was trying to hide his tears.

She'd been facing her fair share of turmoil on their trip too. Once she could get past the wish to be the one holding Ayman's hand instead of her brother, she was able to focus on the fact that she'd be meeting Ayman's mother, brother and the woman who he was meant to marry.

She didn't have a particularly good impression of any of them. In fact, she thought them evil for what they did to Ayman. She'd never met any of them, and she wasn't sure she was keen on doing so.

However, at the moment, there was just an electric gate that separated them from the large mansion, and she didn't know how to feel.

"I'm going in. Follow if you will", Hamdan said, and made to knock on the door. His hand had barely touched the door when the gates parted open, revealing the inside.