Sadiya |REWRITING

Chapter Eighteen

***

ABUJA, NIGERIA.

"Checkmate."

The soothing ylang-ylang scent trickled his nostrils – it rather did not placate the raging nerves within him, in lieu, the Malaysian incense only ticked him further, an inexistent reason beyond, disturbed the individual. Strategy, he was raised following its path. It could be said that it was from a leak in the business world – except, it was the foundation of business. Without that principle, success in a business could not be attained.

Ardo Group, a primitive chain of companies characterized by pivotal tallies beneath the generalship of over 4 decades. Having being raised with iron fists of generations left the withstanding force of shrewd progenies, passing down same attribute to them. From grit, rose an empire. An empire withholding investments from mere ideas. Mere as they were, ranging from construction materials to architecture.

Work as hectic, diverted his thinking from impending worriment. But, the vehement feelings reciprocated between the intimate marital union was swither than a stack of processed cellulose fibers awaiting the superior's ink. "Bro?" Ibrahim called, the heavy exhale of his friend's causing the halt of his course of victory. Chess was a game very much upheld by the 30 years old relationship. Yazid as the master of the board game, never had a king attacked by another piece – the white as his least preferred.

Sinister whispers of his subconscious elicited a rumbled growl from his chest. "Bro?" The distress fretted his friend. "Yazid?"

"She's cheating," he let out, the sickening pain gnawing at his insides. The discovery drawing shock out of Ibrahim, he withdrew back into the sofa, the creased skin between his brows saying it all. He cleared his throat, eyeing his friend who was as composed as a man discussing the meal he'd have for dinner. "What?" Ibrahim choked, unsure of himself as Yazid was the opposite of it. "What did you say? Who's cheating?" he questioned, more composed.

"She's cheating," Yazid repeated the words, eyes set on the hardwood of Taaikal. "Ramlah's cheating on me, Ibrahim." It was scarier as he hit him at the nominal point; he never did.

"Pardon?"

He kept mum.

"I am confused here. Ramlah is- is what?"

He swallowed. "Cheating." Saying it out a few times within the past minutes was as chewing a bitter pill. Harder than he had thought. Yazid could swear he heard a crack in his chest, or was his wife's unfaithfulness only toying with his mind?

"Yazid, I still do not understand, TBH. What do you mean by your wife...cheating on you? Ramlah? No..."

"I know that, man, I do. I- I...it's just..."

"Hey, hey, calm down." Ibrahim placed a warm palm on his, as fingers threaded through the dark mop. Yazid gulped in trepidation, the low stevens accompanying the air-conditioned VIP area of the Men's Club, whooshing past his ears. "You need to calm your nerves, tell me everything when you're unwound."

A Malaysian sommelier appeared just as he began loosening his tie, different thoughts swirling Ibrahim's mind while being at it. He turned to the lad uniformed in black and white and side-glanced his distressed friend. "A Light Live and Toma."

The guy nodded with a broad smile as faux as that of every other person's in Taaikal. "Coming right up, tuan." Think, think, and think. It was all Yazid did the previous few days. Those, dancing around a specific glowing heart-shaped face of the woman he had found himself wanting to sacrifice anything and everything for. The woman -deep in his heart- was undeniable that he'd go to the far end of the world for if she asked. The woman nurturing his child even before it's born. The woman he looked forward to waking up beside – the only person that'd draw any level of want from him.

He looked forward to her presence, smile, the glow on and around her...was so much as enough to have a man's shanks flat on the ground. Was so much as enough to have him fall for her. The feelings, set on never falling out. Instead, only sprouting like foliage on a branch. He loved her. Heck, always had, did, and he hoped was there to permanently claim district in his heart. Yazid loved Ramlah. But, the texts and uneasiness clouding her could not have been erroneous to ignore.

"Texts," he gritted, guiding his gaze to his best friend. "I saw texts...their texts on her phone."

The rapid motion of his heart was ignored. "I could not believe it, frankly. You know, it was...it was too real, no, too much of an unreal reality." The clustered words were confusing, making no meaning out of them. But, Ibrahim only nodded encouragingly.

Yazid grabbed the black queen off the board and began scrutinizing. Ibrahim spoke up.

"Could be an ex."

"An ex a married woman would arrange a meet up with, without her husband knowing?"

"I still believe it is, regardless the denial you're set on gripping."

"Maybe saying it to you was a mistake."

Ibrahim was taken aback by the honesty. Yazid was blunt; had always been, for it was in his nature.

He ignored it. "You two've been through a lot. That is why I still think you need to talk it out. With her. It could be an insanely desperate ex—"

"Same thing I thought at first—"

"What did it say?"

Now, he was the confused one. "Huh?"

"The text, what did it say?"

Imran: Till I see that pretty face again, Amly. <3

Yazid grimaced – at the thought, the heart, and nickname the person had for his wife. Ibrahim sensed the hesitance.

"A Light Live and Toma, tuan." The Malaysian returned, setting the ice bucket two wines were in, then poured each red non-alcoholic drink in a wineglass and left, after the clear wont of sureness of the men's comfort. "I'd rather not—"

The tone of a phone cut his words of hesitance off. It was his, dropping the porcelain piece he hadn't realized he'd fisted, Yazid's eyes slid to the flipped phone of the table. He took the device, and there was a text from his brother.

Isma'il: Where are you?

His younger brother was not one to text, he claimed it to be pure stress, but then, typing out the message made Yazid hope all was well, although deep in his bones, it felt otherwise.

Yazid: Taaikal. Why?

Isma'il: You need to be here, ASAP!

The next thing he sent was an address. Yazid's frown grew deeper, his best friend noticed. "What's up?"

He ignored him, quickly dialing Isma'il. "A hospital address? What happened?"

"Aisa was run over. You need to be here..."

Yazid hung up once he heard the last part. Grabbed his coat as the wineglasses sat untouched. "We have to be at the hospital. Aisa was in an accident, and she- she's been unconscious for the past few hours postsurgery."