Two Brothers, One Heart

Chapter 35

Kaduna

Firdausi was utterly exhausted when she finally arrived home after a long day at school filled with drama. She couldn't help but feel tired of it all. Lately, she had come to the realization that she wasn't as passionate about acting as she once thought. Instead, she found solace in the pages of books, where the world seemed to rotate with magic and fantasy.

As she stepped through the front door, Firdausi immediately shed her blazer, tossing it carelessly onto the couch, leaving it for the maid to deal with. She loosened her tie, letting it hang askew around her neck, a symbol of her rebellion against the constraints of her school uniform. Thirsty and in need of refreshment, she hurried to the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of Swan Water and eagerly gulping down half of it. Feeling a bit more satisfied, she spotted a vibrant red apple on the counter and seized it, savoring its crispness as she ascended the stairs.

Reaching her room, Firdausi couldn't help but notice the slight discomfort caused by her Mary Jane shoes, which seemed to have become tighter throughout the day. With a sigh of relief, she finally managed to kick them off, followed by the removal of her knee-length socks. Everything felt like a hassle to her, which is why she found comfort in her preferred tomboy outfit, which was both comfortable and easy to wear and remove.

In search of ultimate comfort, Firdausi decided to change into a loose-fitting, oversized shirt and a pair of bellbottoms. As she admired her reflection in the mirror, her plaits cascading down her back in great profusion, she couldn't help but feel a sense of contentment. This was the real her, free from the constraints of expectations and societal norms.

Just as Firdausi was admiring her comfortable outfit, her eyes were drawn to an intriguing envelope on her nightstand. It was a rare sight, as handwritten letters from her friends were a rarity, except for Mubarak's poorly written notes.

Curiosity tinged with a hint of dread, she picked up the envelope, feeling the weight of anticipation in her hands. With trembling fingers, she carefully unwrapped it, unsure of what awaited her inside.

The letter began with the words "Dear Sister," instantly sending a chill down Firdausi's spine. Beads of sweat formed on her forehead, which she quickly wiped away. Sensing the urgency, she rushed to Zaynab's room, only to find yet another letter.

"Assalamualaikum," Zaynab greeted in her sing-song voice as she entered the house. Firdausi extended her hand, passing the letter to her, and they both read it with growing panic.

"Where is she now?" Zaynab asked, her voice filled with concern and fear.

"I don't know. I just found it now. What will happen, Mama?" Firdausi's voice trembled as tears welled up in her eyes.

"No, she must be nearby. She wouldn't go searching for that wicked man," reassured Zaynab, who swiftly darted out of the house.

Feeling overwhelmed, Firdausi made her way upstairs to Islam's room, collapsing onto the bed, her sobs echoing in the empty and vulnerable space. Despite their distant relationship, she knew that Islam was still there for her. As she glanced around the room, a sense of unease settled in, the air heavy with uncertainty.

She grabbed her phone, eager to hear Islam's voice and express how much she missed her. But to her disappointment, Islam wasn't picking up the call.

Overwhelmed with emotions, she found solace in her pillow, clutching it tightly as tears streamed down her face. The familiar scent of coconut oil, the same one Islam used for her hair and sometimes helped her massage her scalp, filled the air, evoking nostalgic memories of their time together.

On the nightstand, a captivating painting of a beautiful sunset caught her attention. Its exquisite beauty only intensified her tears as she leaned back, rubbing her head as if blaming herself.

In that moment, she realized that their paths would forever remain parallel, unable to merge and find common ground.

**

Usman wiped the sweat off his face with his handkerchief as he patiently waited for Khadija to finish her shopping spree under the scorching sun. He couldn't help but steal glances at his phone, hoping for a message, but all he received was one from Ali, asking him to come over to his house.

Finally, Khadija emerged, looking stunning in her lovely tartan skirt and cashmere shawl, her arms burdened with numerous shopping bags. As she made her way down the pavement, Usman opened the trunk, ready to assist her.

She handed him back his credit card with a mischievous smirk, teasing, "Hope there's still money left?"

"See for yourself," he replied, returning her smile. She then hopped into the front seat of the Land Rover, adjusting her makeup in the rearview mirror. This was their playful brother-sister bet: the loser had to buy everything the winner desired. Khadija always seemed to come out on top, which is why she loved the game. This time, the bet was about whether Usman liked Islam or not.

"We're heading to his house," Usman announced as he climbed into the car and fastened his seatbelt.

"You mean Yaya Ali. Why do you despise him? You can't even say his name," Khadija complained.

"Don't bother me," Usman replied, raising his voice slightly. They made a U-turn and drove down the road towards Ali's place.

Usman interrupted Ali, wearing a daring look, as he was engrossed in going through some files with his glasses on. "What do you want now?" Usman questioned.

"She asked me to give this to you," Ali replied, forwarding the envelope to him.

Curiosity piqued, Usman asked with a smirk, "What's inside?"

"Open it," Ali responded, still holding the envelope.

Slightly skeptical, Usman snatched it forcefully, jokingly suggesting, "How am I supposed to believe you didn't put a letter bomb?" He then opened the envelope and read the first paragraph before turning his gaze towards Ali. "Where is she?"

"She wants the best for both of you," Ali explained, receiving an unexpected blow to his nose, causing blood to trickle down.

Usman quickly grabbed Ali's collar, accusing him, "You asked her to leave without telling me because you're jealous."

"I'm not jealous of you. She made up her mind, and that's the right choice," Ali clarified, while attempting to clean his nose.

"And how did you know all of this? Are you..." Usman's voice trailed off.

"No, she stayed at my house for the past few days, and you didn't even know because you're so careless," Ali revealed.

Usman yanked at Ali's collar, bringing him closer, their breaths intertwining. With determination, Usman growled, "Islam and I are meant for each other. I'll search for her wherever she goes, and I won't stop until I find her."

"Then go ahead," Ali retorted, retaliating this time, causing Usman to fly onto the table, scattering the neatly arranged books.

Refusing to accept defeat, he prepared to retort, but Khadija swiftly stepped in between, placing her small hands on their chests and closing her eyes.

"Can you please stop fighting, for Allah's sake!" she pleaded. Usman turned away, stormed out of the house, and drove away, but his vision was blurred, causing him to stop.

He called her countless times, but she didn't answer. That's when he realized their love was unrequited. Overwhelmed, he broke down, resting his head on the steering wheel, tears streaming down his face.

He had loved her wholeheartedly, only to feel betrayed. Hatred began to consume him, yet he remained determined to find her, even if it meant going to Lagos.

Outside the car, he vomited while crying, his disappointment and hatred consuming him. He yearned to make her feel the pain she had caused him.

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