The Crown And Her Shadows

chapter 16

It had been a year. Ayman hadn’t returned, nor had anyone contacted him. Anisa was now managing his hotel, and he was working in the Abuja branch of his office. He hadn’t seen Iman or her siblings in all that time.

He was in his study at his Guzape Hills house—a six-bedroom, two-story mansion with four living rooms, a pool, a football field, and a four-bedroom BQ. From the upstairs window, the city sprawled beneath him like a glittering map.

As he went down to make coffee, he heard the jiggling of keys. Anisa had returned from work.

“Sup, broder,” she said, patting his back.

“Hey. How’s work?”

“Fine, but we need more cleaners. I set interviews for next week.”

Ayman sipped his coffee. “Have you heard from them—I mean Iman?”

“Nope. I’ll call Umar today.”

He returned to his room, dialed Umar, and waited.

“Hello?” Umar answered.

“Hi, Umar.”

“Ayman, how you dey?”

“Fine, ya gida,” he replied.

“I’ve been trying to reach you, but your numbers weren’t going through. Hope everything’s fine.”

“Uhmm… you didn’t hear?” Umar narrated everything—the fainting, the hospital, the psychiatric transfer to the UK.

“Ayyh… Inallahi,” Ayman murmured.

“Can we visit her?” he asked.

“You can try,” Umar said, “but she won’t allow it. She’s in Hathrow, UK—too far. Nigeria didn’t have the facilities to treat her.”

“Okay… don’t worry, insha Allah,” Ayman said, hanging up.

He explained everything to Anisa.

“Inallahi… let’s get going then.”

“No, not today. I’m tired,” he replied.

“Tomorrow then. Let’s get the jet ready.”

“No, we’re flying commercial.”

“No way, I’m not flying commercial with you,” she protested.

“Why?” he arched a brow.

“You’ll make a scene. Remember the reporters.”

“Don’t worry. Nobody will know.”

“Promise?”

“Yeah, whatever,” he shrugged.

By midnight, they were preparing for their 2 a.m. flight. Ayman drove them to the airport in his Bentley Continental—he couldn’t risk hiring a driver; trust was scarce.

Thirty minutes later, at the VIP parking lot, a camera flashed.

“OMG, it’s Ayman!” someone shouted.

“Holy sh*t,” Anisa cursed.

A flood of reporters appeared, shouting questions.

“Where are we heading?” a reporter asked.

“Who is ‘we’?” Anisa whispered, making him chuckle.

Questions about relationships and girlfriends continued, but airport officials finally escorted them to the boarding gate. The captain soon announced their takeoff.

By 6:45 a.m., the plane landed in London. The media coverage hadn’t eased. E! News had already posted: “Our Ayman is finally hitched—photo at Abuja airport with a Somalian woman named Ani. He even laughed on camera. Wow, she must really have an effect on him.”

Ayman chuckled. Anisa’s features were full Somali, yet her hair, a natural afro, was thick and curvy—a challenge to maintain when loose.

At the hospital, he had already informed staff of their arrival. They were escorted to Iman’s lounge.

She looked miserable, watching Black Panther 2, dressed in black leggings and a black T-shirt. When she saw them, her face lit up.

She ran to him first, hugging him like her life depended on it. Then she hugged Anisa.

“Are you here to take me home?” she asked.

“How are you?” he asked, changing the subject.

“Fine. You know, I don’t like my siblings anymore,” she admitted.

“Why?”

“Because… they let them take me and didn’t say anything,” she said, on the verge of tears.

“Don’t cry, Imani,” he said, drawing invisible circles on her back.

Anisa captured the moment in a photo—Ayman’s robust frame wrapped around Iman’s petite body.

“OK, I won’t cry. Can you take me home, please?”

“Uhmm… you know… almost done. You’ll be home very soon. I’ll pick you up personally.”

“Okay,” she said, pouting.

“I love you,” he whispered. She didn’t react, and he noticed Anisa had left.

“You know what,” she said, lying down on the couch.

“What?”

“Remind me to tell you when you’re leaving.”

“Okay.”

After spending the day with her, they had to leave.

As they entered the Rolls-Royce Phantom, she whispered, “I love you too,” then ran back inside.

“Imani, come back here!” he shouted, chasing her. She stopped at her room and entered. He felt tiny hands wrap around his torso.

“Imani,” he said, holding her waist.

“Hmm… don’t go, please,” she whispered.

“You know I have to. But remember what I told you, right?”

She nodded.

“What did you say?” he asked in the car.

“Nothing,” she looked away.

“Please say it again.”

“Fine. I love you too,” she whispered.

“Ahh… see you. I love you,” he said. He pulled her into a hug and kissed her passionately, leaving her flushed red.

“See you, bye, babe,” he waved, leaving her shocked.

Outside, Anisa chuckled.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” she said.

“Well, she started it,” he shrugged. “Make sure you do ritual bath ooo tonight.”

They zoomed off to the hotel, the city disappearing behind them.