Over and Over

Vector

ABUJA,
NIGERIA.

LAYLA'S POV

Dada stood by the car, her eyes glistening as she carefully closed the trunk. "Is that all?" she asked, her voice trembling.

"Yes, Dada," I nodded, my own emotions threatening to spill over. "That's everything."

She stepped closer, wrapping me in a warm embrace that felt like home. "I will miss you dearly," she murmured, her voice soft but laden with emotion.

I swallowed the lump in my throat, forcing a smile to keep her spirits up. "I'll miss you too," I said, my grin wide but fragile. "It's hard to believe I'm actually going to university."

Dada released me, her hands lingering on my shoulders. "Promise me you'll call anytime, okay?"

"I promise," I reassured her, though the thought of leaving made my chest ache.

As I glanced around, I saw Aadil wiping away tears, trying—and failing—to be discreet.

I approached him, pulling him into a tight hug. "Take care of everyone for me," I whispered.

One by one, I embraced the rest of my siblings. Ilham, with her typical flair, quipped, "I guess I'm the eldest now."

Her sarcastic tone drew laughter from both Dada and me, easing the tension in the air.

LAYLA'S POV

Imam was out of the country, so our goodbye was limited to a shaky FaceTime call.

His image flickered on the screen, his voice steady but his eyes betraying his longing.

"Be safe," he said, his tone softer than usual.

"You too," I replied, smiling despite the ache in my heart.

By 11 a.m., Baba and I were on the road. The journey to Kano was quiet but peaceful, and by 2 p.m., we arrived at Ammi's house.

The welcome was warm, yet something about the unfamiliar environment left me feeling unmoored.

The next morning, Baba and I spent hours completing my university registration.

It was tedious, and by the time we returned home, exhaustion weighed heavily on us.

Baba didn't stay long—his commitments in Abuja called him back, leaving me alone in a house that felt far too big and silent.

As the hours crept by, loneliness settled in like an unwelcome guest. That was until a soft knock broke the stillness.

I straightened, brushing down my dress before answering.

Standing there was a young woman—tall, chubby, and impossibly light-skinned.

Her smile was disarmingly warm, as though we had known each other for years.

"Hi, I'm Rayhana," she introduced herself, her voice sweet and inviting.

Rayhana was Maymun's stepsister, home for the holidays from studying abroad.

She made herself comfortable in my room, and soon, the silence was replaced with laughter and conversation.

She was vibrant and easy to talk to, a welcome distraction from the solitude.

"Why is the house so quiet?" I asked at one point, the question slipping out without much thought.

Rayhana tilted her head thoughtfully. "Maymun's married now, and Hakeem...well, he's always in his room since he broke up with Khadijah.

Oh my, was I supposed to tell you that?" Her eyes widened as she slapped a hand over her mouth.