February 28

|8|

MARCH 2020. 
ABUJA, NIGERIA. 
NIZAMIYE HOSPITAL.

The sharp scent of antiseptic and a wave of nostalgia washed over her, pulling her into the unfamiliar surroundings. Slowly, with great effort, she blinked her eyes open. Her hazel eyes first met the white ceiling, then flicked to a photo frame on the wall—a health quote in bold letters, confirming her suspicions. The cannula inserted in her left hand and the blue hospital gown she wore solidified her thoughts.

The door creaked open, and a familiar figure stepped in. It was her sister, looking as worried as she had been for the past five days. As soon as she realized Jaiyana was awake, she rushed over and hugged her, not caring if it hurt.

"Ya Jay! Alhamdulillah! You're finally awake!" she beamed.

"Jasmina..." Jaiyana croaked out, her voice hoarse.

"Yes, Ya Jay! How are you feeling now? We've been so worried about you," Jasmina asked, her tone filled with concern.

Jaiyana struggled to sit up, and Jasmina gently helped her. "How did I end up here?" she asked weakly.

"You've been here for two days," Jasmina explained.

"What?!" Jaiyana's mind raced, trying to grasp the reality. The last thing she remembered was writing in her diary before sinking into the overpowering darkness.

"Yes, Ya Jay. We were so scared. I don't know what happened, but it triggered your heart condition," Jasmina said, fighting hard to keep her composure.

Jasmina held Jaiyana's delicate hands, her grip firm yet soft. "We've talked about this, Ya Jay. Stop letting her words get to you. She's not worth your pain!"

"Did she visit?" Jaiyana asked after a long pause.

Jasmina's expression shifted. Slowly, she nodded, her eyes filled with pity. "No," she whispered softly.

Jaiyana's chest tightened, and her throat burned as tears streamed down her face. After what felt like an eternity of crying, she sniffled and wiped her tears away. Her mind drifted far from the painful reality of her life. 
Her life was pathetic.

---

MARCH 2020. 
ZARIA, NIGERIA.

The expansive mansion was a stunning sight to behold, with its towering columns, sweeping staircase, and numerous balconies overlooking the rolling hills. The excessive mansion had so many rooms that it felt like a maze, and the grand parlor could easily fit large amount of people. The amount of gold and marble that adorned the mansion would be seen by many as rather excessive. The grand mansion's intricate architecture, elegant chandeliers, and ornate furnishings exuded an air of sophistication that left visitors in awe. The mansion's grand entrance with its sweeping staircase, high ceilings, and intricate details gave a sense of majesty and splendor that was fit for royalty. The luxurious mansion's expansive marble floors, high-end appliances, and state-of-the-art home theater system were just a few of the amenities that the owner could simply not live without. The piece de resistance was the mansion's luxurious master suite, complete with a private balcony overlooking the ocean, a Jacuzzi tub, and a massive walk-in closet. The opulent mansion, with its manicured gardens and imposing entryway was the epitome of an exclusive lifestyle. The ostentatious mansion's garish gold-plated fixtures, neon-lit fountains, and over-the-top interior design screamed of sophistication and refinement. Compared to the other, sleek and sophisticated mansions on the street, this one stood out ostentatiously as if it needed to one-up its neighbors at all costs.

A slim, beautiful, dark-skinned woman in her early forties stood inside, twisting the ear of a young man with little gentleness.

"What did I say about playing with your food, huh? You want an ulcer to catch up with you?" she scolded.

"Ummi, I swear I don't joke with food. Well...except for that time in Abu Dhabi," he whispered the last part, thinking she hadn't heard him. The hard knock on his head told him otherwise.

"Allahu Yahdika, Abaan! Will you ever take anything seriously?" she sighed, but a smile spread across her face.

"Ameen, Ummina! I love you more and more every day," he teased, bowing dramatically and placing a kiss on her hand.

"Look at him! It's been, what—three years? If you truly love me, then get yourself a wife! I don't understand what's wrong with you, Aabaan. You've turned down every one of your cousins, and yet, no bride!"

"Not this again..." he muttered under his breath, earning another knock on the head.

"Silly boy! I want to see my grandchildren before I die! Or do you expect me to live in this mansion all by myself, with only the maids for company?"

"Shh, no more talk of dying, Ummi. You'll see your great-grandchildren, In Shaa Allah."

"In Shaa Allah, my Jojo," she teased, using the nickname from his childhood.

"Ummi!" he groaned, settling down next to her on the plush carpet, resting his head in her lap as she gently stroked his hair. The spacious parlor fell silent, both of them lost in thought—mostly about the messes their lives had become, haunted by a dark past.

"When are you going back to Abuja? Your father and mother must be worried by now."

"—Stepmother, Ummi. You're the only one I call mother. You're the only one who has the right to call me son," Aabaan said softly. Ummi smiled, pulling him closer to her.

"Yaya Aabaan!" A young girl, about sixteen, burst into the parlor with excited energy.

"I'm so happy you're here! You have no idea how much I've missed you. Oh, and guess what? My crush said yes!" she whispered the last part conspiratorially.

Aabaan gave her a cheeky grin and a thumbs up. "One wrong move, and I'll chop his head off. He better not mess with my sister."

Taslim laughed. Ummi watched the two with a warm smile, cherishing their bond. Though Taslim wasn't Aabaan's  biological sister, their relationship was just as strong. Taslim had been adopted by Ummi when she was just three, after her mother—Ummi's sister—had passed away. When Ummi heard how Taslim was being mistreated by her stepmother, she stepped in and adopted her, raising her as her own. 

The mansion they all lived in belonged to Aabaan, and he made sure his sister and Ummi never lacked anything.

"Alright, you two, it's time for lunch. The chefs should be done by now," Ummi said.

"Yes, Ma!" They both saluted playfully, following her out of the parlor.

---

Writer's Block Struggles😐 
Coming up with this chapter was no easy feat! 😭 I'm sorry for leaving you all waiting so long. What do you think about our male lead? 🌚 

Happy New Year! 🎉 May all our In Shaa Allah's become Alhamdulillah, Ameen! 
8.1.24 🤎