A walk on thorns

Chapter 60| Hello Kaduna!

Sabrina's POV

After boarding, I settled into the reception area, my heart heavy with the weight of unshed tears. I was waiting for the announcement to board, but the time seemed to stretch endlessly before me, as if the very air was thick with my sorrow. Tears fell freely down my cheeks, each one a testament to the ache I felt deep inside. My mind wandered back, unwillingly, to memories of MJ, the love we had shared. He had died with a wound from the acid he took for me, an act of love so pure and unthinkable, it left me questioning the nature of love itself. He loved me in a way that I had never thought possible, and now, I was left wondering, Will I ever find someone who could love me like that again?

The question echoed in my mind, a haunting refrain that refused to be silenced. My soul trembled with uncertainty, for the love I had lost was beyond what most people would ever experience in a lifetime. How could anyone ever compare?

"Will you take this, Anam? Anam Cara?" A voice interrupted my thoughts, and I blinked in surprise, looking up to see a man standing before me, holding out a handkerchief. He was smiling, his expression open and kind, but there was something about him, something distant and foreign, as if he didn’t quite belong to this world. His features were striking, and he looked like he had just stepped out of a magazine, dressed in a white sweatshirt, knee-length coat, and jeans, exuding the kind of effortless style you would expect from an Adidas model.

I turned my head away instinctively, unable to mask my discomfort, and refused to take the handkerchief.

“Take it. It’ll be of use, Anam,” he said again, his voice unwavering, his smile still gentle but insistent. I didn’t want to deal with the awkwardness of further refusal, so I reluctantly accepted it, muttering a quiet “thank you.” As I did, he simply nodded and walked away, leaving me to sigh in relief. Some people, it seemed, were determined to interfere in others’ lives for no reason.

The flight to Kaduna was swift, almost disorienting, like a blink of an eye. It was so different from my arrival in Abuja, which had felt like a journey of a lifetime. This flight felt... brief, like it didn’t even have time to register. To my surprise, the man, the one who had insisted I take the handkerchief, was seated next to me on the plane. He didn’t speak, but he kept glancing at me, as if he knew me from somewhere, as if I were a familiar face to him. His gaze was thoughtful, almost probing, but I refused to meet his eyes for long. I had no energy to spare on him. I was lost in my own grief, and I didn’t have the capacity for new distractions, even if they came in the form of strange men offering kindness.

When the plane finally landed, I was quick to gather my things, my movements sharp with the urgency to leave. I needed to escape, to get away from the weight of everything, the grief, the confusion, the questions that swirled around in my mind like a storm. The airport felt like a prison, and I was desperate to leave it behind. I took a taxi to GRA, steeling myself for the confrontation that awaited me: Baba. The thought of facing him, of confronting whatever ridiculous decision he would inevitably come up with, filled me with dread. But I had no choice.

I couldn’t escape this, not any longer. The situation would come to a head soon enough, and I could only pray that things wouldn’t spiral further into chaos. I hoped, no, I prayed, that Aunty I-too-know and Aunt Perfection wouldn’t be there to interrupt, to offer their unsolicited opinions. And above all, I prayed that Aunty Salmah, the Knowledgeable One who lived in Kaduna, wouldn’t be there either. Her presence was always like a shadow that hung over everything, her words calculated and piercing. I needed peace, I needed clarity, and I needed to face Baba without the noise of others clouding my judgment.

As the taxi sped toward GRA, the anxiety gnawed at me. Each bump in the road felt like a reminder that my world was about to shift again, that I was stepping into a new phase of my life, one that I had never asked for but was now powerless to avoid.