BE MY GUEST

CHAPTER FIVE

R A Y A N ✓

KADUNA, NIGERIA

I emerged from the cool morning mist, my breath forming wisps of steam in the crisp air as I completed my customary early morning jog. For the past week since I arrived in Kaduna, this routine had become my anchor, a fleeting moment of solitude amidst the chaos of my tumultuous life. The rhythmic pounding of my feet against the pavement provided a rare sense of clarity, a respite from the tangled thoughts that often plagued my mind.

The security guard nodded in acknowledgment as I passed through the gates of the imposing compound, offering a respectful greeting that I returned with a polite smile. His presence, though silent and steadfast, added a layer of security and familiarity to these early mornings. My footsteps echoed softly on the tiled pathway as I made my way toward the grand entrance of the house, careful not to disturb the stillness of the dawn.

As I approached the staircase, I was met with the presence of Ama and Khadija standing by the banister, their silhouettes outlined by the dim light filtering in through the windows. Ama noticed me first, her warm smile a stark contrast to the cool morning air.

"Good morning, Rayan. Har ka dawo daga jogging in?" she inquired, her voice laced with genuine care.

My gaze flickered briefly to Ama, a yearning glint in my eyes that I quickly masked with a shy smile. I longed for the maternal care she offered so effortlessly, a stark reminder of the void that had plagued me for so long. Pushing aside the longing, I replied softly, "Lafiya Alhamdulilah, Ama. Ya ciwon kan na ki?" I inquired, my tone laced with concern.

"Alhamdulilah. I am feeling better," she responded, her eyes crinkling with warmth. There was something soothing in her gaze, a comfort I had missed deeply.

Ama's attention then turned to Khadija, who stood beside her with an air of aloofness. "Khadija, can't you greet?" Ama chided gently, her tone tinged with reproach.

I could see the wave of disgust that washed over Khadija at the thought of exchanging pleasantries with me. Her eyes narrowed slightly, and her lips pursed in an almost imperceptible grimace. Reluctantly, she mustered a terse greeting, her voice barely concealing her disdain.

I merely nodded in response, my indifference palpable as I brushed past them after taking an excuse from Ama and ascended the staircase to my room. The encounter left a bitter taste in my mouth, a stark reminder of the unresolved tensions that simmered beneath the surface of our interactions.

Once inside, I wasted no time in shedding my workout attire. The hot water from the shower was a welcome relief, washing away the sweat and grime of my jog. I swiftly changed into a crisp white shirt paired with tailored trousers, exuding an air of effortless sophistication. I retrieved my watch from the nightstand, its polished metal glinting in the soft light as I fastened it to my wrist. It was a gift from my late father, a constant reminder of his enduring presence in my life.

Descending the stairs once more, I encountered Imran in the mini living room, his enthusiasm infectious as he greeted me with a wide smile. "Morning, Ya Rayan!"

"Morning, Imran," I responded, noticing his crisp sky blue kaftan and expensive-looking shoes. "Why are you dressed like that? Shouldn't you be in school?"

Imran beamed at the question, his eyes shining with pride. "Today na our cultural day! We dey do plenty activities today. I go miss am if I no go."

I laughed at his effort of speaking pidgin, just then, Ama emerged from the kitchen with a large food cooler in hand, her eyes appraising me. "Where are you off to this morning, Rayan?" she inquired.