BE MY GUEST

CHAPTER SIX

Ps; this chapter has been changed.

R A Y A N✓

KADUNA, NIGERIA

I jolted up with a gasp, beads of cold sweat forming on my forehead. My heart raced, and I struggled to catch my breath. Shadows from my nightmares lingered in the corners of the room, refusing to dissipate. Every time I closed my eyes, the haunting images and the sense of impending doom came rushing back. They had been haunting me for years now, leaving me with restless nights and an ever-growing sense of dread. The darkness felt suffocating, wrapping around me like a vice, and I could still hear the faint echoes of the terror that had gripped my sleep.

I glanced at the bedside table, hoping to find some solace in a drink of water, but the jug was empty. With a sigh, I got out of bed and headed to the kitchen. The house was eerily quiet, the stillness amplifying my racing thoughts. Every creak of the floorboards seemed to echo, a stark contrast to the chaotic images still vivid in my mind.

As I descended the stairs, I noticed a light on in the small living room. It was unusual for anyone to be up at this hour. Curiosity got the better of me, and I went to turn off the light, only to find Khadija inside, filming a video.

She looked up, startled, clearly not expecting anyone to be around. "Rayan! You scared me," she exclaimed, clutching her phone.

"Sorry," I mumbled, just as surprised as she was. "Why are you filming a video at 3 AM?"

She hesitated, then shrugged. "I couldn't sleep. It's something I do to pass the time."

I nodded, understanding all too well the struggle of sleepless nights. "I get that. Nightmares keep me up too."

There was an awkward silence, and for a moment, we just stared at each other. This unexpected encounter felt like a strange twist of fate, a chance to see each other beyond the usual family gatherings and formalities.

"Do you want some water?" I offered, breaking the silence.

She nodded, and I went to the kitchen, filling a glass for her and one for myself. When I returned, she had put her phone away and was sitting on the couch, looking thoughtful.

"Thanks," she said softly, taking the glass from me.

We sat there, sipping our water in silence. The usual barriers between us seemed to dissolve in the quiet of the early morning. I glanced at her, seeing a different side of Khadija—not the aloof and indifferent person I usually encountered, but someone who, like me, was battling her own demons.

"Why do you film videos?" I asked, genuinely curious.

"It's a hobby," she replied. "A way to express myself, I guess. And it helps me cope."

"I understand," I said, feeling a surprising sense of connection. "We all need something to hold on to."

She looked at me, and for the first time, I saw a flicker of empathy in her eyes. Maybe, just maybe, this could be the start of something different. But for now, we finished our water and parted ways, each retreating to our own rooms, lost in our thoughts.

~*~

The following afternoon, I was at the restaurant, overseeing the final touches. The space was coming together beautifully. The sleek, modern design contrasted perfectly with traditional Nigerian elements, creating a unique and welcoming atmosphere. Workers moved efficiently, adjusting lighting, setting up tables, and making sure everything was perfect for the grand opening.

Nameer was at the bar, going over the inventory with the bartender. He looked up as I approached, giving me a thumbs up. "Everything's looking great, Rayan. We’re almost ready."

I nodded, my mind momentarily distracted by the buzzing of my phone. Seeing my mother's name on the screen, my heart skipped a beat. Since I came to Kaduna, I had tried to call her many times, but she refused to pick up. Now, she was calling me. I knew the call was unlikely to end well, but I still felt a flicker of hope.

"Assalam alaikum, Mama," I answered, trying to keep my voice steady.

"Rayan," she said curtly. Her tone was as cold as ever, and I could feel the familiar knot of anxiety tightening in my chest.

"How are you?" I asked, forcing a smile even though she couldn't see it.

"I'm fine. I need to know why you left Bauchi so suddenly," she demanded, skipping any semblance of small talk.

"I told you, Mama. I needed a change of scenery, a fresh start," I explained, trying to keep my frustration in check.

"Is this about your father?" she snapped. "Because if it is, you need to get over it and come back."

Her words cut deep, reopening old wounds. I took a deep breath, steadying myself. "It's not just about that. I needed to find my own path."

"Your own path," she scoffed. "You’ve always been so selfish, Rayan. Always thinking about yourself."

The accusation stung, but I knew better than to argue. "I'm doing what I think is best for me. I hope you can understand that."

There was a long pause on the other end of the line, and for a moment, I thought she might hang up. Instead, she sighed. "Just... don't expect any support from us."

"I never did," I replied quietly, the call ending with a click.

I stood there, the noise of the restaurant fading into the background. The call had gone exactly as I had feared, but at least I had tried. The resentment in her voice was nothing new, but it still hurt.

"Everything okay?" Nameer asked, his concern evident.

I nodded, putting on a brave face. "Yeah, just family stuff."

"Well, we're almost done here. Why don't you take a break? You look like you could use one."

I managed a small smile. "Thanks, Nameer. I think I will."

As I stepped outside for some fresh air, the reality of the situation weighed heavily on me. The nightmares, the strained family relationships, and the pressure of the restaurant opening—all of it felt overwhelming. But in that quiet moment, I reminded myself that I was here for a reason. I had to keep moving forward, no matter how hard it got.

Looking out at the bustling streets of Kaduna, I took a deep breath and let the city's energy renew my resolve. There was a long road ahead, but I was ready to face it.

Happy weekend!

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Love, Mardieeeee❤️.