So close, yet so far

19

ABUJA, NIGERIA

"Bro you Dey fight with your wife since bikin Ko Amma kazo kana zaune a kujeran office Kamar Kayan wani kana ma workers din unnecessary fada; you have been fighting with your wife since your wedding but you're here sitting down like a log of wood scolding your workers about unnecessary things." Mahmoud said as he smacked the back of Sa'eed's making him flinch and glare at him.

"What do you want me to do when she isn't giving me a listening ear?" Sa'eed said with a dejected look.
"So you're giving up?" Mahmoud asked.

Mahmoud's words struck a chord, and Sa'eed's gaze drifted, his mind replaying the tumultuous weeks since his wedding. Besides the toxic influence of Bilal and his other so-called friends, Mahmoud had been a constant, a voice of reason in the chaos.

Sa'eed's thoughts flashed back to Mahmoud's countless attempts to steer him away from his destructive path, particularly his excessive drinking. At the time, Sa'eed had resented Mahmoud's interference, perceiving it as an attack on his freedom.

But after the fallout with Bilal's crew, Sa'eed realised Mahmoud's true intentions – to protect him, to guide him toward a better life.

Now, as he sat in his office, surrounded by the trappings of success, Sa'eed felt the weight of his mistakes. Mahmoud's question still lingered: "So you're giving up?"

Sa'eed's eyes refocused on Mahmoud, his expression resolute. "Of course not! Hauwa is my life."

Mahmoud nodded, his expression sympathetic. "Then what's the plan, bro?"

Sa'eed sighed heavily, his shoulders sagging. "I don't know. That's why I'm asking you."

Mahmoud leaned forward, his elbows on Sa'eed's desk. "Seat her down, talk to her. Really talk."

Sa'eed's instant reaction was skepticism. "You weren't listening, were you? She won't give me a listening ear."

Mahmoud rolled his eyes good-naturedly. "I'm just tryna help, man."

Sa'eed's gaze narrowed, his lips compressing.

Mahmoud switched to a fake American accent, "Listen, bro, you gotta step up. Tell her you guys need to talk it out. If she refuses, assert some dominance, show her you're serious."

Sa'eed's eyes widened, intrigued.

"Not force, bro," Mahmoud clarified. "But you need to be the man. Since pampering ain't working."

Sa'eed nodded thoughtfully, his mind racing. Maybe Mahmoud was right. Maybe it was time to approach things differently.

The office fell silent, the only sound was the ticking clock on the wall. Sa'eed's gaze drifted out the window, his thoughts consumed by Hauwa and the daunting task ahead.

"Thanks, bro," Sa'eed said finally, his voice low.

Mahmoud smiled. "Anytime, bro. That's what brothers are for."
••

Sa'eed sighed tiredly as he stepped out of his sleek black Aston Martin, the evening sun casting long shadows across the driveway. His feet carried him toward his mother's bedroom, his mind still reeling from Mahmoud's advice.

As he raised his hand to knock on the door, Mardiya materialised before him, her presence sudden and unwelcome.

"Ina wuni, Ya Sa'eed; good evening," she said, her voice husky.

Sa'eed grunted a response, his tone clipped. He waited for her to leave, but she lingered.

Mardiya's eyes locked onto his, her gaze provocative. She whispered, "Hauwa won't give you what you want. How about I book us a hotel, and you come to me?"