Saved by my nightmare (A Nigerian Story)

CHAPTER 39

This chapter is dedicated to r_ahmah_

Kano, Nigeria
2019.

"Rumaysa, your dad asked you to be ready by ten didn't he?" Mrs Kamardeen said, her tone teetering on the edge of frustration.

It had been a few days since Rumaysa arrived Kano but her sulkiness didn't get better.

She was brisk when speaking, distant and made no move to indulge her parents in any conversation other than hasty greetings.

"I'm ready mum" Rumaysa muttered in a tone just loud enough for her mother to hear.

"Yarinya nan!(this girl)" her mother huffed, raking her eyes frustratedly over Rumaysa.

"This!" She shrilled, wagging her pointer finger at the skirt and blouse Rumaysa had on.

"....Is what you call ready?" Rumaysa averted her eyes from the fuming ones her mother had pointed on her, trying to quell the urge to scream at her mother that she would never ever, be ready.

"Amina, fito da mayafin daga dakina(bring that cloth from my room)" Her mother shrilled at her cousin who was sat on the dining chair right outside Rumaysa's room.

"Yes Aunty" Amina hurriedly answered, her expression showing she would rather be anywhere else at that point in time.

A few moments later, with a more than fuming mother and a barely level headed daughter just standing in an emotionally charged silence, Amina brought in a black garment bag held up by a hanger.

"Drop it on the bed" Mrs Kamardeen said to her niece, her voice considerably calmer.

Amina dropped the bag on the bed and hurriedly took her leave.

Mrs Kamardeen shot one last withering look at Rumaysa, a look devoid of the anger and frustration that overwhelmed her.

It was a look that pleaded, begged her daughter to give the meeting a shot.

A look that Rumaysa turned away from, unyielding and stoic even as the slam of the door that signalled her mother's exit ricocheted throughout the room.

Once the door was closed and her mother's footsteps were no longer in her range of hearing, Rumaysa's resolve melted into a large, wet puddle of broken dreams and hopes.

It seemed like an eternity had passed as she screamed into her pillow, protecting the world from the heartbreak that would ensue once the name that tormented her daily and nightly was voiced.

Protecting the molecules in the air from the pain of hearing a name that had shredded her from the inside out.

Protecting the flecks of dust on her nightstand from the raw anguish that would blow at them until they landed in a nearby dish of water and vanished once they heared.

But in all her attempts at heroism, at saving things that didn't need saving, she failed at saving the one thing that needed rescue the most.

She failed, failed, failed at saving her heart, the heart that had ventured into the forbidden realm of love.

The heart that had navigated the unprecedentedly explored realm of love, initially with bravery, joy and fortitude.

It'd been shown the beauties of the realm, basked in the warmth of it, glowed in the radiance it shone.

But as time passed and days replaced nights, the world once familiar became unbearable, the bed of roses sprouted thorns, the rivers of elixir turned dark and murky, the warmth had been replaced with frigidity.