When Stars Collide

Re: Fatima Baanziye

I remember telling y'all I was  going to update a day later, I think I misjudged my laziness😂😂, anyways. This is the chapter. I'll update another one soon.

Adding on a plea, please I beg you, leave a comment. Vote too. Please also share. I'll be grateful 💕

Salman Baanziye

To say he knew how he drove back home safely, he would be lying. He had driven home awoken from his deep reverie by angry horns from other drivers, transporters who cussed him out for driving so slowly. Just as he drove through the gates of the estate where he lived, he looked down at his phone, seeing a picture of Hibba smiling so lovingly at Ummi was his screensaver, his heart broke all over again.

He stopped the car, got out and leaned against the driver's side in deep thought. He must have spent a long time standing because next thing he knew, the adhaan for Magrib was being called in a nearby home mosque. He blinked dazedly and looked around him for the crackling speaker that was in urgent need of repair, he found it with a shake of his head and stopped leaning on the car.

He exhaled very noisily and got back into the car, driving himself home carefully. At home, he got out and walked to the backyard where his father situated a small praying ground that men from three houses away came to pray every morning and evening.

He performed his ablution perfunctorily, adjusting the fabric of his chinos trousers to wash his feet properly, pulling back the sleeves of his black shirt to wash his hands well. At last he finished and returned the copper kettle back to its position near the tap and walked into the mosque.

On his first sujood, he let the tears he held in all day flow down his cheeks. He wiped his face as though he could not believe it, he looked at the tears he had wiped and was dazed again.  He, Salman Baanziye was crying over a woman, but it was happening and he had lost one of the best things that had ever happened to him. He was thankful everyone minded their business during prayer times and didn't look around or they'd have seen him sobbing so hard, noiselessly. All because he was a Baanziye, as his mind went through the motions of prayer, he wondered how life would have been very different if he were not a Baanziye.

He ended his prayers and wiped his face with a handkerchief he began to keep in his pocket for Ummi since the one time he carried her and she threw up dregs of her baby food on him. He walked out of the mosque like his body was not his own, he hurt all over, including his head that buzzed like he had been hit with a bat. Hearing such cold tones from Hibba was like being hit on the head with a bell anyways.

He met his mother keeping her prayer mat and the opening beep of her digital tasbih, she must have come from the small beautiful mosque his father had built for the women in the house. The smell of cinnamon and chicken biryani permeated the whole house, uplifting Salman's spirits a bit. As such, when his mother asked him of Hibba, he was able to nod and say that she was fine. His mother cocked her head upwards, seeing how taller than her he was, and asked again and took all of his will power not to tell her everything that had transpired.

He found strength in him to walk upstairs to his suite that he re-decorated with Hibba's help. They're gone to a store that sold several really beautiful interior decorations and Hibba had picked nice things from the curtains to the blue fake-fur rugs in front of the television and by his bed. He shut the door behind him and lay on the rug in the living area of his suite bonelessly.

He pulled out his phone from his pocket, quite uncomfortably, and unlocked it. The pain in his eyes and the ache in his heart increased when he went to the backlog of videos and pictures he had of Hibba and Ummi. Of her making a peace sign at an event he attended with his friends, of her smiling at Ummi, of her kissing Ummi's forehead, of her sitting in front of him at a restaurant on Bangui street. He watched a video of her mixing a mocktail with ice and lemon juice till it came out green from the stainless steel mixer into the mocktail glass. She handed the glass over with a flourish and a bright smile.

Hours passed and Salman got up to pray Isha, on his way back, Fatima followed him upstairs to his room and slumped into the very comfortable bed sofa in front of his television and took out a game console.

"Let's play Call of Duty Abeg. Amina is such a bad player that there's no need to make her an opponent." Salman who would cherish opportunities to give his sister a good beating declined very tiredly and adjusted the sofa into a bed, laying lethargically.

Fatima put her hand on him, checking his body's temperature. Frowning when she noticed his body was warm and his eyes were hazy too. "Are you okay? Yaya?" Salman shook his head slowly.

"What happened? You're not ill are you?" Salman shook his head again. He weighed it in his mind and wondered if he should tell his younger sister. He shrugged and told her all that had happened in the past two days.

"Why didn't you apply pressure? Why wait till she decided not to have anything to do with you anymore?" Salman shook his head and said very slowly, testament to his tiredness. "She isn't someone who makes decisions without weighing the options. I'm sure she took those two days to think and now I think I want to respect her decision. For now."

Fatima nodded and asked for his phone again. He found the picture she wanted and handed it to her. She tapped on the phone over and over and nodded before sending herself the photo with the details on the envelope.

"How's work?" Salman asked his sister and she flopped on the sofa bed even further. Salman chuckled at her actions and passed her a spare controller to his PS5, got up turned on the television and the console to play a game. Evidently refusing to reply. Salman shrugged. The thing with Fatima was she would come by later for advice and he would give her his best thoughts.

"I'll beat you oo. This one you're heartbroken. I'll deal with you so mercilessly." Salman shook his head slowly at his sister. This was the way she began every match, only to be beaten silly.

*******

"I've found a CCTV footage from the day the letter was posted." Salman shook as he comprehended the news. He wondered how Fatima got a footage when he had been told along side his lawyer that nothing could be done.

"How did you get it?" He asked his sister, she was nearly seven years his junior but the girl was a force to be reckoned with.

"Who do you think you're talking to? Fatima Baanziye? They showed me the footage immediately I called the owner of the logistic company. By the way, do you know any Salma Isani?" Salman shook his head, but the name was familiar. A few seconds later he remembered.

"Dad's cousin, she married an Isani. That's only connection with them." Fatima tutted in her brother's ear and ended the call. She had work to do.

******
Hey special people 💃🏽💃🏽

Is anyone getting the gist? Abi you'll wait till the next chapter to understand the point?

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See y'all soon.

God bless you.

TheOmoope 💙💛🙃