Sometimes your heart needs more time to accept what your mind already knows. — Unknown

The journey to the airport was a long one. Fola didn't know whether to consider it a blessing or a curse. Or maybe both.

"Stop frowning," Nora snapped from beside her.

"Make me?" She retorted and tossed her a glare.

Nora scoffed. "You are 28 years old but you act like a child."

That's because you treat me like one. The thought caused rage to burn within her. She stabbed a button and the window rolled down. The evening breeze slapped her face and ruffled her hair.

"Close that window right now. It will ruin your hairstyle."

Fola gritted her teeth and ignored her. The breeze wafting through her hair eased the throb forming in her head. However, just like every good thing in her life, it came to an end. The window suddenly rolled up. Nora must have instructed the driver to close it from his end.

She swung to face Nora with hard eyes. "Why don't you ever listen to me?"

"Because I'm not supposed to. I take instruction from one person and that's Chief." Nora raised her head.

Fola balled a fist and her jaw hardened. She had heard that countless times in the last eight years. The bitter truth always caused her immense pain. The truth that her whole life was under the control of her husband.

"We are here," Nora broke the silence several minutes later. "Let's go," she said in a commanding tone.

Fola puffed out a breath. Armed with her purse, she opened the door and slid out. A chill rushed through her and she wished she had not listened to Nora and instead carried a shawl. Her eyes roamed around. She watched some people scamper around with their luggage while other people exchanged hugs with their families.

"Are you just going to stand there?" Nora broke her gazing.

Fola's eyes flickered to her. "I thought you are my boss? I was waiting for your instructions." A smug smirk grazed her lips.

Nora scowled and shook her head. "Whatever. Let's go. We can't afford to be late." She marched off.

Fola trudged after her. The straps of her 5-inch stilettos dug into the skin of her feet. But she couldn't do anything about it. Begging Nora for a more comfortable pair of shoes would be meaningless. Nora's choice was final no matter the agony it caused her. So she braced herself and silently bore the pain. Something she had found herself doing frequently in the last several years.

Her forehead wrinkled as they passed the main airport, rounded a corner, and continued their trek. The pain in her feet intensified and she bit her cheek to hold in a wail. Finally, a black gate came into view and they stalled in front of it.

An armed security officer asked for a pass which Nora quickly produced. He scanned the card with a machine he held and only returned the card to Nora when he had confirmed it was valid. With a nod, he opened the gate and they passed through.

A long white rectangular building of two levels greeted them on the other side. Three exotic black cars were packed to the side. Confusion welled within Fola but she didn't bother to ask any questions. She followed Nora up the short flight of stairs.

Two security officers armed the door of the building. Nora showed them the pass which they also examined before letting them in. One of the officers pressed a button and the door swung open. Nora entered first and Fola followed. Her eyes traveled around and understanding dawned on her. They were in the VIP lounge of the airport.

Men and women dressed in various expensive clothes filled the seats while operating their expensive gadgets or munching on gourmet food. She took her time searching for her husband. But alas, barely a few seconds later, she spotted him on a table in the right corner of the room. He sat amid other men dressed in expensive suits.

He was decked in the traditional Yoruba men's outfit which consisted of agbada, buba, sokoto, and fila. A Long coral bead covered his neck and another one was wrapped around his wrist.

Agbada is a long robe worn on top of a shirt called buba and trousers called sokoto. Fila is a cap worn on the head. The ensemble is a traditional outfit worn by men from the Yoruba tribe in Nigeria. (Picture below is courtesy of Google)

She and Nora silently headed toward his table. Her heart raced and a queasy sensation filled her stomach.

Nora bent her head towards her. "Smile and be nice."

Fola suppressed a scoff. Smiling and being nice were things she no longer knew how to do. Nevertheless, as they neared the table, she forced a smile onto her face.

"Good evening, everyone!" Nora announced their presence.

The eyes of the men landed on them and Fola squirmed in discomfort. No matter how she tried, having the attention of many people filled her with anxiety. She lowered her eyes but looked up immediately as Nora's words from so long ago came to mind.

"Always make eye contact." Nora pinned her with a stern gaze. "It shows you have respect. And Chief Naade's wife must have respect. Never forget that."

Fola agreed with her until she uttered the last sentence. Being reminded that she lived only for him was a painful reminder of her helplessness.

As her eyes flickered up, they connected with the dark eyes of her husband. Disdain shimmered in his eyes and Fola's stomach flipped. It was a look he sent her after she failed to give him an heir.

Amazement filled her as his expression changed to an expression of happiness. She watched as he jumped to his feet and came round the table to meet her.

"Come, come, my darling Fola!" He beamed and wrapped an arm around her waist.

Fola's stomach churned and bile rose to her throat. She held herself from shying away from his touch.

He pulled her closer and dragged her to his seat. "Guys, I would like for you to meet my beautiful wife, Mrs. Folake Naade Akande."

The men grinned at her and she managed to send them a nervous smile. This was the first time in their several years of marriage, that he was introducing her to his friends.

"And, my darling," He turned to her, "these are my friends and business partners."

"Nice to meet you all," she whispered and sent them a shaky smile.

One of the men shot to his feet, picked up her hand, and kissed it. "It's a pleasure to meet you." He grinned.

Fola shivered at the lecherous look he sent her. She pulled her hand from his grasp. "Thank you," she murmured.

He rose to his full height and smirked. "I must say, Naade, you caught a good one."

"I agree," chimed another man as his heated gaze swept over her.

Anger surged through her and her eyes darkened.

I am not an animal for you to sample," she wanted to shout but restrained herself.

Chief Naade chuckled. "I know I got a good bargain but you guys should get your eyes off my property."

Fola's anger increased and she struggled to hold herself from lashing back.

The man raised his hands in surrender. "Fine, fine."

Chief Naade and his friend returned to their seats while Fola remained standing. Shock surged through her as Chief Naade ignored her and resumed chatting with his friends.

A hand on her arm drew her attention.

"Come and have a seat," Nora said. "If he needs you, he will call for you."

Fola turned to face her and watched an unreadable expression gleam in her eyes. An expression akin to sympathy. She pushed her thoughts away and silently followed Nora to a table not far away from the men's table.

A sigh escaped her lips as she slumped into the nearest chair. She was grateful to be able to rest her feet. Her stomach growled as a waiter passed with a plate of a scrumptious-looking club sandwich. However, there was nothing she could do to satisfy her hunger. Nora would decide the appropriate time for her to eat and what she should eat.

Fola despised being helpless but what could she do? She was paying the price of her decision eight years ago.

                           ★★★★★

Oh boy, poor Fola! 😢

Now, that we have met Fola's husband, Chief Naade, what do you think of him?

I look forward to your thoughts. XD

And your votes as well.  ❤

Until next time, have a delicious sandwich 😁