BORDEAUX, FRANCE.

A lone figure wander to an apartment building and stood at the reception contemplating whether he's making the best decision or not. Many things has happened the last few months and he's been restless the whole time, nothing makes sense and the good food he's always liked in France doesn't make sense anymore. He's been guilty the whole time, his life moving around without any main purpose. Choked up business contracts, reviews, meetings and a lot more business dinners he couldn't attend. His energy is getting drained day by day as more guilt weigh him down.

Musa Babagana nodded at the receptionist, a French nice girl that's always sitting there waiting idly for commands. Colette had known him for many years now as he frequently visits one of their tenants, the one occupying the penthouse up there. She's always liked the man for his generosity and easy smiles. Although the person he meets up there is total opposite of him, they tend to share a great amount of time talking whenever he comes or even go out like couple. No one ever asked what the great businessman and fashion designer are up to, they could only watch and gossip.

"Is she up there?" The easy smile is intact on his face, his aging dark skin coming together in places -edges of his eyes, mouth and nose. How time flies!

Colette typed something quickly before looking up at him with a smile brighter than his, showing her whole cream teeth at him. She is a young woman in her early thirties having worked in the apartment complex for almost a decade already. She wasn't qualified when she started the job as a janitor but then ranked upwards when she brought a good curriculum vitae. Now she is amongst the most high paid workers there which is why she is attached to her job a lot. She is still single because of that same reason, she married her job.

"She is up there, Sir. She hasn't left the building in a week and I'm afraid something might be wrong with her. Do check out for us, Sir. She wants no disturbance from the servants." Colette quaked suddenly worried about the woman upstairs whether in good health or not, no one knows.

Worried lines dented themselves on her forehead as she recalled the last time the woman stumbled inside all haggard a tired. It's actually long overdue because she always is ready to work and work for the whole week without tiring and sometimes won't come back and spend the whole night at the office. She's already very successful in her career and amongst the top ten fashion designers in France, what more could she ask for? She could stay indoors and rest for a whole month and it won't make a dent on her, but she refused. She wants to wallow herself between pencils and so many clothing time and time again.

Although Colette had noticed something about her, seems like a past is lurking behind her businesslike facade. There is something about them that she doesn't understand. The two of them always look to be in pain even while they are smiling at one another, as if something is eating them up. They are clearly both foreigners even though the woman hardly looks like she is from Nigeria, she really is. Whatever it is they are doing in France, they are trying to escape from something that has to do with their pasts-

Musa Babagana's outstretched hand startled her out of her reverie and she hastily removed a keycard from her table and handed it to him. Her boss asked her to give him whenever he required it which was often before it became less frequent. Both of them tend to be too busy traveling around the globe and getting their career in a more stabler position to have time for themselves. Not that they don't meet in other countries, France is the main place the trysts takes place since she worked and lives there which leaves Musa Babagana flying from one place to another. He is everywhere.

Closing his fingers around the cool keycard, he sent a reassuring smile at her. "I'll check up on her now." And he dispatched from sight by getting into an empty elevator.

"Well, I hope she's alright." Colette murmured behind him and went on with her job.

Musa Babagana stared at the penthouse in wonder. He's never seen the place look so untidy like right now which confirmed that Zaitun is really not okay. The bone tiled flooring have scattered crumpled pieces of paper all around, a few colored pencils also hanging from one end to the other. Her couches are filled with outfits he's seen her working on for her next fashion show. He frowned, what is going on with her now? Is she depressed again or has something triggered her? She tend to be off once in a while, even he could not understand her at times like this.

Trudging upwards to the combined staircase, he briskly walked up to her room and barged in without knocking, he is extremely worried now. He found her lying on her stomach, a pillow getting suffocated underneath her head and arms. The room is actually okay, there is nothing wrong with it unlike the havoc he's met downstairs. That's something about her, she will never dirty the place she is. It means she hasn't been going downstairs for anything or she would've rearranged everything.

He sighed about to turn around and leave her to her thing when he heard her quiet murmur from the bed. She's opened her eyes, stretched her arms upwards and regarded him with soft tired eyes. The startling resemblance with his daughter became more apparent in her haggard situation. He's seen the same depleted eyes of his daughter, the same bedraggled hair when she was younger, same straight nose. The only difference is their skin, his daughter is dark like him but her mother is as fair as albino. His chest made an aching crack, a feeling he knew all too well.

His first wife, Zaitun Muhammad Shema stared at him with same emotions in her eyes for the last many years -exhaustion, guilt and loneliness. She's been battling with insomnia, depression, exhaustion and anxiety. Though they are in a constant war with the same thing, hers is somewhat deeper and fresher than his. She is trying to escape reality hence her unyielding focus on working day and night to achieve something she is not aiming for. She isn't doing it for more wealth, they have more than enough for the next generation nor is she doing it for fame, she despise the attention.

They've been married for twenty six years but they could only spend the first six years of their marriage in peace, after that, there wasn't anything worth talking about. So many things happened that left them shattered along with the family they wanted to build up. Along with their broken hearts and shattered dreams came damnation. Too selfish and absorbed in only their pain, the neglected the only source of hope they have and did the unforgivable albeit not in their right state of mind but that ruined their daughter forever. They did it, they ruined her with their words and actions.

The guilt is there though, the moment they realized that what they've done is wrong, it started creeping into their veins like deoxygenated blood. It was almost too late when they came to their senses, there was no damage control, they've tried many. Their lives had been a roller coaster of emotions, mystery and torment. From one part of the world to another, they sought for happiness greedily but it never came. There is nothing worth doing even with their pockets ladened with surfeit mullah.

Another murmur from her yanked him off his wayward thoughts. "When did you arrive?" She stretched again, sighed and twist her body as if to feel all her limbs.

He went to the bed and sat down at the edge, surveying her from head to toe. She's wearing a cotton nightgown that reached her toe but it is now around her calf, showing white creamy legs. She hasn't aged much since he just married her when she yawed eighteen and twenty six years later, she is forty four compared to his sixties. "Just few minutes ago. Colette told me you haven't been seen for almost a week and thought something is wrong. Are you okay?"

As always, she tried reassuring him with her fake smiles but this time around, a grimace broke out from her features before she let out a tired sigh. Whatever it is she is going through can't be more worse than what he is going through and the reason he left in the middle of an important and crucial meeting that would've earned him a fortune, to come down to France from United Kingdom. He is worried but also happy, guilty, afraid and desperate, so very desperate.

She finally arranged her expression and permitted the vulnerability to mar her face. She felt it too, the same thing he's felt few hours ago that he rushed out with his assistant calling out to him and asking whether everything is alright. Oh nothing is alright but he covet to God that it turns out all well this time around. A few tears slip out from her eyes then they were rushing vigorously as though the mere sight of him is the main source of the tears. He rounded the bed and envelope her in his arms, tears of joy.

"It's broken." She sobbed in his chest, clutching tight on his expensive Armani suit, choking back rows of mucus from her nose. "It's broken but it's too late, Musa. We cannot do anything now, we can't."

He caressed her back in an emollient way contemplating whether to tell her what he's planned on his way here or wait till she is back to herself so they can think rationally. But after few more minutes of excessive crying and sobbing, he knew he had to tell her he's planned something or she won't stop crying. "I have something planned. It's thirty percent out of hundred that she will listen to us but, we should never lose hope right? At least, we should make more effort because she deserves it."

Zaitun's brows furrowed before she leaned back to stare at her husband. He's always up to something and sometimes it's not too good with such business mind. He always thinks that everything is about more money, investments and clients. This is a personal matter and that too a fragile one they never try touching until now. They were not allowed to, their mouths were sealed but not their minds and brains.

More curious than hopeful, she stared at him with wide doe like eyes. "What is it you have planned? Do you think she will look at us with this plan of yours?"

Musa Babagana sighed but then went ahead, he is not sure they have the right to go to her talk less of her looking at them. "She is going to graduate in a month or so, I feel like during this month, we should prepare ourselves and go to therapy. We need it. After all the years we've spent only talking in loud voices in our heads about her, we need the help of a therapist. When we are done with our sessions, I can call her husband and see how things are going with her. With his permission, we can go back to Nigeria and throw a dinner party for her. Seeing us will ruin her day so we'll wait until the dinner is almost over before we show ourselves. I know she won't even look at us, Adda mama said she hates us to the point she never wants to talk about us. She's actually becoming... indifferent in matters concerned to us."

Another choked sob left Zaitun's mouth because even though it's expected of her daughter to hate her for leaving and accusing her of murder, she can't help feeling the stab of pain in her chest at the confirmation of her daughter's hatred. She's becoming indifferent? Which means she's stopped thinking about them, stopped hurting at the mention of their name and is... God, this is bad. What sort of life had they lived for the past twenty years? What had they achieved in their lives? There was no peace, no happiness or felicity, it was a chaos!

She drew a shaky hand through her hair from her forehead, a splitting headache trying to break through. She's gone through self-loathing, self-mutilation, brooding and retreating into her shell, always withdrawing from others, paranoia, inability to focus on anything. Her desire to share her troubles with someone weighed her down that she one day confessed to her personal assistant, a woman four years younger than her but it felt great because the woman was understanding. Her words were choked, she's sure Florence didn't understand much about it but she sympathized and gave advise.

When you are not even permitted to talk about what is wrong with you, there is nothing that can help you. "I believe you are a Muslim?" Florence had said, eying the hijab around her head, Zaitun gave a nod. "They are devoted and always pray, they say it helps them in all their affairs and I think you should do the same. I know you've been praying, I've seen you countless times but you should add it some more. I have a lot of Muslim friends, she said she wakes up in the night to pray especially Friday nights."

Zaitun started since then, not missing any Friday night. She will bow down and pray, pray again for guidance and now, it's been answered. It's broken, they can talk about their struggles and troubles without getting choked on their own words and tumbling face down in disappointment when the words refuse to come out the way they want it too. It's been a struggle, fighting and fighting without a good result for twenty years. How she's survived for this long is still a mystery to her.

Her husband is a strong man, he's endured all that even the guilt of not agreeing with his daughter and beating her up knowing what she is saying is the truth but he cannot do anything about it. God, it's been a torturous ride, one they will never be able to forget for the rest of their lives. It's ruined them, shattered their hopes and long list of dreams. They won't ever be able to forget about what Musa Babagana's ex-girlfriend had done to them years ago. Zaitun still hasn't met anyone as wicked as Maimuna, till date. She's lucky she is dead, or her corpse won't be sniffed by a sleaze dog!

It's wrong to pray badly about someone who's died but Zaitun had done and will still do it. Maimuna deserves everything but goodness for what she's done.

"Musa, that won't work. Don't forget that she is our daughter, extremely stubborn and from what I've seen, a strong-willed and highly opinionated. She's set her mind on hating us, all we should do is pray some more and see where it goes. But about the therapy, we need that more than anyone on earth. I don't even want to say her name till I meet her. I haven't said it since I left. It's too heavy but now that I can, I don't want to waste it just like that." A bittersweet smile touched her lips at the thought of seeing her daughter and... Subhanallah, she cannot wait.

Musa Babagana smiled too, a genuine one after decades. "Oh she is stubborn. She got drunk one day and poured out her hatred to me and the next week, I got her married. I know she loathes me more than she does you so if we are to go to her, you will have to lead the way."

At this, Zaitun's smile widened and she beamed. "Tell me all about this marriage and my son-in-law."

His expression fell, he licked his lips something he does when he is nervous and afraid. "I just found out he is Adda mama's son, that first one she wasn't allowed to see? When she stubbornly got married to Hakim and didn't tell any of us?"

Zaitun gasped behind her palm and regarded him with wide eyes filled with worry and concern. How did Adda mama feel when she saw him? "Now what? How is Adda mama?"

"She is very fine when I talked to her earlier on my way here. I told her it's broken, she was so happy that she cried too. But the good news from her side is that..." He trailed off, watching his wife's pretty aging face morphed into a scowl.

With a huff, she whispered. "Please tell me. I want to a gulp everything about my daughter like a thirsty man quaffing water in a desert."

Musa grinned, he knows that, they both do. "She said that Fatima is developing feelings for her husband, the ACP but she still believes that I bought him. She doesn't know how rich her husband is, richer than her own father. They are getting to know each other especially now that he was shoot and recovering... don't worry, the bullet wasn't rough so he will be fine in no time." He reassured with a pleasant smile knowing that he didn't make the wrong choice when he got Fatima married to ACP Al-hafiz.

He didn't get her married to him because of his wealth, he found out about the wealth just recently after Adda mama had told him he is Hakim Al-hafiz's son. It never clicked to him that Ahmad is his nephew, aging and all. And Ahmad too diverted his whole story on internet and formed a new one, not even Lysette could find out anything tangible about him. He just knew that Ahmad is the right choice for his daughter after seeing how he works and his whole attitude that is opposite Fatima's.

"Tell me about those feelings. Is she in love?" Her eyes widened in anticipation even with the bubbling pain that she wasn't there to help her daughter sort through her feelings or throw a nice big wedding for her and dress her up like a bride.

"If she isn't in love, then it's little that's remaining. They are always glued to each other's hip and... let me show you a photo." He removed his phone from his suit's pocket, his wallet falling out along with Fatima photos right from age four.

Zaitun took each one of them and stared for a long time then go through the others and stopped on a recent one. Her daughter looking too pretty in traditional wear, it made her eyes widen. She wore the clothes Zaitun had sewn for her! "She is wearing it!" She told Musa, her eyes unfocused as it filled up with fresh tears.

He smiled at the sight of his daughter. Lysette snapped the picture for him since she is staying back in Nigeria for some work. "I was surprised too. It makes more sense now that she is getting into this ACP man. I should warn him not to warn my little princess or he'll have to go through me."

Zaitun laughed in between tears then took his phone to see the picture of Fatima wearing the same traditional wear, lying on a hospital bed with the said husband. Ah, such a handsome fella! "You cannot do anything to a man with such strength, Musa. Look at those abs and biceps, sorry to say." She giggled again when he scowled.

"I'll have you know that I stroll and don't have large belly. Getting abs and biceps won't be hard for me. I can do that in a month." He defended, smiled when he saw that she's zoomed on Fatima's peaceful face.

Not even when he's sneaked into her room at night to see her sleeping had she looked this calm and happy. Her face shows nothing but tranquil in the picture.

"Good luck trying."