Thursday the fifth of October dawned bright and beautiful, I watched from a small upstairs patio of the Transcorp Hilton Abuja.
I watch the sun rise carefully, as though some sort of hesitation held it from coming out, peeking from behind the dark clouds of the night before.
I sigh again and pray for the memory of Baaba, that Allah may grant him the highest place in Jannah. In Sha Allah.
The door to the small patio sounds a knock and i quickly wipe my tears. "Come in." Rahma walks in with a clipboard in her arms, still dressed in a tracksuit and white hijab. We've been here since four am.
"What's the update?" I ask facing the sun, I don't want her to see my eyes, my tears were for Allah alone.
"Everything is set ma. The caterer has given confirmation, food will be here at exactly nine-thirty." I nod, then I find out she did not see me nod.
"Alright, thank you Rahma." I croak. She walks to me and taps on my arm.
"Ma, I'm proud of you. I'm proud of what you've achieved." I nod with a large lump in my throat.
"Thank you too, for everything." I put out my hand and hug her. It's probably the first time I've ever initiated a hug with any of my employees even though we have a good relationship.
"We'll meet here at nine. Sharp." She nods and walks away. Her sneakers squishing on the tiles floor.
******
"Ukhti." I hold out my hands to Zeenah who comes into my arms immediately.
"I'm so proud of you. Congratulations." I nod at her. "Allah Bada sa'a. " I mutter an Amen. She smiles warmly at me, making me stumble.
"It's all praises to Allah and Baaba, I'm grateful. Wallahi." She nods again and holds out her arms, I step into her arms, my plump body a contrast to her slim one.
"Baaba would have been proud. Definitely." She croaks out, her words muffled.
"I'm glad." I pull out and gently pat her face dry. Our quiet staredown is cut by Maama's appearance.
"My babies." She stops at the last stair leading to the parlor we're in.
We greet her in unison, both struck dumb by her beauty. She's wearing a vibrant purple Ankara made into skirt and blouse with flowers cut our from the material to make a circle around the shoulder of the blouse. She looks stunning.
"Why are you staring fa?" I shake my head incredulously, she's so beautiful.
"You're so beautiful Maama, Ma Sha Allah." She smiles and extends her veil to the back of her neck properly.
"Thank you Nabeela. I just felt, I should do this, Hassan would have wanted us to be happy and remember him with joy." I nod with another lump in my throat. I remember not to cry as I lined my eyes with thin malachite.
We walk outside to the idling Mercedes Benz on the driveway. Zeenah sits in front with the driver, while Maama and I occupy the backseat.
As we drive out of the compound, Maama asks of the guest list and how I managed it.
"Well, the wife of the vice president is coming and I know she doesn't see eye to eye with some people, so I put her on the table with you and some of her friends. Is that okay?" She nods and pats my hand.
"Don't let anyone, anyone make you feel less. You're a woman. You're powerful. You're magical and that's why you're you." I nod and lay my had on her shoulder gently.
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Soiled #ProjectNigeria ✔️
ChickLitNabeela has never had life easy, never ever. She is at her wits end. Love and living life has never been her known forte. But, what will she do when she gets tangled in a web of deceit and lies woven by her parents? What happens when the very ones...
