Back in her younger years, Someone once asked, what do you think people see when they look at you? The question had hit her straight in the stomach. Her eyes widened, her mind going blank for a minute.

She hadn't answered the question until the hot, soothing water of the shower head was flooding down her body. She told herself, 'You see my gold skin and flashy clothes, I see a lack of self-confidence and an unattractive body. You see a mansion with a mountainous photograph of me and my family, fabricated grins on our faces, I look at the man-my father, the reason we're all together, I see a flash of each of us on different sides as we howl insults at each other following his inevitable death.'

Right then, She saw herself kidnapped, and raped, her mother paying ransom only for her to watch as the bullet rushes to her, cracking through her eyes and shattering her brain. Blood and chunks of meat splurging as her eyes roll to the back of her head and she falls to the floor.

She saw herself trying her best to not let the Ford car behind overtake her, stop her, abduct her, and zoom off with her and her sister.

Millions were not money her father would like to spare to get them out of custody.

"Amani!" A scream from the teenager clutching onto the grab handles with both hands had Amani's foot pressure hassling between the accelerator and brake while her heartbeat and breath went haywire.

"Aman. Watch-god.We're going to die and-Move to the right-no left. Jezz! He is everywhere."

Confusion, hysteria, and adrenaline blended into rage as Amani clutched the steering harder and for a split second glanced at her right to scream, "You are the one who is going to get us killed, Nadeen!"

Sweat from the depths of her hair glided down the side of her face as she stuttered supplications, glancing at Nadeen who looked ready to dash out.

Amani's momentary loss of focus on the road gave the driver of the truck car the shot Amani had denied them by baffling her further with an unceasing honk, squeezing their car by her right and compelling her to choose between letting them overtake her, or crashing the side of her car occupied by her sister.

"Don't let-why is he slowing down? He wants to kidnap us. Look at ho-"

Amani whipped to her, resisting the urge to yank the steering wheel out with her clammy, sweaty palms, "Would you prefer I crash you to the side?"

Nadeen shook her head and Amani slapped the steering wheel, turning in time to watch the attacker on the side roll their windows down.

Focus. One of the most important virtues of a driver was what Amani lacked at the moment. Although adrenaline wouldn't let her make out all the features of the man holding the steering with his left hand and simultaneously glancing between her and the road, what she could make out was the tight line the man's thin lips were set in, frown lines on his almond brown skin while his head shook, disappointed.

What the hell was he shaking his head for?

Aside from that, Amani was hexed. Sucked into a hypnotizing session of wondering why the sight of the kidnapper was making her heartbeat accelerate.

Focus reimbursed through Amani's senses only when Nadeen shook her in sync with the roar of the Ford car- indicating the gear knob of the car was upgraded and he zoomed off, preventing her from memorizing every inch of his faraway looks.

The breath she didn't realize she had clogged finally seeped through her lungs and she let out a sigh of disappointment before stepping on the brake in time before she crashed into another car. She glanced at Nadeen to find the girl staring ahead and clutching her chest.

Amani alternated her focus between the road and Nadeen before putting a hand out to the girl's forehead and in a hoarse voice, inquired, "Are you okay?" Nadeen nodded, releasing shallow breaths that translated to her need for air and rest.

To get home, Amani put an end to the car honks and drove along the busy road as her mind wandered to the driving lessons she took from her elder brother; Akram, some time ago. He had warned her in excruciating detail how letting a suspicious and persistent-looking car overtake you was one of the biggest mistakes a daughter of an ambassador like her could do. If she wasn't already, then she was a target now. This was why she had gathered a mental list of why she was going to take an alternate way home by taking a right turn after she had bypassed National Hospital. She needed to slow down for seconds so she wouldn't be bumper to boot with the truck car.

Except this man, had other plans. In the middle of the road was where he parked, pushing the head of his car to the right and blocking Amani from making any move.

"See? See? Wallahi he has a motive. Whe-where's your phone?" Nadeen jumped, allowing the bitter perspective of the man to overpower other reasons as to why he would do what he did.

This was not a one-way road-cars lined behind Amani. Could a kidnap happen like that?

Amani was collected. Be calm, she had perfected the act, at any time and anywhere. She was having problems doing that. Convincing-roaring at the insensitive part of herself that imagined her wedding with every beautiful man she met on the first day-that the enticing man in the car that was hindering her movement in the middle of the narrow road might as well be a kidnapper, seeking to do unspeakable things to her and her sister.

Honks fired from cars behind.

For the benefit of the doubt, Amani clicked on the central locking, and narrowed her eyes as she clenched the tip of her tongue. Her heart was about to leap out of her body as she pressed an unceasing honk, reviving and finally putting the car on drive to bypass him through the right. She failed, he drove further to the right, clogging her path.

"Shikenan," Nadeen clapped, "Nikam zan qira mommy."

"Don't," Amani warned, putting a brief hand at Nadeen who glared at her with glossy eyes. Turning the wheels to the left only to receive another clog. She tried the right. Then the left, repeating the circle before she clasped her trembling lips with her shaky palm as realization dawned on her. This was it? Her kidnap day? Why did she even come out? Who the hell wanted her and her sister? What had they done? Why hasn't the man come down with a gun yet?

The sisters spent the next minute with their hearts racing, body shaking while honks and roars went up from angry drivers.

Hastily, Amani did what she warned her sister against, picking her phone up to call her mother. The line was at its third ring when she glanced up to find the truck car finally driving to the next turn. The most bizarre eyes stared at her. Amani could swear his stare seeped through her, hypnotizing her.

It was the problem with being a hopeless romantic, or a pathetic girl like Nadeen loved to label it. Amani imagined getting hitched and even having kids with almost every mesmerizing man she saw, and when they approached her, she always turned them down, afraid of living the life she watched every day.

Men were physically attractive, apart from that, they had nothing to offer but pain, suffering, and a lifetime of trauma.

Amani held the urge to pee in her pants and drove to their house. Her hands stopped squeezing Nadeen's and her heart only leveled when her bare feet made contact with the chilly tiles of the domineering tangerine-fragranced room along with a faint musk oudh belonging to nonother than; "Ina kuka tsaya? Abeg come and climb stool and get me that bag."

The woman with a tone lighter than Amani's smooth amber skin but darker than Nadeen's- who had the lightest shade of gold skin in the room turned around, expecting the shaken-up girls to follow her. She turned to give them an earful for being lazy but sprinted to a shaking Nadeen as her legs attempted to give up on her. "Nadeen? What is wrong with you?" She turned to Amani when Nadeen said nothing, "What is it, Aman?"

Amani sighed, pulling Nadeen and her mum to the red mahogany door and into the spanking tangerine-smelling room designed in white and olive green. She sat the plump woman and her sister-all about the same height of 5ft6 on the bed before taking the lead on giving a narrative of what had gone down.

It needed to be known, who knew who they were dealing with?

The questions went pending and life went on. Whatever happened was swept under the rug as Amani and her mum planned their trip to Barcelona, Spain. Set for the upcoming days.

The days went by slowly. Like they'd never arrive. But once they did, Amani jumped in the car, needing this trip for her inner child.

Crossing over the jet bridge of the airplane, Amani waved her mum over, yelling, "C'mon mommy!"

Mommy chuckled, surging her steps, "Aman kenan, where are you going to?"

As if the plane was going to set off without her, Amani turned, slanting her backpack higher on her shoulder over her black hoodie which she matched with sweatpants to disguise her body that was getting plumper by the day, and walked backward, dragging her troll bag with one hand and throwing her free arm up, "Barcelona, Spainnnnnnnnn..."

Mommy played along, the phone she was videotaping the moment with almost slipping off her grip. "Spain?"

Amani nodded, turning around as she bounced, having her mini runway show.

"Have you been there before?"

Amani shook her head, turning again to walk backward as her smile threatened to sag her skin, "No! That is why I am so excited. It's my eighteenth country."

Mommy gasped in mock shock, a glance to her side which a white man ran past. "Someone is running, you need to run too." Amani paid heed to that, turning around and surging her steps into a jog until Mommy laughed out loud and said, "Stop, stop, stop." And cut the video once they were at the security.

Settled into the airplane, Amani talked to Mommy about everything and nothing, took photos of the sky with her camera for future edits and uploads, and edited the video she had her mom make of her before they arrived.

Like most of her travels-although, this was a new country for her, their travel agent caught up with them on arrival.

Reading certain self-help books pushed Amani into what she was trying to be; a travel blogger. Be what you enjoy being, they said.

Amani was sixteen years old when she graduated from secondary school in Lagos. A few months before her father's appointment as the Nigerian ambassador to The United Arab Emirates following his retirement. He moved them to Abuja to reside along with his first wife and her five children. To which Amani measured as the most unfortunate event of her life.

Followed by those five, were Amani, and her full siblings. Of the five, each studied abroad or was still abroad. Amani had wanted the same thing; a wish her father denied her of on incalculable occasions, insisting on Amani studying law in any Nigerian university.

I can't have a child without ambitions, his words. Amani had no idea what type of ambitions he wanted her to have.

She was enraged, but her mother calmed her. It was for the best, Mommy said. Amani thought otherwise and so conspired with her brother Akram to trick their father. Feeding him crap about the private universities' refusal to admit her while seeking international vacations until they do.

As an adolescent, she had been to several countries with her family. Adding to the list was no big deal. With her dad being absent, his slow relocation to Abuja following his appointment as an ambassador gave Amani the freedom, the shot to start things she enjoyed.

Her surname got her easier access to visas; the only advantage of having her father as her father. The desire to live differently got her going to experience the best there was.

On the last day of her monumental trip, she convinced Mommy-who she had turned into a blogger and her videographer-to a walk. They needed to give their heartfelt goodbyes to the streets of Barcelona before their trip back home.

Once back, the struggle continued. Rather than eating at home, Amani avoided her father-who was set to come home, and packed back to the rez at school. On days of the week, especially with her father in town or a scandal at home, and now that she was approaching exams season, she required her space.

Her library permit card-she had left it at home; she realized after settling in her brown and milk-serene room.

Holding onto the last string of sanity, her mind wandered to what she had swept under the rug, dragging the clotted blood off her injury.

Who was that man Amani couldn't help but let her mind imagine the worst scenarios about him? She resented the pending question. Her curiosity would be her end and she didn't even mind.

Replaying his face, she recalled that harsh grip he had on the poor wheel, the frown lines on his forehead as if he were contemplating if she was his target or not.

Was she the target?

If she was, she was where he wanted her; trapped. Why did he do nothing? Why was she not somewhere rotting for the past three weeks now?

Luck, it could be.

What she knew was she had a maddening urge to be close to him. Ask about his skincare and its secrets.

What would he sound like? Was his voice soft and quiet like hers? Or was his going to be the opposite? Deep and hoarse, contrasting and complimenting hers?

It was creepy. Already imagining them complimenting each other when she knew men were scum. Nadeen would be disappointed.

But hope. Foundation-less hope always managed to hold back Amani

Hope. Amani's name was something she would never have when it came to men. Leave her with her imagination. She was madly in love and happily married to the man of her dreams in her head along with beautiful kids she'd die for. In a happy home, with a garden of pineapples and tangerines.

It was a dream she knew she'd never live. And she was fine with it.

Food began to overpower her thoughts, her stomach grumbling for a meal. With the need to order food as she was not in the mood to burn down her rez, She rose from the bed, thrashing the duvet and hissing as she read the text of a fixed class off her department group chat.

Class would have to wait until she got food from the cafe. She checked the time on her watch, calculating how many minutes she'd need to eat and still be less than an hour late to class.

To disguise being a loner at the table enveloped by fresh air outside the cafe, Amani plugged in her earphones and ate. She had informed her course-mate about the class, given that she was only attending if her course-mate also did.

Once done with her plate, Amani glanced around every few seconds in search of her mate. Her search was futile. She got tired of the aroma of slightly burnt chicken which had her diving into the extra plate she had ordered for her mate.

Halfway into it, Amani held the spoon from her lips, only then calculating how many calories she had taken considering she was adding weight like a balloon. She pursed her lips and convinced herself that she'd watch one of those workout videos from her youtube subscriptions.

"You promised to stop eating two plates," Amani flashed her eyes through her lashes as she stuck the fork into her mouth. A tall, chestnut brown-toned girl with soft features chuckled, dragging a seat opposite Amani and settling in. In mock, she squeezed her fingers as she mimicked. "I bought this for you but it was getting cold and um-blah, blah, blah."

"Haba Sabrin. I don't sound nor look like that," Sabrin was right but Amani wasn't going to give her the satisfaction. A grin lifted the side of her lips, "And yes I brought it for -"

Sabrin spread her palm, shutting Amani up.

Amani stood up, "Wait, let me buy you a new plate."

Sabrin shook her head, "Don't worry, Hafiz is buying it."

"Toh, let me get us milkshakes," she foresaw Sabrin's words and beat her to grabbing her wallet. She made sure she was halfway gone before saying, "Just this once."

Amani slid her wallet into her abaya pocket and took hold of the three milkshakes to make her way back. Her smile fluttered when she sighted two men at her table but could not point out who had their back to her. She contemplated buying an extra milkshake but decided against it. She wasn't going back when she had to wait almost ten minutes for two vanilla and a chocolate milkshake.

"Katagum."

Amani pursed her lips at the name, dropping the milkshake and dragging a chair while glancing at the man across her in a Kaftan engrossed in his phone.

"Just name your kid Katagum, will you?"

"I will. The name is so sweet."

Amani tutted, deciding to change the topic or Sabrin's taller and darker version of a brother could go on for hours, teasing her about her family name.

Opting to push the plastic cups unto the middle of the table, she cleared her throat, "I brought three thinking it was just us but he can have the third, I am adding too much weight anyway."

The man rose his keen from his phone at the announcement in sync with Hafiz introducing, "Wannan wato abokina-oh sorry, I forgot, yaran masu kudi basa jin Hausa. This is my friend Sadiq, AKA sheikh Buba me kwana Sallah."

Amani and Hafiz's banters from the first day they met kicked started their friendship. Hafiz missed no chance to tease her and she missed no chance to retaliate. This was why Hafiz's head tilted to the side as he glanced between Sadiq and Amani who were trapped in a trance, staring wide-eyed at each other.