A list was formed; suck up, take a shower, and return to the rez as the house was extra toxic for her.

She banged open the door to her and Nadeen's room-the room squeaky clean considering Nadeen was a hygiene freak; why she and Amani always fought when she was home. The faint sounds of the running shower came. Great. She needed to take a shower at Mommy's, deeply hoping the woman had given up on their unfinished conversation.

Her prayer went unanswered. Amani put on a front and ignored Mommy in the tangerine-fragranced room, heading to the restroom only to find it occupied by Walid. She let out a loud hiss.

"Sit down and let's talk."

"Mommy," Amani whined, thrashing her arms and stomping her feet.

"We must talk," the woman's kind gesture dropped and she narrowed her eyes, palming a space on the bed. "Come and sit down."

The urge to shower vacated Amani's body and all she wanted to was leave the house but instead slumped on her bent leg and blankly stared at her mother who tried lightening her up by smiling. She wasn't falling for it, she tilted her head to the side. Mommy better get on with her foundation-less talk, Amani needed to leave.

The next words took a direction Amani had not anticipated, "Who was that boy?"

Amani's hand instantly went up, "There's nothing to make out of this, Mommy. He is just..." She trailed off, not sure what he was herself.

"Your friend, hmm?"

"No," Her facial scrunched up, "He is um-my um... well..." it was hard labeling what they had. She shrugged, "We just met."

"He likes you." Mommy re-phrased, a smile lifting her lips.

Amani flickered her eyes back to her mother. "Yes, he has not been vague about that."

Amani was not blind to the signs, the campaign Sabrin put up for him. Was she ignoring them? Yes. He was another guy rich on his parent's fortune and thought he could get any girl with his charms and kindness-not that he wasn't good at it.

While Amani on the other hand was too intense for a few months of relationship that would leave her hanging, yearning for more but also fully accepting that this was her life; people she formed an attachment with would never reciprocate her energy. She was too intense for a few date nights and coffee; when given the chance she was obsessive, incessantly clingy, and needed maddening reassurance. Six months at best, he'd think she was crazy intense.

"Why won't you give him a chance?" Mommy's words yanked Amani out of her stare at nothingness.

"So it ends up like yours?" The comeback came naturally; her dilemma, dread, and 'god forbid.'

The damaging aspect of mommy's features reminded Amani how callously she spoke to her mother and showed regret by quickly sighing and grasping hold of the woman's cold hands. "I'm sorry. I just-it's all that bothers me."

Mommy hardly took offense at Amani's words and slowly shook her head, regretting how much damage her failed marriage had done to her children. "Just because mine did not work out doesn't mean yours won't."

"But what if it does?"

It was a big possibility. Just because her mother's love story didn't work out did not guarantee hers would. If that came to play, she'd lose the last, straining faith in love she feigned not to have.

Mommy shrugged, "Sometimes you just have to take a chance on love. Love is worth it."

"What if he breaks my heart?"

"Please, have the courage to try again."

"And if I get it broken again?" Amani's view of her mother began to blur from her tears, their focus so fixed on each other that they didn't hear nor see Walid step out of the restroom and eventually the room.

"If that person breaks your heart, dare to try it again with someone else."

"And how do I have that courage?"

Mommy hesitated at first but eventually said to her daughter whose tear fell off her left eye. "This hatred..." she paused, sucking in a breath. "This hatred you harbor for men in general, it's not right. Lose it. There are a lot of good men out there. Just because your father turned into..." A search for a less harsh word; she was lecturing Amani on losing her incessant hatred for men, she could not employ brutal words and instead went with, "This person... doesn't mean your lover would turn out to be the same. See, I took my chances on love and I do not regret it because," cold hands clasped Amani's hot cheeks, "I have you and Nadeen and Walid."

All Amani could manage was to firmly hold her mother's lower arms, closing her eyes.

"And even your dad, I don't regret meeting him. Or marrying him. He and your aunt Laura played a big role in my journey to Islam and for that, i will never regret meeting him. And you..." she tapped Amani's cheeks, "You deserve a shot with that boy."

Amani's dry chuckle escaped as a whimper. How could a woman in a failed marriage still have so much hope in love? Love? It was this incessant optimism that landed her where she was; half happy, half always bruised; body and soul.

Amani pulled out of the side embrace her mother had pulled her into, hoarsely announcing her leave. She needed to be alone.

Her tears came crawling back once she was in the confines of the back passenger seat after she had disastrously met her stepmother on her way out. The woman did not let her forget, rephrasing her earlier words, "Lose that weight. It's making you look like a pregnant cow."

And they came out to play; self-loathe, dwindled self-esteem, and the effect of criticism the moment she had stumbled into her dark rez, resting her fatigued back to the door and hugging her knees to her ugly, fat chest.

Here they were.

Amani could never be enough, beautifully slender and fit. She could never make her mystical dreams come true, be accepted, and be cherished. Her fears could never let herself be loved, fear of abandonment and failure ready to blast at the slightest instance. She would forever be the fraud who secretly hoped to experience a beautiful and respectful love but would cower in fear at the sight of it; at the sight of Sadiq. She would always be her enemy, tightly leashing herself back in fear of proving her demons right.

After all, they always were right. The half enough Amani. The always lagging Amani.

Amani...Amani...Amani.

The voices never left neither did she fight them as she zombied to her room, dragging a drawer open to meet the slimming tea and pack of herbs she had bought a month ago. Now that she was sick of the criticism and the dwindled self-esteem she caused herself by depending on junk, she had to use it.

She couldn't keep living like this; Mama was right. Although her form of transmission was harsh, it was a fact. Amani's full-length mirror could testify to her fully naked body. Stretch marks disfigured the bridge between her armpit and the large boobs she always knew she didn't deserve-rather than round pointy boobs that won't drop after she had breastfed a few babies, hers were full at the bottom but slimmer at the top, nipples erect. Her eyes trailed down to marks stretching from her midriff to her fleshy thighs, stopping before the back of her knees.

It was ironic how Amani had flawless facial skin; courtesy of her intense and consistent skincare routine but always hid her body so people could never see how flawed it was. How stretch marks, and fat, uglified her to suffocation. Now to the point of dieting and slimming. Why? Because who would look at her and find her appealing anymore? No one. She needed to slim down and to de-mark by all means. And this time, she vowed not to let the game of temptation win.

In time, her phone's vibration cut her endless thoughts. Caught between ignoring or not, she walked to the other side of the bathroom, picking up her phone that she recklessly walked in with. She picked the unknown number and became less negative about her decision once a familiar silvery voice Salam-ed.

Amani instantly picked on the voice.

"Nanu?"

"Amani," She groaned, ignoring the blast of needles and pins that exploded at the pit of her stomach, "Amani, Sadiq."

The line dipped into an eerie silence. She moved around, sitting on the toilet with a sigh. It was so wrong and yet, she couldn't bring her finger to simply hang up.

Her sigh stirred words from Sadiq, "Are you okay?"

Truthfully, "No."

Instant shuffles whooshed through Amani's ear before a less quiet voice enquired again, "What is it?" It sank in how indulging his question sounded. He altered his route in approaching the problem. "Do you want to talk about it?"

A NO. No way was she ever opening up. She hummed, hoping he'd get it, and dropped her head down as the retained pee in her body slowly oozed into the toilet bowl.

Sadiq was an angel, he understood her hum and asked, "Can I come over? I can have Falla make you pancakes. Or wings...I think she is making wings today. Do you like them spicy?"

Temptations, temptations. Amani had finally gotten a red flag concerning Sadiq; he was hellbent on making her fat. The last drop of urine bolted out and she shook her head, placing the phone on speaker and on the edge of the bathtub as she said. "No, I don't want you to come over and I have stopped eating junk."

Amani imagined his resting smirk coiling into a frown, his eyes shrinking as the disappointment hit him.

His dialed-down tone confirmed it. "Oh...ok. I sent you the Zuma Resort reservation I made. It'll be on Sunday."

Amani muted the call, washing before unmuting it after checking her notifications to find that he sent it through iMessage.

"Thanks." It was a set date, they needed it. The day after Sunday, she and her family were set to Bauchi, down to Azare, their father's hometown to visit their sick grandmother. A visit Amani didn't look forward to.

"Ok...um," his voice trailed, leaving Amani guessing what he had to say and hoping it was not something she wasn't ready to talk about. "It was not my intention to get your number like this but I could not refuse your mom."

Like the people pleaser she was, she shrugged, switching the shower cap to the hottest temperature.

She was going to stress, but, "Don't stress about it. Have a goodnight." Amani cut the call, dropped it, and got into the shower.

To avoid murderous tendencies that she developed by glancing at the kitchen and opposing the urge to scratch a scar on her body enough to overpower the internal melancholy within her, she settled into a robe and drowned her eyes in a random book.

***

Seconds turned to minutes, minutes turned to hours, and hours turned to days until Amani got out of her cave of misery and depressing sweaters two days and six kg less later, and applied makeup under her malnourished face before taking a bolt home.

Mommy rooting for Amani and Sadiq didn't mean she approved anything out of the kid's space happening and insisted on Akram joining. The family of four branched by Sabrin's home where Sadiq and his sisters were to meet them. Amani couldn't wait to be over and done with it.

Walid who blended easily ran off with his age mates while Nadeen who clung to Amani like glue only agreed to wait for Amani to get Sabrin out of her room before she could sit within a grasping distance from her.

What Amani hadn't anticipated was to find Sabrin in the freezing, thrashed, dark room, beneath the covers as silent sobs slipped past her.

"Sabrin..." Amani trailed, dropping her hobo bag and dipping her maroon riffle gown body into the bed, hovering over her friend. "What is wrong with you?" Although Amani had an inkling it was Sabrin's period, she couldn't be sure.

The sobbing girl rose teary-smudged face to Amani, the striking sun outside only peaking through the sides of the window and terribly lightened her face. Her hair messy and unkept, furthering Amani's worries.

"You're scaring me. What is wrong?"

"He dumped me." Sabrin broke into cries and rested her head on Amani's shoulder who was insensitively too fast to hold Sabrin's shoulders back.

"He...dumped you?"

"Yes..."

"You..." Amani resisted the urge to stand up and flick on the lights as she ran her eyes and palm from Sabrin's head to her thighs. "Someone dumped you? As in you?"

Sabrin took offense at Amani's words. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"You...you-look at you." Sabrin followed Amani's line of view to look from chest to thigh at her pajama. "How can someone dump you?"

"What do you mean?" Sabrin asked again.

"Look at you..." Amani dragged, eyes raking a half-visible, half-blank Sabrin. "You are so perfect. I mean...you are not fat. Look," she paused to run a palm down Sabrin's slender arm, "Your skin is so flawless. You're tall. How can someone dump you?"

Sabrin understood. She sighed, dropping to her bed and dragging the covers back to her neck. "It doesn't matter."

"It does," Amani exclaimed. If she was anything like Sabrin, she'd be the most confident person ever.

Sabrin sniffled, wiping her face and mustering a small smile at Amani. "It doesn't. But let me not make you sad."

It was impossible and even insensitive to admit, but Amani felt better. Her outing had kicked off on a good path; at least half of it. She was not delighted that Sabrin was dumped. She was delighted to calm herself down. Tell herself it'd be alright. Even perfectly crafted people could get dumped. Who was she not to stress about perfection?

On many levels, Amani was a bigot. Working hard to appear perfect; shunning away from the bad and the bad thoughts that enveloped her life. The society she lived in raised and trained girls to build and define themselves by the sick approval of men, competing for their attention rather than competing for jobs, businesses, and better lives which Amani believed would've been so much better.

Yet she fell into the category that defined herself by others' approval. Regardless of gender. She needed approval, attention, and reassurance. With her tough shell, she could melt and disperse at a touch, a compliment, a criticism, or a sharp comeback.

Every shell of hers was a disguise. If people knew what she was beneath them all, they'd think twice before wishing for a life like that of Amani the explorer.

"Where's your Buba?"

Amani tensed at the question, recalling his aromatic fragrance she was sure to be around in a moment.

"Oho. How would I know?" Before Sabrin could start her campaigns, "Now, please get up and get dressed, we deserve some air."

"No," Sabrin shook her head.

Amani's attempts at getting Sabrin out of bed went idle and she eventually respected the girl's decision, promising to see her soon.

A surprised Amani cluelessly hugged back Basma and Fadila who arrived then, calling Nadeen who was still carved to the side without contact with anyone. Soon, she ushered her siblings out in time to find Akram reappearing from whatever quick errand he ran. Akram and Sadiq walked up to her from opposite sides. Walid was quick to raise his palm for a high five to Sadiq, their hands clapped before Sadiq ruffled Walid's back and clasped their hand.

Akram cleared his throat, draping arms around his sisters before Amani gave Sadiq a quick, memory-retained rake. For the first time, Amani was witnessing Sadiq's form in a button-up shirt and jeans. He wore both Kaftan and casuals effortlessly and suave. Shaking out of her head, she cleared her throat, gesturing between Akram slightly atop her and Sadiq across and above them. "Sadiq, my brother, Akram. Akram, Sadiq...the picnic was his sister's idea."

Amani studied her brother as he firmly shook Sadiq's hand, his visage neutral.

Admitting to the fact that she had a great time and even had more brightening conversations with Sadiq who she had intended on avoiding but ended up giving into her natural urge to put out her opinion to him, was something she wouldn't do.

Amani kept Nadeen under supervision and even went as far as insisting Nadeen put on her socks and gloves as the atmosphere was too humid for her body's liking. She was also successful in turning a blind eye to most of the snack junk except Fadila's wings; their aroma slowly romancing her nose too much to ignore.

The picture session hosted by Amani was cut rather bitterly considering Sadiq's mood dampened at the mention of a certain Abi summoning him.

Although Sundays, Amani's scent shop still open. The modest-sized shop that launched after her admittance as a first-year student few months back was the right card to place whenever her doubts about a bright future stroke her. Although people weren't troping into the shop as she had dreamt, it was coming through; better than when it had started.

While it was all her idea, the financial credit could only be given to her father, mother, and mother's sister-Laura, for their ample grant at the capital to start something for herself. She had always believed in a stable business over studying; she had not met or heard of any great person who got to where they were by merely studying and getting a job.

Amani's insecurities and hyper-independence established a blooming need for power even at a young age. Being reduced to having to ask even the littlest of people made her sick to the stomach.

When people labeled her views as over-ambitiousness that would drive away her suitors, her only question was, 'Who suitors help?'