Part 2: Love at second sight

•Bilal

It's been a year since my wife moved away without a pretext. It wasn't that we fell out of love. We just happened to find interest in different things.

She has settled down in Somalia with her parents. Rumours flying around say she's cheating and though I'm tempted to believe it, I'd rather catch her red handed.

I want to get over her to be able to divorce her but the inevitable had happened. I fell in love with a mad woman that I can't detach myself away from.

I imagine us as Harlequin and The Joker but I'm yet to become mentally disturbed.

Despite everything, I've remained grateful to her for staying true to her words and looking after all my children.

Two times a month I go to check up on them—precisely once every two weeks.

During the last visit, I saw that they were all taller and chubbier—a sign that she fed them well.

Today was the second time—as planned—I was travelling to see them this month.

On a video call, I spoke to them two nights ago—informing them of my arrival date.

For a while, I've been having the thoughts of bringing them back to Nigeria with me even if it'd end in a great dispute—marginal to the one we had before.

"Sir!" Mr Temitope; my driver called from the front sit, "Where are we going to now? The airport or the office?"

"Let's go to the office first. After I sort some things out, we can go to the office."

"Ok sir." He stepped on the pedal, making the trip end quicker than it started.

He drove into the gates of the office and I stared at the cafeteria where I and Hamza would sit and talk for hours after work.

Like kids—he would throw food strips at me and I'd spray him with water till one of the attention seeking females in love with him or me come to destroy the moment.

As usual, we'd be nice and reply to their greetings then, one of us would create a lie with a fake phone call to leave immediately.

Those days! I laughed and Mr Temitope turned to look at me quizzically. I'm sure he wondered if something was wrong with my head.

"We're here sir."

I nodded, stepped out of the car and stalked to the entrance of the building. I always felt a wave of nostalgia whenever I strode in because Baba Imran was no longer my boss to scold me and Hamza for misbehaving or causing havoc in the office.

Now I was the boss and all 2,500 workers had to answer to me. Dominance was one beautiful privilege a few people enjoyed.

I took the elevator to the fourth floor and darted to my office to gather all the files I'd have to work on while I was there because I was going to be away for at least a week.

Once I found everything, I left downstairs and met an angry Mr Temitope arguing with a groundnut seller who was dragging the pockets of his neatly ironed trouser.

"What's happening?"

He glared at her before answering, "Sir she won't leave me alone."

"Madam what is the problem?"

"He no wan pay me my money!"

"Which money? You talk say make I taste am before I give you money if I like am."

"How much is it?"

I was running late for my late and it was because of these two fools.

"100 Naira sir."

I pulled out a clean #500 Naira note and handed it to her and asked her to keep the change.

"Let's go. Drive fast!"

He did as he was told to do and in exactly fourty five minutes I was at the airport waiting for my the plane to ready for take off.

A woman rushed in looking a bit gloomy, typing away on her phone. She sat beside me, adjusted her veil and called someone I guess was her husband or boyfriend.

A while later, I hear the announcement of another flight and coincidentally it's hers so she gets up, slings her laptop bag across her shoulder and walks away.

I noticed she left a Gucci purse on the waiting chair beside me so I got up to return it to her but she slipped into the hallway and disappeared outside.

"Hajiya your purse!"

I looked at my wristwatch. It was five minutes later I was supposed to be in my designated plane. I ran as fast as I could with my laptop bag in hand as I took quick steps that led me outside to the tarmac in record time.

She was about to enter her plane when I yelled again.

"Your purse Hajiya!"

It was when she turned that I realized who she was. Basma El-Nafaty. She was even more beautiful in person.

She looks down from above at me, frowning until her eyes got stuck on her purse. She descends the stairs in a calm manner, approaching me.

"Thank you. That was nice of you." She smiled and returned to her prior quest to the plane.

I hear my name being repeated on the speakers and I rush to join the queue that led to the plane I was supposed to be in.

Once inside the plane, I toss my laptop bag into the empty sit beside me and fall into a deep slumber—I needed it—dealing with Bilan needed more vigor than what energy drinks could afford.

Speaking of my wife; I can't remember the last time she called to speak to me, alone—it was always about the kids.

Our relationship had deteriorated to the point of depression. We don't even have the vim to argue about things we didn't agree on. Normally, one of us would end the call and try to come to a conclusion hours after to avoid fighting in the presence of our children.

An air hostess woke me up to ask what I'd like to eat for lunch and I opted for pounded yam and Egusi soup.

I had a dream before she came. It was scary, confusing and definitely amusing.

Bilan was married to Imam and I got married to Basma. She fit to play the role of my wife because she treated me like a baby throughout the 'movie'.

At a point she was kidnapped and all I could remember was that it was Bilan who was behind it all along. She also got caught attempting to murder both I and Basma.

Funny—but I hope it never comes true.

"Sir your food."

I pull the fold-away tray in front of the chair in front of me and she drops the food.

I eat to my fill before she returns to ask if I'd like a refill of water and juice. I thank her for the offer and decline while she takes the empty tray away.

About five hours later, I find myself waking up from a sleep I had no idea when I slipped into.

I had an hour and some minutes to reach my destination so I turned on my laptop to continue watching my favourite series of all time—Wayward pines.

An episode lasted for more than an hour so I kept on with it till I heard the voice of the pilot telling us—the passengers—to prepare to land.

I put the laptop back into it's bag and took off the medicated glasses I was wearing. I only used it for reading things and watching series or movies with it's subtitles being tiny.

A day before I spoke to Bilan and had her send a driver to come and pick me up. I didn't have to wait for a long time. Immediately I passed the baggage claim area I saw him with a cardboard that was held above his head with my name boldy written on it with red ink.

"Salam Alaykum Mr Bilal."

"Wa Alaykumusalam. How is your day going?"

"Alhamdulillah. Welcome to Somalia."

He pulled my box and we walked silently to his car which to my surprise was a Mercedes. I knew it was probably Bilan's though he claimed it was his.

"Where are we going to now?" I asked, yawning. The jet lag was finally getting to me but I was thankful we were already seated in the car, preparing to leave.

"Buurhakaba. You'll love it there! We're only just passing though." He chirped.

I looked at him but remained silent, only nodding my head—not to seem rude.

Have you ever been in that position where you just had no answer or reply during a conversation? That was what I was going through.

The man who's name I never found out proved to be a talkative—elaborating on all things he wasn't asked to explain.

"Sir, Bilal, do you know that Buurhakaba was named after a large mountain?"

"No."

He continued, "It is also the second largest town in the bay region."

"That's good to know."

Couldn't he notice the sarcasm?

"Yes it is!"

Even if he did, he pretended not to.

"So, Sir, after that we're going to Hoolwadaag. It is one of the three subdivisions here. Madam asked me to go and buy her something there before we can go to the city where we'll get you settled in your cozy apartment."

His fluency in English language surprised me because he sounded like an illiterate from the start. I guess I misjudged a really good book by its cover.

"Alright. How long have you worked for Bilan?" I got tired of the brooding silence.

"Four months. That's since I left Nairobi for Somalia. I know it's risky because of all the shootings but I needed a change of environment" He shrugged, "I heard Nigeria had the best jollof rice. I'd like to try it one day."

"Yes we do."

He beamed, "After my work, I know it's food that'll kill me next."

Mad o! Look at me looking like an electricity pole.

The food he consumes is probably ginormous. I assumed because of his meaty physique and here I was eating like my life depended on it but I couldn't even acquire that much fat. I wonder where the fat went to.

But I knew my chances of gaining weight were slim. Since I had sepsis as a child, I'd remained lean. After much research, I found out I only had an 11% chance of having such growth.

"What's your name."

"Amara."

I chuckled lightly while closing my mouth with my hands to avoid laughing loudly.

"I know Amara is a woman's name in Nigeria." He said, sounding a bit annoyed.

So he knows?

"Well I think it's an amazing name. What does it mean in Kenya?"

His eyes lit up and he smiled widely, revealing shiny, white teeth, "It means an immortal being; one who is blessed without end or death; blessed with eternal life; grace or bitter."

"That's good to know. The Nigerian Amara is short for Amarachi and that's all I know."

He laughed loudly and exited the car to a mud house far off in the distance.

Huge rocks covered the city and dispersed trees and houses were littered across the village with wide spaces in-between to accommodate passage of cars and the people commuting.

Beautiful, dark skinned women loitered in their large hijabs to various corners of the village on foot while I stared in awe from my position in the empty car.

Amara had long left to the house he was supposed to be at and the heat of the scorching sun was making me too uncomfortable.

I stepped out of the car for some fresh air and I saw some children singing by a corner so I went to listen.

After they were done, I gave them some money and left. We all couldn't understand anything we were saying to each other but from their smiles I knew they were happy and that, alone, left me satisfied.

The driver came back and we left. Just as we were about to leave the village I caught a glimpse of a young woman entering a particularly bungalow by a corner at the end of the road. She looked a lot like Bilan's friend, Firdausi.

But I couldn't be too sure. They looked very much alike though. I also couldn't forget the girl—she tried to destroy my marriage with Bilan by trying to blackmail me with fake pictures of us in a hotel room.

She strode out again just before Amara drove away and I saw the woman again. It was her! She looked a few years older than she should be.

She came out accompanied by a corpulent man dressed in a pale blue jallabiya. They stopped at a corner and I saw him hand her a black bulky bag before he slipped his second hand up her back and slowly, down her back to her waist and he stopped abruptly on her buttocks.

Before anything else happened, we'd already driven out of that lane. I couldn't help it to wonder if Bilan was like her friends— lewd, wanton and coltish.

They say—show me your friends and I'll tell you who you are. I never believed in the maxim and I hope she proves it, otherwise.

"Now, we're going to Baidoa. That's where my madam and her parents live."

"Ok."

We drove, immersing ourselves with some Somalian tunes till we reached out destination.

The first thing I thought of when Amara showed me the banner across the road that read, welcome to Baidoa, was—serene.

The atmosphere was cool yet hot and arid at the same time. Everywhere looked beautiful. Trees were planted in almost every corner and the buildings looked well structured.

It was better than what it used to be before—a year ago—when Ruqayyah first left me to live here.

The man babbled continuously about the area as if I was new to the place. I was just too tired to explain that I was far more familiar with the place compared to he who only moved here from Kenya four months ago.

"We're here!" He announced, stepping out of the car to his boot.

Yes! I yelled in my mind then suddenly a weird bubbly feeling rippled in my stomach and I knew it was because this was the first time she dolled up before seeing me since she decided she wanted to leave me.

Once, she did make-up before our video call but I think she was going after. I stopped getting excited to call her after that. It wasn't because of the make-up she rarely did. She just likes to answer in her pyjamas or hijab and I'm sure no man wanted to see his wife in that.

We pulled up into the driveway of her parents house and what caught my eyes made me want to use a trailer to crush two of the people there.

Ruqayyah came out of a Hyundai the Hyundai and walked round to the window of the man in the driver's seat. He held her hand through the window, smiling.

"I'm leaving baby." The man winked as he drove out of the gated mansion.

Baby? It better be his child he's referring to! Who is he sef? I see she has gotten a quick replacement. For God's sake we're still married.

I. Am. Disappointed.

"Bilal you're here!"

I stared at her unbelievably, convinced that she was a witch. Maybe it's high time I start believing the my village people are chasing me axiom.

She blinked flirtatiously as she spoke, trying to collect the gifts she knew I'd brought for my kids in a Ghana must go bag from Amara.

"Let's go in. He will take your luggage to your apartment" She called from the entrance of the house and I followed.

I only—actually—came to show respect to her parents and love my kids but something about the visit had me thinking I was doing something culpable.

"Where are my children." I cleared my voice, "And who was that man?"

She shrugged as if it was nothing.

"I'm talking to you."

She sat—a feet away—on the chair I was on.

I recoiled, already feeling annoyed. I wondered if he touched her and if she enjoyed it.

"You shouldn't worry about him. He's just a potential investor for my parent's company."

"Yeah right." I hissed.

"Don't you believe me?" She sat on my laps.

I knew what she was doing. This was her distraction game. I was slowly giving in to it and it was only a short while before she had me on her bed— barking like the stupid dog I was.

She dragged a lone finger from my side burns to my chin. I looked at her and a sinister smile was plastered on her face.

"Bilan I don't think we should do this here. Where are my kids?"

She hissed and shook her head slowly, "They're in school. Amara will bring them back later."

"Ok. But we need to talk."

She wagged a finger in front of my face in the negative and kissed me immediately.

"I'll talk to you..." She smirked, "But in my room."

"Where are your parents?"

"They went for a fundraiser. They'll be back in the evening. Come already!"

She stretched her hands out for me to take and I followed her—reluctantly— upstairs.

Without warning, she pushes me to the wall at the top of the stairs and attaches her lips to mine. She pulls back with a smirk and licks her lips.

"Did you miss that?" She asks, using her hands touch my arms.

I'm breathless but I answer nonetheless, "Yes."

Her eyes sparkle and she smiles, pulling me into a room I've never been to in the house. It's an all white room that reminds me of every mortals imagination of heaven.

A white, rose shaped light bulb hung from above the ceiling in different parts of the sparkly, neat room.

"Just sit." She commands and left to the bathroom.

Second's later she returns dressed in nothing with her silky hair flowing down her shoulders—down to her chest—covering her breasts. She looked like a siren. She was my siren.

All she has to do was take two good seconds to throw both silky sides seductively to the back and everything became a blur once she mounted the bed.

"Baby." She kisses my cheek, holding my arm as she kneels on the floor beside the bed and smiles, "Wake up and come down to eat something before the kids come back. The driver just called to tell me he's on his way back with them."

I nod and she exits the room clad in a beautifully sewn ankara dress I've never seen before. She looks spectacular!

My phone beeps and I grab it immediately.

Baba Imran {19/06/26 16:20PM}: Why are the police looking for you?? Call me!

Me? Police? How and why? They must be looking for another gentleman who bears the same name as I.
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~Aisha Safiyanu🥀