•Bashir

In your breathe I live, I keep writing your name with the ink of my blood so, even if for one day you'd just have looked at me, the way you look at him, maybe I would've stayed.

Basma. She was the first person I saw when I opened my eyes in the hospital. I was admitted here because of my regular seizures that I used to get since I came back from Morocco. The window was open and she was looking straight outside. I called her name and she ran towards my bed—how selfless of her.

She stood before and was chatting enthusiastically but none of her words found their way to my ears. Her smile was bright and her cheeks shone a pink color that only made me want to lower my gaze because if I kept looking at her I might want to touch her face.

Her hands were now moving vigorously in front of my face and I wondered if something was wrong with me now. Was I dead? In Jannah maybe? Or maybe I was lost in my train of thoughts but I feel conscious but can only seem to work my cognizance in my subconscious. Am I even was conscious?

I felt dizzy and soon everything went black but as soon as I opened my eyes I was back in my house with Mariam watching over me from the comfort of a carpet beside my mirror with her back to the wooden extension of it.

"You're awake."

"Do you want to talk about it?" Her voice goes an octave lower.

"About what?"

Today was a great day and Insha Allah no thought of Basma was going to destroy it. I was in love, still in love and praying to fall out of this love that has me caged.

The security guard calls my phone to tell me there's a woman at my doorstep who's crying and I'm just as confused as he is when I ask for her name and he tells me Nafisa. The name sounded familiar but I couldn't remember where I'd heard it before.

"Sir, she said you know her husband."

"Ask her who her husband is."

"She said Salman Rabo."

Hey, Salman? What is his wife doing here?

"Let her in. I'm coming now."

I rush downstairs to meet her outside. She was a petite woman who was lean and dark skinned, very pretty of course and she reminded me of a certain someone.

"Good morning." She greeted.

"Good morning. How may I help you?"

I felt like I was being rude but I wasn't in best head space now and her surprise was unexpected so I wasn't happy with that plus I didn't want to allow a married woman into my house.

"My husband."

"What happened?"

"He's been missing for days. He told me that he was traveling for work and that if he doesn't come back I should find you."

Why me? Fareed and Al-Hassan were there. I left them a long time ago so why did he ask her to find me?

"I'm sorry but I can't help you."

"Please." She knelt down, "A man came yesterday and said that the house we're living in was sold to him about a week ago and he wanted me and my daughter to move out as soon as possible. I don't want to go to my parents because they warned me about him and I refused to listen. You're all I have."

"Salman never told me he was married but I'll help you since he was once a friend."

"Thank you." She wiped her tears.

"Stand up. You don't have to kneel. Just come back in 24 hours and meet the security guard."

I never liked the house anyways—Jameel have it to me—I believe I can also give it away since it's mine.

I was exhausted with the whole playboy lifestyle. I had fallen in love with the one woman who I thought would end the cycle but instead she ripped off the brakes and now I can't even ride solo even if I wanted.

I wanted to move away to a distant place where everything was as simple as the colours black and white—no grey areas—just a simple touch of bland pigmentation with zero of this chaos.

"I'm grateful. Thank you."

"No need to thank me. I'm the one who's grateful."

I knew she didn't understand. No one would. I was giving it to her as sadaqah. It would shelter her and her lovely child and I would be rewarded for such a huge giveaway. Where was Salman though? I pray he's alright.

I always knew he would get himself in trouble one day just that I didn't expect it to send a pretty woman to my doorstep. The old me would've wanted to make her fall for me then just leave her heartbroken after a while of draining her money and deceiving her but I wasn't about that life anymore since Salma's father tried to kill me and most of all Basma.

She drives off immediately and I start to laugh when I see her car. It was a 2018 Mercedes E Class. If she had a car like this she could buy a new house but I guess maybe not all what meets the eye is real.

She may have been rich at a point and had gone broke, who knows. That wasn't my business so I won't judge. I called my trusted lawyer, Gboyega and told him to come and take my house papers which I'd be leaving with the gateman. I explained all that needed to be done meticulously and told him to give it back to the security guard who I'd already told was to give it to Nafisa when she came back.

Now, did Basma really get married to that Rayyan guy? Who the hell did he think he was? Bullshit. If she was supposed to be married to anyone it should've been me. I was with her through thick and thin—best friend in shining armor— and not once did she ever think of me as anything but her friend.

5 years! 5 good years and I haven't stopped loving her. What do I do? She's moved on and is lifting her best life with her husband abroad. How lovely. I was here wallowing in self pity and day dreamed about my death. Don't even judge me.

How? Why? Now, I promised myself I wouldn't talk about her for the entire day but memories of us together keep regurgitating and replaying like recycled clips of old movie scenes in my head. Each one creating new imaginations from a figment of my past memories.

I lied about being away so I wouldn't have to see her family or Basma and Rayyan together. The wedding would've just been the biggest slap on my face to begin with so what good was it for me attending a wedding that was for someone I was in love with? Not was but still is and I asked Allah to save me from this misery by taking my life away.

It never happened. But at least I got one good thing out of it. Peace and solace. While everyone was busy partying and honeymoon-ing, I became a hermit. I stayed indoors and avoided the public, lived off my savings since I had no job and planned how to move away to another city but I lost hope when I saw her text message asking if I was alright.

How could I tell her yes? I wanted too but if I saw her I would only want to stay so I lied and lied until I couldn't then I stopped talking to everyone. Now I'm a stranger to everyone and myself.

I still couldn't move away knowing she was in this Abuja so I decided to stay. It made my heart hurt less knowing we lived in the city even if it wasn't the exact location we shared but I wouldn't call or text and I would never get attached.

Incoming call and it's Inteesar. She refused to understand that there'll never be a Bashir and Inteesar despite me being one of the co-conspirators that landed him in jail.

I heard he'd escaped but I couldn't care less. He'd have to die the next time we come in contact. At least my surprise for him would've dealt with him a bit.

"Hello, Bashir."

"What Inteesar?"

"Are you ok?"

"Do I sound ok?"

"I'm coming over now. Just wait for a bit."

"You won't meet me here."

"Just wait."

I sniffed and tears began to cascade down my face, cue the headache that has been bothering me for days.

"What's happening Bashir?" She screams into the phone, her voice threatening to break in despair.

I want to ignore her but I'll never have to talk to her again so why not? I'll give her that chance. She was just there. Everytime. And I knew if I told her to walk into a burning building she wouldn't think twice. I looked at myself as her poison. She would die if she ever came close. We would be toxic for each. We would be depressed, she would ask for a divorce and by the time it becomes too late, she would realize I wasn't the one for her.

That was the difference between I, her and Basma. Inteesar picked her poison and it was me, while, I chose Basma and she was just as good as a toxic but I would consume her any day, any time, anywhere, because even if I would die, my love for her would let me live.

"I'm just tired." I'm silent again, "Of everything."

"I feel you. I feel like all my problems have been spawned from Jameel's..."

I hang up and throw my phone on the floor the moment I hear his name. It lands beside my bed—could've broken my screen—but I wasn't bothered. It wasn't meant to last forever. Just like Basma in life.

I promised myself! I need to stop. I think of trying to be productive by packing my clothes laying on the floor and throwing them in the laundry basket then I put some incense to save my room from oozing of dirty laundry and rotten leftovers.

I pick up the food packets and throw them in a bin then call for a maid to take out the trash.

"You can go home once you throw this away."

"Thank you sir." She bows.

I take out a massive wad of cash from my drawer and just give her "Take care of your mother with this."

She shocked and doesn't even know how to react so she falls to her knees thanking me so animatedly.

"Ba komai, no problem. Ki gaida mama, greet mama."

She gets and leaves while I continue to shuffle things to order. I call in a restaurant for food before bringing out a new set of clothes to wear. I lifted and shifted until I came across a white kaftan I got sewed months ago and set them on the bed.

I sit on my bed and take my phone from the bedside table to check my emails and call my therapist Dr Sam but he doesn't answer. I want to dial his number again but I realize he's with another client so I send him a text. I don't see myself in tomorrow.

I don't expect a reply at the moment so I leave the messages app and open Instagram. I delete my account and head to Snapchat where I also deactivate my account then uninstall them.

I take a moment to consider calling Basma but I delete her number and all the pictures I took or she sent and did the same with Rayyan's contact card before clearing my phone completely.

I sent money to everyone I was supposed to pay for a service then opened my notes app.

This is for you Inteesar. I am not sorry for all the things I did and I don't wish I was because whenever I see you I remember Jameel and it just hurts. He cost me the love of my life and I can't forgive him for that.

Now you know why I couldn't ever let myself ever see you as anything more than Jameel's sister. I once considered you a friend—a sister even. But I couldn't have the littlest form of love I had for you after he betrayed me.

You wouldn't understand because I'm all you'll ever love. If only I could do the same. I'm just sorry I wasn't a better friend but I would definitely be a changed man if there will ever be another life.

My advice to you is to find someone to direct all this love to because I can marry you but that doesn't mean you'll be happy.

I didn't close it. I just continued to rid the phone of all the apps I once used before dropping the phone on the bed, waiting for the delivery man to call then my thoughts drifted elsewhere again.

"Bash baby! Ya kake?" she'd asked.

"I'm good. How have you been since I left you?"

"I don't know." She sighed.

"Was it anything I said? Or what I did?" I asked, concern rooted in my voice.

After a short pause, she blurted out, "It's everything."

"Make me understand." I replied calmly.

"Where are we? After going out a few times and giving each other pet names I don't know if we're moving forward or remaining stagnant."

I released a deep sigh and groaned.

I should've known this would lead to nothing.

"See..." I began, "I'm not scared of commitments or anything, I'm just not ready for one and I hope you understand that."

Now I know that was a big lie. I may not have loved her then but now I do—I can't stop—and I regret ever handing my heart to a woman whose power was holding captive a thousand hearts and leaving the most of them scathed.

"I think I understand what's happening here. None of us are ready for a relationship but we still want to be together."

"Are you saying what I'm thinking?" I laughed.

"Yes, we remain together but no strings attached."

"A girlfriend that doesn't love me, great!" I chuckled.

"It's nothing. We're both after the bag. Call us the Nigerian Bonnie and Clyde—minus the romantic gestures." She laughed too.

"Nothing more needs to be said. I understand baby. I'm just glad you agreed to go but there's another thing."

"What is that?"

"I'm not staying with you. I'll only take you to the airport and go back home because I have too much work."

That was our last moment before shit hit the ceiling and before I could say Jack she was gone. Jameel had violated the edifice of our brotherhood. I hated him and I could only be sorry for transferring all the agression to Inteesar who was only but a pawn in his game to get Basma.

*Ring Ring*

The delivery man is here with my food—30 minutes late and without my drink but I wasn't complaining since I had drinks in my mini fridge.

I head downstairs to the spotless aftermath of Gambo's cleaning and pay the man before taking my food upstairs. While I was eating a number sends me a text and I know it's from Inteesar because it says she's close by.

I read without replying and continue eating my danwake with liver sauce . Instead of water I take a bottle of Fanta from my mini fridge and set it down on the floor beside my food and continue eating.

I finally finish eating and dump everything in the trash except the lone Fanta bottle I hadn't drank to finish. Inteesar is calling again and I just drag myself to my bathroom to fill the bathtub. I tear out a page from the post-it in my drawer and write a not for Inteesar; open the notes app on my phone.

I return the pen to the drawer and transfer all the money that's in my account to Inteesar's account and another half to a few of my friends whom I've instructed to donate certain percentages.

I take off my clothes. It's a quick bath so I'm back in the room, changing into the new kaftan I have laid out. I leave the bathtub to refill itself while I'm wearing my clothes.

I rub lotion and start with clean boxers from the wardrobe then the trouser of the kaftan before the top part and move to my mirror to put on some cologne.

After I'm set, I go back into the bathroom and lock the bathroom door. I hear the gates being opened and I know it's Inteesar who's coming in but I don't make a move to go back out.

I'm just staring at myself through the mirror. Out of anger I punch the glass but it doesn't break—not even a piece fell out. This aggravated me more and with a brief exhale of breath I move my head backwards before smashing it against the mirror, leaving it bloody and my head busted.

I repeat the action which leaves another bloody imprint in the mirror and me almost incapacitated. I continue to stare at my bleeding head which makes me dizzy but I can almost feel the liberation I've been looking for all these months.

I move to smash the mirror with my head again and I stumble in the cold floor and get up slowly. I move to the full bathtub and switch off the tap. I can hear my phone ringing and I'm assuming it's Inteesar or Dr Sam but I didn't have the time to deal with them. It was my time now.

"Do you really want to do this?"

Today Mariam appeared and she's crying with bloodshot eyes, shuddering.

"I need to do it Mariam."

"Why?"

"You don't need to know."

"Please Bashir." She holds both of her hands, "Inteesar is coming now. Just go back out."

"I don't want to see her."

"I don't want you to die."

"You don't need me to live."

"I do. You've heard it before but I love you."

"Bashir where are you?"

I refuse to answer.

"Are you in here? I can wait downstairs."

"She really cares for you Bashir." Mariam explains.

"I don't care."

"Who are you talking to Bashir?" Inteesar asks.

"Just go Intee..." I cough and blood starts coming out my nose as I kneel before the bathtub.

"Open the door Bashir! You need help. What's going on?"

"Just go home."

She banging the door and screaming. Then I hear her rummaging through the drawers hoping she'll find something strong enough to break the handles.

I can hear her reading the message on the bathroom door. She rushes to grab the phone on the bed and reads it. She's wailing and still begging me to open the door but my mind is too far gone.

"Bashir, I understand. Just come, we'll talk about it. I'll leave you alone if that makes you happy."

"Go away Inteesar. I hope the letter helps you understand better. We're just not good for one another. You're still my baby sis Inteesar. I can give you that but you need to go."

"Please come out Bashir." She keeps yelling and banging on the door while trying to push the door with all her weight.

"I'm going help her." Mariam states.

I hear the locks turn and Mariam disappears before I hear Inteesar using a chair to hit the door handle. It is as if something possessed her, she dropped the chair and there she was turning the door but she's too too late because I'm already inside the tub and at best, 6ft under the water.

I can feel the water go through my nose and mouth as the water turns red because of my blood. My insides are already getting filled with water and I can't seem to breathe again.

I can't hear most of the things happening again but I can hear her voice talking to someone.

"Please be here as soon as possible." She's shouting, "Bashir, what's wrong with you?"

I just smile under the water and open my mouth more so it sucks in more water into my system. I'm coughing and bubbles are being made in the water which makes me happy because I can virtually taste death when I choke.

She pulls me out of the water but I manage to push her away before I can get any air in. She tries again but I remain under the water but this time I close my eyes so I can enjoy the life in me seeping out until I'm lifeless.

I can't move but I can hear Inteesar and she's looking above me when I open my eyes "Take him out."

They pull me out of the tub but I doubt they can revive me because I can't even feel my body again. I just know I'm practically close to unconsciousness, that is, until my eyes shut off finally and I hope it will never flip open till the day of resurrection.

A life for a life for another life. I wish her nothing but pain as she steps into Rayyan's house. Let me say the usual, if I can't have her then no one can and since I don't have the liver to kill anyone but myself I'll do them a favor of disappearing and punishing her with it.

I'm excited to finally end things the way I've always wanted since things haven't been going my way for at least a year. I was betrayed by a friend—multiple friends in fact—but one friend I'll never forget is the love of my hellish world. Basma El-Nafaty—my last time uttering the syllables of her lofty name. I say it one last time and smile bitterly, sweetly and most importantly regrettably.

I wanted to be cliché and write a suicide note but I want her to be disconcerted for eternities—if possible, after her demise. I don't know if I've ever been loved or will ever love like this again so it's better I have my dramatic ending here at the bottom of my full, nifty, white bathtub—I'll say this as I subconsciously chant the kalimat shahada even if I know I was possibly to end up in hell but this, this was probably close to hell itself.

One last thing;

Love can also be death, you just don't know it yet.
___________________________

Aisha SafiyanuXO💚

How do you feel about being the ending? Yayy or nayy? One last time for the road since journey for this book has ended💕

I love you all and appreciate all you've done to support it. I'm writing a new book for y'all and I'll make an announcement for it when I'm ready to post it 🥰

So was it team Rasma, Basshir or Bashteesar, Bileesar or Bafaf, Tadaruq or Bilnesh?😂😭 those were the worst couples, Bilan/Ruqayyah and Tadalesh. I low key thought they were cute though but now we all know he's a monster.