From here on you're still reading in Basma's POV. You'll be signified when Bashir's POV is about to be approached. Enjoy!

Once inside, I met one of her most trusted maids; Joy in the hallway.

"Good evening ma." She greets.

"How are you Joy?"

"I'm fine ma."

"That's good to hear."

"Ma, my madam is expecting you already. She's upstairs."

"Alright." I handed her a bundle of leftover cash from a transaction I had to handle some hours ago before ascending the staircase.

She jumped, squealing before kneeling to the ground and hugging my legs, thanking me with tears running down her eyes.

I don't understand. It was just 10k.

At the top of the stairs a boy bumps into me and falls back, connecting the back of his head to the tiled floor.

"Baby I'm sorry. Are you ok?" I pulled him up from the floor and handed him a bar of chocolate from my bag.

"Yes. Thank you."

He was probably just nine—with this height and voice.

"You're welcome. What's your name?" I inquired as I massaged the back of his hand and elbow.

"That's none of your business!"

A woman from the right wing of the house appears from one of the numerous rooms, glaring at me intensely.

Bushy eyebrows, pointy nose, stout and light skinned was Yusra's co-wife. She was beautiful in her own right and would've looked better if she smiled consistently.

She marched slowly to where I was in her Ferragamo slipper's with a hideous frown that sat on her face. I could tell she had a great sense of style because of the dress she was wearing. It was a Firdausi golden dress, a first, and last edition that came out last summer for a few celebrities in the country.

I wonder how she got it.

The sleeves alone had FG imprinted onto it like a signature from a celebrity himself. I wasn't one who supported body shaming but I found it disgusting that her sack of a belly hung low in a very disturbing way in the tight dress that clung to her body. I knew she felt beautiful in the dress with the way she took every step, walking.

But she looked pregnant!

I looked at her, taken aback by her rudeness but I didn't want to insult her to avoid causing a problem between Yusra and her husband.

"I was just helping him up."

"He doesn't need your help to stand up right." She sassed.

"Ok." I walked away to Yusra's side of the house.

Her eyes zeroed in on the Twix in his hands and she slaps his head, causing his head to yet again hit a hard surface; the wall.

He released a throaty yell before his tears followed.

I ran back immediately to aide his current state of turmoil but she pushed my hand away from him before I could touch him.

Is it even your business? I chastised myself but I was seriously in love with kids just that Allah hasn't gifted me with mine yet.

Yusra's words were finally making sense. I wasn't getting younger. Definitely time would come when I wouldn't be able to produce children. I'll give this marriage ideology a thought and see whether Bashir was really the one.

But I can't ignore the red flags again and stand the chance of turning into a punching bag, a second time.

"Why did you collect it? Do you want to die?" She growled, slapping his already wet cheeks.

He coughed in response and nodded his head, begging me with his eyes to help him out of the situation.

My heart bled for these kinds of moments.

She pointed at me, grimacing, "It's people like you that want to poison other people's children because you don't have one. Stay away from him!"

"I don't have time for this." I hissed and retreated back to the former direction I was headed.

Deep down I felt extremely horrible but I couldn't stand up for him, only, because he wasn't my child to start with.

I could remember Yusra's room being between the fourth and fifth on that lane so all I did was count from the first to the fourth in my mind till I finally reached the door and knocked on it. Nobody answered so I knocked again.

I decided to knock on the next door and luckily it was hers.

What a stupid mistake.

She opened the door and pulled me in with a sad smile. From the tint of red in her eyes, I knew she'd been crying for a while.

"I thought you changed your mind about coming." She rolled her eyes.

We strutted to her bed and sat down.

"That's not possible. I just had some minor difficulties."

"What happened?"

"I met Murja on the way."

"What did she say to you?"

"She was just making noise about how people like me are trying to poison people's kids because I don't have children."

"I hope you didn't insult her back?" She screamed with her hands flying to her chest.

"No, why would I do that?"

"I know you that's why I'm asking. Your mouth is like a taser, it'll shock somebody."

I didn't even know where the loud, unwomanly laugh came out from but I thank God nobody was there to witness the all mighty Basma this disorganized.

"Yusee I was silent. I just walked away. Do you even know why she was making all that noise?"

"Why?"

"I bumped into her son and I was helping him to stand up then I offered him chocolates."

"You should know better by now. She's crazy. Just avoid her and her children." She advised.

"Abeg forget her. Me, if she tries nonesense outside this house she'll know that my head is not correct. Let her not even try me."

"I trust you!" She hailed, clapping her hands in the air.

"Ehen who is that guy that opened the gate for me? Ya haɗu fa!" He's handsome.

"Rayyan. He's Murja's third child."

"Aaah that's...I don't even know what to say. He's that witches son?"

I didn't know how to react to the news.

"Yes. Yana da hankali ko?" He's respectful right?

"He even called me aunty. I was so confused. I can't believe it!"

"Yes. So. Stay. Away. From. Him."

Repulsed I was for feeling something for her stepson.

"He's your stepson and I called him handsome." I let my back hit the surface of her water bed as I held my head in-between my hands.

"It's nothing. There's nothing wrong in saying he's handsome. All that matters is that he's a good person. Out of all her children he's the one that respects me." She tapped my lap.

I rose up again and sat properly, facing her with my legs folded on the bed.

A frown took over her face with a pout as she stretched her hands out, "Where's my appeasement?"

I grabbed it from the floor, beside her bed—where I forgot it earlier when I came in and gave her a bag filled with her favourite; fried rice and chicken with a chilled bottle of fanta.

"Am I forgiven?" I solicited.

"My stomach will answer that." She smirks.

I just knew it—with good food she'd be out of the funk she was in.

"How have you been Yusee?" I beseeched on seeing how sad she still looked even after eating through her food halfway.

"I've been great. Mai kika gani?" What did you see?

"You look depressed. When are you ever without a veil or turban cap on your head? And when aren't you watching something on that laptop of yours?"

She smiled—a fake one at that—thinking I wouldn't notice.

"I'm fine."

"You're not!" I countered.

"If it's about today, I forgave you the moment you called to tell me you were at the gate."

"I still haven't apologized properly."

"It doesn't matter."

"It does. I've insulted you for no reason whatsoever and I'm sorry Yusee."

"It's fine. I wasn't even angry. You used my past against me and it hurt, so bad."

"I'm sorry Yusee." I wrapped her in a hug and she abandoned her food to cry on my shoulder.

I let her cry. You know why? Because, to me, crying has always been therapeutic with a little side effect of a headache, a swollen nose and fatigue. I realized it didn't mean I was weak, I learnt that spilling a few tears meant I'd been strong for a long time and I was on the edge of collapsing from the moral compass of emotional sturdiness.

There was more disadvantages than advantages though, it made her feel better because, after I released her from my hold she just laughed about her being a big baby and I, a big mummy for worrying too much.

I joined her and started eating too, eventually and we binge watched episodes of The Bold Type till the maid came to inform her of her husband's arrival from work.

My stay was over.

I looked at my wristwatch and it said the time was ten thirty. I wasn't bothered because I wasn't even married again so I had no husband or children to run home to.

If I was to sleep here tonight, it'd be only my househelps that'd call to know what I'd like to eat tomorrow for breakfast.

We discarded the plates we'd eaten in in a bin in her room before we left for the stairs.

In a comfortable silence, we descended the stairs. She held my arm, humming a Doja Cat song to herself.

At the end of the stairs we met her husband on his way up.

"Ina wuni Alhaji." Good evening Alhaji. I greeted.

"Aaah Hajiya Basma ya aiki?" Hajiya Basma how is work?

"Alhamdulillah everything is fine Alhaji."

"Yayi kyau, that's good. Oya have this for the road." He pulls of a wad of Naira notes and hands it to me.

I accepted it and put it in my bag, "Thank you Alhaji."

"It's nothing." He waves me off as he climbed further up the stairs.

Yusra just smiles without saying a word throughout and for some reason I start to imagine myself in her position.

Would I be fine with my husband giving out money to my friend's? Maybe her and a few but I wouldn't encourage him.

Finally we were outside. Malam Kabiru had already slept. He snored so loud we could hear him from where we were standing at the entrance of the house.

The sound of the gates being opened captured our attention and the same car that came to pick Rayyan earlier is the one here again.

Rayyan drops out of the car and says something to his friend through the window before coming towards us.

"Ina wunin ku." Good evening, He smiles—that smile that left me almost drooling earlier—as he bent a little, trying to avoid our gazes.

"Aah Rayyan ka dawo ne?" Aah Rayyan you're back? Yusra asks.

"Yes Aunty. We just went to see one of our friends that got married and we didn't attend the wedding."

"Oh ayya that's good."

He nods and walks into the house. Before that, he turns back to bless me with that killer smile. His fair skin had him looking as if he was blushing. We stared at each other for longer than a minute—I think.

Yusra snapped, "I saw that!"

"You saw what?" I laughed.

"That look." She poked me with her index finger and the entrance of her house for emphasis.

"I don't understand."

"You'll understand when trouble comes knocking at your door." She hissed.

We hugged again and I entered my car to leave.

"Kai! Malam tashi." You! Wake up, I yelled, hitting the back of his seat.

"Yi hakuri Hajiya." I'm sorry Hajiya, He woke up, startled.

"Take me home!"

He wiped saliva from the sides of his mouth before starting the car.

It's time for Bashir! Enjoy❤️

•Bashir

"Bashirrrru!" Inteesar cooed.

I hated the way she pronounced my name. As if she was the one who gave me the name she'd always add weird intonations to it thinking she was sounding like an angel.

"Hmm Inteesar how have you been?"

"I've been good. Where did you disappear to all these years?" She asked as she played with the sides of her abaya.

In her mind now, she's Cinderella.

"It's a long story but it shouldn't bother you. Is soldierboy at home?"

"How many times do I have to tell you that his name isn't soldierboy?! You guys don't know how disgusting you all sound saying it. Shi da ya ke amsa sunan ne ma ya ke ba ni haushi." It's him that answers the name that annoys me. She rolled her tiny eyes.

"Ok. Is your brother at home?"

I really wasn't ready to waste as little as a second talking to her.

"Yes. I mean no. He went somewhere that's not far. Oh my Allah! Please forgive my manners. I'm sorry for not letting you in." She dragged the door inwardly to let me in as she smiled apologetically.

"It's not a problem." I replied with a small smile before stepping inside.

She shut the door and followed me behind, throwing different questions that were starting to get too intrusive.

"So where are your parents?"

I never told her my parents died so she continued to send the money and food items before she left the country. That was what I used to survive for that period of my life.

"Sun rasu." They're deceased.

"Inalillahi! May Jannah be their final abode."

"Ameen thumma ameen. So how long do you think soldierboy is going to be out?"

She held her chin and bit her lip, thinking, "Twenty minutes tops."

"Ok." I brushed past her to the living room to wait for her brother.

Just when I thought she was going upstairs, she came back and sat down on one of the couches too.

She stood up again, "Let me get you something."

She came back with a tray that held a covered plate—which would most likely be food—or snacks, I doubt though—and a large juice box filled with cranberry juice.

"Please eat." She said as she dropped it it on center table for me.

Quickly, she ran and got a smaller table and dropped it before me then she carried the tray and kept it before me.

"Thank..."

"I see you're serving your husband."

Soldierboy was back.

"Big bro you're back!" She pretended to not hear his remark and left with a way too wide smile on her face.

Soldierboy never said it directly that he supported what his sister was doing but his mini utterances projected his stance in bold.

"Basho welcome. How have you been?" He sat on the chair and took off the Zannah Bukar that was on his head then rested it on his laps, scratching his hairy head.

"Alhamdulillah. How has life been treating you?"

"Good, good." He looked at the food his sister brought earlier and laughed, shaking his head, "Inteesar is feeding you and it's not even time yet."

"Such a nice girl."

"Yes. The lunch will not hold here. It's at my parents house. They're celebrating my father's retirement."

"When do we leave then?"

"As soon as Inteesar is ready. She told me she had some deliveries to handle. I'm not sure if it'll take a long time so I'll go and ask her now."

He left me alone and went upstairs to see to his sister's activities.

"She's actually done. Wai, that, it's make-up she wants to do. I don't know why girl's like that thing. I won't complain today. Baba told me he invited his friend and his son to match him and Inteesar. I just hope it goes well, that girl can be very dramatic."

My heart leaped up in exaggerated happiness because of what he'd just said. I'd already given up on her leaving me alone till Allah blessed us all with this lunch party.

"That's great. Masha Allah. I wish her all the best."

He frowned, "I don't understand. I thought you and her had something going on."

"Well, it's like..."

Soldierboy was always quick to shut someone up with his loud and intimidating voice.

"I know what it's like. You're shy. It's nothing. She's told me a lot. I heard you even talked about marriage."

See me see trouble ooo!

She barged into the parlour just when I was about to reply him. All he did was wink at me and she smiled at me.

Is it only me that sees the problems this Inteesar is trying to pull me into?

****

"Ina wuni Hajiya." Good evening Hajiya.

"Bashir?" Hajiya Inayah; their mother said.

"Yes ma." I smiled.

"I've heard so much about you. It's such a sad thing that we can't meet your parents."

"Very sad."

"Jameel talks about you all the time. I had to ask more. Are you his best friend?"

I really didn't want to disappoint them both, so....

He looked at me with pleading eyes, "Yes we are."

"That's nice. I never thought any of his friends would come back after..."

Everyone turned to look at her in shock, forks all hitting their plates in sync—it seemed as if they didn't want her to complete her sentence—well, except a girl whom I didn't notice before whom sat there with a neutral face, scrolling through her phone as if she lost something.

"Aaah Alhaji Abdullahi you're here!" He exclaimed, "And you're here with my handsome Rayyan."

Now I knew where he got the interruptive genes from.

"Kwana biyu." Long time. Alhaji Abdullahi said.

"I haven't seen you in ages. How are the madam's and their children?"

"I've been in Anambra and Kogi chasing one business. I came back to Abuja about two weeks ago."

"That's good. Us that have retired have to rely on our establishments to survive. Ina fatan za ka samo mana kwangila kwanan nan?" I hope that you'll get us a contract one of these days? Alhaji Rufai joked.

"If I don't bring for you, who else?" He laughed.

"So, Rayyan how have you been? I hope your father hasn't been stressing you?"

"No sir. He hasn't."

"Even if he is I know you won't tell me but I'll come to the office one day to catch him unaware." He laughed.

"Alright sir."

"Shall we?" Alhaji Rufai asked, pointing at a food flask.

"Yes, yes." We chorused.

A maid serves all of us whatever we opted for and left after all were satisfied.

"Young man what do you?" Alhaji Rufai asked me.

"I was a contract manager but as of now, I work as Jameel's person assistant."

"That's good. At least, you'll be able to arrange that his distorted schedule. If possible, cancel out some things so that he'll have more time for his family." He glared at soldierboy.

"How are you all enjoying the food?" Hajiya Inayah implored.

A series of hums and smiles took over to appreciate her appetizing denomination of food.

The lunch went from noisy to silent after a few football arguments were tossed back and forth between the males.

Nobody noticed when Hajiya Inayah and her daughter left. They were just returning and Inteesar was crying.

"Princess what happened?" Alhaji Rufai asked.

"Mama just told me that you wanted to marry me out to somebody!" She yelped.

Our father would've rewarded her with a slap if the visitors at the table weren't extremely close to our family but her tears were also his weakness so he had to plead with her to agree to his demands.

"Yes. That was the plan. It's been ongoing for a few months now. Thank God you've been told. Have a sit. Your husband to be is here..." She smiled—thinking it was me, he added, "With his father."

He patted the sit closest to him and smiled at her. As stubborn as she was, she sat down to hear whatever her father wanted to say. Her mother too joined us at the table in a sit that was adjacent to that of her husband's.

"So you see, I invited your second father here with his son so that you two could get to know each other. I believe you don't have to be told what comes next." He pursed his lips, staring her.

From the other end of the dining table, I could see the young man she was supposed to be betrothed to wasn't happy as well. All I could trace was stress and worry but he remained silent all through.

He didn't even glance at Inteesar. I just knew, then, that he'd known about this and her for a while but didn't bother initiating anything because he wasn't interested. At all.

"Baba but..."

"How many years do you want to stay in this house?"

"I have somebody already." She looked at me. And I looked away.

Stupid girl! She wants to drag her family name because of me. In her mind, the brat rant would work. The man looked well-to-do. I believe he'd take care of her—unlike me—because my heart was filled to the brim with vanity.

He looked at his friend apologetically and said, "This wasn't how I intended for this to go. We can schedule another meeting."

"Alhaji Rufai this isn't a problem. I've spoken to the boy. Let's just see how it goes." He smiled at Inteesar who looked away with dried up tears in her face.

Everything ended with a short prayer for Alhaji Rufai, his family then it became a general one for all of us in the room before we each dispersed to our homes by evening.

Now that I'm at home, with no one around, I'll pack all of my belongings into my car.

All my clothes were already in my box so I didn't need to gather much. I folded the shirts I'd left scattered on the bed in the afternoon and my shoes that layed arranged beside the mattress.

I left the lamp I bought the next day after my ghostly attack and the cartons of water I'd bought alongside the standing fan and mosquito coil.

It'd do so much more for them.

Soldierboy had already taken me to the house days prior to him buying it and furnishing it. Today he gave me the keys after we performed the Maghrib prayer together in his house with the reminder that he'd send me a chef and a housekeeper the next day.

I walked out of the room and turned to the entrance of the flat.

Before reaching the door, I hear my name.

"Bash where are you going to?"

I ignore the sound and continue to the door.

For once I didn't want to be the coward that that'll run so I remained calm.

"Trouble awaits you outside this house." The woman cautioned.

I thought I was hearing things until I felt a hand on my shoulder.

Part two of my midnight chronicles.

I turned back to see an empty living room and I wanted nothing but to shout. Instead I closed my eyes and repeated the Ayyatul Kursiyy in my mind before walking out.

"Be warned, you'll remember this day. And I'll be there to laugh at you."

That was the last think I heard before entering my car.

Once I was seated in my car with all my things, I looked back at the house—one last time, laughing at all the drama that had went down in the house and the problems we'd encountered living here.

I left a bundle of money for each of them on the only couch that was in the living room for them to share. That was my goodbye.

I was never coming back.
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~Aisha Safiyanu🥀