Nailah Zayed.

Maroudi, Nigeria.

Everything about this was strange.

Right from the way Yusra's foster father reacts towards her death, and to how they want me to take her role screamed something being off.

Why would they hide her death if there was nothing behind it? Why would they want to cover it up as soon as possible? What is it exactly that they're trying to hide?

They didn't give me much of an option. I was practically forced into taking on Yusra's life as mine—a life that I doubt she loved. Truth be told though, I gave in a little too easily too. Not because I wanted to live her life, but because something about my sister's sudden death didn't sit right with me.

For someone who claimed to be her parent, the man didn't seem to give much care towards her. And despite me wanting to give him the benefit of doubt, my thoughts proved to be right.

Yusra's life truly was hell, beyond the glamorous outfits and the wealth. I couldn't help but wonder how she lived such life for six whole years.

Besides, why would they need to hide her death and have me continue her life like nothing happened?

I eventually gathered the fact that no one, apart from the older man and Mrs. Hadiza knew of my sister's demise. They wouldn't tell me how exactly she died; they withheld that information and before I realize it, I was seated in the passenger seat of the man's posh car as he drove away from the orphanage.

I still wasn't sure how to react. I thought I would cry earlier but weirdly enough no tears fell from my eyes. It was like my emotions had been frozen, and I was watching everything pass by like a dream. Truth be told, it didn't feel like a reality to me. And I wouldn't be surprised if someone woke me up and told me this was all a terrible dream.

Sure, I hadn't been in contact with my sister since she had been adopted. However, simply knowing she was alive and well was more than enough for me. Until now.

"Go and freshen up in the first room to your right. There are clothes on the bed for you to change into. Do that, and come downstairs. We have to talk." He said monotonously, after bringing me what seems to be like his house. I eventually realized it wasn't his main house but rather, one of his safe houses in Maroudi.

I was still wary of him, but I meant it when I said I feel like my emotions were put on hold. I couldn't even bring myself to show how skeptical I was of him, and rather followed his orders around like a robot or something.

True to his words, there seemed to an outfit in a blue box on the bed, tied up nicely with a bow string. Making my way towards the Queen sized bed, my finger tips touched the fine fabric of the duvet covering the bed.

Never in my life had I touched anything as soft as that, and to think this is simply the tip of the iceberg of what is to come. If it was someone else in my shoes, they would've been excited to have such a lavish life too, right?

It must've been the same feeling my sister had.

However, after going through what we both did, would one still have that same feeling? Certainly, I don't.

Even as I pulled the string that fell apart, and took off the cover of the box—I eyed the dress that laid there with blank eyes. I extended my hand to touch the fine fabric of seemingly the maxi dress, and still, I couldn't bring myself to feel anything.

I pushed the thoughts threatening to plague my mind aside, and simply opted to take a shower as he said. I don't see a need for one, but maybe it might help clear my mind. So, after making sure to lock the door, I stripped and got under the shower before turning it on.

Even as the warm water made contact with my skin, I willed myself to feel something at the very least. I wanted to feel the pain, and cry my heart out. It would've been better than what I'm currently doing—that is locking my emotions away and throwing away the key.

I even increased the heat of the water, hoping the sting of the burning water would draw tears to my eyes. It didn't; though it did leave my skin red and aching.

The shower lasted longer than it needed to. But, at a point, I got out and wrapped a towel around myself. Luckily, I found everything I could possibly need in the room, and in a short time, I was all dressed up in the black maxi dress and a veil I had wrapped loosely as a hijab.

At least the outfit matched my feelings then.

Dead.

That's what I was internally. And that was what I looked like.

Staring at my reflection in the mirror felt like staring at someone else. How could my life take a turn for the worse in less than two hours?

Just two hours ago I was at the orphanage as one of the kids no one wanted to adopt. And now, here I am, adopted by the same man that took my sister. Any sane person would've been scared, and I am, but it still wasn't dominant.

They could kill me at this moment, and I doubt I would do much to fight it.

After all, I had nothing to fight for. I had no one.

Deciding that staring at my pitiful self at the mirror wouldn't do anything, I sighed, and slipped into the shoes I came with—an old sneaker I had that I had worn one too many times. It didn't fit with the fancy outfit, but who cares? Certainly, not me.

Stepping outside the room, I went down the stairs—conscious of the fact that I may be alone in this big house for God knows how long. Perhaps, for the rest of my life? My life can't possibly get any worse more than this, I just know it.

On reaching the last floor, I met a woman I had never seen before. For a moment, I wondered whether she was Yusra's adoptive mother, but she didn't seem like the woman I saw the last time.

"Come with me. He's waiting for you." She stated simply. And without waiting for my response whatsoever, she turned around and started to walk away; leaving me with no choice but to follow her quietly.

She took a few turns, one that had my head in a slight spin because I doubt I will get used to this easily. But, we reached where I assumed is his office or whatever. She knocked, and when his response came, she gestured for me to go in alone.

I did so warily, wondering why she isn't coming along with me. Nevertheless, I step in with a salaam, my gaze instantly falling on his figure that stood facing the window—his hands crossed behind him.

I pushed myself forward, only stopping in front of the huge table set out beside the window. He turned around just in time, before gesturing with a slight nudge of his head for me to take a seat on one of the two chairs there. I did exactly that, while he settled on the swivel chair on the other side.

Unable to help myself, I blurted out the first question that came to mind. "What happened to my sister?" I couldn't help it. It's been on my mind since he dropped the news. My eyes were narrowed at him, wariness filling me up.

He held my gaze for a few seconds longer than necessary. His expression wasn't giving anything away much to my dismay. When I thought he would he wouldn't reply, he did. "Just like I told you, she passed away."

I know that, and it wasn't the answer I was hoping for. "How?" I pressed, not wanting to accept something like her. There has to be more. I just know it.

"There was an accident."

"Which kind of accident?"

His face hardened, tone dropping as he answered. "The least you know, the better it is for you." He didn't give me another explanation after that. However, that alone was enough for me to know there is more to the story indeed.

Before I could make a move to ask him more questions, he picked up one of the folders on the table and pushed it towards me; before making a gesture for me to open it.

I did so reluctantly, and he instantly went on to explain.

"—The only people aware of this is I, and Mrs. Hadiza. No one else; not even my wife."

That last part had my brows drawing in. His own wife didn't know what happened to her 'daughter'? Just how big is this whole thing? And what type of mother is she?

He must've realized the look of question masking my expression, because he answered as if knowing what my last question was. "—She's a very busy woman, who's mostly absent in Nailah's life. She's always caught up with her work, so she's barely there for anything and won't notice the difference between you two."

I know I'm young, but even I knew a mother who isn't always there wouldn't have been a good mother, right? I mean, if it reaches the extent that she wouldn't know the difference between me and Yusra, then I wonder if she was ever a mother to my sister at all.

My gaze flew back to the folder he gave me. It basically contained a lot of information on my sister—as if he sat down and drafted everything he knew about her. If not for how he had been reacting towards her death, I would've been mistaken to believe he cared about her.

"Why do I need to pretend to be her?" I questioned, because that has also been another question plaguing my mind. "Why not just announce her dead?"

"Because she's my only heir. There's a lot at stake her with her gone." The way he spoke of her...as if she was merely a tool for business for him. And I guess she is, I am now too apparently. "I can't risk that. Which is why I will need you to learn everything there is to know about your sister's life as Nailah. It doesn't matter how small the detail is, you'll need to learn everything."

He says it as if it's easy. He's forgetting I haven't been with her for six years, I barely know the kind of lady she grew up to be.

And he's apparently forgetting that I'm just sixteen. I may seen a bit too mature for my age, but it doesn't change the fact that I'm still a kid. I guess he's using that to his advantage here. It's easier to coerce a child into something than an adult.

He then pulled out another thing, and from the little I know, it seemed to be an international passport of some sort. Placing it in front of me, he went on to add. "—Nailah is supposed to be in the States now to start her university. However, due to what happened, I'll need to make adjustments so you could leave as soon as possible instead. I'll cancel her studies for a year, and I'll have someone teach you everything you need to know as her. How you need to act, and the people you need to know—including everything necessary."

I could only hear him go about it all, it still doesn't feel like a reality.

"—The next time you return to Maroudi, you will truly be Nailah Zayed—as you will be known for the rest of your life."