Nailah Zayed.

Maroudi, Nigeria.

What if I told you that every single thing that has happened between Ayaan and I since he returned to Maroudi has been nothing but a lie.

It was merely another script, meticulously written down by the both of us—having easily camouflaged with our perfectly scripted lives to give an image...an illusion of what truly isn't.

What if I told you that I've been lying to you from the very beginning? Of course, there are instances that were real—my past is a typical example. Instances involving Ayaan though were all lies, and planned beforehand.

Don't take it personal, my life has always been like that for as long as I can remember. I'd always believed that if you want to fool someone, you have to fool yourself as well. I needed to give it my all and make it as believable as it could possibly be.

I told you in the beginning, didn't I? Everyone lies.

I am no exception.  

See, the first time I met Ayaan was six years ago—before I even met Imran. And no, it wasn't a coincidence.

He came to meet me.

It seemed as though he had planned and timed the whole thing well, and he did, because he waited for the perfect chance to get to talk to me alone; without prying eyes that could raise suspicions. He had thought way ahead of me—already knowing that if I were to agree, then no one should know we knew each other.

It was summer break, and since I couldn't go home for it—I decided to go somewhere like always. My father meant it when he said I wouldn't return until I'm done with university—that was his only way to be certain I had truly become Nailah, and that no one would be able to be suspect me.

I simply wasn't allowed to return to Nigeria, it was up to me though if I wanted to travel to other places though—he wasn't against it despite knowing there was a possibility of me running away. What did he do about it? He warned me to not even think about it—reminding me that even if I go the ends of the earth, he would still find me.

I knew he wasn't just bluffing—I could tell first hand he had that kind of influence, so, I never bothered to try. I simply focused on enjoying that bit of freedom at the very least, if you can term it that, that is.

He didn't mind me going to places as I wished—he called it 'exposure', and that it will be good for me. Let me put it in simple words for you, he means that it would make me seem more 'elite'. I could easily live a life as a beau monde with that sort of exposure.

That summer I decided to visit Isla Mujeras—a Mexican Island in the Caribbean sea. I fell in love with the place at first sight...how could I not? And if I'm being honest, I couldn't help but think of what it would be like to live here.

Their lives seemed simple...you know, less chaotic compared to the type of life I live. They are all so welcoming and kind to everyone. It's honestly impossible to hate the place. That's just how I feel that is.

I had spent half the day just touring around the place, sightseeing and trying new things. However, at a point, I needed to put some food in my stomach so I stopped by a small restaurant situated outside at the beach. The food seemed good, and the sight was enthralling.

It was the perfect place to dine.

I could still remember exactly what I ordered.

Risotto with Crustacean.

Yes, the exact same thing I ordered when Ayaan and I dined together the other day—it has a story behind it. A story that was born that very day.

Shortly after the waitress had delivered the food, I was about halfway through it when a voice suddenly came from behind.

"You just gave yourself away."

I fully intended to ignore him and go about my day for so many obvious reasons. One, I couldn't be sure I was the one he's addressing. And two, I don't know anyone here nor was I expecting to meet anyone familiar. So, I simply ruled it out as I wasn't the one he was talking to.

He was persistent though, or perhaps, that was simply my first impression of him. "Nailah, right?" He called out again, coming to stand in front of me this time around.

I swallowed down the food in my mouth, my eyes flicking up to narrow at him suspiciously. "How do you know me?" My first instinct was to be outright rude to him. However, the thought of him being someone my sister possibly knew crossed my mind.

Perhaps, someone my father forgot to inform me about, or someone he doesn't know of his relationship with her.

He nodded slowly, his expression blank. It was hard to tell what exactly is going through his head. I couldn't no matter how hard I try. "Can I?" He gestured to the chair opposite me.

I simply nodded my head, mentally glad that I was full already else this man would've interrupted my eating session. After going spending half the day with little food in my system, I was irked and could set off at any moment. That was before I ate that is.

"I'm Muhammad." He stated, settling on the on the chair—his gaze never leaving mine. Weirdly enough though, it wasn't unsettling. It didn't seem like that was his intention to begin with. "Muhammad Hadi." He repeated, giving out his full name that is.

"Hadi?" Of course I know the surname. I'd read through Imran and his family's files countless times. It's a unique name, one that only a handful in Maroudi bear.

Muhammad Hadi...I know I've read it somewhere in Imran's files but I can't remember where he came up exactly.

He nodded, and then went on to give answers to my unvoiced question. "I'm Imran's cousin." He stated.

It suddenly clicked where and how his name turned up. But that was when my suspicion increased. According to the files, Muhammad and his family all died in a car accident.

And yet, here's this stranger claiming to be him.

My eyes narrowed, already assuming a defensive stand. "Are you kidding me right now?" I scoffed. "Or do I look stupid to you?"

"No." He shrugged.

"Then how do you want me to accept that you're someone who's supposed to be dead?" I quirked a brow, without giving much thought to my question.

For the first time since I saw him, he huffed out a small breath and looked down for a brief second. When his gaze met mine again, his lips stretched into a small, humorless smile. "Are you talking about me, or yourself? Last I checked, you're the one pretending to be someone who's dead already?"

My heart dropped, and sinked deep. Unable to help myself as I didn't expect those words from him, my eyes widened, lips parted slightly. What did he just say? I could tell from the look on his face that he knew exactly what he's talking about.

Still, I couldn't just admit it. "I don't know what you're talking about." I denied, without a second thought. "If you're here to spew nonsense, go look for someone else." Pushing the chair back, I got on my feet—fully intending to walk away because though I tried to hide it, it's obvious that I'm scared.

How can I not be? It's not normal to have someone out of the blue show up, and claim to be someone who's dead. And yes, I know how that sounds. But, it's even weirder when the person knows your secret.

What am I supposed to do? Sit and dine with him? Oh, please! 

"I know what happened to your sister." He suddenly added calmly, his eyes lazily flicking up to meet mine. "I was there."

I halted my action, eyes still narrowed in slits. I didn't want to believe him, there was no reason for me to do so. However, a part of me, the one that was desperate and only planned to put up with this to find out what truly happened to her wavered.

A voice at the back of my mind screamed at me to not believe him—that I should simply ignore him because I can never be certain whether what he's saying is true. I ignored it, and hesitantly settled back on the chair again.

"How can I believe you?" I questioned, my expression yawing blank.

He didn't say anything. Instead, he slipped his hand into the pocket of his pants and pulled out a picture, before pushing it towards me on the table between us.

I held his gaze for a second longer, before I shifted it to the picture he had handed. The minute my eyes fell on it, the first person my attention focused on was my sister. My eyes instantly glossed, as I reached out my now shaky hand to caress the picture.

You would think it doesn't mean much, but I wasn't given any pictures of her. There were none. In fact, it seemed like she never existed to begin with. I tried asking for her phone or something, but they were all destroyed.

I couldn't even have a single picture to remember her with.

And now, I finally got to see it.

My lips slowly stretched into a small smile, seeing the one that donned her face. Contrary to the few times I'd seen her on TV before, she actually seemed happy in this picture—even though she wasn't donning the biggest smiles out there.

She wasn't the only one in the picture though, a younger version of this man was there as well, and beside him was Imran—I recognize him from the pictures of him I'd been given. My attention wasn't on either of them though, it was solely focused on my sister.

I looked up, blowing out a shaky breath as I tried to blink and get rid of the tears threatening to fall. A few escaped, but I was quick to reach out and wipe it. I wouldn't allow this man, a stranger to see this side of me.

It took me a couple of seconds to get myself back in check, and when I did, I moved my attention back to him again.

"How did you know?" That was the first thing I wanted to ask, though there's a more important question but still.

He gestured to the food in front of me with his eyes, my brows drew in. "She's allergic to Crustacean." He stated.

I swallowed thickly, and then cleared my throat slightly. "How come no one knew of it?" If she's allergic to something, then shouldn't have her adoptive father told me about it?

"How would they when they barely know her?" He didn't need to elaborate, I already understood. They didn't care about her, nor did they make an effort to do so. It was obvious from what I could tell as well.

Of course, they would only know the basis—the little things everyone know. Their plan had a loophole after all.

I swept my tongue across my lower lip. "You were friends?" I questioned, a brow slightly quirked. It seemed like it, but I wanted to see the extent of their friendship.

He didn't hesitate to nod. "We were quite close actually." For the first time, his lips widened into a genuine smile. I could tell from that alone that he was truly close to her, and that he at least cared about her. "She talked about you."

I didn't hide the surprise that took over my expression. My eyes dilated slightly, lips parted. "She did?" We were separated at such a young age, I didn't think she would even remember, much less talk about me.

He nodded.

"What did she say?" I couldn't help but want to know. At this point, I was open to knowing everything I possibly can about her. And not what the papers say. I wanted to know the type of lady she truly was.

He folded his lips in for a brief second, almost as if thinking of the right words to use. When he found them, I never regretted listening to him at that very moment. "She said you're the strongest person she knows. You're cold, rude, and unapproachable as well that no one wanted to get close to you—it was clear you scared everyone away with that face of yours."

I found myself chuckling, that truly sounds like something she would say.

He smiled as well. "However..." He continued, "She said you're the most soft hearted person she knows, even if you try to hide it. When you two had no one to tend to you, you were both a mother and a father to her though you' were both young then. You cared about her, and put her first."

I couldn't help it, tears began to stream down my face the more he spoke of her. I never thought she felt that way towards me. The fact that I will never hear her say it herself makes it all the more emotional for me.

"—She said that you're too mature for your age. That you're the type of person who puts others before yourself. She said she wanted to be like you." He voiced the last part out softly, "That she aspires to be as strong, and kind as you are."

Bringing both hands to my face, I buried it there and cried my heart out. I didn't care that I was crying in front of a stranger, and that people could stop and look at me. I didn't care what anyone could think at the moment.

All I could think of was how I'll never be able to see my sister again—I would never get the chance to tell her that I'm not as strong as she believes I am, that she shouldn't have ever wanted to be like me. I couldn't even protect her, how could she aspire to be like me, huh?

Even with that, I didn't easily accept Ayaan into my life. It took him a long while to explain his situation, and earn my trust in him. If you had told me that the man I met then would become someone I trust the most in the world, I would've termed you crazy then.

But, I did.

And at the end though, we were simply two lost souls who found each other.