Hatred is such a very strong feeling. When you hate someone, all they did just make you more pissed than you were. And if they stayed still without doing anything? You hate them even more and think they were plotting evil against you. A smile, or rather, a smirk from the person you hate could have the urge to make your most recent picture to be a mugshot with 'murder' written boldly on the crime section. Right now, that's how she was feeling whenever she stared at his face while he presented whatever trash it was he had prepared.

And one more thing she hated about him, his brain. He was so intelligent that even though she was used to not having to try so hard, she had to. Because it was never enough whenever he was involved, nothing was ever enough. It felt like he always exhausted her most recent upgrade and then she had to spend her nights trying to figure out how she could upgrade the newest version of herself she had released.

She didn't know what was happening until she heard the round of applause and that brought her out of her reverie. And when she momentarily lifted her eyes and have them spared his face a glance, the smirk she saw on his face emanated he had finished presenting his project and this company, would likely choose his company's project instead of her own. And that smirk, why was it that he made her fancied a mugshot? It could be once in her life. But she knew there would be a day when she would have no choice but to force a knife down his egoistic throat.

The applause died down and she placed her hand back while trying to pack the few things she had come with. That's why she hated being interested in whatever projects she knew he would have a liking in. And right now, while the CEO of Mangal Group of companies spoke with him and told him that they would like Labo Group, his company, to work with them, she wanted to choke on her throat. She wanted to scream her lungs out and tell them all to get the hell out of her sight because if care wasn't taken, the next thing that would wrap around her wrists wouldn't be her favorite bracelets, it would be a handcuff.

"Thank you, Mr Lateef." She heard as he busily thanked the people around the humungous table with that smirk on his face. Why was it that he was hell-bent on making her a criminal, for Allah's sake?

She knew all eyes were on her, waiting to see if she would congratulate him. Almost everyone knew about their hatred for each other. Almost all the companies they had worked with, knew and sometimes, enjoyed the little glares they shot at each other. Because to them, it was a win-win. That would certainly force them to bring out their best for they knew of their competitor which they hated.

"Congratulations, Mr Hammad." She said through gritted teeth, forcing a smile out of he lips and she watched the way he relaxed on his chair. As though to show her that he was indeed the boss here and it was high time she upgraded this version of herself. A quick correction, this version of her brain.

"Thank you, Miss..." he stopped mid-way, to show her that he had forgotten her name and wanted her to help him on it. The look that flashed on her face was enough to burn down the entire building and she had already cupped the water bottle beside her and was aiming to throw it at him when one woman on the table decided to be an angel and she saved Hammad from her wrath.

How dare he acted as if he had forgotten her name? The hell! She knew he didn't and this was his own way of making sure he had belittle her and she would be damned if by the next business proposal she wouldn't have to throw him back to where he belonged, on the ground, that is.

"I want to ask a very personal question," the woman began, watching as the other people on the table have already started to pack their things. She was staring at Hammad, and that gave her the chance to begin clearing her things before she added 'unprofessional' attached to her unending list of names.

"Is she by chance your sister?" She asked, her eyes slowly turning to her and she had made it mandatory upon herself to leave this conference room with her dignity intact, she would have resulted to violence in any given moment.

"Who?" Came his voice, coated with what she knew to be as anger whenever someone asked that question and annoyance. She hated this question and wanted to know in the whole world why would people's eyes have no one to see her resemblance with but him?

"Miss Yusrah, of course. I'm sure I'm not the only one that's curious about that. She looks so much like you..." When Yusrah threw her a glance, she chuckled. "You look so much like her..." And the next glance came from him, which made her burst out laughing. "You both look alike, that's all."

"She's not my sister, not my relative...I'll hate to be related to her, to be truthful. I don't know how y'all see our resemblance, is it because she's a woman that looks less than one and now she resembles a softer male version of myself?" He asked tauntingly. By this time, half the room was empty and the only people there were people from both their companies waiting for them to be done so they could leave, and they all had that look that screamed how used to all this they were.

"Can you come over again?" Yusrah asked, staying rooted to her spot for if she moved, she may have her hands wrapped around his neck and that mugshot would have to be taken today.

Hammad ignored her and turned to Mrs Sofiyat, "You have your answer, Mrs. And maybe if you could advice her to start wearing at least a colored lip balm, the feminine side of her may be prominent enough not to have our facial features mistakenly mixed, which is hurtful." He was out of the room even before she took her next breath and when Mrs Sofiyat turned to her fuming self, she had an apologetic look on her face.

"Miss..." she began, but Yusrah wasn't interested in whatever it was she had to say and quickly shook her head at her.

"Not the right time, Mrs Sofiyat. Thank you and have a nice day." Should she have said 'have the worse day ever in your life'? That way she may have let the sizzling anger in her out, but she would look awfully not professional and she didn't want to demean her name because of that jerk.

Her secretary, Hannah, stared at her with a known look before she sighed. "I'll tell the driver to take you home, Miss Bawa." She called her by her last name and even though Yusrah mostly hated it, it helped her in times like this to keep in track. To stay as professional as she could and not waver from the perfection she had set herself upon.

Hannah knew she would never work today and if she did, then certainly, a few of their employees would have to be fired and she knew what awaited her at home if she did that. She shot her a thankful glance and stormed out of the room. His words were running back to her brain as though they were teasing her nerves, making her angrier than she was. She sat silently in the car and watched as they drove through the busy streets of Lagos, with nothing but busy drivers trying so hard to reach their destinations at the esteemed time without being late, which mostly, they were. It was either that or they came out hours before the designated time.

As much as she loved to sleep, being in Lagos overpowered everything and she knew her precious morning sleep was something she would have to put in hold for the weekends. The view of her home came to her eyes and she sighed while the driver waited for a few seconds before the gate was opened and he drove directly inside. Her mother's chamber was located at the far end of the house, as if when the house was built, it was intended to have her separated from the main building.

She walked out of the car and told the driver that he can go about his business, she would call him if she needed something. She hardly ever go out unless it was for work or she had somewhere to take her mother to, which was hardly ever. She walked into the living room and the first thing she saw was her mother's face seated prettily in the living room as she listened to one of her favorite comedy shows.

Yusrah didn't know when she heaved a sigh out of relief and she walked over to her and hugged her warmly to her chest, "Abla," she called out, resting her head warmly against her chest and her mother's smile immediately lit up.

"Oh, my baby is back. Hannah called me to drop a hint, what's his name again?" She asked when Yusrah broke their hug and she didn't know when she chuckled a bit. It felt so nice to listen to someone that didn't give a damn about whoever he was. He was used to having all the attention in his life and how furious would he be to know that there was a certain woman who almost everyday listened to rants about him but had still not known his name by heart? How unimportant he was to her.

"His name is Hammad Labo, Abla. Do you know what he said to me today?" She began to rant like the baby she was. Sometimes she felt that she may tire her mother while nagging about Hammad whenever their paths crossed, but her mother always listened to her with keen ears that while remembering things, Yusrah felt her eyes always got filled with tears. The only person that had never gotten tired of her was seated next to her as she listened to her blab unendingly about a guy they both hated and wished they could hurt a bit.

"How dare him say that? Didn't he know that you're the most beautiful girl he could ever meet in his life? Bebeğim, don't let his words into your heart, okay?" Her mother found her face in her hands and she began to move her hands slowly around her face with so much love and care that broke Yusrah's heart a thousand times, but she knew not to cry. "I may not be able to see how beautiful you turned out, but you're certainly the most beautiful woman he will ever see in his life. Does he think it's easy to have such a face? What a fool he is!"

She was seriously angry and this made Yusrah chuckled despite how she wanted to cry at the words of her blind mother. She hugged her again and rested her head on her shoulder, "Abla, he doesn't deserve to invoke such feelings in you, okay? I know he's nothing but a fool that fails to see the gem that's right in front of his eyes. And do you know what added to all this? His company got chosen and now they'd work with Mangal Group. I'll have to wait until the next project proposal comes and teach him a lesson, I'll even wear some makeup..." She was silent, "Or should I not? That way if I do I'd even show him that he was right, right?"

Her mother, Nazli, smiled while she nodded her head. "The only thing you have to try harder for is for your brain to outsmart his, which I know you will. And for your beauty? It's unmatched, Yusrah, don't even take his words into your heart, okay, Bebeğim?"

She was a grownup woman now, but her mother would never stop calling her baby. She loved it but was always embarrassed whenever she called her that in the presence of someone. Not that everyone understood Turkish, but the Bebe it began with always gave way to the meaning of her endearment. "Thank you, Ablağim."

•

It was such a tiring day for him. His father, again, didn't come to the company and he wondered today the kind of excuse he would give him. Whatever he had to say, Hammad knew that for the last time, he would take Idi Labo to the hospital himself and he wasn't hearing a word about it. He parked his car and sat down there for a while, he hated being at home. And if not because of his father, he would have long moved out of this goddamn building they all referred to as home, but clearly knew in their hearts that it wasn't.

He gulped down a lump in his throat and palmed his face, mentally preparing himself for what was about to happen when he entered, it always did. And if he could, he would have taken his bathe first before going into the main building, but he had this feeling gnawing at him and he couldn't wait any longer before going to see his Dad. He hissed softly as he cursed the woman his father called wife a thousand times while he walked out of the car, striding with so much grace towards the main building.

The living room was empty if not for the humming of the air conditioner and the tv that was left to entertain itself. He walked directly to his father's chamber, a door leading to his main living room. He had his door leading to his chamber from the outside but his wife, as Hammad exclusively called her, because he was never going to attached the word 'mom' to her name even though a 'step' would have to come first, had made it mandatory that the family would have to go to his chamber through the door linking from hers to his. And he knew it was just so she could monitor how often they met with his father, nothing else.

He was glad to have found the door open today, because somedays it was locked and the main one was too and if he wanted to meet him, he would either have to call or wait until they met at the company, which happened rarely these days. He walked into his living room and there was no sign of life and he walked directly to his bed chamber, where he heard the tv there was on too and when he walked inside, he found the most dreadful sight of his life. Okay, the second most dreadful sight of his life.

He knew, that at least, his father was still alive from the rumbling of his stomach. But he was no longer conscious. Hammad was certain he needed his calm at this moment and immediately, he called his driver and together, they helped his father out of the house and into the car. They were about to drive out of the house when her came drove in and she stopped the driver with just a wave.

She walked down and snarled at him, "How dare you drive him? I told you that you're Alhaji's driver only, didn't I?"

Hammad hissed loudly to have her turn his attention to him, "Look, Fatima..." He had always called her with her name and she was even tired of complaining that she had gotten used to it. "It's either you move out of our way or wallah I'll ask him to drive on you! I'll see who he will listen to, incase you forgot who pays his salary and the worst you could do is? Have him fired by Abbi, right? I'll make sure to hire him in the company." She stared between Hammad and the driver that looked indecisive before he roared to both of them, "Now!" He didn't have her time for him to explain to her the matter at hand, she was such a damn fool for thinking she could control his father's life and his too.

It only took minutes before she started calling his number, and he realized that she had gotten the news of Abbi's sickness from one of the maids and now wanted to know where they were taking him too. He got tired of rejecting her calls and just turned off the phone. He was taken in immediately and after over an hour, his doctor came out and Hammad followed him to his office.

He sighed when he sat on the chair, he was exhausted. But his heart was pounding so hard at the look he saw on the doctor's face. "What's wrong with him, Dr?" He asked the older man and also Abbi's best friend.

"I'm sorry for telling you this late, Hammad, but your father is severely sick. He has been coming for checkups and over a year ago, we confirmed to him that he has prostate cancer. We diagnosed it since when it was in its early stages and since then, he had been getting his medication. But the problem is that, that medication is no longer working on him, Hammad, he needs to stay in the hospital to be taken care of."

Hammad felt as all life was exuded out of him and he didn't know what he was feeling. "What's the current stage of it now?" He palmed his face as he asked, feeling as helpless as he had never felt in his entire life. His Abbi was his life.

"Stage four and roughly, even though I'm certainly not sure, he has just a few months more to live, Hammad." The Doctor's voice broke while he said that and Hammad knew they both were heartbroken.

"I'll come back later." He said and exited the office. He walked down the corridors of the hospital and wished there was an invisible cream he could apply to himself. He just wanted to disappear. He walked to the car and sat down and that was when everything resonated in him. His Abbi had a few months to live. His Abbi had been living with so much pain and had never voiced it out. His Abbi would be dead in a few months and he would never get to see him again...he broke into tears, uncontrollable tears that surged from the deepest core of his heart. He was in pain. Immense pain.

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