Third update for the day, two more.....

Abuja, Nigeria

“Fahad,” Barr. Salima called knocking on his open bedroom door, Fahad looked up with two red eyes, his hand massaging his temples. She looked around the organized room in appreciation as she entered noting how everything was looked, he is the neatest amongst all his siblings, followed by Nabila, the rest only Allah can help them.

“Are you coming down with a fever?” she touched the back of her palm to his forehead, satisfied with the temperature, she moved and sat beside him, her hands running over his back soothingly.

He towered over her even seated but she didn't mind that, even though she is tall, he is very much taller but he still feels at peace in her presence, like a baby would feel in his mother's arms, he'd never outgrow that warmth he knows.

“Do you want to talk?” he didn't answer but made a sound in his throat, it meant no so she let it go,, for the time being.

Huda entered the room without knocking which earned her yet another glare from her mother, she'd thought their mother was in the kitchen but turns out she wasn't.

“I'll knock next time.” the words stumbled out of her mouth in a rush, she didn't want another scolding, she might've escaped not sleeping but she won't be lucky every time and the only person that might coerce her into letting her off the hook is Fahad who doesn’t look to be in that state of mind.

“Oya drop it and go.” Huda is the informant of the family, and she wanted more than anything to hear the conversation they were going to have, so she stood at the door as discreetly as she possibly can.

“When I get there Noorulhuda you'll not like what I'm going to do to you.” she'd mentally bargained what would hurt her fourteen year old self, not much but then her phone and TV accessibility came to the forefront of her mind,  her father might be a billionaire but what the missus says stands. With a resolved sigh, she walked off stomping all the way, very childishly on her part, but she was a child anyways, she consoled herself.

“Fahad, when are you going to move on and stop this endless cycle of suffering? Hmmm-” he turned his face clearly not wanting to have the conversation but she was resilient, as a mother she was tired of seeing her son in so much pain, the worst kind, the one he doesn't speak of and that hurt more than everything else.

“Don't you want me to have peace? I don't know what to do anymore, should I get on my knees and beg you to be fine,” her voice broke but he still didn't turn afraid of seeing the tears he knew would be there.

How can he explain it when he doesn't understand the problem himself? He has tried to move past it by came out empty, his coping mechanism was fixing other since he couldn't fix himself, but what can a broken person do? The broken can't help the broken. He wanted to be fine but he’d since come to the conclusion that he didn’t know how so he simply let it be.

“Please look at me,” he closed his eyes and shook his head, he could bear seeing anything in this world but tears in his mother's eyes is something he couldn't see, he could handle almost anything but that and knowing he is the cause of it made his heart bleed.

“Please….” he whispered in despondence. He remembered his advice to Jawad, maybe he needed to tell himself that too, but will he be able to cope with it? No, he wouldn't and he knew that.

“Is this what you want for yourself?” his mother asked after a moment of silence, when he didn't respond or make any move to show that he heard, she continued “You'll not get married, live this day every year in grief, torment? You don't want to get better? For yourself? Me? Your father?” as a lawyer, Barr. Salima knew how to get people to answer her, get the truth out of them, knew how to make them tell her exactly what she wants them to, but her son, her first son, he didn't crack under her scrutiny, there was simply nothing she could do to make him talk, sometimes he does give her credit and says just what she wants to hear but that was it.

Barr. Salima stretched her hands and held his firmly, his dark skin a contract to hers, they stayed quiet for a minute, she squeezed his hands assuringly then stood up to leave.

She was at the door when she heard his gruff voice, deeper from lack of use.

“I'll try.” he'd stated but his head was still down and eyes still closed, not what she expected but enough for lips to curve upward in a small smile. She closed the door behind and went to make her husband's breakfast, her heart much more lighter.

“Everything went well I presume.” Abubakar Barkindo stood in middle of the paved pathway, more than halfway from the kitchen but not really close to Fahad's apartment.

Even after thirty five years of marriage, she still wakes earlier to make him his morning tea that was why he wasn’t surprised when he’d woken up and found the room empty, it didn't take long to figure out where she was seeing Fahad hadn't slept home and he heard his car drive in after subh, it wasn't a new routine for him.

As a father, he'd been worried about his son disappearing at night and not sleeping at home, he trusts him to know what's good and what's bad for him, but then he'd been scared for him, depression wasn't a good thing.

“Define well,” he gave her his hands and she took it gratefully, like the million times he'd held her hands before, she felt the little zing, already used to it, but her racing heart, that would never change.

“He didn't shut you out but didn't agree either.” she glanced at him then turned almost immediately, her cheeks tingeing, she heard him chuckle, “Fulani lady.” he teased hugging her to him, like he expected she pushed him and hurried inside muttering something along the lines of shameless Fulani man, that made him start a full blown laughter. He followed her into the kitchen but she stood at least five feet away from him.

“Sweetheart, now I can't hold my wife in peace, ya Allah help me.” he looked skywards with his hands in the air as if actually praying, which to him he seriously was.

“You're too….” she hooked at a lost for words but managed to say after much thought, “Infuriating.” he started laughing again wanting to get on her nerves, but he'd successfully gotten on each and every nerve she had over the years, it wouldn't bother her.

In the courtroom, people feared her and you'd never catch her at a loss for words, but in her husband's presence, she turned to a blushing schoolgirl and he relished that.

“Ugh, I smell love in the air and it's making me sick.” Ja'afar walked into the kitchen eyes closed and moving his hands around as if to clear the air.

“All your children are dramatic.”

“Guess who they got it from.” she walked out with that leaving Ja'afar who was bent over in laughter.

“Burn, like burrrnnnnn.” he drawled in a sing song voice.

“Says the one who has been single for the past twenty two years.” he turned to his father, eyes wide.

“But I'm not even twenty one yet.”

“Exactly my point.” with that, he also left picking up the cup his wife left in her hurry.

“That's not fair.” Ja'afar called out but only got his father's laughter as response.

“We're a weird family.” Aneesah called to her elder brother who guiltily kept the milk bottle on the counter, he'd been drinking from it.

“We're Barkindos, it's what we do.” he took the bottle and walked out with a bounce on his step.

“Really weird.” she added to no one in particular.

**** **** ****

Junior jumped excitedly when Khadijah pulled up in the Aliero manors wide expanse of a lawn, as usual she parked where layla always did, it could be her own parking spot since she always parked there too.

“Why are you so excited?” she turned to her nephew who was helping, well trying to help with the things she was carrying, he gave up with a sigh, his hands on his waist.

“What is inside that basket?”

She chuckled then said food, she knew she had to make two trips to get them, with the cake in her hands she tried to use her legs to push the door closed when she heard a deep voice behind her.

“Let me help with that.” Shaheed reached out and effortlessly lifted the basket, she gave him an appreciative look to which he nodded, she held junior with her free hands but he slipped it out and ran ahead, you'd think he knows the house.

They walked in silence to the front door, junior helped open the door, they didn't make it to the living room when another voice interrupted.

“Good afternoon ma'am.” Deena smiled and took the cake from her, “She's in the upstairs living room.” she looked for junior but didn't find him, Shaheed too wasn't there, she walked up the stairs alone, the house was quiet but it's like that during the day so it wasn't a cause for alarm.

“Adda, you're cheating.” Abba's voice welcomed her when she made the turn to the direction of the living room, followed by Layla's evil cackle, she felt a sense of relief to hear her laughing.

“It's not fair, you cheated.” he threw the controller he was holding on the chair beside him.

“You just got schooled.” she ruffled his curled making his scowl deepen.

They were both seated on the carpet, legs crossed and facing the 76inch TV, Layla had once told her it was specifically for playing game because why should someone want to want movies there.

Abba turned when he saw a shadow at door, a smile instant overtook his features, very wide she feared his mouth would tear but he didn't seem to mind.

“You accepted my invitation, come in love, I'll go get our drinks.” he jumped up and sprinted out.

Layla groaned then turned to her friend and tapped the space beside her, before she could sit junior ran inside and jumped on Layla.

“Aunty Layla, I'm in your house.” he squealed like it wasn't obvious.

“Yes, champion, we'll have our rematch now and I'll win this time.” she fisted her hands and stretched it for a fist bump which he readily did then picked the controller and smirked.

“Ready to loose?” he asked.

“Oh, I'm not loosing.” they both turned their attention to the TV and counted to three before starting, Khadijah zoned out of their shouting mentally trying to remember what it was she wanted to do.

She picked her phone going through it absentmindedly, when she saw the message icon, she remembered what it was, she typed the message and sent before she decided not to.

Abba walked back in moments later with two glass cups in hand, he handed her one with a charming smile and a ‘milady’, he sat beside her with her a smug look on his face, she didn't know what for but didn't comment on it, they spent the better part of the day playing video games while Khadijah watched them, they didn’t stop only taking breaks to pray.

When the isha prayer was called, Layla stood and dusted her sweats, even though it didn’t have speck of dirt.

“I call it game, I won most.” she helped Khadijah up and they left they left the room, hearing junior and Abba shout their protests to that comment which she happily ignored.