PORTLAND, OREGON, USA.

"C'mon, man, you really need to go home this time around." Malik insisted, swinging a bottle of grape wine down his throat directly from the decanter instead of the good etiquette of using a wine glass or any other sort of cup, just not the whole bottle.

Aman shifted in his sit and lie his head on the table in front of him. They just won another game and the whole team are celebrating in a well-known club meant for footballers. Whenever they win a game, they always go down there to have wine, liquor and drinks but he is not in the mood for anything after the phone call he had with his father just few minutes after their match. The man is trying to desperately get underneath his nose and he is succeeding quite well.

He snatched his phone from his locker and saw several missed calls from a few fans that have his personal number and two from his father which means he shouldn't delay and return that phone call immediately.

His father normally calls only once and Aman is always there to pick up the phone before it could ring more than thrice. But, seeing two missed calls means there is something he wants to discuss with him. So, he reluctantly made his way out of the locker room to a bathroom stall and called his father for privacy and quietness.

The man is quiet the convoluted eminent. Zubairu Ajuji picked the call after the third ring.

"Good evening, Sir."

Oh, it shouldn't sound weird to anyone because he grew up calling his father sir like a stranger. After all, he's rebelliously took off to go further his football skills in Germany and didn't bother returning home for more than six years. Because of that, his father was very disappointed that he didn't take over the family business or do anything more productive like becoming an engineer, a doctor or lawyer, like his other siblings.

What the old man refused to understand is that, football is his passion, he loves it from the marrow of his bones, nothing could've stopped him.

He didn't get that though. He wouldn't support him. So, he stole a few dollars and ran away and later on his father started sending him money when he reluctantly apologized and the vendetta softened a little bit.

Alhaji Zubairu Ajuji is the type of man that dictates the life of each and every person living beneath him ranging from his children, wife to employees. He wants everything about their lives to go according to his wishes but Aman rebelled for the first time and did what he's wanted since the age of seven. He tried his best to yank and demolish the love of football from his heart but it kept augmenting and proliferating, he had to do what he wanted or it'd corrosively eat him up.

His father's powerful cool voice brought him back to the matter at hand. "Congratulations."

Aman frowned then his eyes widened catatonically, startled at that compliment and tinge of pride coming from his father. The man had never encouraged his career before and Aman knew he never would. His father had watched him play and acknowledged his good work at winning the two goals. Even though the man had never harangued him, this is the most outstanding thing his father has ever said to him.

He cleared his throat, his emotions raging and stampeding. Having grown up without his parent's affection or acknowledgement, this is a massive leap for him, he doesn't know how to react.

Even when they struggled to get first positions along with his twin brother for their parents' attention, that had never happened to them. But their older sisters were there in every step of the way, appraising them and buying them gifts for their hard work. He smiled, he loves his sisters so much and misses them a lot.

"Thank you." His words were curt but he is struggling to get his voice box straight and not let his emotions take over.

"When are you coming back? It's been seven years. You know you are not alone anymore, your wife is here waiting for you." The first sentences may have sounded a bit soft but in Aman's ears, they were empty words his father had practiced to persuade him back to Nigeria mainly because of his wife.

That's a matter he's totally forgotten about, it slipped to the back of his mind where he doesn't shuffle over after throwing them inside. Wife. The lady his father forced him to marry, more like just told him he is married to because his older brother refused to marry her.

Aman had felt obliged to agree to his father and accept the marriage after running off like that to follow his dream and his brother stayed back to work for the family. He had accepted the marriage a year ago but told him he won't be back anytime soon.

Now is the time, his father won't listen to any excuse since he brought up the matter himself. He wouldn't tell him why he suddenly wanted one of his sons to marry the lady but he sounded so urgent then when he talked about it. Aman bemused about the matter, nothing's ever gotten underneath his father's nose that he cannot blow out but not that time, he was in a hurry to get it done.

Aman had warily thought, it has something to do with his political stuff and he wanted to say he is not going to take part in it but his lips were sealed.

Why his twin brother Asad didn't agree to the marriage is beyond Aman. He's always loved women and is more liked by them because of his easygoing personality, flirtatious ways and charms that could easily get them off their wits.

Amongst the duo, Asad is the philanderer, a connoisseur when it comes to women while Aman is the stoic austere one ready to strike at any moment. It's been like that right from primary school, extended to secondary school and the first three years of their college life before he decided to drop out and continue online in Germany while at the same time sharpening his football skills.

He thought Asad would've married few years ago since he won't face no challenges getting the woman he wants whether she lives around or beyond, he will have whomever he wants, whenever he desires but nothing, he is still a bachelor. Asad is a determined fellow, when he wants something, there is nothing on earth that could stop him no matter what. Aman is the heartless one and less determined, he losts interest in things so easily except football.

Humans, those creatures are never in his books and if not necessary, he won't be with any.

But the question that kept nagging his brain came forth; why didn't Asad agree to marry this woman. Maybe because the lady is ugly and he wants no part in it? Asad is known for his love for beautiful and pretty ladies all angelic and innocent so she might not have any of those qualities. He sighed inwardly.

Of course, he wouldn't agree to marry someone below his high standards which is why she was pushed into his home. God, he also has standards so high as pinnacle. Above and beyond all of Asad's minutiae and pettifog ones.

Not too into pulchritude but that doesn't mean he wants anyone less than his own standards. He is not to marry for love but for the sake of appearance so he can keep raging his fans. Maybe he may learn to love her after the marriage but he promised that love won't be the reason he gets married. He vowed to only marry someone that can help him keep up appearance, be able to entertain his guests and also have this cool facade in front of paparazzi and wherever it is needed. Just someone strong to stand by his side and exhibit a dazzling smile that could blind anyone, that was all he's hoped for.

But what if this woman his father got him married to is fragile and a damsel in distress? Those lazy girls that love being pampered, shy, meek and malleable? He cursed beneath his breath at the thought. Malleable? He'd throw her out the window in annoyance, he is damn sure of that. Or if she is childish and immature? Damnation, he's pictured himself slaughtering her with a razor.

Either way, they've ruined this lady's life whoever her parents were.

He blinked. His father is still on the line, he shouldn't be thinking about murdering his daughter-in-law. "I'm coming back soon."

But his father wasn't having it, Aman knew he won't anyway. It's been so long; he's been getting his way staying away from his family for whole seven years! Hell... it's really time to go back home and be surrounded by the coldness and chills in the old manor.

"I want you to catch the next flight to Nigeria, Aman. I don't want no excuses this time around. Understand?" He's known his father long enough to know he is not pompous but powerful, he still sounds pontificate when he talks though. Some things just never change.

He pinched the space between his brows and frowned. Is he ready to go back to Nigeria and face all those horrendous memories of his father grooming them up with utter bestiality? There is no turning back now, he is done running away from the life he's lived with for two decades.

"That should be within the week." He suspired, hoping it would change his father's mind about that 'earliest flight' thing. How wrong he was. He should've known better.

"Good. We will be expecting you." Zubairu Ajuji hung up his phone.

Aman regarded his group of friends —not the whole team but the ones he genuinely cares about— with a slight smile. Each and every single one of them have their own story and none of them had it good which is the reason why he is standing on his feet today. After listening to all their stories, he reminded himself that everyone is facing one struggle or the other and he is not the only one Allah is testing with trials. All he should do is have faith that it was for the best. He got molded along the way.

"I don't want to go back just yet." He answered Malik, his head still lying supine on the smooth wood of the table. A terrible migraine is building up slowly in his skull.

Na'im frowned at his upturned face. "We are leaving together tomorrow whether you like it or not. We all use our free weeks wisely by visiting our families but you are always here wasting yourself. There is no excuse for you, A-man."

Na'im Mukhtar came from real penury where shillings were extremely important when found on the ground. His love for football and the way he plays it got him where he was today with the help of a good coach from Nigeria that followed through so many brutal connections to get Na'im to where he is and now look, he is living a lavish life albeit still economizing. He knows what living in poverty is like and no matter how much he has dancing and waltzing in his bank, he is never wasteful or prodigal.

His dark skin contrasted against his white eyes and teeth which makes him so admirable to fans. He is called the 'dark goat' great of all times, and he deserves it. Coincidentally, he lives few streets away from Aman's home, purchasing a new house for his family so they don't live in ghetto where plebeians are.

He is also getting married in a few months to the love of his life, a girl he's been in love with for ages. She's been with him right when he had nothing, not even good football shoes. She bought him his new first cleats with her allowance albeit not from a rich family herself but she did that for him during his birthday. She waited for him, loved him the way he was. They will be living in Portland together after the marriage.

Aman on the other hand is sure he cannot bring his own wife to stay with him, he doesn't want to, anyway. He's told his friends about the sudden urgent marriage and they are eagerly waiting for feedback about her appearance. It is why they want him to go back home to get some news for them to feast on before the next season.

Aman huffed out a breath at the command from his friend. "You cannot force me. I'm only going back for a few days."

"Yeah, just go back for a day and come back, we won't mind as long as you get to see your new bride." Malik snickered when Aman shoot him a quelling glare worth burning an intruding fly.

"Why is he so bitter about a new wife? Dude, you can marry three more if you don't like that one so why moody? That's one of the perks of you being a Muslim. I can only marry one, if I divorce her, she will get half my assets and run away so I'm watching carefully." Chris Ross took a swig of his redundant liquor, shaking his head to clear off the haziness.

Chris Ross is a bad ass player both in the field and away from it. He's gotten his heart broken by a lady he wanted to play, bed and leave but he ended up heartbroken after falling in love with her for a just a week. They did sleep together but she vanished into thin air like he's just imagined her. He didn't know she's stolen his heart away from his chest and left with it, that was two years ago and he hasn't given up, he is still searching for her. And he shall continue to do so, she will pay for what she's done.

Sadiq scoffed at that statement Ross made but didn't utter a word, he's been heartbroken too by a wife.

Malik took over and remarked. "Aman wants no more than one wife because of unnecessary drama, you know he cannot handle it. So he either divorce this one and marry the one of his choice or just accept this one as she is. It's simple!"

"Simple? You are out of your wits." Chris spat, shaking his head at their complicated situation. They've forgotten about the marriage stuff until recently.

"I'll side with Chris in this. It is never simple." Sadiq murmured into his tumbler.

Aman silently agreed with them both but didn't say anything. He was thinking about how his encounter with his mother is going to be. What would her reaction be? Is she going to be emotional and hug him after not seeing him for seven whole years? Or detached as always, too busy helping her husband with his political ways to care that her son is back?

He won't put it past her to not even know he is back home and leave without her knowledge too, she is busier than his father sometimes.

"Flight attendants, prepare for landing please. Cabin crew, please take your seats for landing." Aman sat up, adjusting his face mask meant for disguise but he was still recognized by a few fans. He had to go through torturous selfies on the way.

The last announcement was made when the plane landed. "Ladies and gentlemen, Emirate Airways welcomes you to Nigeria. The local time is 11:51AM. For your safety and the safety of those around you, please remain seated with your seat belt fastened and keep the aisles clear until we are parked at the gate."

Aman didn't feel no nostalgia at the sight of Sir Abubakar Tafawa Balewa International Airport, no rush of attachment. He walked out and stood waiting for the driver his father said he was going to send. He only brought a few clothes in hand luggage, a huge sign he wasn't staying for long.

It was not hard pointing out his father's chauffeur, he's been working for the Ajujis for decades now so Aman smiled in recognition beneath the mask and sauntered to the silver 2021 Kia K5.

"Sir." The older man grinned, easily recognizing Aman even with the aid of mask shielding his face away from people. He's been with him for more days than his father so he could easily point him out anywhere.

"Good morning, Mallam Musa." He greeted then rushed to the passenger's side and settled down. A few girls behind him were contemplating whether it was Aman Zubairu Ajuji or not, quick action before they can let out an ear splitting outcry.

Mallam Musa immediately followed suit and started the car. "You are very popular now. I'm a huge fan." The geriatric commented, his voice ladened with myriad pride that gleamed Aman's heart. It hits differently coming from someone you've grown up with.

Yeah, his sisters do call to tell him he is doing a good job and his brother too once in a while. He's lost touch with his brother after he's left, they are not as close as they used to be. Aman knew so many things won't be as they were but he is ready to tackle everything like he's always done, alone. He can fight whatever it is that will be brought upon him.

"Thank you."

The rest of the drive was quiet except for the radio playing softly in the background. Instead of driving him to his own part of the manor, Mallam Musa drove him to main building that sent shivers down Aman's spine. There is just something about the manor that makes Aman nervous, even though he is not in his teens anymore and it's been long. Instead of ivory painting, the mansion is now stark white, more reasons to intimidate people.

He got down from the car and marched into the house without stopping to reminisce the memories of his brother and him playing around the fence, haunting for frogs around the water fountain, setting traps for birds and rats. They've been so mischievous those days and their father will always punish them whenever they ruin his property, that never cautioned them anyway.

Asad was the most mischievous one but Aman enjoyed each piece of the mischief. The one that never listens and coax his brother.

Entering the wooden home, he stared blankly at his whole family sitting in the living room, their eyes on him. He's missed them, that is not even a lie but seeing them all staring at him like he's an alien makes him want to turn back around and leave the country again. Yeah, call him a coward for always running away from peril but he is not as ready as he thought he was.

Their eyes were piercing, some of them soft and the others blank. They've all changed, matured in one way or the other. There are small babies too present there, he recognized most of them as his nieces and nephews. When talking to this sisters, they always call him FaceTime to show them to him and he was surprised when his four-year-old nephew shout out.

"Uncle!"

And so it all started, a whole new chapter none was prepared for.