Hi guys, as you all must have noticed, I didn't reply comments in the previous chapter. I didn't have enough network (You all know how it is😫😩) I'll make an effort to reply as they come in this week.

So, please. COMMENT and VOTE. It would mean a lot to know what you think.

"I got fifty thousand from the sayen baki, I'll just add it to the hundred maama is giving me to buy stuff to resume school." I laugh at loud at the incredulity in Safiyya's voice. She says she's never had more than five thousand.

"What are the important things on the list?" She needs to buy new clothes and few other things that are compulsory.

"I need to buy a dummy for fashion class, you know those ones they use to display clothes in malls. I also need to buy one neater sewing machine. Its fifty five thousand." I sigh and add fifty five thousand to the amount I wanted to give her.

"I'm thankful for that money I received sef, its what is going to help me buy the machine. I was hoping to sell my butterfly machine to buy it. If I use it to sew clothes for you, Ya Affy, you won't know it isn't store bought."  I smile at her enthusiasm, I was right, fashion school would be good for her skills.

"So, what have you bought from the list? September isn't so far away anymore." Her mother has issued an order that I don't give her money to buy clothes.

"I bought different materials, I'll start sewing the clothes for my wardrobe on monday. I'm planning all the styles I want them in." I wish her the best and end the call. Safiyya is growing so quickly.

My phone rings again and I pick it with trepidation.

"It's still impending?"

I sigh loudly after asking my lawyer, he begins explaining how things could go if I don't move from this plaza soon.

" They can't be bribed or talked to. You just have to wait till investigation is over to get your business space back." I leaned back in my chair and screamed inwardly. I've been calling around, no bank wants to lend a makeup artist money, I have too much pride to ask my father or Adeel.

" Thank you Barrister Babasanya. I'm grateful." I end the terse call. It takes all of my will power for tears not to flow down my cheeks. Its Thursday morning and I've been calling around since Monday to find funds to help my savings.

My phone rings again and I dash to pick it up, its my accounting officer. "Chinenye, what was his reply?" She'd gone to talk to the branch manager about my loan to help my situation.

She sighs before speaking " Nabeela, he's being strong headed, he says Makeup artistry isn't something he can defend its loan."  A tear runs down my left cheek and I swipe it away furiously.

"Did you tell him that my turnover last year was fifteen million naira, that I have offers from five big makeup brands to market their makeup in northern Nigeria? Does he know?" I shout in anger, I'm one of the most successful makeup artists,  I have small  flagship stores in four different states. Why then won't they help my business grow?

"In my opinion, I think you should ask either your husband or father, seventy million isn't too much for them. Especially your husband who's opening an Islamic bank in Abuja early next year with Muadh Dikko." I hiss lightly and end the call. She doesn't understand, she has no idea how much pride I have in me. I built my business without the  help of my father, how can I ask a man who didn't believe in my dreams for money. Or the man I just married a few days ago, in what light would he see me?

Ya Allah. I need your help.

When I drive into the plaza thirty minutes later, I meet my neighbor in the underground car park. She's a fashion house owner, "House of Zahara". She swings towards me in a powder blue jumpsuit gown that accentuates her beautiful body.

" Hi Miss Abdullah." Her accent suggests American childhood. Her speech is fast and I guess that's why people like to patronise her, I don't see a clear difference in her so called designs.

"I hear you got married." I nod and she claps her hand gaily, shifting her black emoji bag to her left shoulder.

"Congratulations, I'm on my way to see my agent to get a new shop in Dan Karibe Plaza. You know its so hard to get one there. My agent has been speaking to them there so I can get the only open space there." She waves her hands around for emphasis and my heart surges in sadness. I can't even think of Dan  Karibe  plaza. Its too expensive for my budget.

"I hope you get it, In sha Allah." I say to her weakly i watch her walk away and one statement comes to mind 'She looks so put together'

I lock my car properly, My legs feel heavy as I walk to the elevator. Ya Allah, help me.

******

"Sadiyya, when next you want to apply highlighter, you don't need to dab the entire bottle on her face, thank God for makeup remover,  she'd have been shining for at least a week." Everyone here has been on my nerves one way or another all day. I'm tired, I'm emotionally drained from different rejections. My agent called earlier to say that the plaza off Panama close has been taken by someone else. The only one within my budget.

How will I run my school, how I run my studio, how will I get to pay Safiyya's fees. I'm so fed up wallah. Ya Allah, I don't want to beg for money. Help me, send help to me.

"Ma, you have a call on your personal phone." Rahma's loud voice gets me out of the deep reverie I'm in. Poor girl is afraid of me by now, I've shouted at her twice today.

"Hello, This is Nabeela Abdullah speaking, how may I help you." There's a sharp intake of breath then the call is hastily cut off. I hiss lightly

I walk to my office and begin preparing to pray Asr, as I scrub the inside of my palms with water from my tap, my mind goes back to Monday morning when Adeel and I sat to plan our meals. It was so different, so new.

"I like light food in the evenings, since we won't be home in the afternoons half the time, let's leave out lunch until weekends." And so we carefully planned our meals, it seemed so surreal, when he picked out Wednesdays and Sundays as his cooking days. I burst into tears when I got into my room. No one has ever considered cooking for me.

I got introduced to the inside house staff, both women. One in her early fifties and the other a widow in her early forties with five children. The outside staff were a husband and wife who looked so I love I couldn't stop daydreaming.

The Adhaan for Asr jerks me out of my reverie and I hasten to wash my feet. I've dawdled enough.

******

"Last month, at the store in Zaria, we had a turn over of about four million naira due to the fact that we now stock original and cheap makeup kits that any girl on a  little budget can use. However, we can make that better." Babatunde Owosanmi, The company in house financial analyst opens our monthly profit and performance meeting.

"Truly, we can do better. But I don't want to rush this, we need to take it slow and steady." I have a few tricks up my sleeve. I didn't graduate summa cum laude for nothing.

"I want to  issue the first batch order for the makeup that can be used by Muslim girls even though they need to pray. From our vendor in Dubai."  I start thinking about the pros and cons of introducing such to Nigeria.

"Hold on with it awhile, just until the feasibility report on it comes in."  I lift my head from the numbers in front of me to see Rahma waving enthusiastically. I wave her in and her shoes do a 'ko-ko-ko ' sound as she walks towards me.

" Ma'am, your husband is waiting in your office. I already told him you are in a meeting and he's promised to wait till you finish." I furrow my brows and my heart begins to beat like a running horse.

"Sorry guys, can we continue this meeting tomorrow afternoon by three after Jumaah service?" They nod and I pack up my sheaf of papers. My concentration has been cut short.

I walk to my office with rubbery legs. I peep into my office to see what's wrong. He's sitting in my chair with his phone in hand. He looks amiable enough.

"Asalam Alaykum" I called out the moment I opened the door. He raised his head and put his phone down. Then I noticed his suit draped over the visitors chair.

"Walaykum salam wabarakatul" He leans back and joins his fingers. I sat on the chair in front of him and stare at his motions, I've never seen him angered but this mood calks for concern. He has rolled up the sleeves of his white dress shirt making his fair skin stand out.

"Adeel, is everything alright?" He sits up and stares squarely at me. His black pupils a mirror of my face.

"Why do you hate me so?"  Huh ?Hate?

"Pardon?" My eyes go to a large white envelope sitting on the table. Divorce papers? What did I do?

"Why didn't you ask me for the money, hell you could have asked for it as a loan." My heartbeat slows down once I understand what he's talking about. The loan I've been calling around for.

"I'm sorry." I do my best imitation of a pouty sorry expression. I'm in no way sorry I tried to save my business. I would do it over and over again.

"Its fine" He waves his hands "Talk to your account officer to help you wire the money to your main account. I've sent some money to your bank for you." How much is some. Ya Allah. My phone chimes with an Email from my bank. I look at him incredulously, I look up from him to my phone and back again. Ya Allah. Oh My Allah.

The amount has my head spinning. I have only seen amount like this on television or during exam calculations. Ya Rahman.

"This is too much. I don't even need all these money." He waves his left hand like his mom does when she wants to make light of something. Ya Allah, your blessings are beyond any expectations.

He pushes the white envelope towards me and I tear open the sizable packet and the heading has me confused.

Dan Karibe plaza?

Saliu Baba Hassan?

Relationship?

Daughter?

Did Adeel's father buy me that space at Dan Karibe plaza. Ya Allah, if this is a dream don't wake me up. Don't.

*******

See y'all on Friday.

P.S: Its not too far.

                         TheOmoope.