In the multimedia up there is a picture of a rolls Royce phantom for those who want to know what the interior looks like. It's my favorite car after Mercedes.

"Jumaah Mubarak, Alhaji." 

AbdulRahman greeted the older man just a few steps outside the Maitama central mosque where he had rushed to from his work during prayer time. 

"How are you AbdulRahman?" AbdulRahman took back his hand that had been shaken and focused on putting on his sandals before responding that everything was fine. 

"How are you coping?" AbdulRahman sighed and waited for more questions, looking for how to respond to them. He knew he was not all that fine and buried himself in his work to feel remotely better and if he were a smoker, he'd probably be emptying packets everyday. 

"I'm doing fine. Taking each day at a time." He replied to the older man instead.  He could not take off the way he liked because the older man was family, the father in-law of his younger sister Tauhida. He had to stand there and listen to all the advise shelled out to him, whether good or bad. And all he wanted was to be left alone. 

"I heard you went to England for over six months. You ran away? Men don't do that, men stay and fight their battles." AbdulRahman nearly rolled his eyes but stopped himself last minute,  answering that he didn't run away but rather went on a business trip. 

"It's good if you say it like that. You're a man, regardless of whatever happens, you accept Qadr and move on." He took his hula hat off and swiped through his slightly wet hair and feeling the wetness, he felt slightly better. The irritated feeling that had began bubbling up tamped down and stored away. He at last found a way to excuse himself from the fast down spiraling conversation and walked off to his car where his driver already waited. 

It had been the routine of older men, older female family members too, to give him unsolicited advice. Kick-starting his annoyance each time he met them, but it was either they refused to see the irritation on his face or plainly ploughed on talking on matters that they had no full idea of and he was very tired already. 

Life was hard enough to deal with, him waking up each morning, fresh and ready to start the day only to remember the pain that he had forgotten about in his few seconds of waking. Nothing prepared him for the way his chest hurt everytime he heard people pray for the souls of his late family, and even though he cupped his hands and prayed alongside them, it didn't take away the pain he had now learned to mask. 

The rolls Royce phantom hitting a pothole jerked him out of the reverie that he had been since he left the mosque, reminding him that he had paperwork to work on. So, he leaned forward, picked the briefcase his assistant had placed in the leg space of the seat for him. After taking out the work ipad and the white pencil that came with it, he set the case on the seat next to him and turned the device on. 

His assistant had arranged everything he needed to work on in a file that showed itself immediately the screen was lit and soon AbdulRahman was deep into PDFs that dealt with several issues at the milling plant. He resolved to go to work the next day, to see for himself if they'd really implemented the changes he talked about. 

Just as he signed off the last document on the plant, the name of his property solicitors came into his sight and he frowned. He didn't realize it until he opened the file that he had put the house he had lived in with his family up for sale while he was in the united kingdom. 

He put down the pencil and said to his driver absentmindedly, "Take me to the house on Bukar Close." He sat back and watched as everything went by. When the car got into the familiar part of where he had lived with his wife and children, his heart rate sped up. So much that he thought his heart would burst out of his chest. 

The car stopped and he alighted with much difficulty, taking time to look at the overgrown pink and yellow bougainvilleas outside the gate that his Nai'mah always had a tip or two for the Gardner for. He pushed the now rusty hinged gate and entered, feeling an overwhelming rush of pain. It looked like it would consume but he had to keep going on. 

It was at the door that he realized that the doors were no longer locked and probably left open so the real estate people could show people who wanted to but the house. He nearly stepped in but at the last minute refused to give in to the urge, turning around to go home. The place he now called home. 

*

*

"I don't get why Tauhida's father in law thinks he can comment on your affairs. Is that how he comments on my daughter's affairs?" AbdulRahman suddenly regretted telling his mother about the way his sister's father in law had lectured him. His mother, who was always cool, calm and collected had now lost her cool suddenly for the first time. 

"Have we lost our empathy as a people?Why does he think you're not allowed to grieve? Who does he think he is- Sarah!" AbdulRahman who had been reclining on the sofa beside his mother, suddenly got up and patted his mother's hand to calm her down. 

"Sarah? Get my phone for me! It's on my bedside table." Suddenly the situation was spiraling out of control, so when Sarah brought the phone, He snatched it from her and put it in his pocket, waving her away. 

"Dada am." He pulled his mother into his arms and the sound of her crying reached his ears. He quickly looked at her face and tears were streaming down her face so rapidly that he lost his breath for a moment. 

"Dada. Please. Calm down." He picked up tissues from the box on the table and wiped his mother's face. He could count on his hands the number of times his mother wasn't the strong, smart, elegant woman he had always known. 

She wiped her tears and calmed down, adjusting the baby pink Malian embroidered boubou she was wearing. "That's the way everyone asked me to shelve my pain after your father died, I had to suck it all up and raise you all, even though I did not have to do too much. I was still told to keep my pain aside as though it didn't matter and that meddling old man thinks he can do the same for my son? What audacity is that?!" 

AbdulRahman patted his mother's clasped hands and rose from where he had been slightly kneeling before her. He walked to the bin in the corner and dumped the tissues into them. 

"Dada?" His mother raised her head, watching as he returned to his seat. He adjusted the sodalite cufflinks that matched the light blue getzner made into a kaftan he had worn to jumaah prayers before speaking.

"I don't think it hurt so much, I- I lied. It hurts, to see people tell me to suck it up and be a man, to see people ask me to think of getting married as soon as possible, to think of letting go of my grief before I'm ready." He wiped his face with his hands before leaning back. He had said enough.

He and his mother sat there, their thoughts in different directions until the adhaan for Isha prayer sounded and resonated all over the house. 

*

*

"You may now go on to implementing the three percent salary increase for all floor level workers. No one from level seven should get an increase, they got bonuses after our last seventy percent sales increase." Everyone at the table nodded in understanding, AbdulRahman looked around and ended the meeting. Leaving the room with his assistant hot on his heels. 

At the elevator, just as they got in, AbdulRahman's personal phone rang and he felt around his pants pocket for the sleek fruit brand phone. When he fished it out, he frowned at the office number calling him but he still swiped right to answer. 

"AbdulRahman Barkindo speaking,"  The lift began to rise, taking them to the eight floor where AbdulRahman's office was located. 

His head hurt as soon as the caller introduced herself as someone from the air quality control board and they wanted to speak about the helicopter crash that happened to kill his wife and children, with some six other people on board. 

"Sir, we would like you to know that we've listened to the black box and we've determined the cause of the crash was bad weather. The weather between Lagos and Abuja suddenly went bad halfway and the pilot, hoping it would get better headed on, when he should have turned back. Then the crash happened when a thunderstorm hit them." AbdulRahman got out of the elevator and feeling quite weightless, held into the sidebar outside of his office. 

He had been told to accept Qadr and go on, but this report seemed to cement that fact. Nothing really could have been done to change their fate. He listened to the rest of the call tiredly and went into his wide office to seat himself. 

Just as he sat, he got up again and walked out, taking the elevator to the small interfaith part of his organization and performed ablution. As it was not prayer time, it was empty, he stepped in and after praying his missed Zuhr prayers, he performed a sujood. Asking Allah for forgiveness, he has quite questioned
Allah's will for him for months, he had questioned his own life, he had questioned everything. 

Now he no longer wanted to question anything, he just wanted to leave it all in Allah's hands. It was all out of his own mere mortal hands now, all in the best of planners hands. He, AbdulRahman, His servant, had no idea what to do. 

*****

This is me saying welcome to those new here. You're on a ride with me, I'm going to take you on a good one. I promise.

See y'all tomorrow or the day after(depends on the reception of this chapter)

God bless y'all 💞💞

TheOmoope 💙💙