Comment on every chapter o or we're done for the day😂🤌🏿 and ehen, I don't reply ba? I read them though and I'm not replying because I need to write and the minute I result to replying each one, I won't write again❤️ so till I'm done, have me like this. I love you guys though, a lot wlh❤️❤️❤️ another shock awaiting you... don't skip, yes you😂

BORDEAUX, FRANCE.

Faiz watched his wife hastily yanking down her new maxi dress before shaking his head to go help her or she rips it and then sit down and cry and then she will be late for her runway and then all hell will break loose. Adjusting the crimson maxi dress featuring a wedding band neckline, leg of mutton sleeves and sable leather belt tied in a bow at her midriff. His wife's love for red makes them look like people that recently joined cult, pun intended.

He smiled when she breathed a sigh of relieve at the sight of her arms sliding gently out of the hole at the end of the sleeve. She would've ripped it no doubt with such hurry and haste, she's always been like that. She gave him a quick kiss on his cheek then scrambled to her shoes lying on the floor due to lack of shoe rack and they are not that much. It makes him wonder how she is coping with such low key life filled with poverty and penury. He's never asked her about it since she is busy with upcoming launch for a renowned brand and she seem to be enjoying her work a lot as it promises a good pay.

They got married few days ago rebelling from her father's idea of her marrying her cousin who is working in a great company in Spain, he wants them rich and Faiz is nowhere near rich. He's grown up in an orphanage before earning a scholarship to police academy when he came of age and applied for it. It was tough since he was a nobody and have no money, penniless. He did go through it with the help of a few friends that went their separate ways as soon as they finished. He hasn't been in contact with any of them since he finished too and got a job.

It was not easy though. He's been climbing up to the position of assistant commissioner of police because of Nayla's father who wanted him to stop seeing his daughter and concentrate on his job but Faiz couldn't do that. He loves her so much, he cannot abandon her for a higher rank, he wants to work and earn that with Nayla beside him. And now that he's gotten married to her, her father made sure he was dismissed few days ago and he couldn't do anything about it. It will not work when such man with myriad connections is concerned.

They met during a concert, they were there to guard the celebrities when she spilled wine all over her outfit and he was asked to go see that she is cleaned in one of the bathroom stalls. Her father was about to scold her when he stepped forward with a professional curt nod and whisk her away by trudging her forward to start walking or get embarrassed in front of those rich folks by her father. She understood that and rushed out of the hall to go clean up.

"Thanks. I hate when he does that in front of people. In the confines of our home, I don't care since I got used to it but outside, it makes me want to strangle him. He likes showing his power over his family outside but that doesn't make him superior or anything. He is such a tyrant. My mom is one heck of a hero for staying with him for thirty or more years. Yuck, I hope to never marry someone like my father. Over my dead body. Oh Allah, this is my only wish for future." She rambled on and on as she made her way to the bathroom, her slippers noiseless on the red carpet.

Faiz listened soundless in stunned astonishment. He's never been in the presence of a lady who talks endlessly without stopping to see whether the person she's talking to is listening to her or not. She fascinated him. All of a sudden, he wants to whisk her away somewhere and just hold her in his arms not accompany her to the bathroom stall. Wishful thinking, he shook his head and continue to follow her down the hallway to the bright corridor filled with doors.

She yawed around before she could open the door to the female bathroom stall and eyed him from head to toe, eyes filled with appreciation after her thorough criticism. When her eyes finally settled on his face and realized that he's seen how she was looking at him, she gave a sheepish shrug that says 'that's just how I am' and he almost smiled but then maintained a stoic face which she frowned at, rushed into the bathroom to clean her floor length pleated rose gown that flows down her legs.

When she finally walked out of the bathroom ten minutes later, she beamed at him then asked. "Don't you talk? There are some officers that don't talk because they want to look professional while others don't want to sound stupid while the others just want to be intimidating. Which one are you? Or are you perhaps... deaf?" She grimaced when she said the last word as if coveting that shouldn't be true.

Faiz stood straighter, chest out and regarded her with speculative eyes. "I'm neither. I don't talk because my voice tend to make people jump on their feet. Lead the way, ma'am." He gestured to the way out of the corridor where they've came from but she stood rooted in one spot.

Her eyes were following him restlessly as if she cannot believe what she's just heard or what has just happened. He sighed wryly, this is what he was trying to avoid. Whenever he talks, people tend to run the opposite direction or just stare at him like he is an alien. Some say his voice is husky and tantalizing which of course he didn't agree to. His voice is deep, too deep for that matter and his words laced with such timbre unknown to most men. The baritone some people run away from, give excuse to not hear.

When she finally manage to get herself back in check, she gulped while he watched as her ivory throat worked. Her skin is so beautiful, fair and creamy. Suddenly he pictured himself licking every inch of her skin, he cursed underneath his breath and look away from her. His interest settled on the floor then he sighted her Mongolian toes painted with red henna and he cursed some more because of the pictures his mind displayed in front of him with those toes. He closed his eyes instead, this shouldn't happen!

He's never felt anything relatively close to this with any other woman. He just never had their time, too busy making his own life work to see what goes on with the other gender. But the minute he permitted himself to be smitten with one, unhealthy pictures filled his head with someone he should never think of being with. Nayla Fayyadh is not the type of woman he should think about going for, if not for the fear of her beauty and the type of men she is probably interested in -rich, opulent and handsome like herself- then for her father's wealth.

And he is not stupid to think this is the part where love triumph over the type of world they live in. Opulence stay within their circle and same goes to poverty and penury. Few years ago there was nothing for him to eat, the orphanage though nice, he was a burden to them throughout his stay. No one wants to take the dark skinned lad that came from nowhere. A lot of couple showed interest in him but the next minute they are insulting his race and color, it makes him sad and angry since he didn't create himself and doesn't know who the heck he was.

The orphanage named his Faiz when they found him. No one knows anything about him and with his skin, they didn't want to take any wild guess but took him in. He was loved by most of the workers there but that didn't go far to the couples visiting them. He was active as a kid but as he grew older and realize that the orphanage isn't a home and most kids don't stay there for long before the dematerialize, he became detached and distant and lonely. There was nothing to do, no friends to play because as soon as they were brought, they will be taken away but he remained there for how many years only Lord knows. He doesn't even know his age, it was just a guess the workers there took and it stayed. Even his name!

Yanked off his reverie, Nayla moved forward to look at him more closely. "Your voice is freaking amazing! Can you talk again?"

Faiz had stared at her like she's lost her mind before shaking his head in no earning a pout from her crimson colored lips, the distracted images flashed again in his head and he gritted his teeth. Why Nayla? What's so special about her when one of his colleagues -a pretty lovely transferred Italian policewoman with an accent to die for, pretty long brown hair and matching eyes filled with innocence- is hovering over him but nothing changed even with her countless attempts to get him interested. Nayla have nothing special or out of ordinary but her family's popular name in Bordeaux.

"That's sad because I felt your voice caressing me in a weird way before goosebumps rise from every part of my body. My hairs stood at end... I wanted to feel that again to see whether I imagined it or not. Can you please talk again?" Her eyes yawed to that of a lost hungry puppy followed by her whole face.

Faiz frowned, what is she talking about? What caress? Goosebumps appearing from where? It's not cold here. Knowing the only way to get someone like her to come with him so they can go back to the hall before their disappearance earn unbefitting rumors and suspicious, he forced his mouth to move. "Can you come with me now before someone is sent to see what is taking us long?"

Her expression became dreamy, her head tilted to the side followed by a dreamy sigh. "You are the prince I've been searching for. Deep voice that will lull me to sleep, dark shiny skin, austere personality and uniform man. And someone taller than me since I'm taller than most of them." The only thing stopping her from jumping is his astonished expression and confused eyes.

Most men she's met, she is either taller than them or they are standing the same height but Faiz is almost four to five inches taller than her which is saying a lot. But Faiz with his tall form, muscular body, almond brown eyes, straight Grecian nose, wide lips meant for sining, he is too perfect. She's always been infatuated with dark people because seeing the fair ones makes her head throb. What's better than a dark partner to level her ivory skin? A handsome one too at that just that her father won't approve of him, without even a thought.

He wants her to marry her cousin, someone is is seven inches taller than, just imagine them standing next to one another. That's a major turn off from her part. The guy respects nothing but food, he loves food and that is why he's turned the way he is, filled with needless flesh and fat. He is too fleshy and his chin worth stairs, not exaggerated at all and he is just twenty six. What will happen by the time is approaches thirty?

Staggered off his astonishment, he narrowed his eyes. "I don't want trouble, Miss, can we leave now."

With a pout, Nayla started walking then stopped causing him to backtrack fluidly to not bump into her. She turned around, tilting her head to look at him in process. Something passed through her eyes, her chin jutting fiercely. "I'm not done with you."

And that is how she haunted his life for the next few months until he agreed to date her for a few months and then they will break up but he fell in love in process and that was the best feeling in the entire world. He won't trade that for anything in the world. At first he didn't want to ruin her life -exposing her to poverty- that was why he kept delaying her idea of them getting married for years but then his feelings kept growing and he couldn't hold back any longer. Not when her father is ready to get her married to her cousin in a few months, he stepped in and she readily eloped with him.

Now here they are, married and living in a dinky apartment at the roughest part of Bordeaux. There's an alley right outside it, he's always afraid whenever she steps out of the house but he follows closely behind till she is safely tucked inside a cab before he made his way to the station at a walking distance of ten minutes but now that he's lost his job, he comes back home. The minute she is done with this launching, he is going to talk to her about how she feels with her family cutting her off leaving only her sister to bring a few things for her sneakily then her brother sending her money in little notes so their father won't notice. Her mother also brought food stuff for them few days ago.

Instead of sounds of birds in the morning outside her window, they now listen to wind scraping trash into the corners, dogs rooting through garbage during the night, cats meowing, music from the club right behind them, trash bin lid slamming early in the morning. Arguments constantly drifting through the open windows of residential buildings, swearing s bouncers throw someone out of the club. There is nothing as peace or tranquil in that part of Bordeaux but that is all they could afford.

One thing is for sure though, they are always lost whenever they are in each other's arms. Everything seize time exist except the world around them where the two of them alone exist. She's never complained about anything that's been going on in their lives which makes him want to do something great for her and decide that they are going to leave France and go sought better job somewhere for a better life. Her father won't ever allow him to get a great job as long as he is alive. Not in France or neighboring countries so they are going far.

"...just few minutes, ma'am." Nayla's voice talking into the phone they share drew him away from his reverie and he smiled when she turned around to twirl in front of him like she's always done. Her feet is now clasped in bow ruby sandals, she never wears heels in fear that her height will exceed necessary.

He went to where she is standing and bend down to adjust the strap of her sandals, the loops are hanging. Standing up, he met her adoring stare and smiled at her, pecked her lips to get her out of her daydream. Taking her soot hobo bag, snake his arm around her shoulder and trudge her out of the apartment to the alley. A few people are walking to and fro without turning to look at them, minding their business.

"I hope everything goes well today. I can't afford to turn Mrs. Zaitun down." She whispered to him, nervousness creeping into her bones and her face ashen with fear and anxiety.

He stopped her just as they reach the road. "Don't stress or sweat it, you're making a big change and I'm so proud of you. It might look tough but don't forget, you are stronger! You have worked incredibly hard for this and recall that, you are born to do this, rock those outfits... hmm?" His palms are placed firmly on her shoulders like he is reassuring a kid.

She let out a shaky smile, took a deep breath a nodded. "I'm born for this and I can do it. I love you." She looked left and right then pecked his lips briefly. A cab stopped in front of them and she hastily collected her bag from him and settled inside. "You are coming right? Mrs. Zaitun said you can come today."

He beamed and give her two thumbs up. "I'll be there rooting for you."

"Nothing will go wrong, calm down." Musa chuckled as he held Zaitun's hand while she watched as her models walk down the ramp with practiced expertise.

She gave thumbs up when she saw her team working hard to send them according to their weather. She took a deep breath, for all the years she's worked, she's never shown her face to the media or anyone. She works anonymously because too much attention will only make her falter, she is not ready for it but she wants to do something different today. Her life has been changing and so is her courage as confidence. She wants to stand in front of these people and proudly state that this brand and company is hers.

Nayla closed the show in black and white straight leather jeans, onyx body hug with turtle neck and duffel leather jacket. Zaitun nervously made her way down the ramp too, her hands a bit clammy but her face stoic and ready. When she reached the edge where Nayla stood, she took her hands and together they walked the few inches further and bowed gracefully -it took them three days to know how to do it. Everyone is clapping, cameras flashing and the media going wild with questions. There is no doubt this woman is the magic behind R&F clothing brand.

She is happy, energetic and excited, you can see it written all over her face. "Good evening and welcome to the R&F seasonal fashion show. I'm excited but equally nervous to introduce myself as the founder of R&F. Well, my name's Zaitun Muhammad Shema and I'm the magic behind R&F like the media refer me as..." she continued the introduction calmly like she's done that tons of times but this is her first time ever. The crowd went wild, roars and shouts blending together and not making sense.

"You were good out there, I'm proud of you." Musa Babagana gave his wife a side hug, kissed the side of her head.

Her smile broadened, she loves this man a lot. "Thank you." She strutted forward to appreciate her models because there are already countless of orders piled up in her email but Florence will sort them out since she is going to pack for Nigeria. Reaching the changing room, she met with a small circle of worried models hovering over something and she hurried to see what's going on. Nayla is lying there on the couch, unconscious.

Worried, she called out to Musa to call the ambulance. Why didn't any of the ladies do that in the first place? "Leave the room so we can give her air." She chased them all away and few seconds later, there was an impatient knock on the door before it got yanked open and Faiz walked in.

"Where is she?" His worried haggard eyes fell on his wife on the couch and he hurried to pick her up bridal style in his arms. "I'm going to take her to the hospital."

"Wait, the ambulance will be here any moment." Musa stopped him by placing a hand on his shoulder only to remove it as if he was burned after looking up at the man's face.

Musa's eyes fell on his wife who's rushed to stand beside him to stop his departure and wait for the ambulance. She halted too with her hand midway, her eyes widened same as Musa's. She suddenly held her head that began to throb violently, Musa was quick to keep her in place so she won't fall too. When the haziness and throb vanished leaving a dull ache behind her skull, she looked up again and surveyed the person in front of her thoroughly then turn to look at Musa with tears rushing down her face like a damn broken sluice. Their eyes clashed in understanding before she turned around to acknowledge the guy in front of them staring at her with fierce concern and confusion.

She brought a shaky hand to his face, wondering whether she is dreaming or not. He looks the same except that he's grown into a much more handsomer man that looks ridiculously like his younger sister. But how on earth is he still alive? What the hell is happening with their lives? It makes no sense.

"Rashid."