BORDEAUX, FRANCE.

"Good afternoon, Mrs. Babagana." Florence, Zaitun's personal assistant greeted as she stood beside the elevator like she's always done. Dressed smartly in her knee length spice straight pencil skirt and sandstone button up shirt, blonde hair pinned up in professional high ponytail.

Zaitun's smiled, a genuine smile stretching her lips wide. She slept peacefully the night before and dreamt about her daughter. They spent half the night yesterday talking about her, thinking about what they can gift her and all sort of things. Musa is still planning how they should approach her and it keeps coming back to talking to her husband first. It's not about them asking permission to see their own daughter from her husband but he is the only one that can help them get Fatima to talk to them even once, if they are lucky she is one percent less stubborn.

Smiling widely at her personal assistant who knew the reason behind the smile and sent one right back. "Good morning, Flo. What a beautiful morning, huh? So bright and shiny." She commented while making her way to her office, her heels hitting the marbled floor.

"That's right. Which is why you need to round up your meetings immediately before your appointment with the therapist." Zaitun is already inside her office by the time Florence had finished that statement so she turned around to look at the woman she now regard as friend to see the disappointment in her eyes yet again.

Zaitun made a face, the therapist is really not keeping her mouth shut just because Florence is her friend doesn't mean she has the right to breach over their contract like that. She is not supposed to tell anyone about what's been going on during their sessions but she's done that twice already and Zaitun hates it. She is trying in her own slow pace, forcing her or doing anything out of ordinary won't help anyone. What is better than following through things with tentative steps. It's just the second week, they have three to four more sessions before they leave for Nigeria.

"I can see she's told you I didn't do anything productive yet again." Florence have a curt nod at her grumbled words, her face not giving anything away. "I'll have to talk to her about talking unnecessarily because she needs to know how to work professionally. Or I might just change her."

Florence frowned at her boss, her mouth turned downwards that makes her look many years older than she is. Florence Hunt is a woman in her forties, just reached forty few weeks ago actually but she looks older than Zaitun. With her crooked flared nose, down turned thin lips, long face, straight blonde brows lighter than her hair and droopy hooded eyes that's seen better days. She was a lot finer during her younger days but after getting married to the love of her life, siring three children and his death, it took a toll on her.

Zaitun didn't hesitate to give her the job after she's seen her CV and the urgency in her eyes for the job and good pay. Three children is not a joke and her respect for single mothers compelled her to make sure Florence Hunt is taken care of in anyway possible. And now all they could do is thank God because things are going pretty well with her and a secret boyfriend she is not ready to tell her about. She's seen her secrets smiles on phone calls and anonymous car coming to pick her up from time to time, she never asked who is it and what's going on. She'll tell her when it's serious.

"She's doing the right thing by telling me. If you want to get over the things from your past, you need to work harder on it and not relax. Your own situation is messed up, and knowing you, you think you have more time ahead of you but you don't. The sooner you finish your sessions, the better it'll be for you all. Don't forget, this is not only about you. Your daughter is the main concern here then your mental health follows since it's all about her after all." She crossed her arms underneath her chest in a chiding manner. She really is a mother of three boys, Zaitun thought wryly.

She pivoted around and sat down on her chair, regarding her office with keen eyes. There are frames of animated models pasted on one of the walls ranging from the ones she's gotten as a gift and the ones she bought herself because they are worth it. Her large frost desk ladened with so many pencils, sketch pads, papers and polios. From her right, there is a rack filled with her recent designs same goes to her left but instead of a rack, three abstract porcelain mannequins exhibiting fine clothes. She makes all kinds of clothes except the ones that are not acceptable for a Muslim to wear, she takes notice since she is not even good at creating anything other than decent outfit.

Taking a pencil from her pen holder, she twisted it between her fingers like she always does when she's waiting for an idea to pop in her head. It works sometimes while other times she'll have to throw away the pencil and stand up to search for inspiration. "I know about that, Flo, you don't have to keep reminding me. I'm going to go work on it because I've promised myself to do something productive today."

A small smile made it's way to Florence's face, she's seen the determination in her eyes and knew there is nothing that will stop her boss now. She's seen that same determination when the company is not holding up. It almost crumbled to the grounds, she didn't tell her husband about it because this is what she wants and she will do it herself. And she did it. Investing with eyes closed, days of hard work and sleep deprived, she made it. She can proudly beat her chest now and say she did everything by herself, without her husband's help or her fathers.

A small smile snaked it's way to her lips too, remembering her father. The man was so emotional when he found out they could work things out again with her daughter and come back to Nigeria as a family. He didn't interfere with the life of his granddaughter knowing that will only bring her more pain, he was also intoxicated into not doing it anyway. Maimuna didn't left any stone unturned, she made sure every inch of their lives is cornered with misery and dilemma. It's all over now though, Zaitun only have one regret, that Maimuna is not alive right now.

Alhaji Muhammad Sani Shema, her father is also a renowned politician in Katsina state. He mainly agreed to the marriage with Musa Babagana because he saw that the man is going somewhere with his business and wanted them to work together. Zaitun never liked Musa at first, he was so annoying and controlling that the mere mention of his name filled her with dread. But during the time of their engagement, he managed to woo her in the most dazzling way possible. She was naive to all the things couples do being just eighteen then but she fell hopelessly for the ruthless businessman.

People were surprised. She was such and still is a docile person, never raise her voice or disrespected anyone -total opposite of her daughter she's heard- her whole life. Her main goal in life is to make her parents happy, be a great doctor one day but ended up becoming a fashion designer since that is where her passion lead her to. She was a great mother to her children, she knew that deep down things would've been too good for them without Maimuna's interference. Maybe that is why they were tested with the worst possible situation known to mankind-

Florence interrupted her train of thoughts. "It's time for your ten o'clock meeting with the new model. I hope she works great because I'm tired of talking about models and hiring nut-heads cause god knows I'm done." Florence complained, scrolling through her tablet.

Zaitun smiled and stood up. She has hope in this model of theirs, she will be the perfect person for this job without even seeing her. She just feels like she deserves great things to start coming her way now that she'll be reunited with her daughter. "I have hope in this one, I don't know why. Let's go see her."

"You've always had hope on them only for it to shatter into pieces." Florence grunted from behind her as they walk out of the office.

Zaitun stopped to stare at herself in the mirror by the door. Her raven leather pants isn't snug, comfortable and wide, her daisy long sleeve t-shirt a bit tight but the fur tan coat over it close the tighter part. Her matching daisy Gucci heels sat cozily on her feet and she smiled, ready to start the day again. "If she shatters this hope today, I'll give up on hiring any model for my company."

They made their way to the boardroom with plain colored walls decorated with pictures of the company's awards, plaques, logos and their recent group photo of the whole workers. There is a large media screen for presentation and virtual meetings, an inter come, teleconferencing phone, comfortable chairs around an oblong oak table that is ladened with pitchers of ice water, glasses, pens, notepads with the company's logo. The board members are already inside, support staff at the other end ready to contribute in them meeting.

Smells of colognes, perfumes, air freshener, cleaning supplies and coffee filled the room. The air conditioner is blazing so much chill that she ordered Florence to turn it off. "Good morning, ladies and gentlemen." Zaitun acknowledged as she stood in front of them at the head chair.

Bunch of replies echoed in the room before another round of noise started, she raise her hand to stop them. They are there for a meeting not gossip, they never learn since that is always how they start their meetings.

"We are here to criticize our new model, I hope you all will contribute and give an honest opinion. No nasty comments or anything of that sort. I don't want anyone losing their job because they cannot hold their rude compliments, thank you." She leaned back in a plush chair, a pen between her forefinger and thumb.

"Yes, ma'am." They chorused, sitting with straight spine to exhibit more professionalism than they really are. Always trying to impress her, it doesn't matter.

"Send her in or is she not here?" She asked with a raised brow since the lady is supposed to be inside waiting for them and not the other way around.

"She called that she is inside the building, she must've been lost somewhere." One of the department heads reported.

The door opened and in came the said model hurrying inside with the help of Zaitun's secretary. "She was lost, ma'am." Her secretary, Jamie announced before retreating back and leaving the girl standing there.

After thinking through, the girl seem to get her senses back because she decided to talk. "Hello! Good morning everyone." She is such a pleasant person, enthusiastic and boisterous.

Zaitun decided to criticize her from head to toe before any of them could talk. She is tall, almost five ft eight and that's good for a model, she's wearing a flat cherry bow sandals. Even in her outfit -a cherry maxi dress that stopped right before her toes featuring a Marie long sleeve, belt around the middle and scoop neckline- she could see that she's lean and sportive just like models should be. Her first positive trait is that she knows how to weave through fashion because not everyone knows how to match outfits. She's wearing all cherry but her head tie is blush red which is a very tricky way to sort through colors. That's one percent, outfit.

Further, she is fair in complexion, warm sand. Her eyebrows are high arched, eyes round, wide and innocent. Down to her aquiline nose, and uni-lip that's peakless, all that scooped in a heart shaped face. Zaitun smiled knowing she's gotten a model for her company whether the other board members approve of her or not. There is no way she is going to let this pretty girl go just like that, not happening.

"There is nothing to criticize, ma'am." The first board member threw the comment his eyes still fixated on the still girl by the door.

"She is the perfect person for the position."

"There is no looking further, she can do the work perfectly, ma'am."

"A bit cleaning and changing, all perfect."

Zaitun nodded at them all and ask them to keep quiet then gesture for the girl to come forward to where she is which she did hastily, not model like way. She stopped her midway. "Walk like you will on a runway, dear." And their breath hitched when she started walking with another gait and elegance altogether.

A whistle broke the bewitched atmosphere. "We have her!"

When she finally stood in front of Zaitun, she gave a wary glance at the older woman with such intimidating face. "What's your name, dear?" Zaitun questioned, her hand moving to her shoulder because there is something about this girl that she cannot place a hand on. What connection do they have? She certainly doesn't look familiar but something is there she just doesn't know yet.

"Nayla Fayyadh but I go by Mrs. Faiz now. I got married two days ago actually." She shyly ducked her head suddenly shy. God, she's never felt anything relatively close to this. She was never shy that she is married to the love of her life even though they are still struggling with all that's happened before they got married.

Zaitun's eyes widened a bit before her lips curved into a beautiful smile. Half the population of people in the room have never seen her smile so imagine their surprise at how the newcomer just earned a soft spot in their boss's heart at first sight. "Congratulations then. Are you ready to start working two days after marriage? We are going to keep you on your toes for the next two weeks before the runway."

Nayla beamed and raise her hand to salute only to return it back with an apologetic smile. "I'm more than ready. Sorry for that, I got married to a police officer."

"That's alright. Just get ready for serious lessons and trainings. There should be no distractions so your husband is not allowed here till we have everything ready to serve, hmm?"

Nayla pouted her pink lips. "He said he won't come anyway. You'll have my full cooperation, ma'am." And the deal was sealed.

"Are you ready?" Musa asked, holding her hand in his much larger and calloused one. They are standing right outside their therapist door ready to enter and shred out their secrets.

"More than ready." Determination crossed her face as she knocked on the door with her other hand. A loud rap only twice then a come in from the person inside, placing a face to the voice, she can see the buoyant face of their young therapist.

They entered inside the medium sized office. A window is facing the door, large desk where their therapist is hidden behind, many books and files scattered on her table with a shelf by the right filled with myriad of books. In front of the desk are two chairs then a little to the front a three seater waiting chair is positioned. The walls in the office have two different colors, pink and sky blue because in her words, people need the happiness merged in those two colors. It's too bright for Zaitun's liking, she'd rather her white office to this playroom.

Their mental health therapist, Madeleine Simon is a young woman in her early thirties with high energy all the time. Her dark tanned skin, brown eyes, long black hair pinned in French twist. Round face, small nose and Asian eyes concluded her whole look. She owns her own business instead of shelving herself in a hospital, detention facility or prison. She's gone through her many clinical hours need on-the-ground training before becoming a practicing therapist with license. She is empathetic, friendly, analytical, calm, kind, honest, tolerant, nurturing, curious and gentle. Almost all the traits needed and required.

She thinks out of the box, very good at peacekeeping, reading people, exceptional memory, clairvoyant and has already gained the trust of the two of them. She knows her ways through her job, weave through your life without seeming pushy or annoying but strategic.

"Ah, welcome. I've been waiting for you since forever. Have seats and start ranting." She gestured to the two chairs in front of her and they silently sat down watching her search through her drawers.

After she's settled down and stopped searching whatever it is she's looking for, she crossed her arms on her table and smiled at them. "I hope you are going to talk today, Zaitun. Musa is way better student than you are."

Zaitun glared at both Madeleine and Musa before she nodded her head. He is boasting in his head, she could see it.

"Well then, let's start with you today." Her swivel chair meandered to her side, abandoning Musa by her right. "Why do you wish to talk about today? From your past?"

Zaitun took a deep breath, muttered a silent supplication underneath her breath then spoke. "I want to talk about my children. The both of them." Madeleine nodded in encouragement. She is going to talk about her two children, the ones she cannot say anything about, Rashid and Fatima.