THE BEAUTY THAT FADES

Prologue

Bismillah

AN AUTANMAMA BOOKS COLLECTION
A BOOK WRITTEN BY:Khadyjatt

BOOK TITTLE:THE BEAUTY THAT FADES
(And suddenly beauty doesn't matter)

PROLOGUE
January 15 2000

Listening to the young lady speaking the middle age woman kept her face composed,
a polite smile on her face, but she wasn't really
listening, her mind was somewhere else, matter of fact she has very little interest in what the lady is saying.

"Aunty Dije, let me be going now," the young lady said, Making Dije to offered a nod with a heavy breathe of relief and exhaustion.

"Okay. Where is Wardah?" Dije asked, standing up with a suddenness that suggested she'd been waiting for this moment.

"She's probably in there playing with Faridah."

"Hold on a minute," Dije said. She left the parlor, nearly colliding with a small girl who's dashing through the hallway. "Careful, dear," she murmured, as she headed into the bedroom.

Dije had grown up like many girls in average norther Nigerian households well sheltered, the second daughter in a family of five. She had watched her parents' marriage through the lens of their struggles, witnessing the way her mother's hands grew rough and her spirit grew tired from the constant friction of
"not having enough."

for someone who grow up watching her parents struggle she has big dreams of making it in life but also most importantly to be with a man that is financially stable so she won't have to struggle like her mother did with her father,
Ofcourse she loves her parents but we all will want to make a different decision as we learned from what and were we grew up.
she would not repeat her mother's life.
Dije had big dreams, which was tied to a specific requirement of a man who was financially stable. She do told herself a long time ago she isn't gonna marry for love, because the love her mother had for her father never saved them from the cruel hardship of survival, so she do promised herself that money first before love,She wanted stability, a home that never lacked and the world. She wanted to be pampered, not just provided for.

"Mummy, can Wardah stay for the weekend?" Her three-year-old daughter asked, bouncing a worn-out squeeze ball against the floor.

"No," Dije replied flatly, her fingers searching through the back of a dresser drawer.

She's a wife and a mother of 3 now the supposed pinnacle of a woman's journey. But Dije was learning the hard way that life rarely respects a well-laid plan. No matter how careful you are, the heart can be a poor negotiator.

Just as she pulled a small fold of naira notes from the drawer, the bedroom door screeched open.

"Daddy! Daddy!" the little girl squealed, her face lighting up as she lunged toward the man entering the room. He scooped her up with a tired smile.

"How are you, my princess?" He said and kissed her forehead before setting her back down.

"I'm good! Daddy, Wardah is here. Can she stay for the weekend?"the little girl ask and
Dije shot her daughter a sharp, annoyed glare, but Abdulhakeem who's oblivious just let out a heavy breath.