SOLITUDE (on hold)

CHAPTER 3: THE ANGST

Omar Jr snarled at Alhaji Shuaibu as his gaze flitted over his entire body with disgust while his cheeks mottled with rage. He forced a painful lump down his throat and tumbled out some words.

"She's not for sale," he said flatly, "she is a human not an animal Fisabillahi. " Then he flitted back to Grandpa who stood with a straight face.

"Please Grandpa, I beg of you." His voice became brittle.

Grandpa wasn't moved. A deal was deal, but he also felt pity towards her. He knew their relationship would staggered after this incident but that was a chance he was willing to take.

"Kar kayi mata haka mana! " Omar Jr relapsed into Hausa, for emphasis. The whole room was moved by the frustration that showed all over his face.

Alessia brought Ahlam a glass of water, then she adjusted the cup close to her mouth which she gulped hurriedly, her throat parched from the stress.

Jumada who stood quietly, stared at her in admiration. He longed for this day–their engagement. Her pictures hid some of her beauty, seeing her live all elegant lit his heart. He was optimistic about the future, he would teach her ways of loving him—she would be his forever.

He had already imagined how his friends would be green with envy, girls who rejected him, the whole damn state. Everyone spoke about the beauty and brains of Ahlam Bako. Every tabloid tracked her movements no matter how much she stayed lowkey, and now she was his, to love and to cherish— if only she would give him the chance.

Grandpa face became cold, without a hint of sympathy. He spoke contemptuously. Then he crouched himself lower to Ahlam's level while he placed his hands on her shoulder. She immediately cringed at his touch and closed her eyes and drew herself away. He understood her body movements and took his hand away.

"Goshin arziki, I am sorry I lost." Grandpa lied.

His voice was low and faltering.

He began sentences only to abort them a few words later. The story was a spiral, as if circling round something awful, something better left unsaid. Something that made a mockery of the idle chat she imagined he was used to. Something that made her see through the façade.

Ahlam tilted her head as she wiped tears with the back of her hands, she wasn't in the mood to hear him out. He'd done that to her, not intentionally she thought, but it happened. But then, he always called her Goshin Arziki which meant face of wealth. Everyone thought of wealth in a relative term, not in it's truest form.

Alessia was in a panic mode as she ushered the guests out of the hall, her legs trembled she could barely stand, but she didn't want to appear weak in front of her only daughter. Only their own family members and Jumada's were left behind. To Jumada and his family: it was an engagement party. To Grandpa Omar Bako, it was a business deal. A stock in the Dankaka Investment was an excellent opportunity to float on more cash. To Ahlam—well it was her funeral.

Apparently Omar Jr had seen it coming.

Alhaji Shuaibu brought out a phone from his pocket, it was a flip phone that nobody used. He made several phone calls about items he needed like Kolanut, straw mats, chewing-gums and lots of sweet to finalise the arrangement. After which he averted his gaze to Omar Bako who was still crouching bedside Ahlam.

"Let me be generous, I would give her 3% in my company as her dowry," Alhaji Shuaibu said anxiously. Flashing his teeth as though he had done something honorable.

Grandpa's gaze descended on her face, then he placed one hand on her shoulder and gently kneaded it even though she cringed and turned her head away. You would think his voice was soft and remorseful if you just heard it for the first time.