5 years later.
She walks, and the ground feels solid below her, the wind brushes her eye lashes and caresses her cheeks tenderly. The sun felt like a giant ball of hope, gleaming, chanting, it's all okay now.
Her view has turned darker by the shades she wore. She pushed the giant door, paused briefly and scanned the piece of paper in her hands.
List, was crawled in hasty handwriting at the top, followed by everything else below. Bread, chicken, eggs, butter, cabbage, cocoa powder, vanilla essence, persely, yoghurt, cheese, chocolate, sour cream, heavy cream, a large tub of chocolate ice cream, a small tub of vanilla ice cream, popsicles, pringles, dried grapes, baking soda and salad cream.
She walked between isles, scanning the products, mostly for the brand she was used to buying. Roughly five minutes of staying in the queue formed for those purchasing, she skipped out of the supermarket, nylon bags weighing her figure down and marched to her car. All bags tucked into the back seat, she ignited and followed the path back home.
Home. Home was now a nicely built, all black, modern duplex. It sat at the edge of their street, surrounded by the thick, green branches of trees and chirping of birds. It overlooked a beach, which Maryam loved watching though the glass of her neatly furnished living room. Most days, she watched the water swell, and rise high in the air, then rush towards her, as though it was going to swallow her whole into it's huge, wet tummy. But then, it'll retreat, and drop to the ground, hitting the shore with a sound swish.
She stopped by the mailbox, she hums, fisted all the letters she could find there. She skimmed thought them, bills, bills, bills, work, then Maryam. To Maryam, that's all was written on one of them. She separated it from the others.
Stepping in, Maryam discarded the letters on the console by the door, along with her keys, the nylon bags on the counter, in the kitchen. She changed into a patterned shirt and leggings.
In the kitchen, she whipped butter, added sugar, whipped with flour, eggs, milk and a big spoon of cocoa powder. She made salad, scrambled some eggs, baked some brownies, made rice with stew, then bathed, and sat down, waiting.
Then, she remebered the letters, sitting gingerly on the console, glaring at her inside fiery white envelope. She picked them and settled back on the couch, the sea sat still across the window, as thought it was curious to know what the letter entailed too. She observed the envelope again, looking for any detail she might have missed.
Carefully, she ripped it open. No one has ever sent her letters. So this was a first.
Her address, messily scribbled on the left corner, then, It has taken my last penny to write this to you. No 'Dear Maryam' or 'How are you doing'.
Maryam sunk further into the couch and with a deep breath, let her eyes travel between the lines of messy ink.
It has taken my last penny to write this to you. I am desperately in need of help. Everyone I had known has deserted me. Suleiman stole my money and went to kill himself with it, I'll never forgive that useless boy. Zainab ran away, I can't find her anywhere. Your father, he thinks it's my fault. But it isn't. It's not my fault. I was only trying to protect him, to protect our love, our house and our children. Everything I did, getting rid of your mother, of you, it was for his happiness. But no! He wouldn't understand!
I know you get what I mean, child. I know you'll understand me, because you're sweet, and understanding. I am sick, very very sick. My right leg is rotten, it needs to be caught off, but I don't have the money. I have no where to stay. I need your help.
We should forget whatever that has happened between us in the past. I heard you got married to a rich man, perhaps you can give me a room in that big house of yours. Let's start afresh, forget everything.
Maryam clenched her eyes. Forget everything. Even killing her mother? Forget her mother being poisoned? Killed? She couldn't read further, she can't take it. Somehow along the lines, she had expected a thousand of apologies and millions of vowed regrets, but there was none. Not a single one.
She gazed at the paper, now crumbled by her hard fists and she walked to the lit fireplace and fed it to it's fiery flame.
And she sat down, the anger blurring the view before her eyes, boiling at her stomach, squeezing at her heart, until, click. The door was opened, and in came her husband, coat in his left hand, a hand in his right, tie pulled down, tucking removed, buttons undone, looking drained and exhausted, but happy, and flashing her that bright smile. And she felt her stomach growing warm, her heartbeat steadying, her throat all clear and moist and she realized, she had already calmed down.
"Mommy!" Maryam ducked in time to catch the little girl. She brushed her hair with her lips and pulled her cheeks softly.
"How was work?" She slipped the sand coated socks off the girls feet before she ran off, her ponytail dangling in the air behind her.
"You look... unusual." Sufyan pointed out. He knew something was wrong when she had refused to meet his gaze all this while. Somehow, he felt like she thinks he was going to see everything once she looks at him. And strangely, he feels thesame way.
With her cheeks held between his hands, Maryam was left with no other choice but to gaze at his wary face. She sighed. "Saude sent a letter. She needs a place to stay, our house. And she needs money, lots of them."
"Oh!" He blinked. "And she didn't say anything about..." He trailed off, unsure on how to put it.
"No, she did not talk about how she had paid Malik's mother to make him divorce me. No explanation whatsoever, just that she needs my help."
"Where is the letter?" He asked.
"Burned, in the fireplace. Where it should be." She gritted.
"But, since she sent you a letter, she must have probably known our address. What if she comes?"
"Then we send her away." She mumbled. "We send her away."
*****
Meanwhile, three hundred and sixty-four miles away, there sat a huge building which dated back to nineteen ninety-five. It's walls rise up in the air, higher than most of buildings that surrounded it, which counts one to zero. The fences are highly secured and guarded, all day, all night.
Inside one of the dens which housed twelve women, sat Hajiya Bilki on one of the bunk beds. He face was solemn as she speculates about the situation she found herself in.
All her life, she only wanted one thing. Money. She just wants to be rich, to own multiple houses, travel across the world, and be recognized by everyone. It was a big dream, and a long way before she could reach it. And well, she decided to cut corners. She was only human, afterall.
Human trafficking, attempted murder, violence, assault, aid in various rape cases. Those were the crimes they were charged with. She, Alhaji Dawood, Madam and many others pertaining in the business were to serve life imprisonment. All their lives, the rest of it, in jail.
It was that stupid Zeenah's fault. Oh how she wished she could set her eyes on her, how she wished she could clasp her hands around her throat, and squeeze it till she feels the air going back into her lungs, till she hears the crack of her bones, till she could no longer struggle and closes her eyes for the last time.
And now she realized, her two only wishes, shamefully not granted.
"Dinner time! Get your butts up, move it, move it!" She heard the echoes of Chioma's voice, one of the prison's officials before she reached their den. They were led, in a timid line to the eating area where they were served bean porridge in metallic plates that ring with every scoop.
The food came in a watery, over-cooked and tasteless state each day. To Bilki, it was the biggest form of punishment aside of the farm works and mere sight of greasy toilets.
Dinner was almost a success, until a hard smack on her back reminded her of how miserable the life she's living is. The plate containing her meal was sent flying in the air, the cup of water emptied on the floor and the over-riped banana was smashed on her face.
"Hello, old friend." An unfriendly, very husky voice uttered.
"I'm not your friend." For a moment, Hajiya Bilki was furious, and she let the hunger she will most definitely feel later speak for her. Which was a grave mistake.
"Speak all you want, bacause you will not be able to do so soon." Sniper took a seat on the table where her meal once was.
"I said I'll pay you the money. I just need a little more time." Hajiya Bilki saw the narrowing of her eyes and heard the growl escaping her lips.
"You have two days." Sniper brought her mouth close to her ears. "Or I'll destroy you."
The last statement was accentuated by a fork digging into Hajiya Bilki's flesh.
*****
The following week, Maryam invited her family over for dinner. She made dumplings, cheese pasta, hot soup, steak salad, grilled fish, cheesecake and browines. As the first drop of the August rain hits the rooftop in soft patters, Maryam, Sufyan, Mallam Kabiru, Hajarah, Sudais, Yusrah and her grandparents settled on the dinning table. Chatters flew from every angle, their laughs echoed in different pitch and their smiles were coated with different kinds of joy.
"Pass the pepper, dear." Hajja said to Sufyan.
"This is fantastic." Hajarah pushed a generous bite of the cheesecake into her mouth.
"Yes!"
"Fabulous!"
"Amazing." Came the chorus of replies.
"Grandma, you haven't touched the greens." With a sweet smile intact, Maryam uttered.
"Oh dear! I cannot afford to see it with all these delicacies adorning the table."
Together, like a big happy family, they ate and bonded.
Maryam looked at the bright face of Hajarah, and she thought, what a strong woman! A woman who had lost her only sister, her confider, and her bestfriend. One day, she woke up, and she's gone. Never to return. Maryam looked at the wide smile on her face, it could fool anyone. But she knew there are times she locks herself in her room and cry at the lost of her sister. A strong woman, indeed.
And Sudais, she could give him all the thank yous' in the world and it wouldn't pay off for what he had done to her aunt. She was glad a man like him was a part of her family.
Her grandparents, those two are jewels. They have been nothing but angels in her life. The adoring way they look at each other was enough to make her day.
And there was Sufyan, her rock. He was everything she wanted and more. He was her guardian to a happy life, her joy and her happily ever after.
Five years ago, they had tied the knot and had their little princess the following year, Yusrah. She was an exact replica of Sufyan, with caramel skin, dark wavy hair, honey eyes and small cherry lips.
"Little one, will you get that?" Maryam walked to where he was and she engulfed him in a tight hug. Malam Kabiru patted her slowly on the back as a slow smile played on his lips.
"I love you Baba." She voiced. "I love you so much."
In the kitchen, Maryam pressed the phone to her ears.
"Hello?"
"If it isn't the best baker in town." That voice. That soft, gentle voice... It belonged to only one person.
She gasped. "Zeenah!"
"Surprise, surprise."
THE END.
I hope your mind is racing with different thoughts on how Zeenah escaped and exposed them 😂😂 please please please, drop them here, I want to know how wild your imaginations can run😃
Swipe to read the last part:)