Misfortunate (Completed)

Chapter Forty One: Him Again

You're not just a speck in the universe- Beyoncé

"In ten," We began counting down as the video we'd spent hours and hours editing began to upload to YouTube.

Seconds later, the whole video was up on the video viewing app and Huda and I cheered very hard. We hugged each other and turned off phones, we had uploaded pictures to Instagram too, laptops and television.

The plan was this, allow Rabiah upload the pictures on her Instagram, tag me and perceptive people would go check it out, put up a vlog of my rehabilitation journey on YouTube and say a greeting with a picture of mine on Twitter. With my name as TheLabeebahBakura. All that is bound to keep people talking till at least a week from today, that was the plan.

"So, sleep till Magrib?" I nodded at Huda and got up, walked to my room and as I opened the door, the door hit the wheel chair I'd sat in and wheeled around in for over five months.

I pulled the wheelchair into the closet and shut the door afterwards, dealing with how my chest hurt at the thought of ever going back into that assisted lifestyle I went through. It gave me an insight into what people with disability faced, on a platter I got full disclosure of how hard it is to leave my bed to move into the wheelchair and vice versa.

If I didn't have Iyamé or Huda to help, I'd have fallen many times. I might have even hurt my back even more. It has been hard, it was hard.

Coupled with the fact that I'd just been betrayed and turned into a vegetable by the only man I'd ever loved, it was heartbreaking. I wonder how many times I'd have died if I did not have help. But Alhamdulillah for everything because Allah S.W.T is the best of all planners. If kaka did not come on time, Abdul might have killed me, or done something even worse and walked scot free, and I think that would have killed me even faster.

Ma asked me the other day, if I could change something about my journey what would I change? I remember thinking for a whole while before I replied her on that rainy cold typical Lagos morning; I would change my earlier mentality that if Abdul couldn't have me, then I was doomed.

Before I married Abdul, many factors forced my hand. Society, society, society. Soceity was men and women who never learned to mind their own business and stuck their mouth in the affairs of others and turned molehills into high ice peaked mountains.

I worried about my reputation and what people would say about me, what they would do if another scandalous untrue news came out of me being salacious came out. It would ruin Ma and Kawu, so I took a decision and tried to find a husband.

I told everyone I knew what my specifications were and Yaana sent me my spec. Hard to believe but true. Hard to believe but truer than the fact that I'm a Bakura and I've never known nor noticed, truer than the fact that I'm not even a Sheriff.

So, when Ma asked me what I would change, I hastened to answer after thinking. I would never ever think again that I'm unworthy, or dirty or fitlthy. And I will never explain myself to the world again. I will live for me, for my Lord, for my own self and no one else. I will love for me, love me, laugh at me, laugh for me. For no one else before myself. I will be selfish.

I'll be Labeebah Bakura.

***********

"Baayi, I'm sorry. I am truly sorry."

Bashir Bakura pinched the space between his brows, let go of the skin and then massaged it. He pulled his hands through his slightly curly hair and leaned back in his chair, enough to watch his second daughter and last child, Falmata, cry. He was trying to determine the authenticity of her tears.

"What are you sorry for?" He asked with a wave of his hand even though, somehow he knew. He knew the documents he had left in her mother's room for her to see had been seen and this was a reaction.

"I'm sorry for doubting you, for being so deep in myself that I didn't see all that has been happening. I'm sorry for insulting you. You give such freedom to be my own person and I took it for granted, I stomped your love for...me." she stopped speaking coherently and sunk to the floor. Bashir got up and pulled the box of tissues on his desk with him to the sofa set he received visitors with.

"There…there. Stop crying." She sniffled loudly and Bashir chuckled and like he had always done, he took two tissues and pressed it to Falmata's nose, urging her to blow with a gruff sound. She blew hard and they both laughed, diffusing the situation.

"It's fine. I'm not mad. I knew you didn't understand the situation." Falmata sighed. Things were far beyond her thoughts. It had gone beyond just her mom being jealous to her hiring someone to destroy another woman because of the blood that flowed through her veins.

"How's she? Does she hate us?" Bashir sighed and hook his head, scratching the sudden itch that alerted him from his nape.

"She is a strong amazing young woman. I just met her the other day. It's her birthday today." Falmata raised her head at her father and when she saw the answer in his eyes, that it was true, Labeebah Sheriff had become her sister. The years that had been held at Bay started with a huge vengeance.

"Will she ever want to talk to us, knowing what and who we are?" She asked the question that had plagued Bashir's mind for weeks now. He had no single idea. He could never force forgiveness on her, he just wanted his children to get along. Was it too much a request?

*****

"Turn off those lights."

Huda ordered and I turned around, clapped and when the lights turned off, I left the room for the living room where my new pink Amina Muaddi shoes waited. I sat on the sofa, buckled the heels before standing up to adjust the white formal kimono jacket I was wearing over a startling white crew neck top.

"You look like a Queen. Like one of those emirati sheikas." I chuckled and slowly walked to the floor length mirror in the inner foyer, a confident version of my reflection stared back at me and I sighed. This Labeebah that I am, nothing can change it.

A vehicle horned outside and Huda got up, picked up both our bags and walked out with me on her heels, she had long handed me my own bag.

"So, we'll take a heli-ride to Abuja, then a car is waiting to take us to your house." The house is a five bedroom bungalow my grandmother and uncles had pooled some money; more like thrown some money at and now I'm the proud owner of a large house in an affluent part of Abuja.

I've only seen pictures of it, since I've not left the house since my little birthday shindig at the beach, nor since the accident. I have not seen the house.

"What are you thinking about? We're at the helipad." I blinked and followed Huda, noticing another black car with it's plate number covered in black parking just by us and it's occupants alighting the car.

My heart stopped literally at the familiar fair face.

Him again.

Major Sa'ad Lamido.

******
Heyo guys, please comment. I beg you. I literally wrote this in like twenty minutes before my bed time so please make it worth it.

I'll update soon. I promise. I have my mojo back.

See y'all soon.

TheOmoope 💙💛