Chaos 2

Aisha and her father walked into the mansion, she couldn't shake off the unease that lingered within her. Her father's unexpected arrival had thrown her off balance, and she couldn't help but wonder what had brought him here after all this time.

They entered the grand foyer, Aisha's eyes swept over the opulent surroundings, the familiar sights and sounds of the mansion offering little comfort in the face of her father's presence. She felt a knot form in her stomach, a mix of anticipation and dread churning within her.

Her father's footsteps echoed loudly against the marble floors as they made their way through, the silence between them heavy with unspoken tension. Aisha stole a glance at him, noting the determined set of his jaw and the furrowed lines of his brow.

"Dad," she began tentatively, breaking the silence that hung between them like a heavy veil. "Why are you here?"

Her father's gaze softened as he turned to face her, his expression unreadable. "I came back for you, Aisha," he replied, his voice tinged with emotion. "I couldn't stay away any longer."

Aisha's heart clenched at his words, longing and apprehension flooding her senses. She had spent so long trying to build a life for herself away from her father's influence, and now, she couldn't help but feel a sense of uncertainty about it.

They reached the heart of the mansion, Aisha's father paused, his gaze sweeping over the room with a sense of nostalgia. "This place hasn't changed a bit," he remarked, a hint of sadness coloring his words.

Aisha felt a pang of guilt at the sight of her father's wistful expression, knowing that her decision to distance herself from him had caused him pain. Despite their differences, she couldn't deny the bond that still existed between them, forged by years of shared memories and experiences.

"I'm sorry, Dad," she whispered, her voice barely above a whisper. "I didn't mean to push you away."

Her father's eyes softened as he reached out to grasp her hand, his touch warm and reassuring. "It's okay, Aisha," he said gently. "We all make mistakes. What's important is that we learn from them and move forward together."

Aisha Mansur had never known the simplicity of childhood under one roof. Born into a divided world, her early years were spent in Maiduguri with her father, where discipline and seriousness ruled every corner. After completing primary school, she visit her mother in Abuja and decided to stay. Living with her mother offered a taste of freedom she had never experienced before. Here, she was allowed to stumble and make mistakes, each lesson learned a step towards her own understanding. Her father's home demanded adherence to strict assessments and rules, leaving little room for spontaneity or personal growth.

Shafi Mansur epitomized control—a man whose presence demanded attention and whose authority extended to every corner of his household. A self-described control freak, he thrived on maintaining order and oversight in all matters, big and small. His travel from Maiduguri to his other family was meant more than just a visit, it signified his need to assert dominance, not affection.

The relationship between Shafi and Aisha's mother Kudrath was complex and distant. Years had passed without Shafi visiting, making his sudden arrival seem surreal and unsettling. His rare appearances were not moments of familial warmth but rather reminders of his authoritarian presence, casting a shadow over their otherwise independent lives.

"MOM, WAKE UP!" Aisha burst into her mother's room and find her sprawled on the bed, wrapped in a duvet from head to toe.

"Please wake up, Dad is here!" Aisha's urgent plea reached her mother's ears under the duvet. With a start, her mother sat up, clutching the duvet tightly around her, hiding whatever had transpired the previous night with Adam—it was more than just drugs.

Aisha's mother was often described as modern and trendy to her face, but behind her back, she was labeled as promiscuous, an adulterer, and a drug addict. She embodied wildness and recklessness, traits that Aisha understood stemmed from the darkness Shafi had brought into her life.

In Aisha's eyes, Shafi was far from a good man, he was the worst kind. He had led a woman deeply in love with him and then callously pushed her away because his family disapproved of her. What was even more despicable was that he didn't let her go—he kept her tethered to him, suffocating her with his control.

Shafi's presence in their lives was a looming shadow that cast a pall over Aisha and her mother's existence. His sporadic visits were always disruptive, a reminder of his domineering nature and the tumultuous history he had created.

Aisha's mother hastily covered herself, Aisha couldn't help but feel a surge of protectiveness and resentment. Her mother, once vibrant and full of life, had been reduced to hiding her actions from a man who held her emotional strings tightly wound. It wasn't just about the drugs or the reckless behavior—it was about the suffocating grip Shafi had on her life, dictating every move she made.

"Dad's here," Aisha repeated, her tone tinged with apprehension. She knew all too well the kind of turmoil his presence stirred within their household.

Her mother nodded silently, her eyes betraying a blend of fear and defiance. "I know, Aisha," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper. "I'll handle it."

Aisha wanted to protest, to shield her mother from Shafi's control, but she knew that confronting him was futile. Shafi Mansur was a force to be reckoned with, his authority unquestioned within their family. Despite her mother's outward appearance of strength and independence, Aisha sensed the invisible chains that bound her to him, suffocating any semblance of freedom.

"Make him leave right now," Aisha demanded, her voice laced with disdain for the man who had caused her mother so much pain. Though she occasionally felt guilty for her hostility towards him, she couldn't overlook the way he treated her mother.

"This is his house, Aisha, and he is your father—my husband," her mother asserted, standing up and fumbling for her nightgown.

Aisha walked over to a drawer and retrieved a clean set of clothes, handing them to her mother. She turned away, allowing her mother to cover her nakedness.

"Was he not your husband last night when you had a man over?" Aisha spat angrily.

"Don't speak to your mother like that," her mother protested weakly.

"What's his name, Adam?" Aisha stood her ground, refusing to back down.

"You don't get to talk about things that don't concern you. Now shoo, go make me some breakfast," her mother said firmly, ending the conversation with finality.

Aisha stormed out of the room, her emotions swirling with anger. She knew she couldn't change her mother's choices or the nature of her father, but she couldn't help but resent the way Shafi controlled their lives.

Aisha angrily prepared breakfast in the kitchen, the sound of Shafi's voice echoed from the living room as he and her mother engaged in a heated discussion. She couldn't make out the words, but the tension in the air was palpable, a familiar presence whenever her father visited.

She slammed the cupboard shut harder than necessary, frustration bubbling within her. The resentment towards her father had been building for years, exacerbated by his controlling nature and the emotional turmoil he brought into their lives.

"Why does he have to be like this?" Aisha muttered to herself, her hands shaking slightly as she cracked eggs into a bowl. She knew her mother deserved better than the clandestine existence she was forced to lead, tiptoeing around Shafi's expectations and judgments.

The clatter of dishes interrupted her thoughts, and Aisha turned to see her mother entering the kitchen, her expression was too bright to tailored to the situation. She approached Aisha, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder.

"I'm sorry you have to witness this, Aisha," her mother said softly, her voice tinged with regret.

"Why do you put up with him, Mom?" Aisha blurted out, unable to contain her frustration any longer. "He treats you like you're his property, not his wife."

Her mother sighed, her eyes avoiding Aisha's gaze for a moment before meeting it with a steady resolve. "It's complicated, sweetheart," her mother muttered, She glanced towards the living room where Shafi's voice continued to resonate, filling the space with his dominating presence.

Aisha turned off the stove, momentarily ignoring the sizzling sound of oil. She faced her mother, her eyes filled with concern. "Mom, you deserve so much better. Why do you let him control you like this?"

Her mother sighed deeply, her shoulders slumping slightly under the weight of unspoken burdens. "It's not easy to explain," she began, choosing her words carefully. "Your father... he's not just controlling. He's... he has his reasons, even if they're hard for you to understand right now."

"But he's not fair to you and you are not faithful" Aisha interjected, her voice trembling with emotion. "Last night, I saw..."

"I know, Aisha," she admitted quietly. "Things between your father and me... they're complicated. Sometimes I feel like I have no choice but to... to go along with it."

Aisha clenched her fists, her frustration boiling over. "You always have a choice, Mom. You don't have to live like this."

"I know," her mother whispered, her voice barely audible above the sounds of the morning. "But it's not that simple."

Aisha wanted to argue further, to shake her mother out of the complacency that seemed to have settled over her. But she also saw the exhaustion in her mother's eyes, the weariness of years spent navigating the turbulent waters of her marriage to Shafi.

"I just want you to be happy, Mom," Aisha said softly, her anger dissipating into a deep sense of sadness. "I hate seeing you like this."

Her mother wrapped her arms around Aisha, holding her close in a gesture of comfort and solidarity. "I know, sweetheart," she murmured, her voice thick with unshed tears. "I'm trying my best, for both of us."

The distant sound of footsteps approached the kitchen, and both women tensed momentarily. Shafi appeared in the doorway.

"Are you two alright?" Shafi asked, his voice tinged with a hint of genuine worry.

"We're fine," Aisha's mother replied quickly, releasing Aisha from their embrace and turning back to the stove. "Breakfast will be ready soon."

Shafi nodded, his gaze lingering on Aisha for a moment longer before he turned and walked away, retreating back into the living room. Aisha watched him go, a surge of defiance rising within her.

"We'll find a way, Aisha," her mother vowed quietly, her resolve firm. "I promise."

Aisha smiled weakly, "I know you willn't, Mom," she whispered.

Aisha set the dining table meticulously, arranging the breakfast of fried eggs, bread, and milk with quiet determination. Despite the tension that lingered from their earlier conversation, she tried to maintain a semblance of normalcy for the sake of her mother.

They gathered around the table, the atmosphere remained strained. Shafi Mansur, her father, took his seat with a somewhat detached air, his eyes flickering over the simple spread before him.

"Eggs?" he remarked loudly as he picked up his fork, breaking the uneasy silence.

Aisha forced a smile, masking her inner turmoil. "You don't like eggs?" she asked, attempting to keep the conversation light.

"No, it's just been too long since I've had such a simple breakfast," he replied casually, a hint of nostalgia creeping into his voice.

"Shafi, please..." Aisha's mother interjected quickly, sensing the tension building and knowing Aisha's tendency to make biting remarks.

Aisha bit her lip, swallowing the retort that had been poised on her tongue. She glanced at her mother, silently grateful for the intervention. Despite her frustration with her father, she understood her mother's desire to avoid further conflict.

The meal proceeded in subdued silence, punctuated only by the clinking of utensils against plates. Aisha avoided meeting her father's eyes, her thoughts swirling all over the place. She couldn't shake the feeling that their family was caught in a perpetual cycle of dysfunction, held together by fragile threads of duty and obligation.

They finished their breakfast in no time and Aisha excused herself quietly from the table, her mind racing with unanswered questions and unresolved emotions. She retreated to her room.

Outside her door, she could hear the muffled voices of her parents, their conversation a distant murmur that underscored their unspoken truths. Aisha leaned against the door, closing her eyes briefly as she tried to block out the turmoil raging within her.

The murmur outside Aisha's room escalated into a fiery argument, a rare occurrence that sent chills down her spine. Her mother's voice, usually gentle and composed, now pierced through the air with raw emotion.

A loud crash startled Aisha, jolting her into action. Without a second thought, she burst out of her room and hurried towards her parents' bedroom. Pushing the door open, she was met with a scene that froze her in place. Her mother stood in the center of the room, her eyes ablaze with anger and hurt. At her feet lay her laptop, its screen cracked from where it had fallen to the floor.

"Mom, are you okay?" Aisha's concern spilled out in a rush of words as she rushed to her mother's side, scanning her for any signs of physical harm. Her mind raced with fear that her father might have become violent, a thought that had haunted her for years.

Her mother turned towards her. "I'm fine, Aisha," she said tersely, her voice trembling with suppressed emotion. "Just... just leave us, please."

Aisha hesitated, torn between wanting to protect her mother and fearing what might happen if she stayed. She glanced at her father, who remained seated on the bed with an unreadable expression. The tension in the room was palpable, thick with unspoken grievances and unaddressed wounds.

Aisha stood there, the pieces of her family's fractured dynamics began to fall into place. Her father's stoic indifference and her mother's pent-up frustration painted a picture of a marriage marred by secrets and resentments. The revelation that her mother had been unfaithful, coupled with her father's polygamous tendencies, added another layer of complexity to their already fragile relationship.

Men were often stereotyped as the ones who strayed in marriages, but in Aisha's family, it was her mother who had sought solace elsewhere. Aisha knew her father's temper and his strict adherence to his principles—all she could think about was the potential for a violent outburst if he were to discover the truth.

She took a step back, torn between the desire to intervene and the fear of exacerbating the situation. The sound of her mother's strained breathing echoed in the silence that hung heavily between them.

"No! No, she should hear it," her father's voice halted Aisha as she turned to leave.

"You can't be serious, Shafi. I could forgive you for anything, but not this," her mother interjected, pointing an accusing finger at Shafi's face.

"A man came to me asking for your hand in marriage" Ignoring his wife's protest, Shafi turned his attention to Aisha. Her heart skipped a beat. She felt a wave of suffocating darkness creeping into her vision, making it hard to breathe.

"123, 123, 123," she silently counted to herself, trying to regain control.

"A man has come to me, asking for your hand in marriage." He repeatd

Aisha's breath caught in her throat. The room seemed to spin around her and she struggled to comprehend her father's words. Marriage? It felt like a sudden plunge into icy waters, shocking and numbing at once.

Her mother's sharp intake of breath broke the heavy silence that followed. "You can't be serious, Shafi," she exclaimed, her voice trembling with a mixture of disbelief and outrage. "She's not ready for marriage. She's still—"

"She's old enough to make her own decisions," Shafi cut in firmly, his tone brooking no argument. "And this is an opportunity we shouldn't dismiss lightly."

Aisha blinked, trying to process the whirlwind of emotions sweeping through her. Fear, uncertainty, and a deep-seated unease knotted in her stomach. Marriage meant a future she hadn't yet contemplated, a life irrevocably altered by someone else's choice.

"Who... who is this man?" Aisha managed to ask, her voice betraying her inner turmoil.

"He's from a respectable family," Shafi replied vaguely, his expression unreadable. "And he has expressed genuine interest in you."

Her mind raced, grappling with the sudden turn of events. She felt trapped, caught between her father's expectations and her own desires. The room felt suffocatingly small, closing in on her like walls of uncertainty.

"I... I need time," Aisha finally murmured, her voice barely audible. She felt her mother's comforting hand on her shoulder, a silent gesture of solidarity amidst the chaos.

Shafi nodded, though his eyes held a hint of impatience. "Take your time, but don't take too long," he said tersely, before turning away and leaving the room.

Aisha sank into a chair, her head spinning with unanswered questions. Marriage? It felt like an inevitable path closing in on her, one she wasn't sure she was ready to tread. Beside her, her mother sighed heavily, her own distress palpable in the air.

"What are we going to do, Mom?" Aisha finally whispered, turning to her mother for guidance in the face of uncertainty.

Her mother squeezed her hand gently, her eyes filled with a mixture of sadness and resolve. "We'll figure it out, Aisha," she replied softly. "Together, we'll find a way."

But as Aisha stared into her mother's eyes, she couldn't shake the lingering fear that their choices were slipping away, carried downstream by the currents of expectation and tradition.

A few minutes later, Shafi approached Aisha with an unexpected proposal, an outing for ice cream. Aisha hesitated, unsure of what to make of her father's sudden attempt at bonding. Despite her reservations, she agreed, hoping it might provide some clarity amidst the turmoil swirling in her mind.

They drove in silence to a quaint ice cream parlor on the outskirts of town. The air was crisp with anticipation as they ordered their treats and found a quiet corner to sit. Aisha watched her father cautiously, wondering what he had in store.

After a few spoonfuls, Shafi cleared his throat, breaking the uneasy quiet between them. "Aisha," he began, his tone softer than usual, "I know this marriage proposal has come as a surprise to you."

Aisha nodded, unable to find her voice amidst the mix of emotions churning inside her. She stared down at her ice cream, the sweetness melting away as she contemplated her father's expectations.

"I want you to understand," Shafi continued, his gaze fixed on her, "that I only want what's best for you and for our family."

Aisha swallowed hard, her throat tight with unspoken words. "But what about Mom?" she finally managed to ask, her voice tinged with both fear and defiance.

Shafi sighed, his expression clouded with regret. "Your mother and I... we've had our share of challenges," he admitted, his tone tinged with sorrow. "But if you agree to this marriage, I promise to do everything in my power to make things right."

Aisha's heart skipped a beat. The promise hung heavy in the air, laden with unspoken implications. Could her father truly change? Could marriage be the catalyst for healing their fractured family?

"I don't want you to feel pressured," Shafi added hastily, sensing her hesitation. "Take all the time you need to decide. But know that I'm willing to make sacrifices for your happiness."

Aisha's mind raced, torn between duty and her own desires. She wanted to believe in her father's sincerity, yet the scars of past disappointments lingered like shadows in her thoughts.

"I just... I need more time," Aisha murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. "I need to think about what's best for me."

Shafi nodded understandingly, though a flicker of disappointment passed over his features. "Of course, take all the time you need," he reassured her, though his words carried a subtle urgency.

They finished their ice cream in subdued silence, Aisha felt a sense of unease settle over her.

They drove home, the quiet tension between them was palpable. Aisha stared out the window, watching the world blur by, lost in thoughts of what lay ahead. Marriage seemed like an inevitability looming on the horizon, a choice that held the power to reshape her life in ways she couldn't yet fathom.

When they arrived home, Aisha retreated to her room, She decided to get out talked to her friends or something, she walked into the shower with a heavy heart.

Aisha stepped out of the shower, slipping into a pair of fitted jeans and a sleeveless top. She draped an abaya over her clothes, securing her scarf and grabbing her car keys.

"Hey, anyone home?" she texted her friends in a group chat.

"Me," Beni replied promptly.

"Where are you? I need some emotional support right now," Aisha replied, urgency evident in her message.

"At Rebecca's salon," came Beni's response.

Aisha drove through Garki, navigating the familiar streets for about 45 minutes until she reached a mall. Hurriedly, she made her way inside and headed straight for Rebecca's salon.

She walked blindly through the mall, lost in her thoughts, Aisha collided with a solid chest, stumbling backwards in surprise. Her purse flew from her shoulder, scattering its contents across the floor. Simultaneously, the man she had collided with lost his grip on several shopping bags, which tumbled to the ground in a clatter.

"Damn it," Aisha swore softly, her gaze rising to meet the eyes of the man in front of her. His eyes were a kaleidoscope of colors, framed by dark hair and a strong jawline. He stood before her like a sculpture, imposing and striking.

"Hashim," Aisha muttered, her eyes narrowing in recognition as everything started falling into place.

"Baby," Hashim smirked, the expression clear on his face as he spoke and Aisha could think of nothing else but how to wipe it off his face.