Lola went home. She sorted out her differences with everyone, dropped her pride and apologised for been so stupid and egotistical. Her mother had proven to be obstinate a bit as if her request for forgiveness meant nothing before hugging her, crying and apologising for beating her. Very dramatic. Lola rolled her eyes. Her grandfather had smiled with satisfaction and her father had hugged her but that grandmother of hers had snorted then started talking about marriage which had everyone shutting her up. Lola wondered how her grandfather copped with that woman for more than sixty years.

Lola could not be happier. Finally, a weight had been lifted off her chest and she won't be seeing Joshua's face or any of his wretched family members again. She registered to a tennis club on the Island. Tennis and basketball were her favourite sports. She plays them weekly, finding time in her tight schedule. Her work load had increased. She had a lot to see to at work. Sukanmi had taken care of the business well. Now that she's back, there were events to photograph and photo sessions to take. For the great job he had done, Sukanmi had been appointed to be her manager.

Lola's body was still wet from shower. She had tied up her braids into a bun at the top of her head. Humming, she pressed cream in her palm then looked up at her reflection in the mirror. Her eyes met familiar black eyes. He stood right behind her, his body against the wall, a smirk on his face and that evil glint in his eyes. Her eyes went wide as she sucked in air. She felt fright arise from its deep slumber and pump into action in her veins. She backed away from the vanity, spinning around to see nothing. Where he once stood was empty. There was no one there, no man looking at her and no man smirking at her. Breathing faster, fear clogging her throat, she fell back against the vanity, her heart sprinting, a hand coming over her hot and sweaty forehead.

She knew he was there. She saw him through the mirror. He was smirking at her. Lola rushed to her car. She was not hallucinating. He was right behind her. That man wants to drive her nuts. When she got home, she had rushed to her room without greeting anyone and locked the door. She was frantic in her room when she saw it on the bed. A large white box. Curiosity had her checking it out.

It was a black Versace dress, simple and elegant. He had given her for a friend's dinner party back in university. She remembered hugging him and squealing because she loved the dress. She remembered how he held her, kissing her cheek and she remembered that happy and relieved look in his eyes because she loved it. Lola balled her fist, snarls escaping her lips. With a loud cry, she ripped the dress and threw it away.

Who is playing games with her? Who keeps sending these sort of gift that were exactly what he had given her? Her chest rose and fell rapidly. He's still in prison. She knows that. He was sentenced to more than ten years imprisonment. Then why does she keep getting gifts from an anonymous person. The only one that had a letter were the Jimmy Choo heels. What's happening? What does this mean? Slowly, she sat on the bed, her thoughts went wild as she broke down.

-----

Jafar had not taken her to a restaurant. He had suggested they take a drive through Lagos Mainland. She had told him, the traffic will be heavy and driving though it would be tiring but he had insisted, telling her it would give him more opportunity to spend more time with her.

Truth be told, there had been traffic but they never minded because there was always something to talk about. He made sure there was never a moment of silence. Few minutes of silence and he starts another conversation. Osas loved it, sitting next to him while they were stuck in a traffic jam, his attention on her as he spoke. She saw the tenderness and adoration in his eyes, just for her. Something grew inside her. Contentment? Happiness? She can't really lay a finger on it. It grew into a living fervour.

When she complained of hunger, they stopped at a food joint by the road. Kerosene lamps lit the night, creating a yellow glow. Okada men zoomed by with their constant blare of horn. Osas complained about how impatient the okada men can be. She also said they are the cause of many motor accidents on road. Jafar found a place to park in the busy night, in front of a woman who sold akara (bean cake), fried sweet potatoes and yam.

"Oga, good evening" The woman replied turning akara in boiling hot oil.

"Evening, madam" Jafar replied, slipping a hand into his jean pocket.

"What do you want sir?" The woman got up, picking five pieces of akara with fork into newspaper, folded it and shoved it into black leather bag before handling it over to a boy they met there.

"How do you sell it?"

"Everything ten naira"

Jafar looked at Osas as if to tell her she should order. "Give us akara, potato and yam, hundred naira each" Osas said. The woman picked newspaper from the bench. She counted as fast as she could. She topped the yam and potato with a tablespoon of her pepper sauce.

Osas wrinkled her nose at the small quantity of stew. "Add more stew na" Osas said as the woman tied the leather bag she shoved the snack into.

"Ah madam. Pepper don cost"

"Me wey be your first time customer, you suppose do me good"

"Madam, this stew wey you see, na money o" Despite the protest, the woman opened the oily leather bag and added a tablespoon of stew.

"Thank you" Osas collected the greasy bag with a smile.

"She did not want to add sauce. You know?" Jafar said as they continued their journey.

"That's why I persuaded her" She shrugged, putting a piece of akara in her mouth.

"But she said pepper is cost"

Osas laughed. "It's just a line they all use. It's a lie. Pepper is not cost. Don't I go to the market? Take" She held a piece of yam to his mouth. He looked at her, then at the yam before lifting one bushy eyebrow. "Take" She held it closer to his mouth before he accepted it.

Osas fell asleep half way through the ride to her house. When Jafar called her name, she opened her eyes to see his face. Her eyes blinked twice, never leaving his face. It was the first time she saw him this close in years. His eyebrows were arched and eyes were slightly hooded. A nose she found perfect rested on top of full pink mouth. Extending from his chin, around his mouth to the side of his face were silky trimmed beards. An urge grew inside her. Osas had no idea where it had come from yet, she lifted her hand to his face, caressing his beard. A finger strayed over his cheekbone where she felt the tenderness of his fair skin. When she realised what she was doing, she pulled her hand away.

"It will be difficult for me to get up tomorrow" She sat up.

"I know. It's my fault but I enjoyed tonight. Thank you" The corners of his lips went up.

Osas felt the quick flip in her chest. She had never noticed or maybe she had never paid attention to his smile. His smile was beautiful. It revealed a good set of white teeth.

"There's no need to pick me up tomorrow. I sent my car home with one of the drivers at the warehouse" She reach for the door.

"Osas" He held her hand as the door opened. A familiar feeling zipped through her body. She felt the end of her stomach tightening and her skin suddenly becoming humid. She saw him lean in which took her breath away. When his lips skimmed over her cheek, leaving a tingling sensation on the spot, she could barely breathe and her heart had started a wild race. She felt how soft his palm was. It was the palm of a man who never did hard labour or household chores. She was sure he had never washed plate or cooked in his life. Ajebo. She thought with a gentle smile. Like she was not one. At least she does household chores when she has the time. "I will be expecting you on Saturday" His fingers skimmed down her cheek, the soft caress relaxing and waking goose bumps on her skin.

"I will be there" She smiled then got down.

She did went but late. Jafar had called her nonstop and she kept picking and apologising that her makeup artist was late.

"This one that your makeup artist is late. You must be fine" He said jokingly which they both laughed to.

And she was fine. Not just fine but gorgeous in a blush pink dress made from expensive lace and satin. She left her hair open, the black curls sweeping over her shoulder and framing her face. When she stepped into the venue, she was awed.

The venue wedding was instigated by a classic theme that celebrated soft, neutral colours. Gilt chairs, centrepiece stands and tableware occupied the table, next to blush pink and white flowers. It was a contemporary but orthodox setting of a Persian wedding. The beautiful bright lit scene was perfect with a white marble dance floor. The couple's names were inscribed in gold cursive handwriting on the dance floor.

The guests were colourful. It was an expanse of colours with different shades of gele, clothes and cap. A photographer stopped her for a picture. He took three shots of her before moving away. And there he was, amidst the happy crowd that formed around the dance floor. Mist had been released, wrapping the couple in soft cloud. The light had been dimmed. The couple became the centre of attention. Music cool, mood romantic, the husband began to sway, his eyes on his shy bride who blushed and won't look into his eyes. Cameras won't stop clicking. Jafar was among them, amidst the array of colours, a gentle smile on his face. He was speaking to a man beside him, his iPhone held in the air.

The moment stopped, the music faded away, people disappeared and her heart skipped as her breathing caught in her throat. It felt like it's been weeks since she saw him when it had just been two days since their last outing. In black kaftan with a simple carton brown work on the chest and chest pocket and a matching cap, he was her prince from the north, her Hausa demon. His beard were carved like he had said he would, making him appear finer than he was.

Osas brought out her phone. When she called him, she saw his smile broaden. He moved to pick the call, instead their eyes locked. He halted picking the call. Her heartbeat propelled. She forced her lips to quiver upwards despite her throat was dry. Jafar returned her smile. He waved at her, tapped his friend, and whispered something into his ear. His friend looked at her direction before saying something to Jafar who replied with a laugh. That made her curious. What did they say about her?

When he started to walk to her, everything moved slowly. He walked with confidence. His tall frame slipping past the crowd. There was something masculine about his gait that she admired. The corners of his lips were crinkled up. His eyes had light in them. He came closer. Her throat went drier. Few more steps and he would be next to her.

"Osas?" Someone called.

She looked away. "Haseenah?"

"Look at you" Haseenah squealed, hugging her. "It's been so long"

"Haseenah, this is not fair o. You did not call or even message any of us"

"I am so sorry. You guys won't understand. I have some family issues going on"

"Hope it's not serious?"

"Not at all"

"Haseenah, you are gorgeous and prettier than the last time I saw you. This one that you are in this wedding, who do you know here?"

Haseenah told her the groom was friends with her husband. Osas had told her she was friends with the bride's cousin, Jafar.

"You know Jafar?" Haseenah asked, surprised.

"Yes, he's a friend. He was my senior back in secondary school. How do you know him?"

"Ahmad of course"

They laughed. Haseenah stole Osas away from Jafar who from time to time, despite he was with his friends, kept looking her way. When their eyes locked, she would smile, feel the blush rise in her cheeks, and then wave at him. There was a time she shamelessly winked with her thumb up. A way to tell him he was breath taking. He looked away. She could swear she saw him blush. Her shy man. When Haseenah left her alone, Jafar was by her side in a jiffy. He complimented her look. Jafar introduced her to his friends who seemed friendly. He also introduced her to his sister, Jamila and Farida. They were from different mothers. Jafar's father had three wives. His mother had only him and his elder brother, Khalifah. She sat on his table, in a reserved seat unaware of the piercing gaze of a female. He had gotten her food, something light and mild

Circumstances pulled them away. Again, she found herself with Haseenah, dancing. It was a joyous occasion. The couple were on the stage, their friends and family around them. The bride had loosened up and began to dance freely. New naira notes and dollar notes were sprayed on the couple.

Osas looked around, searching for him among the men to find him already looking at her. There was a feeling that developed in her, the best, and an unexplainable of feelings. They saw no one, knew no one. Just him. Just her. Just them. No one else.

-----

Lola marched down the hallway to her father's study. She found him behind his table, talking to his secretary. They were contemplating on a file. Richard noticed her presence and with a smile welcomed her into the room.

"Aralola" Richard called, leaning into his seat. "How may I help you?"

"I will marry him" she said, panting.

"What?" Richard sat up in his seat. Even his secretary had a stunned look that mirrored her father's.

"You heard me" She took few steps forward, flipping back her braids. "I will marry Joshua but on some conditions"