Assalamu alaikum girlsss!

It is with the widest smile imaginable that I introduce you all to the second book of our series.

Excuse my manners, how are we? How have we been?

Unfurling hate is unlike unfurling fate. The characters and the plot are completely separate, but the timeline continues from where we left off in unfurling fate.

This series is a trilogy and thus i implore you to read the first book before reading this one. The couple in this book were first introduced to us in unfurling fate, as well as the background characters that will come up, so again it is advisable to read the books accordingly. However, this book can be read as a standalone. You wouldn't miss out on much as flashbacks will be included of all chapters that include the couple.

It is with the greatest pleasure that I inform you all of the identity of our protagonists, though most of you might have already figured.

Ammal and Adnaan are happy to make your acquaintance !!! 🥰🥰🥰🥰

Ladies; UNFURLING HATE.

Copyright ©️ 2024.

Third person.

Rage has been defined as a period of extreme or violent anger in the English dictionary. In that moment, ammal gave it a definition of her own.

Rage was the fire she felt flowing through her veins- despite the laws of medicine saying otherwise- as she stared at her ruined and crumpled car bumper and then back at the audacious man clad in a crisp neat black suit, speaking into his phone as if he owed her no time of day when he'd just in fact cost himself to owe her a lot.

She took a deep breath as she calmly walked to the side of the road and picked up a huge rock she found laying there, when she went back to where both their cars were as his was behind hers after just hitting her,

Ammal raised the rock high and aimed at his car, that managed to gain his attention as he cut the call and raised his hands with furrowed brows. His reaction caused her to hiss before dropping the rock back on the ground.

"You should have let me hit your car. Then we would be even."

He ignored her words and studied the injury made to her car, both of their bumpers- hers at the back and his in front— had been dented, though hers was significantly worse seeing as he was the one that hit her.

Adnaan turned around and opened up his car door, causing her to stand in front of his car, "You are only leaving this place over my laid dead body."

"Dont tempt me." Was his response though he wasn't sure if she heard him.

For the first time he looked at the girl, unable to understand why a lady would be so crass. Is this how girls behave now in this country? He wondered, seeing as he hadn't been there in over a decade. He pulled out some stacks of cash he had someone exchange to Nigerian currency for him, and then walked back to where she was,

"Here." He felt the need to say when she only looked between him and the money.

"Are you okay at all?" Was her immediate response, shocking him for the second time.

"You think you can buy my forgiveness for denting Rosalie? Do you know what she is worth to me at all?" Rosalie is what she called her car,

Adnaan looked at the car again thinking maybe he'd seen wrong, "It cannot be worth much."

Ammals mouth was hung low, "And what the hell is that supposed to mean?"

He rolled his eyes, "Take the money, get it fixed."

"I don't want your stupid money. I want an apology made to me and Rosalie." She folded her arms on her chest.

Adnaan chuckled, the sound rumbling and smooth, as if he'd worked months to perfect it, "You are kidding." When she did not respond, he raised a brow, "unfortunately I don't do apologies, definitely not to cars."

"You think your money and a pompous accent can buy me? I don't need any of it and i would tell you for free that money can never buy you good manners." She huffed at the end of her sentence, wondering how she even got herself into this encounter. But she won't back down, if this was what he was used to then he would learn for the first time that it wasn't gonna cut.

"You talk about manners?" He wanted to say more, he would have, but he received yet another call from his older cousin, General muhammad Aadil, he picked it up as he dropped the money on her car bumper,

"Someone would think you are eager to see me, General." Ammal heard him say as he got into his car, somehow she stayed frozen in place, unable to move or say another word. It was so unlike her too but no matter how hard she tried to do something, perhaps even pick up the rock and throw it at the car without relenting this time around, she just couldn't.

And it was only after she felt the whoosh of his fancy car speed past her that she was able to move her feet, with a loud groan, she got into the car.

Then she'd met him again a few minutes later at the party her best friend Madinah invited her to, a party she'd ended up leaving earlier than planned because she just couldn't stand to look at him knowing he got that reaction out of her with just mere words. He triggered her, with those words, he sounded like her father. And her only trauma response was to shut up.

But it was not the end, no, Ammal carried all of that rage and fire in her veins with her for years, until they met again, where she was sure to exert her revenge, and oh did it feel so good!

Ammal.

Life often felt a lot like a movie. Like watching time pass by and witnessing events from third person, I was not sure if that was how everyone felt, but it was how I did. Thus the loudness and the need to feel like the main character and make others feel it too, because it was the only way I could think to hide how I actually was not. How I lacked control over my own thoughts and the direction in which my life went at times. It's one thing to have tawakul and trust in Gods plan, what I felt was more like being an imposter in my own skin.

"Khayri," the name echoed in my ears as it spread my lips wider than I realized, just at the sound of it because I knew only one person called me that.

I took a deep breath and turned around, "Mommy! You are back early?"

Mommy did not respond before taking me into her arms, her warmth engulfing me wholly from the inside out.

"Everything was sorted. Hauwa has everyone around, but my khayri only has me." She placed a kiss on my nose.

My mother was an over compensator. When you know something, it gets easier to fake a smile and live with it. She tried to overcompensate for everything, by loving me a little bit extra to make up for my father not loving me at all, by using her money to send me to my school of choice to study my course of choice when he thought a lady studying and much less going abroad to do so was a complete waste of time and resources, when she made more friends than necessary to make sure I did not feel the absence of a family when she had no sisters and my fathers sisters loved me less than he did.

With every kiss, hug and touch, laid an overwhelming sense of affection that I could almost hear telling me that it was enough for me. That she was enough. And albeit it not being so for the first decade and a half of my life, now it was. Now I knew mommy was all I had and it was more than enough.

"I was kind of enjoying watching my murder docs on the living room tv without you grimacing and worrying over my sanity." I teased, erupting an eye roll from her.

"Any mother would worry over who you want to use the knowledge you're obtaining from those shows on."

I chuckled and turned back to the muffins I'd left in the oven and brought them out, they were jet black. Perfect! At least this time I didn't set off the smoke alarms.

My name is khayrah Ammal and cooking and baking and perhaps anything done in a kitchen were not my strong suits. I am twenty four, an only child to my mother and the third born to my father who had many other children from a different wife. Another family deserving of the attention we never got.

I acquired a pharmaceutical degree from the university of Manchester where I met the only sister I have ever had, Maryaam Madinah, my best friend. I am ashamed to admit that my degree was only a means to prove that I was worthy to my father, quite futile since he did not even attend my graduation. I had always known what I wanted to be, what I wanted to do. I wanted to help, little children, women, it was what had always piqued my interest, so I joined mommy's foundation the moment I came back from school.

Together we expanded it, built orphanages and initiatives that both of us were incredibly proud of. Now, we housed and took care of over two hundred children and over a hundred adult women across three different branches in three different cities.

Mommy's sister managed the one in Borno, her friend managed the one in Kano, and the one in Abuja was managed by us.

"What jinn possessed you to enter my kitchen bayan you almost burnt the house down last time ?" Her words snapped me out of my world of thought.

"Anaaya ke son muffins." (Anaaya wants..) I sighed as I stared at the disaster, "Store bought it is."

Mommy chuckled, "She was just teasing you. She knows you cannot make anything."

"Not helpful mommy." I tossed the muffins in the bin while she chuckled,

"Have Hasi prepare a light dinner please. I am going to freshen up."

I nodded at her as she disappears from the kitchen. Did as she instructed by telling the cook and my self assigned God mother, Hasina to prepare roasted potatoes, carrots and chicken. That was what mommy meant when she said 'light'. Otherwise she would eat swallow for dinner, which was the weirdest thing ever in my opinion.

After bickering a bit with Hasina, I went to my room where I wore a blue abaya, anaayas favorite color, and then dabbed some powder and lipstick onto my face, spritz a whole lot of jadoré perfume, and slipped into my matching heels. One would think I was not going to work, but my motto was to always 'control the narrative'. If you cannot control your thoughts then you aim to control everything else.

I stopped by a bakery and picked up some blueberry muffins, then went straight to the orphanage, which could also be categorized as my second home. As usual, Anaaya waited for me alone on the swing. I hated her inability to make friends which mostly stems from her trust issues, growing up where she did and having to go through what she did at an infant age! I couldn't blame her.

I shared muffins to the kids in the playground and spoke to each of them for a few minutes before making my way to my babygirl, "hi naaya baby." I leaned down to smother her in kisses.

"Mali, you are doing the baby voice again." She attempted to raise a brow but both of them raised instead as the gap in her mouth peeked.

"I am sorry, you are just too cute. Just like a baby. I can't help it."

She sighs like she'd accepted her fate, "Fine, you can do it. But only in private." She whispers to me and I mimic her expression as I nodded fervently.

"Guess what I brought?" I opened up the box of muffins and presented them to her.

"You did not make these." She pointed out.

This time I sighed, "You know your Mali can't even fry eggs, you have to manage me as I am."

She sighed too almost sadly, "I know. I hope I learn so I can teach you."

Her statement caused me to laugh, hugging her to me and feeding her the muffins. Anaaya was the most special little girl I had ever met in all my years of working in the field. She was brought as a five year old girl so severely abused. For the first two months she was here she did not speak a single word, and eventually when she started to she could not recall a thing. She could hardly speak too, very limited vocabulary in both English and her language. She was brought over from Mali by a relative of mommy's, that was the only word she couldn't stop saying, "Mali".

Overtime she started to respond with single words and we realized that she could speak, she just hardly did.

I focused alot of my attention on her, offered private tutoring in addition to the school the children went to. With the help of the other caregivers, her child psychiatrist and myself, she began to get comfortable using her words. She was now fluent in English, knew a bit of Hausa too, and most importantly she learnt to smile again.

But the effects of her trauma were still noticeable in the way she acted around people. Specifically bigger and darker people, her psychiatrist said they reminded her of her abusers. Though her young brain had managed to erase most of the traumatic memories, her trauma responses still remained and we tried as much as possible to avoid triggers until we get to the point of her treatment where she has to face them.

"Good morning ma'am." I heard from beside me, I could tell from the voice that it was my assistant, so imagine my surprise when I glanced to my side and saw her standing there with a familiar looking face.

When I say familiar, I mean it in the most disdainful way imaginable. Adnaan.

My body shuddered involuntarily as I remembered our encounter a few nights before. How id exerted my revenge by soiling his shirt and breaking  his phone, thinking about it now, it was cringe as hell. None of those things compared to my Rosalie, he probably replaced the phone the next second, or better yet, he might have had a spare one. But at least I pissed him off. I can completely live with that.

And then madinah and her husband had forced him to come drive me home, he had tried to, but I spilled some yogurt onto his windshield when he said that I didn't behave like a lady, just to further prove him right, then I'd walked off in the opposite direction despite the fact that I had no idea where I was going.

The real surprise was when he wiped off his windshield and still somehow caught up to me at the far end of the road. At that point I was already ordering my Uber so he parked and waited in the car while I stood by the roadside, tempted to stay there the whole night just to see if he'd do the same.

A few minutes had passed by when my Uber appeared, coming to a stop in front of me. Adnaan had gotten out of his car abruptly coming to stand beside me, "And what the hell do you want? Does she look like a call girl to you?"

The was the smoothest insult id ever heard, so he thought I was a call girl?? I was fuming until the Uber driver responded to him, "No sir! I'm an Uber driver o."

The look of pure embarrassment on his face was admittedly very satisfying to see, so instead of wasting my breath, I let out a prolonged hiss and got into the car. Instructing the driver to drive off and apologizing for the 'mad stranger' as I endearingly referred to him.

Now seeing him here only a few days later was a little surprising, but I didn't let it show on my face.

"Good morning." I responded to her greeting, noticing how anaaya leaned into my side. It was a trauma response so I held onto her tightly.

"You don't greet your visitors around here?" He asked as he glanced at Anaaya who was basically hiding behind me.

"Not the mouthy ones." I responded rolling my eyes so far behind.

A ghost of a smile played at his lips, then he gestured to anaaya, "is she okay?"

Before I could respond, he bent down, getting on his knees and then stretched out an arm at her. She looked at me warily and then back at him, now that he was crouched to almost her height, she wasn't as scared of him.

She took two tentative steps and outstretched her hand, "Hello princess, what's your name?"

I watched her smile a little at the endearment, she loved watching shows about Disney princesses, I always got her every princess outfit of every show she watched because that was one thing of anaayas that could be compared to another kid, and I wanted to encourage her as much as I could.

"Anaaya. But I'm not a princess." She says to him, the last part coming out quietly.

"Who said so? Look at you, you look just like belle."

I narrowed my eyes when he said that, how the hell did he guess her favorite princess? But a smile spread easily on my face when I saw how her eyes lit up.

"From beauty and the beast?"

Adnaan nodded at her, "but this beauty needs no beast." He squeezed her nose, smiling as she giggled and then got up again. I watched anaaya intently for her reaction once he rose to his full height, she remained in the same exact spot peering up at him with a wide smile.

It was very interesting, something I had to discuss with her psychiatrist although I'd taken her off counseling for a while now.

"Naaya it's time for lunch, go to the dining hall." I instructed, watching her walk away before turning back to face him, "I thought I'd made it obvious enough that I don't want to work with you."

"Too obvious, one might say. But unlike you, I am able to separate my personal from my professional."

My arms involuntarily folded across my chest like they always did when I was getting defensive. I saw his eyes soften slightly, "work with me here."

"Fine." I huffed, walking ahead of him into the building and directly to my office. We discussed Buhaari group industries being one of our public donors, the publicity it would bring with it which adnaan promised to tone down because islamically, publicizing your good deeds nullified the rewards.

We'd spoken for nearly an hour before I knew it. It was then that anaaya came to my office, her safe haven when ever I was there and even when I was not at times. I saw her wide smile when she saw that he was still there,

Adnaan got up, answering a call on his phone.

"kin ci abinci?" I asked her, speaking Hausa since it was one of the languages she now understood.

"Eh. I ate masa." She said sheepishly. We had a lady who brought masa every Friday as sadaqah, it was really good and the kids loved it too so we served it for lunch every Friday.

"I will take my leave. My assistant will be in touch." His voice came as he slipped his phone into his pockets, leaving me to wonder why he didn't send his assistant here and went through the liberty of coming here himself, but i pursed my lips before I could voice it out.

I watched him crouch down in front of anaaya, "Bye, princess Belle."

She giggled sheepishly, "Are you the beast prince?" My mouth hung open at the question. Looks like someone has a little crush, I should probably warn her but I stood dumbfounded awaiting his response.

"Do I look like a beast to you?" Adnaan feigned hurt, causing my baby girls eyes to soften as she shook her head to indicate no. He chuckled, ruffling her hair before getting up, "I can be whatever you want me to be princess, including a beast." He assured, causing my eyes to roll so far back, what a corny loser.

"Wine,"

I raised a brow, confused as to why he was saying that to me, "The wine you spilled on me. Befitting nickname, don't you think?" He gestured to the wine lipstick staining my lips and then to the wine purse on my table.

I rolled my eyes so exaggeratedly, "Don't drag me into your corniness please,"

Adnaan shook his head with the same poker face he always looked at me with, then let out a slow hum "you know I have learnt through you that manners do not accompany beauty at all." and he was retreating to the door before I could get my final words out,

"Don't come in my off—" the door, my door was banged promptly in my face. Oh the guts of that man! He made me regret ever trying to be civil with him in the first place. People like him do not deserve it.

Calling me beautiful phased me not at all because the compliment came bathed in an insult.

So sassy. I hate sassy men. That was what I kept chanting to myself all the way to my car and even on the drive home. I had almost deemed him manageable at first, but he had the audacity to bang my own door in my face! I lacked manners? Has he had a look at himself at all? Ever?

Somehow, mommy saw it all over my face that I was totally pissed, "What happened?" I heard the concern in her voice but then watched her face morph from one of confusion as she listened, then to realization, and finally to mirth as she shook her head at me.

"Mommy do you remember that arrogant brother in law of madinahs that dented Rosalie ? Well he is out to ruin my week! First at the twins birthday party and now today. How dare he come into my own office and insult me, then try to break my door? Who does he think he is? Thank God there're no contracts involved yet because only my corpse can work with that man,"

She cut me off, "That's enough. You need to stop letting trivial things get you so worked up, it's not healthy at all. Come sit here."

I walked to the spot next to her and sat with my arms folded, "mommy it's not trivial, he is the most infuriating person I have ever met."

"Koh?" Her voice sounded like she was teasing me so I gave her the stink eye, which erupted a chuckle from her,

"You cannot turn down a donor just because you don't like them. Think of what his donation would do for the kids, that is the endgame." My mommy as usual spoke sense. She was right and I knew that, I just really wanted to vent, and now I have let it out.

I laid on her thighs as she rubbed my hair, "He even had the audacity to give me a nickname, Wai wine." I mumbled loud enough for her to hear me.

Mommy paused her actions on my hair, causing me to look up at her and catch her smile, "it sounds to me like the beginning of something beautiful."

I was sure my disgust was written all over my face, i feigned barfing sounds and faces, "that is disgusting mommy. It is actually the start of something horrendous, i just hope he doesn't make me use my serial killer documentary notes on him."

The last part got me a hard smack to the head. I giggled as I rubbed on the spot.

——————————————————————————-

My night routine started at 8pm every night. I prayed isha, offered my shaf'i and witr salaahs, and then did my skincare as I spoke to our manager and kept up with what was happening across all branches. Making sure the kids were asleep and everyone was fine. Sometimes I wished I could live there.

Doing my skincare and hair care at night has never taken less than thirty minutes, sometimes it takes more though. So that is when I do work.

After which I slip into bed and go through my list of people to call and torment, it went like this;

Madinah (my best friend)
Holly (my long distance friend)
Ayaan (madinahs twin brother)

Sadly, that was my short list of people I actually considered to be my friends. Lots of acquaintances though, so many. Perks of being a social butterfly on the outside, human hater on the inside.

I called madinah tonight, ranting to her about the problems she's caused me by stirring her brother in law my way. I spoke to the twins too, listened to their animated stories. Madinah could not wait for them to start preschool, and I completely understand her.

Too bad she had a lawmaker for a husband. General Muhammad aadil, the scariest man I know, right next to my father. But he is also the man who has shown my best friend more love in the world than we'd ever thought possible, for that sole reason, I was his biggest fan.

"Ami i have to go, General is ringing me." Madinah said through the other end as she snatched the phone from Sasha's hand.

I rolled my eyes at her sheepish face, "Wife of the decade, goodnight."

She giggled before cutting the call.

Next on my list was usually to call fareed and binge watch whatever show we were on with him. It has been two months yet every single night I lay in bed, there's a gaping whole of absence gnawing at my chest walls.

I have had a lot of admirers, I didn't think it made me vain to admit that. Heck, I have admired a lot too. But I had never felt for anyone what I felt for him, it was remarkable. We were. But our ending was just as remarkable. I chuckled, shuddering as I remembered the rainy day that marked the end of our story.

My mother has found a wife for me.

I thought he was joking, he had to be. His mother loved me, I loved her too. There was no way.. so after he swore that he was being serious, and that he still wanted to continue what we had going on, and then marry me as a second wife, I walked away without another word.

Never had I felt so numb in my life. The worst part is the fact that I actually considered it. That is how much I did not want to lose him. Perks of being a girl with daddy issues I guess.

After ignoring him and praying for two days, on the day that I finally decided to meet him and talk, my delusions were shattered by a picture sent to me on instagram. Of him and a young lady, the picture was taken by her in his car, her head was laid on his shoulder as they smiled into the camera. She sent it with a message,

Hey girl. I'm not sure what he told you, but we have been together for eight months. I met his family last week after the introduction and his sister let your name slip. You read right, introduction. So please stay away!

I had read that message a million times, and then forwarded it to him. It was the most mature thing I'd ever done in my life, ignoring the biting urge to let him come and then arrange for some thugs to break a few bones and possibly his car windshield. But it was not worth it, he wasn't at all.

He met her while we were together, eight months ago was just after he'd first spoken to me about marriage and I'd told him that I'd think about it. A month later, I gave him my answer, and then the excuses started.

So he found himself a wife? That was why.

I had blocked his and his family's number that night, and then I snuggled in with mommy as we drifted off to sleep. I wanted to cry, I really really wanted to cry. But I have learnt over the years that crying was the most difficult thing for me to do.

And somehow the fact that I couldn't made everything worse. Because then I could feel the lump in my throat and the pain in my heart, but there was no way to let it out. So I learnt to swallow my hurt, apply my wine lipstick, and smile enough to make up for the lack of tears.

Perhaps I got my overcompensating gene from my mother.

Welcome back my girlies 💕

I missed y'all so much !! It has been a while but we're back.

How was the chapter? It took me a month to write lol, opening chapters are always the hardest. See you in chapter two!

Adnaan.

When Adnaan brushed his teeth in the morning, he rinsed his toothbrush three times, replaced its cover meticulously, and carefully positioned it two inches from the tube of toothpaste. Every detail had its place, a small island of control in an otherwise unpredictable sea.

But when he drove, control seemed to dissipate entirely. He valued perfection in the little things, compensating for imperfections elsewhere.

"I understand," he conceded, his gaze steady on the man standing before him. "But you should also understand that your things need to be packed out of my building before five pm."

The man's eyes flickered with fear before settling into resignation. Glancing at his Patek Philippe Grandmaster Chime, a testament to his appreciation for precision, Adnaan noted the time. He was nothing if not a watch enthusiast.

"You have twenty minutes."

Taking on tasks like this —firing employees— wasn't his usual inclination, unless the individual in question had initially intrigued him, perhaps even elicited sympathy, only to betray his trust by embezzling insignificant amounts within months of being hired.

If the man had aimed for larger sums, he might have respected his audacity. But he was going home for thinking too small.

"Candace," he called out, summoning his assistant as the man walked out. An artsy woman with a vibrant Afro and unconventional attire came strutting in, stopping before him with a twirl. Adnaan had always had a thing for socially questionable people, he believed things should be perfect. People should be interesting.

"Do I look different today?" Candace asked.

"Fancy date?" he replied, eliciting a slight giggle from her.

"Maybe ease up on the strut a bit." He advised.

Candace playfully feigned offense, "Touché" then shifted gears. "Amelia called," she reported, arching her eyebrows.

"I'm out of the country," he responded with a poker face, instructing Candace on the message to relay and handing over some files. With a smooth exit, he left the office like he'd been waiting to do all day.

The journey back to Adnaan's penthouse apartment nestled in the heart of the bustling city was surprisingly smooth. Despite his uncle's persistent offers for him to move into their family home, Adnaan had politely declined enough times that daddy had finally stopped asking.

Upon arriving home, he discovered a familiar basket of food waiting for him. For the past three years, Maama—his uncle's wife—had sent him dinner every single night. Adnaan picked up the basket as he unlocked the door, heading straight for the espresso machine to brew some black coffee. After a quick freshening up in his room, he settled into his home office.

An hour later, dressed and fed, Adnaan sat at his desk with a cup of coffee in hand, engrossed in his work amidst the organized chaos of files spread out in front of him.

Just then, his phone rang, momentarily pulling his attention away from the documents before him. He rubbed his temple and answered the call, "Assalamu alaikum."

"Someone doesn't sound thrilled to hear from me," came a cheerful voice from the other end, instantly recognizable as his younger sister Nayla's.

"Nay, I thought these disturbances were supposed to go to that man when I agreed to give him your hand in marriage," Adnaan teased lightly, referring to Nayla's fiancé.

Nayla rolled her eyes playfully. "Yaqub loves my 'disturbances'. Thank you very much."

Adnaan hummed in response, deliberately avoiding using Yaqub's name. Despite thinking highly of Yaqub, he couldn't help but feel protective of his baby sister.

"The nikah date has been set," Nayla informed him matter-of-factly. As though he wasn't the one who set it.

"When are you all coming to Nigeria?" Adnaan inquired. His family lived in United Arab Emirates, specifically in Dubai. He had moved to Nigeria years ago for multiple reasons, the forefront being to take over the family business his cousin had declined.

"In two weeks, in sha Allah. Still doing some last-minute shopping," Nayla replied with palpable excitement evident in her voice.

"Alright. Just let me know if there's anything you need me to do over here," Adnaan offered.

"Not by you. I have the best wedding planner in the whole country for that," Nayla boasted proudly.

"Alright. Where's Fawaz?" Adnaan asked, referring to their youngest sibling.

"Probably out driving around crazy all over the city," Nayla sighed, a hint of amusement in her voice.

He chuckled, fawaz was a twenty two year old with the personality of an eighteen year old.

A brief silence hung between them, and Adnaan anticipated the question that followed.

"I dreamt about it tonight, Adnaan. What if I go through with this marriage and can't move on?" Nayla's voice was tinged with emotion, her vulnerability showing through.

"Moving on is not something that happens, Nayla. It's a decision you make," Adnaan replied firmly, offering his sister the support she needed.

"I made a decision years ago, now it haunts me every day,"

"You were a child," Adnaan reminded her gently but firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument or self doubt. "I have been on it for half a decade. It's not easy, but we'll succeed, in sha Allah."

"Thank you, Adnaanu. You're the best," Nayla said gratefully, her voice lifting.

Adnaan could hear her sniffle softly, imagining her wiping away tears. "Where's Amelia?" Nayla continued, teasing him.

Adnaan groaned inwardly at the mention of Amelia—his white girlfriend whom his mother vehemently disapproved of.

Amelia... Adnaan thought, realizing that he ought to give her a call but contemplating the conversation that he knew was long overdue. As Nayla does, she changed the conversation on her own and they went on to discuss her wedding, a topic he was least interested in but it didn't matter, because if it made her happy to discuss it, then he would discuss it.

——————————————————————————

Despite Nayla's assurance that she didn't need Adnaan to do anything, the following morning found him being rudely awakened by both her and his mother, Ummi. Adnaan was known for his early rising habits, firmly believing that starting the day early was crucial for productivity. However, today, his routine was disrupted.

They had requested that he purchase frames for Nayla's new home—apparently, they had forgotten to buy them while shopping for furniture. Adnaan had initially considered delegating the task to his assistant but realized that neither Nayla nor Ummi would be pleased with him shirking this responsibility.

Resigned to his fate, Adnaan dressed quickly and headed to the store they had specified. He was on a video call with them, displaying various frames to ensure they met their approval.

"Baba na," Ummi addressed him using a nickname that linked him to her own father whom he was named after, "Tell this girl that we're going to Nigeria soon. She wants to have a bachelorette party at midnight! Do you think that's how things are done there?" Ummi's frustration was directed at Nayla, who had evidently planned an unconventional party time.

Adnaan sighed, letting Ummi finish her tirade before he spoke. He turned the phone to his face and looked at Nayla, giving her a stern look. "You know that you're not going anywhere at midnight," he said firmly, then added softly, "I could rent an apartment for you to have your party, strictly indoors."

Nayla's face lit up with appreciation, and she stuck her tongue out at Ummi, who merely shook her head in exasperation. Both women were evidently pleased with the compromise Adnaan had proposed.

Once he had picked out the frames they wanted, he ended the call just as his father's name appeared on his phone. "Assalamu Alaikum," Adnaan greeted.

"Waalaikum Assalam, Muhammad. How is work going?" his father responded warmly.

Adnaan switched on the camera to show his father where he was. "Your wife and daughter have turned me into an errand boy," he said with a smile.

His father chuckled. "Then I must apologize because I have also called you for a task. I know you're busy, but I've sent someone to check the house to see if any major renovations are needed before the wedding. Please try to stop by."

"Will do," Adnaan agreed. "What are your plans for this visit, aside from the wedding?"

"I am retired now," his father began. "I think it's time we consider moving back home."

Adnaan had anticipated this decision. With Nayla set to live in Nigeria after her marriage, it was not surprising that his parents would contemplate relocating back now that two of their children would be living there.

"May Allah choose what is best," Adnaan prayed, then exchanged pleasantries before ending the call.

As Adnaan left the mall, his gaze was drawn to a store displaying costumes and toys. His attention was caught by a yellow dress—a costume of Belle from Disney's *Beauty and the Beast*. The sight immediately reminded him of Anaaya, the little girl he had met just two days prior. He walked into the store, picked up the dress, and examined it, trying to recall Anaaya's size to see if it would fit her. It was slightly larger than he thought necessary, but he decided to buy it anyway.

Driving to the orphanage, Adnaan hoped he would not encounter the fiery woman who had managed to irritate him every time their paths crossed. Despite her tendency to provoke him, he had to admit she was intriguing. Among the many women he had met in his life, none had been quite like her—unapologetically herself, defying societal expectations.

Their previous encounters had left him conflicted. The first impression he had of her was of a woman who was refreshingly candid but also abrasive. After she had broken his phone and poured wine on him, he struggled to decide whether he was impressed or merely irritated. The latter had won out, but after their most recent encounter where she had shown a more civil side, he questioned whether perhaps he was the problem all along, especially when he had managed to anger her again right before leaving.

He had sent Candace to handle the necessary paperwork the day before, and to his surprise, she had signed it. Now, as he approached the orphanage, it seemed the odds were against him as he saw Rosalie—her car—parked right next to his.

Remaining in his car, he watched as she exited in a black dress. He wondered about the occasion and why she always seemed so flamboyantly dressed. The same wine-colored lipstick that had stained her lips during their last encounter was present.

When she noticed his car, her stance became one of scrutiny. Although the car's tint prevented her from seeing who was inside, her disapproving expression was unmistakable.

Muttering a quick prayer for patience, Adnaan got out of his car, holding the paper bag containing the dress. Her furrowed brows relaxed slightly upon seeing him, but she still rolled her eyes dramatically.

"And what are you doing here?" she demanded, lifting an eyebrow.

"Relax, I am not here for you," Adnaan replied, trying to defuse the tension.

She huffed. "Never said you were. I was just asking."

Adnaan shook his head. "I'm here to deliver something," he explained.

"What? To whom?" she asked, her curiosity piqued as they walked towards the playground—the same place where they had met first.

Anaaya's face brightened upon seeing them, though it was unclear whether she was more excited to see Adnaan or Ammal.

"Hi, princess," Adnaan said, crouching to Anaaya's level, recalling that she had seemed more comfortable during their last meeting when he did so.

"Hi, beast prince," Anaaya responded hesitantly, glancing between Adnaan and Ammal.

Ammal's voice interrupted, "If what you brought is for Anaaya, she doesn't want it."

Adnaan met her gaze before responding calmly, "She'll be the judge of that."

Turning to Anaaya, he began, "Bella, we need to work on another name." He lowered his sunglasses, revealing his eyes.

To his surprise, Anaaya gave a sheepish smile and reached for his sunglasses, pulling them off his face and placing them on his head. "Better," she said with a smile.

Adnaan was touched by the gesture. He picked up the bag he had dropped and handed it to Anaaya. As she unboxed it, her face lit up with the widest smile he had seen from her so far.

His attention shifted to Ammal, who was watching the exchange intently. When their eyes met, Ammal quickly looked away, clearly uncomfortable.

"Do you like it?" Adnaan asked, though Anaaya's gleeful smile spoke volumes.

Anaaya glanced at Ammal as if seeking her approval. Ammal nodded, and Anaaya's grin broadened as she looked back at Adnaan. "I do. Thank you."

Adnaan was taken aback when the girl wrapped her small arms around his neck in a hug. He embraced her warmly, patting her gently on the back before rising to his feet.

"I'll have to take my leave now," he said, feeling a surge of affection for the little girl with sad eyes and an expressive smile. She reminded him of someone he never got to know.

"I'll be back to see you in it tomorrow."

Adnaans "goodbye" to Ammal was accompanied by a faint hum, and just like that he felt tingles of irritation, the woman was insufferable.

Later that night, as Adnaan sat with his cousin brother and sister in law, General and madinah for chai—a traditional Arabian tea that only Madinah could nail—he found himself venting about Ammal to the people who had caused their paths to cross in the first place.

"I've just never met anyone like her! Madinah, where did you find her?" Adnaan directed the question at General's wife, who was also Ammal's best friend. He marveled at how the pair, polar opposites in many ways, had become so close.

Madinah and General exchanged knowing looks before bursting into laughter. "University of Manchester," Madinah revealed. "And, Adnaan, despite what you think, she is the best person I know."

Adnaan huffed, "That sounds like biased judgment. I could say the exact opposite about the same person."

"Have you ever considered that you might be the reason she acts that way?" General interjected thoughtfully.

Madinah shook her head. "Ammal has always had a hint of craziness; you just brought it out."

Adnaan sighed exasperatedly. "All I did was dent her car. That was nearly three years ago!"

"You also called her a call girl, unladylike, and mannerless," Madinah listed, counting off on her fingers.

Adnaan chuckled. "The first one wasn't intentional. And those adjectives are pretty accurate."

Madinah glared at him, and he raised his hands in mock surrender. General, who had been quietly observing, spoke up. He tapped Adnaan on the back. "Don't come into my house and upset my wife. It's time to go."

"Are you kicking me out?" Adnaan asked in disbelief.

"Good night," General responded curtly. Normally, Madinah might have defended him, but tonight she merely giggled.

"Good night, ya A. And lay off my bestie, will you?" She added with a smirk.

Adnaan stood with exaggerated offense and made his exit. As he drove, he contemplated on why he couldn't just stay away from Ammal if she irritated him so much.

The answer, he realized, was simple: wherever there was thrill, he was always drawn to follow. It was a part of him, one he could never rid.

How's chapter two ? Let us know. Dms are open on instagram, follow @fammalwrites for more updates! I neeeed to know whether we already have some adnaan girlies 🤭

She stared back at her reflection in the mirror, smacking her lips and blowing herself a kiss, amazed at her own reflection. A grey tulle dress fell in cascading ruffles from the sleeves down to the waist, flowing down to the ground. Its matching turban sat perfectly perched on her head.

A few spritzes of Chanel Coco Mademoiselle were all it took to complete the look, as she slung a gold purse on her shoulders and slipped into matching pumps. Lastly, she perched a pair of sunglasses on her face, feeling proud of her image in the reflection.

Her first destination was mommy's room. "Mommy!" she squealed as she barged into her room, finding it empty with the bed made. Her brows raised, confused as to why her mother was already up so early and why her room was so clean.

She guessed that her mother went out and proceeded down the stairs, stopping at Hasina, her godmother and their chef's room to bother her for a bit, but she was also not in.

By the time she got to the downstairs living room, she was sure of what to expect, but that still didn't stop her knees from slackening and her heart rate from picking up from trepidation. She looked to her father for his reaction, reading his pointed gaze and catching on to it immediately.

She sank to her knees, "Barka da yini, baba."

He regarded her from head to toe,"Barka." He responded first, and not even two seconds passed by before he added, "Are you just waking up?"

Her voice shook as she answered, "No, I was getting ready."

"Ina zuwa?" He asked again.

"Nowhere," she stuttered, knowing deep in her veins that he was looking for a reason to justify whatever atrocities he had in mind and hoping he wouldn't get one.

He didn't know she worked. She shuddered as she remembered what happened the day he found out she was leaving for Manchester to school. He had divorced mommy despite her later agreeing for her not to go. Mommy had stood her ground, explaining that her education was just as important as his other children's—sons. Right there he'd uttered a divorce. It was a week before her iddah ended, and she was praying to God for him to not come back, to never come back. Because he didn't deserve her mommy; she deserved so much better, and she wanted better for her. But he did come back, and he took her back.

Her father did not attend her graduation, not the one there and not the party her mother threw here.

She was fifteen when she realized that he didn't love her the way her friends fathers loved them. She was twenty, watching Madinah's father hug her and chant praises on graduation, when she accepted it.

"She has to go settle something at the orphanage. Khayri, get up and go." She zoned back in to her mother snapping her fingers at her face.

Zoning out in the presence of her father was a trauma response she learned when he'd shout at her as a child whenever she fought with her stepsister. It only happened in his presence, and one other person that managed to cause it a few years ago—Adnaan.

She got up, subconsciously adjusting her veil and raising the neckline of her dress though it was as high as it could possibly be.

"Sai na dawo." Her voice came out lower than she'd hoped.

"What is wrong with her voice?" she heard his voice faintly, the question directed at mommy.

She only managed to exhale when she got in the car, leaning her head on the steering wheel and trying to regulate her breathing. Unlike other men in polygamous marriages, he didn't have any specific times that he shared between them. He came around when he needed something, and it was always the most dreaded week of her life. Each visit worse than the last.

His family lived in Gombe, whereas mommy and she moved here right after she graduated highschool; it was the best thing that ever happened to them.

The drive to the orphanage was long, stretched by the silence in the car and the banging in her head, various thoughts roaming through her mind.

She parked in her usual parking spot and got down from the car, holding her head up high and planting a forced smile that, ironically, came naturally to her.

Ammal smeared some wine lip stain on her lips, having read somewhere online that dark lips evened out one's skin tone. It worked for her, so she made sure to always use it. Walking into the orphanage, she paused to meet the new baby boy who had been brought in the night before. Holding him briefly, she felt the warmth only babies could provide.

She shared some sweets she had brought for the kids, listened to their animated stories, and then retreated to her office. A few minutes later, Anaaya appeared at her doorway.

"Naaya baby, are you just now remembering me?" Ammal teased, feigning offense.

Anaaya rolled her eyes, a habit Ammal had taught her.

"Don't roll your eyes at me," Ammal chastised softly.

"You are kind of silly," Anaaya said thoughtfully as she walked into Ammal's arms and placed a kiss on her cheek. For a moment, Ammal forgot the turmoil brewing in her chest.

Ammal knew that Allah had sent Anaaya as a perfect gift, her perfect girl from her perfect God.

Anaaya sat on Ammal's lap while Ammal typed on her laptop. "You are getting a little too heavy for this, you know," Ammal remarked, feeling her thighs go numb.

Anaaya giggled. "You are the one always making me eat masa," she grimaced, clearly not a fan of the traditional delicacy, though Ammal was determined to make all the kids try each traditional food.

"My fault then," Ammal conceded. "How has school been?"

Their foundation had three major sponsors, now four thanks to Buhaari Group Ltd., which had become their largest sponsor. Ammal tried her best to market despite how awkward it felt at times because they needed the donors. She was determined to give the children a life comparable to that of any average child. They deserved it.

Anaaya responded, talking about her classes and what she enjoyed most. Ammal had some fun teasing her about a boy in her class who had given her sweets a few days back. Anaaya reminded her that she was just seven years old, demonstrating once again her maturity.

"Mali, do you think A is coming today?" Anaaya asked, referring to Adnaan. Ammal immediately knew who she meant, as it had only been two days since he had brought her the costume, and Anaaya hadn't stopped asking about him. Adnaan had promised to come see her in the outfit but hadn't yet.

"What do you want from that beast anyway?" Ammal asked.

Anaaya giggled. "I wanna wear the outfit. Call him, please."

Ammal had no excuse today, so she retrieved her phone and a card Adnaan had left last time he was there for business. She dialed his number.

When the call connected, her mouth went dry, and she cleared her throat before hearing a lady's voice.

"Good afternoon. Buhaari Group Limited. How may I help you?"

Ammal looked between the phone and Anaaya before speaking again. "Good afternoon. Can you please connect me to Mr. Buhaari?"

"I am afraid that is not possible right now. Can I take a message?"

Realization hit Ammal that Adnaan was the CEO. Of course, they wouldn't connect him to a random caller. She gave her name anyway, hoping it might help. "Tell him Ammal from Ayla Foundation called, and to call me whenever he gets the chance."

The assistant, Kuku, seemed familiar with the name. She put Ammal on hold for a while before connecting her to Adnaan.

"Hello," Adnaan's voice greeted her, carrying an air of authority that irked her.

Ammal quickly handed the phone to Anaaya, who let out a meek hello before asking when Adnaan would come to see her outfit. The excited smile on Anaaya's face and her light giggles indicated that Adnaan's excuse was satisfactory. When the call ended, Anaaya was more bubbly than when she had arrived.

"He said he will be here soon."

Ammal rolled her eyes as Anaaya disappeared from the office to change into her outfit. She reappeared over twenty minutes later, and soon Adnaan appeared at the office door with a tired smile directed at the little girl.

He wore a white button-up with black slacks, his top untucked and his tie hanging loosely around his neck. Ammal caught herself scrutinizing him, and he noticed.

Clearing her throat, Ammal mentally berated herself. "Normal people knock," she said, referring to him entering her office without announcing himself.

"Normal people respond to salaams," he retorted, causing Ammal to roll her eyes.

"Princess," Adnaan knelt before Anaaya, who was smiling from ear to ear. He used one hand to twirl her around in her dress, which flared as she spun. "This is beautiful on you," he told her, eliciting a giggle.

Ammal was worried about how quickly Anaaya had attached herself to Adnaan, but she felt a bit of trust in him. Despite her dislike for him, she admitted that he seemed good with kids, including Madinah's twins and Anaaya. It was also beneficial for Anaaya to have a male figure in her life whom she was comfortable with.

With that thought, Ammal continued working, letting them converse while eavesdropping. Anaaya was telling Adnaan about school and her friends.

"Anaaya, you didn't tell me that," Ammal said, stopping her typing and looking at them on the couch in the corner of her office.

Anaaya gave her a sheepish smile, but Adnaan took the liberty of responding, "princess, tell Wine that envy looks bad on her."

Ammal's nose flared involuntarily in irritation. "I wasn't talking to you. And stop calling me that."

Adnaan chuckled, "It suits you. Your face is all flushed red now; look." He gestured to her phone, indicating that she should check her reflection.

Despite knowing it was impossible for her to flush red due to her darker complexion, Ammal looked at her reflection in the window behind her, feeling embarrassed as Adnaan and Anaaya laughed.

"Anaaya, you too?" Ammal asked incredulously, packing up her things and noting the time. Her father was back home, and she needed to get there before Maghreb, it was past five already.

"It's time to go. You haven't even prayed Asr," she said to Anaaya, guessing since they had been together for a while.

"I prayed when I went to change," Anaaya said, pulling a sad face at having to leave.

"Well, go get ready for Maghreb then," Ammal said, zipping up her purse and turning off the computer.

Anaaya and Adnaan shared a look before he ruffled her hair, something Anaaya always stopped Ammal from doing. He knelt so he was face to face with her. "I will see you tomorrow, okay? What do you want me to bring you?"

Her eyes lit up. "Blueberry muffins."

Ammal tried hard to hide her jealousy but couldn't help huffing. Adnaan was trying to steal her baby from her! He ruffled Anaaya's hair one more time and then turned to Ammal. "Ease up on the obvious display of jealousy. There's enough of me to go around."

Ammal's face morphed into one of disgust at his comment. "Maybe you can share the remaining on the street." The retort sounded lame even as it left her mouth, but Adnaan simply shook his head with a chuckle before walking out. Both of the girls following closely after him.

She hurriedly gave some orders to her staff before walking to the parking lot and getting into her car, noting the time, it was now six pm. She took a deep breath before coolly starting the car and reversing out of the lot.

Ammal let her mind wander as she drove, she had enough distractions at the orphanage, but now that she was alone she couldn't help but wonder what exactly brought her father this time around. She decided that whatever it is, she wouldn't give him a reason to wreck havoc just as she was sure he planned to.

It seemed the universe heard her thoughts and decided to play pranks with her because the car steadily came to a stop at that precise moment. She tried powering it on multiple times and when it would not start, she let out a scream of frustration before taking out the key and stepping out of the car.

She opened up the bonnet, staring at the engine and at the smoke it was emanating. Ammal realized that in her hurry, she'd forgotten to water Rosalie, her car was pretty old so it was prone to misbehaving at the smallest things. She sighed, realizing she wouldn't be able to get home until the car cools down and she puts water in it. That usually takes hours, hours of time she did not have. But she couldn't leave Rosalie.

An idea struck her, she thanked her stars that Ayaan, her best friend Madinahs brother was in town.

Ammal rang his phone and waited a few seconds before he picked up,

"Make this quick," he said from the other end of the phone , erupting an eye roll from her.

"As if you have anything better to do." She retorted, momentarily forgetting that she called him because she needed his help.

"I'm gonna hang up." Ammal knew that he would make good on that so she quickly spoke up,

"Listen, Rosalie stopped on the road, i think her engine is overheating but i have to get home soon," she started, glancing at her watch and seeing that it was quarter past six already.

"Can you send someone to stay with her while i get an Uber home?"

Ayaan chuckled at her absurdity, she didn't call him for her wellbeing but rather for her cars. Who even does that?

"Send me your location, and sit in the car till i get there," He said, cutting the call.

Ammal left her bonnet open and got in the car, not bothering to put out the triangles since it wasn't a busy road. She sent him her location, it was quite far from their place, but he managed to get there in less than thirty minutes.

He came along with a driver and a mechanic, leaving them there and instructing her to get in his car so he could take her home.

"Thank you." She told him as she got in the car after giving specific instructions to the much more experienced men because Ammal believed with a passion that only she knew Rosalie.

Ayaan did not respond immediately, he glanced at her detached stature as she stared at the screen of his car, specifically at the time.

"You got somewhere to be?" He asked her, her anxious state which was a lot different from her usual relaxed stature not sitting well with him.

Ammal untucked her arms and sighed, "Baba is at home. He came this morning and you know how he is."

Ayaan nodded in silent understanding, "Is there a reason for his visit?"

"Not that i know of yet. I just don't want any trouble." She responded, again he nodded.

He played some white noise off his phone, a weird thing Ammal usually did to calm her down, and stopped on the paddle, driving faster so they could get there in time.

In less than ten minutes, they were parked right inside the gate of her house. Ammal leaned in to give Ayaan a side hug, "You saved me, thank you." After which she made a move to unlock the door, only to come face to face with her father right as she stepped out of the car.

He stood there, his tall figure with folded arms and a tight grimace she recognized to be the calm before the storm.

Immediately she broke out into supplications under her breath, looking at Ayaans windshield that was not tinted and realizing he saw them hug albeit it being casual and quick. Even if they hadn't hugged, she just came back home late evening in a man's car. For a normal father, it was already bad enough, but for hers, it was all he needed to unleash hell on her and her mother.

She found her legs shaking as she approached him, bending her knees slightly in respect, "ina yini baba."

He gave her a sneer, before turning his back and walking into the front door of the house in a silent instruction for her to follow after him. Ammal trailed after him, dragging her feet and finding herself struggling to support her own weight due to the crushing anxiety.

"Where are you coming from?" He came to a stop in the foyer, presenting her with the question.

"Work." She responded, her gaze never leaving the tiled floor, a drastic contrast to the Ammal whose head was always held up high, ready to question anyone and anything.

"Do I look like a child to you?" The chilling way his words came out caused her to look up at him, and the look she saw in his eyes caused her to take a step back because she recognized that look. "You were out prostituting with men weren't you?"

Ammal gasped, feeling molten lava replace blood in her veins, her fear subsiding only to be replaced by anger, she made a move to walk out only to feel herself being pulled by the strings on the collar of her dress. The careless way in which she was shoved brought her to her knees, her father was a strong man. No one needed to tell her, she knew.

"Hassana." He thundered, causing a disoriented mommy to come rushing into the room. At the sight of Ammal on the floor with her head down, she turned to her husband,

"What is going on? What did she do haka?"

"You should know." His condescending tone ignited something in her, something she couldn't quite voice out. "I am sure you that's what you taught her. To prostitute."

Ammals eyes shut in cue with mommy's gasp, "Prostitution? Ahmed what is the meaning of that fisabilillah ?"

"You are asking me? Are you asking me?" He pointed an accusing finger at his daughter on the cold tiled floor, "Where did you tell me she was going this morning?"

"Work. She went to the orphanage." Mommy recounted, wondering where this was going as she bit down the urge to reach for her daughter until she heard what this was about.

"So ask her now why i caught her in a car embracing a man. Was that where she was supposed to be? Where you said she was?"

Ammal felt a sob trapped in her throat, desperate to get it out but unable to. Unable to speak and defend herself and unable to breathe even. She felt mommy's presence kneeling beside her in a second.

"Look at you. Both of you. This coddling is the reason why your daughter is the disappointment she is today. Wasting away in this house." He gestured to the walls of the living room, "Every single man that has come to show an interest in her has never come back to me."

"Her sister khaltume, she is a year younger and she has two children! While she," he pointed an accusatory finger, "she is here whoring her life away."

Mommy looked up abruptly at that, her voice as hard as steel, not shaking even a little bit when she said to him, "Never say that about my daughter Ahmed. Keep your nasty projections to yourself. You and I both know why you think that. So enough!"

Mommy did not care what Ammal did. If he had no hand in raising her, she wasn't going to let him shame her. This was the purpose of all of his visits, to find something wrong, something to ridicule. But she'd decided since he turned up earlier that day that she wasn't going to take it this time around. He'd done enough.

Baba pointed an accusatory finger that Ammal caught from her peripheral viewpoint, "I am not going to take this." With that, he walked out of the living room, out of the house entirely.

The breath Ammal released frightened mommy, she raised her daughter by the shoulders and directed her up the stairs to her room, letting her collapse on the floor by the door.

Ammal looked up at mommy, her body shaking as she tried to get her words out finally, "Mommy it was Ayaan. My car.." her teeth clattered as she tried to pull herself together, "my car broke down," she finally let out, her final word coming out as a sob, still tears refused to leave her eyes.

Mommy looked at her daughter in pity, before locking the door behind them and kneeling next to her once again, gathering her in her arms, "You are none of those things he called you. None." She validated, knowing if there was one person whose validation ammal seeks then it's her father, despite how much she tried to deny that fact. All she has ever wanted was to be her father's daughter.

"Mommy he hates me. Why does he hate me?" She has asked that question her whole life, every single time something happened. She had never gotten an answer, she still asked, but she stopped expecting anything in return a long time ago.

"He is your father. He cannot hate you." Mommy stated with conviction, a mother determined to make it up to her daughter. To overcompensate.

A few minutes passed with just the sound of ammals teeth clattering as she rested her head on her mother's shoulders, her words came to mark a fact, "I don't need his love. I am not a little girl anymore, i only need yours."

Good morning and happy new year girls 💕