“I'm so sorry my dear Zayd.” Her shivering hands grabbed her mobiShe was le phone and shut her pouring eyes to think.
Breaking out of the thoughts, she sucked on her breath and dialed a contact. She placed the phone on her right ear as it rang repeatedly. Madinah sat on the staircase and sighed.  Her simple eyes reddened and her ripe lips trembled. But twenty was too young, and that evening, she looked miserable and older. Madinah stroke her hair as  more tears rained against her firm cheekbone.

Finally, the person picked up.

"Hello mum, I think I've killed him." Where voice whine in quick stutters.

"What? Who!" Zainab's eyes shook, dumbstruck.

"Zaid!"

"Where re you?"

"I'm at the hotel where I logded."

"Okay, stay right there!" her voice warned in a sharp whisper. Don't talk to anybody, don't go out. Just wait for me... I'd be in Nigeria before sunrise!

"Okay, mum." Madinah cried and sniffed.  Though, she tried hard to pushed the tears behind, she knew she was in a serious trouble, especially if someone notice about Zayd's disappearance before her mum's arrival in the next
fifteen hours.

"Good." Zainab concluded and cut the call.
Madinah slid the hand from her ear to her lap once she knew her mother had hung up. Unable to move close to Zaid 's body. He just laid there in the pool of thick warm blood that was getting clod. Madinah' a eyes revealed a wide rage of emotions and latter settled as a blank stare on his body. With so much guilt, she turned away in grief, crying painfully in in her hands.

Zainab grabbed her he'd with dropped Jaws. She couldn't believe her ears, but she was sure of something. She needed to act fast, else, it might be too late to save her daughter from going through hell behind the bars. The way she had during her youthful years in Nigeria twenty years ago. Making a plan, Zainab rushed upstairs to her bedroom. Kicked a chest of drawers and grabbed her international passport out of it.

The vivid memories of how she had mad Zaid suffer and how he protected her from his family, played through Madinah 's mind. She had cursed Zaitoon, accused him  of dating other girls and rejected his proposal in just three months. Madinah chewed on her lower lip, mourning.

I was sleeping on the couch in the living room when I dreamt of the fight. That Madinah pushed Zayd and he slipped and died. I quickly pulled out of the dream with squeezed eyes, hoping that it would only be a nightmare and not reality.

"What kind of dream is this?" I pondered, gazing around the empty space, imy hands rested o him racing chest. It raced like a car engine and even after waking, the horrible dream played before my eyes. As if it was real, my whole body shivered from the effect of what I'd just seen. Or imagined.

"Zaid!" I called. He should be home by now. "Zaid!"

I picked up my phone from Under my pillow and dialed his number. Listening to the phone beep ringing in the background, I gently pulled out of bed. My unsettled eyes gazed at on the reading wall clock. It was exactly 4:00 p.m...Is he praying in the mosque or something. Why isn't he picking up? I looked back at my phone, the call ended in a flat ring. He's not answering the phone. Tears filled up my worried eyes, and my mind clouded. My heart was drowning to the ocean of sorrow and grief. The torture was unbearable but I managed to convince myself that he was fine. Perhaps, he was praying and would call back later.

After twenty minutes of waiting, I realized that he didn't call back, neither was he at home.

"Grandma! Grandma!" I rushed to my grandmother's room to check on her. She was deep asleep. I gently tapped her by a foot, knowing fully well how she hate
disturbances.

'Grandma usually pray. Why is she asleep by this time?' I frowned, tapping her vividly by the shoulder.

There was no reply. I pulled her weak body over and it fell to the other side of the bed, with her eyes closed. I placed a hand over her nape to check her pulse but there was none. Her body was just cold. I remembered when she performed ablution to offer Zuhr prayer around 1:00 p.m.

Out of concern, I pulled her head up, to a sitting position and her calm body dropped back to the bed. The warmth of life stolen by the cold embrace of death. More blood rushed out of his open. Her chest laid still, no flickers of life or his usual innocence remaining in her bosom, a surefire sign that grandma was dead.