When Love Is War.

25

Zainab Hassan

During my trip from Lagos back to Abuja, I should have been catching some much-needed sleep or just relaxing but here I was working myself up with comments from various blogs. Just because Sarayu had escorted Timothy to pay his condolences to his late driver's family, the tabloids all decided to assume that I was old news. Various headlines ranging from " Is There a New First Lady in Town", to some even going as far as saying, " We Hope to See more of Our Rightful First Lady". I felt like screaming, "I went to Lagos for my cousin's wedding you morons", but I knew better than to say anything. I do not even know how they reacted this fast, this visit happened just this morning for Allah's sake.
I knew I should not be reading the comments for the sake of my sanity but I just could not stop. It was a bad habit of mine, I had even created an incognito social media account to read comments and stalk people.
The gossip blogs have never really liked me they claimed I had " snatched Timothy from Sarayu and stolen her shine", to them she was supposed to be First Lady. Sarayu did not even care, but these people were too busy drinking panadol for her supposed headache. The comment section was always brutal with most women calling me a common whore and very few coming to my defence.
One comment read " can we please stop saying women snatched someone's husband. Is it not the husband that agreed to be snatched and we seem to all forget that our president might have never won the election if not for our First Lady, his second wife and her family", I clicked on her profile because I wanted to see the woman who supported me and I was shocked to see that this was not the first time, she made me feel like someone was actually in my corner even when my mother hardly spoke to me. I might not have agreed to the methods my grandfather and mother used but if not for them Timothy would not be where he is today. It did not take long for the sharks to come out and start throwing insults at the woman who came to my defence, because of that I quickly made up my mind to give her monetary compensation. I motioned for my assistant who was sitting opposite me to come and take note of her username so she could get her account details and send her some funds. As for the other women, God would judge them for insulting a woman whose shoes they could never walk in, I pray they would one day feel the weight of another woman's judgement, the heavy guilt I have to live with daily even without their daily reminders.
What finally broke me was seeing the video, Timothy had his hand around Sarayu holding her like she was fragile and the way she spoke, her voice breaking when she expressed how she would have felt if she lost Timothy. " I understand their pain, I understand her pain", Sarayu says referring to the driver's wife, " I don't know what I would have done if I lost Tim", she says looking up at him tenderly as he gently rubs her arm.
After watching the video I logged out of my account, switched off my phone, rearranged my black scarf, smoothened out my perfectly smooth black abaya and looked out the small window of the jet as I willed my tears to remain out of sight.
I did not say a word till I reached my bedroom for fear that I would burst into tears, not to my assistant, my driver or the maids who came to welcome me. I must have seemed rude to any bystander, with my sun shades on, replying to the greeting of my staff with a curt nod and a wave.
When I finally reached the solitude of my room I burst into angry tears. I was so angry at myself, how could I fall for him? When I knew he was never mine to hold. What did I think, that his wife would be upset with him forever?

Timothy Hassan

Sarayu and I paid a courtesy visit to my late driver's family and the whole thing was very emotionally draining. Seeing Sarayu that vulnerable got to me but more than anything it was the note that was found on the windshield of our car that had me worked up. The note read "The lion remains king of the jungle", what was more worrying than the cryptic message was the fact that it seemed to appear out of thin air. The driver and other security officials remained by the car but no one was spotted. These security breaches were clearly from within and that was scary.
I tried my best to remain calm in front of Sarayu and the boys as we had lunch and interacted. I could not concentrate on family time because I was too busy planning my next move.

" What do you think about moving to London with the Children?", I ask Sarayu much later in the evening when it's just the two of us.

"What kind of question is that?", she inquires evading my question.

" I think you and the children should move to London", I answer.

"To do what?", she asks and from her defensive tone I know I must tread carefully.

" with the security situation, we still don't know who tried to kill me, I just thought maybe it'll be best if you all go away."

"You think it's best if we go away and leave you behind? I'm not going anywhere without you", she states with finality.

"Sarayu please just think about it", I beg.

"  What about Zainab would she be running away as well?", she asked me.

"Zainab can handle her own, she is used to all this drama but if you refuse to think of yourself just think about the children", I implore her trying my best not to lose my patience.

"I will remain by your side", she says after a long stretch of silence.

" Think about it," I plead but she refuses to give me a reply.

At about 8 pm it reaches me that Zainab has come back from Lagos earlier in the day and I inform Sarayu that needed to go see her, "am I holding you", came her curt reply. She was yet to loosen up after our argument earlier. Maybe I should have stayed with her but I could not because Zainab and I had a lot to talk about.