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Ps: Please if you have not read the prologue please do for better understanding.

22 January 2008.

Christabel and her sister, Sarah were playing in their small room. It was overhauled into an old dilapidated building. The cool morning breeze tinkled their skin - gracing and relishing their happy moment.

Sun's rays flowed steadily into the room, making the standing mirror and the aluminium window glisten. The window shutters had parallel openings trotting across them.

Christabel and her sister room was decorated with a faded solvent of blue and yellow paint. Her sister big, yellow teddy bear crouched on the blue bedroom drawer.

"Why should we select you?" Sarah asked playfully, glimmering with smiles. Jokingly, Sarah grabbed the wooden hairbrush and used it as a microphone.

She smiled and collected the microphone from Sarah. "I will become more powerful and influential than the current goddess in the cosmetic world in the future," Christabel replied, happily speaking into the supposed microphone.

Swinging up her arm excitedly, she untangled Sarah's locked hair strands. One could hear the enthusiasm that coated her unique voice. She laughed and her sister echoed her.

Christabel dropped and picked the microphone, hauled her sister to the vanity mirror before proceeding to brush Sarah's long hair. Tiny cracks of smiles emerged from her bronze-coloured lips as she brushed.

Using the hairbrush as a microphone, again. "Everyone, I am the world cosmetic's genius!" Christabel's exclaimed energetically and elatedly. Emitting her calculated and captivating smiles, her hollow dimples depicted at this enthralling action.

"Please select her!" Sarah said laughing, her laughter expanded to a few syllables. Narrowing her eyes, she waved her hands in front of the dressing mirror, excitedly.

"Yes, they will," Christabel's said into the supposed microphone, strutting.

Watching her big sister, Sarah busted into fits of giggle. Chuckling she slithered her way to the medium-sized bed. The bed was squeezed in between the brown standing fan and their portable, wooden wardrobe - made from sturdy woods. Her throaty laughter meandering the atmosphere.

"Why are you laughing?" Christabel's inquired unable to conserve her smiles. Her sister's happiness was way more than world fortunes and riches to her.

"Tsk...tsk..." Sarah's snickered and rolled her big doll-like eyes.

She wagged a finger hastily before her sister's view. "Christy, hurry up you will be late for the real interview!" Sarah's whined, stooping and twisting her neck lightly.

"I am nervous, Sarah."

Sarah saw the lines, thin as tailor's threads around her sister's mouth and the distant look in her eyes. Outer silence encompassed them that one would doubt if they had laughed cheerfully five minutes earlier.

Standing up from the now disarranged bed she gazed into her sister's honey-coloured eyes. "Don't be big sister, all you have to do is to answer the interview questions with what we have just rehearsed, it is as simple as that." Sarah's comforted, kneading her sister's soft palm.

"Ok, little sister your words decreased the degree of my nervousness," Christabel assured and smiled, her eyes crinkling at the corners.

Jumping up, she cheerfully waved her hands in the air and flicked her long fingers in front of Christabel's observing eyes. "You know I can legit be a counsellor?" She asked, vaguely shaking her head and bending her neck. Her voice sounds like that of a toddler - like a toddler who dragged every word. Almost in a sing-song.

Christabel grinned. "You can become whatever you want to be. Don't let your dreams be diminished by the fact that you are mentally ill," Raising her fist. "Fighting! Life is all about fighting, you must fight to survive! Life is partially a bed of roses only if you make perfect use of its precarious thorns. Life is a journey of grit and grace. The terrain is yours to explore. Don't give up! And..."

Smiling, Sarah gave her sister a gentle nod. "Now, you can legit be a motivational speaker." Folding her palm firmly. "Fighting! I understand sister, you are always advising me."

"Hurry up before you get late for the interview," She paused, adding dramatic urgency to her sluggish words. "Change into that white slim-fitted gown and black lengthy jacket. I hung them up yesterday because I know you won't." Sarah said pointing to the portable wardrobe they shared. "You can wear any sandals or heels of your choice provided that they are not worn out or peeled." She added smiling and pointed to their black shoe rack.

Glancing at the black leather wristwatch wrapped tightly on her wrist, she playfully nudged her sister's nose to show her appreciation. She hastily wore the dress her sister hung up and walked out but not before applying a moderate amount of brown powder on her clay-coloured face.

"Sarah don't forget you have an appointment with the doctor. I will be right back." Her voice carried out clearly from the faded, small gate.

"Make sure you nail the interview! Bang it! Give them the glow! Just as you have done in the rehearsal days ago!" Sarah shouted after her and waved her a fruitful interview.

Getting to the company was not difficult, Mrs. Damola, her neighbour took her with her white, Toyota car. Turned out she was going the same way as her.

The sun had brought into the world its incomplete glow that particular morning, showing off to the world and the creatures it harbours how sharp it could make flowers of different kinds and colours sparkle with its impact and how promptly it could render albinos and bats blind within the glint of its rays.

Christabel stared at the things the sun had an effect on and grinned. Just when Christabel's mind raced with both negative and positive thoughts for the interview her white phone decorated with a dot of blacks buzzed inside the black compact bag she clutched in her hand. Mrs Damola threw a curious side glance at her and continued driving.

Do well for the interview, the Lord will cheer you on, my eldest daughter.

She the message and smiled.

Mother's cheer will empower me to succeed.

She typed and sent the message to her. Her mother and Sarah's words peppered her slumping confidence.

Just when the car was in slow motion she gawked at the little girl carrying a bent steel tray piled up with bananas. 'Why will a little girl be subjected to hawking this early morning?' She reasoned.

The little girl doesn't seem to mind, it was as if she was used to it, used to the pitiful stares from onlookers, used to the weight of heavy tray of bananas that balanced on the huge rag rolled like an Imam turban on her loosening braids.

All these can be inferred by the way she briskly carried her little legs. Two teens scampered between vehicles and tried to sell loaves of bread and groundnuts to moving cars in transparent plastic bags.

Christabel envied how they moved on with their activities oblivious to people's remarks, how they moved swiftly, and the tight smile, nearly subtle, that plastered their faces. How they accepted the proportions of what life planned for them. All these increased Christabel's confidence by an inch. If these poor and helpless people could hopelessly deal with the harsh blows of life then certainly the interview will be smack by her. Poverty is an inevitable thing for her and her family but it hadn't come to them hawking before they can have daily bread. Her mother will certainly not welcome the idea.

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Talking about her mother, when she received the message her lips creased in a smile. She quickly plopped her button Nokia phone inside her flowery apron front pocket and went Inside Monica's room. Her full-length apron dangled slightly from left to right, shrouding her outfit.

She worked as a maid in the rich family of the Johnsons.

She opened and closed the wooden door gently. "Monica, are you ready? It is time for breakfast,"

Monica sat in front of the vanity mirror. Her sandy-coloured face was sprayed with makeup. Her black short Weavon covered half of her forehead. Donning her second pearl earring. " I told you not to enter my room." She said firmly.

"Your daddy and grandmother are waiting for you." Christabel's mom replied.

"Didn't I say I am not eating breakfast, so why the call?" She inquired, her mouth formed a fragile smirk.

"Ok, I will give you some vegetable fruit juice, drink a little before you go." Christabel's mom said, rounding up her words with a smile that showed a quarter of her white-yellow molar teeth.

Stymied, Monica sighed and walked down the stairs, her suede, high wedge which conformed her plain black office dress clicked the marble stairs as she walked.

True to the maid's words, her dad and grandma were already seated on the wooden dining chairs that were furnished with soft comfy foams and stretched on with long rocky arms.

She joined them and Christabel's mom served the food. The delicious aroma of the food wafted around the furnished mansion even before the foods set in different colours of aluminium steel were opened. Soon enough, the sounds of forks meeting plates, of serving spoons meeting platters filled the dining room.

Michael, Monica's father perked up. "How much are your monthly salaries. Why did you withdraw so much money from your account?" He asked Monica who slowly lowered the steel fork she was using to eat. "You have been scolded so many times, can't you just learn from my chiding?" He inquired, his hairy brows almost meet each other in a raised. He sounded disgruntled: his voice was scarcely raised.

"Daddy, if I don't shop, I will die."

"I will reprimand her later, Michael. Let's eat," Grandma chipped in, her round head had a sparking garden of white hairs. "Don't start nagging in the morning."

"It is because you always shield her that is why she can't be controlled. She has turned to a dry fish that crushed whenever it is bent, she can't be bent to scolding and it is all because of you, mother." Michael let out, clearly annoyed.

"Going to work, one will have to buy clothes, shoes, and bags. All women are the same, they lost sleep contemplating on what to buy." Grandma replied, her shaky yet bold voice echoed through the wide passage which separated individual room, leaving them with a heap of privacy, including the guest rooms.

Opening the deer-coloured gorgeous steel plate of soup Monica wheezed. "I think I told you I don't eat fishy soup?" She asked no one in particular than the maid who kept her face straight. Monica glared at her as if she were a strange laboratory animal to be explained and catalogued.

Micheal took in a long sigh. "Rotten girl. Mother, can you see what she is turning to. What she has turned to?" He asked grandma whose eyes couldn't meet his questioning glares.

"Grandma, find me a house quickly, I am sick of this place, I can't live here anymore!" Monica cried and walked out leaving a speechless dad and a worried Grandma behind - Grandma's lips and eyes stretched in concern.

"You behave foolishly because you are the only child, when I was your age I satisfy my parents by listening to everything they say! Monica!"

On hearing that statement Grandma scoffed silently. Perhaps what Monica's Dad said about him obeying everything his parents said was not true.

"Come back here! Mother, see what you caused!" he shouted after Monica in so much anger that his eyes almost popped out and his sigh had a streak of distress coagulating his baritone, firm voice.

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The mild morning sun felt heavy against Monica's bare shoulder as she drove in a haste to her working place. Her mind expanded the drama that was exhibited back at home. 'Why can't they leave me alone.' She thought.

Tapping her silver-painted fingers impatiently on her lap, she sighed at the long rows of cars and motorcycles ranging from different models and sizes and doubted the clarity of the straight road filled with deep potholes two hours after this moment.

The town traffic can be worse sometimes but the horribleness was nothing compared to Lagos irritating traffic. In the stagnancy of her blue latest car. Monica stared at the street lights fixed Inside a different broken bulb case.

The government had provided most of the bulbs precisely two years and ten months before now during a particular presidential campaign. Then, the people were happy because for once the government remembered them. Most of the bulbs were dead - she knew the busy street like the back of her palm.

Monica glanced at the rusty poles that supported the street light strewed around the old street. Few houses, numerous shops, and complexes dispersed distantly from the old, rickety street lights.

All these seemed to fuel her frustration, she hissed loudly and checked her silver, rounded wristwatch, time is not on her side she knew that. She heaved a long sigh just when the road began to clear after thirty minutes of observing where she knew like a 'jolly just come.'

To her fortunate luck, the C. E.O came in five minutes after she got seated on her affluent office chair. He must have had a fair taste of the annoying traffic jam.

"What is the schedule for today?" Daniel, the young C.E.O asked from his secretary after a short formal greeting. Due to the traumatizing heat that bluntly refused to be wavered by the numerous working air conditioners present in his glamorous office, he unbuttoned the black suit he wore revealing the well-built curves that were visible under his white ironed shirt. He untied his tie and hung the suit on the oak-wooden office hanger. His toned muscle was verged into defined under the flexibility of his fitted shirt. His arms hung like menacing weapons from his sloping shoulders.

'This man is a captain in the collection of Greek beauty.' Monica thought.

Her black eyes lingered on his round lips, his muscle-toned chest, his well-constructed abs, and drifted to the wavy curly hair on his head - like the ripples in a stream - like a biology teacher observing the specimen provided for WAEC. It wasn't as if the breathtaking view was new to her but everything appeared to present itself as new with every look of his handsomeness. She faltered so much that Daniel repeated the straightforward question with a smiling smirk. "I will advise you to take a picture or two. It lasts longer." He added and smirked proudly, cocking an eyebrow.

She blinked trice and opened her slipping notepad, slightly embarrassed. "By two pm, you have a mist spray meeting. At four pm, you have to attend a final planning meeting for a wrinkle improvement product. At five pm, you have to attend a makeup show. At eight pm, you have dinner with me." She said didactically and smiled.

How she managed to ask those words without stuttering was unimaginable to her, how she arranged those words that have been limping in her heart all years long, how she uprooted the words that made her smile just by its simple imagination, how she layered the words that made her thoughts raced just by its mental description. It is all like magic to her, so unbelievable. She wanted to ask more, ask for more, more of what she envisioned.

"Haven't we settled that yet?" Daniel asked.

"Will you treat me to dinner?" Monica inquired smiling.

The corner of Daniel's round, perfect mouth tweaked in a smile. "Go and make a reservation for what you want to eat."

"Okay!" Monica beamed. The joy illuminating in her joy-gripped soul is nothing compared to her Daddy's prosperity in his ongoing career as a successful judge. Her joy was cut tight when daniel's mobile phone beeped, the words that came out of his well-shaped mouth made her falling joy crumbled. No, the words were not directed to her, it was directed to the person he was on phone with, but somehow the words, the laughter saddened her.

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Thank you so much dear readers, voters, and commenters. I love you guys, dearly. Even more, than you could ever imagine.

Till next update. ❤❤❤❤