Chapter 49
In the Mustopha compound.
The family welcomed their old friends, the people they have been expecting for some weeks now but were delayed due to some reasons.
"Oh my God. Lolade, you look much younger and beautiful than me, you are like the older the ginger the spicier it becomes. Oh my, I can't even compare to you. I'm so jealous. See your skin... which skin care do you use." Mrs Mustopha said in a teasing and playful manner only to be cut of by her friend.
"Can you just stop. Why does your own skin looks like a baby's. Look at you. Looking so soft and plump. I'm sure makinde won't even be able to look away from you.-referring to Mr Mustopha." Mrs Nofisat Ololade Collins retorted playfully too.
The two men playing card at the side noticed the two banter and chuckled at their wives antics of teasing eachother.
Oladeji and olalekan were both sitting with their father looking dumbstruck at the reality of things.
"Why does this woman resembles Rihannat so much. Oh my God, are they doppelgangers.?" Their thoughts were outside the box, totally away from the banter going on in the room.
"Why is seifullah not here. Where is he? Didnt he come with you?" Mrs mustopha asked her friend.
Don't mind that rascal, after picking us up from the airport yesterday, we haven't seen him. He only called yesterday evening, saying he's busy at the office, he won't be coming home, and till this morning we haven't seen him." Mr Collins replied in annoyance, though the elegant and proud expression on his face couldn't be hidden. Why not, their son is a competent man.
"He doesnt like business party, I hardly see him during one. The last time I saw him was three months ago. And I bet my two sons rarely see him too." Mr Mustopha said while Oladeji and Olalekan nodded in affirmation.
Sigh.
"He has been like that since that year." Mrs Nofisat said.
Silence.
"Cough. I want to show you two something after some minutes." Mr Mustopha said and his wife gaze at him in silent understanding.
He stood up and walk into his home office, he came out two minutes after with a folder which he gave to his friend "open it" he told him.
Mrs Nofisat walked to her husband to see the content of the files.
Mr. Collins adjusted his grip on the folder, a faint frown settling on his face as he opened it.
"What exactly am I supposed to see?" he muttered.
The first page wasn't what he expected.
It wasn't an official document.
It was a photograph.
A young girl—no more than two or three years old—stared back at him with bright, innocent eyes. Her tiny lips curved in a soft smile, her face round and delicate…
And hauntingly familiar.
Mrs. Nofisat leaned in, her curiosity shifting into confusion… then into something far deeper.
Her breath caught.
"…Makinde…" she whispered.
Mr. Collins didn't respond.
He couldn't.
His eyes were locked on the picture, his fingers tightening around the edges of the file as if afraid it might disappear.
"Turn the page," Mr. Mustopha said quietly.
Slowly, almost mechanically, Mr. Collins flipped to the next page.
This time, it was information.
A file.
A profile.
Name: Unknown (later identified as Rihannat)
Gender: Female
Estimated age: Early twenties
Attached beneath it… more pictures.
Recent ones.
Clearer.
Undeniable.
The resemblance hit harder this time.
Not just similar—
It was as if they were looking at a younger version of Mrs. Nofisat.
Same eyes.
Same nose.
Same expression.
Ninety percent.
At least.
Mrs. Nofisat staggered back slightly, her hand flying to her chest.
"No…" she whispered, shaking her head slowly. "No, this… this is not possible…"
Oladeji and Olalekan were already on their feet, moving closer, their earlier suspicions now crashing into reality.
"It's her…" Oladeji breathed.
Olalekan ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply. "I knew it wasn't normal…"
But the room had already shifted.
Because for Mr. and Mrs. Collins—
This wasn't just resemblance. It was a memory.
Suddenly, it all came rushing back.
Like a door violently thrown open.
—
A little girl's laughter echoing through a large compound.
Tiny footsteps running across polished floors.
"Mommy! Mommy, look at me!"
Rihannat.
Three years old.
Full of life.
Full of light.
And then—
Darkness.
Chaos.
Screams.
The day everything shattered.
"She's gone!"
The frantic search.
The police.
The sleepless nights.
The endless questions with no answers.
Kidnapped.
Vanished without a trace.
Mrs. Nofisat's knees weakened as tears streamed down her face.
"My daughter…" she whispered, her voice breaking completely. "My baby…"
Mr. Collins clenched his jaw tightly, his eyes reddening despite his effort to stay composed.
"We searched everywhere…" he said hoarsely. "We did everything…"
But they never found her.
Never got closure.
Just silence.
And pain.
"That was why…" Mrs. Mustopha spoke gently, "you left the country."
Mr. Collins nodded slowly.
"Yes," he said. "We couldn't stay… not after that."
So they relocated.
To England.
Started over.
Or at least… tried to.
Years passed.
The wound never truly healed.
But life demanded movement.
Their sons grew.
Especially their first son—
Seifullah.
Mrs. Nofisat wiped her tears weakly, her voice trembling as she spoke his name.
"He was the only one who understood… even at that age."
Seifullah had changed after that incident.
The cheerful boy became quiet.
Observant and guarded.
And as he grew older, that silence hardened into something else.
A very cold and Intimidating man.
A presence people rarely dared to approach.
But beneath that exterior—
Was a heart that never stopped feeling.
A heart that never stopped searching.
"He came back," Mr. Collins added, his voice steadier now. "After finishing his education. At twenty-five."
"To take over the company, though I rarely see him attending business parties" Mr. Mustopha completed.
Mr. Collins nodded.
"He said it was his responsibility… his duty to continue the family legacy here."
But deep down—
They all knew.
That wasn't the only reason.
"He never let go of the search." Mrs. Nofisat whispered. "Not even once…"
Silence fell again.
Heavy.
Emotional.
Then—
Mr. Collins looked back at the photograph in his hand.
At the face that looked so much like his wife.
At the name written beneath it.
Rihannat.
His grip tightened.
"…Where is she?" he asked, his voice low but firm.
This time—
It wasn't just a question.
It was a father demanding answers to keep his sanity.
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