Arata had barely slept.
Her apartment was quiet, the kind of quiet that usually comforted her, but tonight it felt heavy… like something was waiting in the corners. The events of the last few days kept replaying: the confrontation with Fatima, the tricky phone call with her mother, the stormy conversation in Jamal's office, and the way he had looked at her afterward.
That look.
It wasn't just anger, it wasn't even frustration.
It was something else, something she didn't know how to name yet. Something a little too intense. A little too consuming. A little too dangerous.
She pushed the thought away and reached for her cup of tea, staring blankly at the steam. She needed clarity, not confusion. She needed a plan for her family. She needed to stay focused.
But Jamal Yusuf had a way of pulling her off, course with just one glance.
The vibration of her phone made her jump. Heart thudding, she reached for it.
Jamal: I need you at work early tomorrow. 7 a.m.
We have visitors, be prepared. Visitors?
Her stomach tightened.
He never sent messages like that. Jamal's texts were usually short, clipped, professional.
This one sounded… loaded.
She typed a quick Yes, sir and set the phone down, but her nerves were already buzzing.
Visitors, at 7 a.m.
And she had to be "prepared." Prepared for what?
Arata didn't realize when sleep finally took over, but when morning came, she was awake before her alarm, dressing faster than usual, going over every possible scenario in her head.
At the Office
The Yusuf Industries headquarters was unusually active for early morning. Security guards stood straighter. A few executives hurried by with tense expressions. Even the air felt different, alert, expectant.
Arata stepped out of the elevator and froze.
Jamal was standing in the middle of the private lobby, talking to someone she had never seen before, a tall, elegant woman in a sharp navy suit. Her posture was perfect, her expression unreadable, like someone trained to reveal nothing.
And she was beautiful.
Beautiful in a polished, dangerous way.
The woman looked like power wrapped in perfume.
Jamal turned first, and his eyes locked on Arata instantly, a subtle shift, as though her presence changed something in the room. He didn't smile, but his gaze softened… barely.
The elegant woman noticed and followed Jamal's gaze. Her eyes swept over Arata in one detailed, assessing pass.
Arata felt it, that silent evaluation.
Not friendly, not hostile, just… measuring.
Jamal motioned her forward.
"Arata. Come."
Her heart hammered as she approached them.
The woman stepped closer, offering a hand.
"I've heard a lot about you," she said smoothly. "I'm Aisha Yusuf. Jamal's older sister."
Arata blinked.
Sister?
She hadn't expected this.
Aisha's grip was firm, her eyes sharp.
"And you," Aisha continued, "are the assistant who has managed to keep him from burning down this company with stress."
Jamal exhaled sharply. "Ignore her."
"Ignore me?" Aisha raised a brow. "I'm the nice sibling."
"That's why I said ignore her."
The dry sarcasm between them eased some of Arata's tight nerves. Maybe Aisha wasn't as intimidating as she first seemed.
But then, Aisha stepped closer and lowered her voice.
"You're important to my brother."
Arata's breath caught.
Aisha continued, tone soft but piercing, "So I came to see for myself."
Arata didn't know how to respond. Jamal's jaw tightened the moment his sister finished speaking.
"Stop making her uncomfortable, Aisha."
"I'm not," Aisha replied calmly. "I'm simply stating facts."
But her eyes said something else something deeper.
Protectiveness, suspicion, curiosity.
Aisha Yusuf wasn't here for fun. She was here on purpose.
Inside Jamal's Office.
Jamal's office felt smaller with Aisha in it. She walked around, inspecting everything like she owned the place, technically, she partly did.
Arata stood by her desk, trying to look composed while Jamal and Aisha discussed business decisions in sharp, rapid-fire Hausa and English.
Then Aisha suddenly turned.
"And how is Father?" she asked, crossing her arms.
Jamal froze.
It was subtle, but Arata saw it, the stiffness in his shoulders, the slight drop in his gaze.
"He's fine," Jamal said shortly. "Resting."
"Resting," Aisha repeated slowly, her eyes narrowing. "That's what you said last time. And the time before."
Jamal remained silent.
Arata felt something shift in the room.
A tension she didn't understand.
Aisha leaned on the desk. "When were you planning to tell me he collapsed again?"
Arata's eyes widened.
Collapsed?
Jamal shot her a warning glance, don't react then faced his sister.
"It wasn't serious."
"Everything about our father is serious," Aisha snapped. "You can hide things from the board, you can hide things from the press, you can hide things from the world, but not from me."
Jamal's voice dropped, low and contained.
"I had it under control."
"You didn't," Aisha said flatly. "You never do when it concerns him."
Silence, sharp, painful.
Arata felt like she'd stepped into a private wound she wasn't meant to see.
Jamal looked away first.
Aisha exhaled slowly, her anger fading into something sadder.
"You carry too much alone," she said softly. "You always have."
He didn't respond.
Arata's chest tightened.
She'd never seen Jamal like this, exposed, quiet, almost… vulnerable.
Aisha finally sat down, gathering herself. "Fine. Let's get to why I came."
She looked directly at Arata.
"You."
Arata's breath caught.
"Me?"
"Yes," Aisha said. "My brother keeps people at arm's length. He doesn't trust easily. Yet somehow…" she paused, studying Arata carefully, "you've managed to get past some of his walls."
Jamal stiffened.
"Aisha…."
"No, let me speak."
She turned back to Arata.
"Do you know what that means?"
Arata swallowed.
"I… I'm not sure."
"It means you matter," Aisha said simply.
Jamal clenched his jaw, but he didn't deny it.
Aisha continued, "And because you matter, I needed to see you with my own eyes. I need to be sure that you're not going to hurt him."
Arata felt a sudden sting behind her ribs.
"I would never…"
"I believe you," Aisha cut in gently. "Your eyes are too honest to lie well."
Arata's face flushed.
Jamal muttered, "Aisha, enough."
"No," she said calmly. "Someone needed to say it."
Then she softened, truly softened for the first time since she walked in.
"And if you ever need help," she added quietly, "come to me. My brother doesn't ask for support even when he's drowning."
Arata's throat tightened.
Jamal looked away, as though he couldn't bear the weight of the moment.
Aisha stood, smoothing her suit. "Now, let's get breakfast. I didn't fly here for sentimental speeches."
But before she stepped out, she turned one last time.
"Arata?"
"Yes?"
"Whatever this is between you and my brother… be patient with him."
Arata blinked.
"Why?"
"Because he's never allowed himself to want anything or anyone, without a fight."
And with that, Aisha left the office.
The door closed.
Silence fell like a curtain.
Jamal finally spoke, his voice low.
"She talks too much."
Arata smiled a little. "She cares about you."
He paused, then said quietly, "She shouldn't drag you into our family issues."
"But I'm already in it," Arata said before she could stop herself. "Whether we admit it or not."
Jamal turned toward her slowly.
His eyes softened with something that wrapped around her like warm air.
Something that made her heart beat too fast.
"Arata," he said quietly, "I don't want you getting tangled in things that could hurt you."
She stepped closer.
"But I want to understand the things that hurt you."
His breath caught.
Just barely.
Jamal took one slow step toward her, closing the space until they were inches apart.
"Careful," he murmured. "You're crossing a line."
Maybe she was. Maybe she wasn't.
But she didn't step back.
"Then show me where the line is," she whispered.
His jaw tensed, his eyes darkened.
But before he could move toward her or away his phone vibrated.
He glanced at it.
His expression changed.
And not in a good way.
"Arata," he said, voice shifting. "Something's happened."
Her pulse raced.
"What is it?"
He met her eyes with something intense and unsettling.
"It's your family."
Her heart nearly stopped.