The Ache Of Farida (part two)

Farida lay awake, the room barely lit by a thin sliver of moonlight. The house was quiet—but she knew silence here was never mercy. It was only waiting.The thought had lingered for days.Work.Not freedom. She had stopped using words like that. Just something to keep her mind from collapsing inward when the nights became too long.That evening, she cooked for him herself, just the way he liked it.Carefully. Measured. Predictable.When she placed the meal before him, her heart was pounding, and she fiddled with her hands nervously."Any problem?" He asked “Sir… I would like to work.”Chief Bobo did not look up immediately. He took another bite, slow, deliberate.“Work?” he repeated. “Why?”Farida kept her eyes lowered. “I need something to keep my mind busy… when you are away.”A pause.“You have everything here,” he said flatly. “What exactly are you looking for outside?”“Nothing, sir. Just… something to do.”He studied her briefly, suspicion flickering—but not enough to matter.“Then go and find something. Do not bring me embarrassment.”“Yes, sir.”"Is that all?""Yes, sir""I've told you stop calling me sir,ehn my love. I like the food"She smiled and lowered her headThat was all.But it was enough. So she started looking. One evening,after searching aimlessly for weeks,she bumped into a man in suit. After weeks of meeting up with him,he offered her a job at his company. The company was larger than she expected.A shipment and logistics firm. Containers moved in and out in steady rhythm. Goods tracked, signed, transferred across cities and borders.Efficient. Clean. Legitimate.Farida kept to her place.She handled small things—calls, schedules, visitors waiting at the front desk. She stood at the edges of rooms, never inside them.And because of that—No one noticed her,or guarded themselves around her. The first time she heard his name, it meant nothing.“…Bobo’s containers came in again.”She kept walking.Another time—“…that sardine business of his…”A pause.A low chuckle.“You still believe that?”Farida did not understand.Not yet.But she remembered.At home, nothing softened.Chief Bobo would be nice sometimes.Basike still came.Always unannounced. Always certain.Farida stopped resisting in ways that could be seen. Instead, she learned stillness. Each time he comes, she let her body remain—but her mind and soul withdrew, quietly, carefully, until it was over.In the mornings, she erased what could be seen.Makeup was her armor. A careful layering. A quiet concealment.No one questioned what they could not see. At work, the fragments continued.Never complete.Never direct.“…that route should have been flagged.”“It was.”“So why wasn’t it stopped?”Silence.Then—“You ask way too many questions. Be careful.” Another day—“…Basike handled it himself.”A pause.“I was surprised to see him in person. He never allows himself to be seen by customers"Farida noticed the way voices changed around that name.Lower.Careful. One afternoon, two men stood too close to the front desk, speaking in hushed tones they assumed were private.“…the last transfer—”“Keep your voice down.”A brief silence.Then, softer—“They are getting younger.”Farida’s hands did not stop moving.“You think he cares?” the other replied. “Basike has never cared.”A pause.“As long as it brings in cash, it does not matter.”Farida finished arranging the files.Turned and walked away.Nothing in her expression changed.But something inside her did.That evening, she left the office later than usual. The air outside felt different. Heavy.Without thinking too much about it, she turned into a small café by the roadside.It was quiet,unfamiliar...but safeShe ordered a coffee and sat near the window, her fingers wrapped loosely around the cup.For a moment, there was nothing.Just the soft hum of conversation. The clink of cups.Then—A voice.Too close.Too careless.“We still haven't seen her. Basike pretends he's clean. I hate that family. Bunch of criminals.”Farida froze.Not fear.Not even surprise.Realization. Everything makes sense now Slowly, she set her cup down.Her gaze did not lift.But her mind—Was already moving.And in that quiet moment—She understood something with terrifying clarity.This was the beginning of a downfall.And for the first time—Farida did not feel helpless.

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