Chapter 1

      One could saunter idly down the terraced road with the chilly and misty atmosphere welcoming bumps on one's arms. One could settle down on  a pavement and pensively watch the sun sets, appearing from its harbour with golden rays. One could rather stir about with awe having seen spindly trees sway like ballerinas in a ballet performance with dropping birches and boughs as one stamp and crumple the dried leaves laying idly on the floor, One could trail off the street and peer at the black birds loitering in the sky and the ones on electric poles with chirpy noises and pointed beaks like nails. One could stride across the lawn, feasting a glance on trimmed grasses with sunflowers and daffodils within - spead out like a little bed laid for a kid to rest on. One could edge forth and wade one's legs in a bid to feel the misty meadows between one's toes. One could settle down on a furry cushion, a cup of coffee clenched in the right palm and blanket encovering one's frame with the hair ruffled and face dishevelled. One could loudly snore in bed, lost in one's fanciful dreamland with legs spread out; eyelids closed, no blink nor movement. One could rather scream being badgered by an infidel husband or nasty kids playing video games, setting aside household chores. One could fumble furiously with the car, wondering what demon had struck the engines, overnight. One could do that which allure one but this blissful saturday, Linda Solanke - a 24 year old lady, tall, slender with gracious carriage, an oblong face rested on a fitting neck and broad hips hidden under the jeans trousers choosed to practise an early morning jog. A daughter to the influential political juggernaut and business tycoon; Ronald Solanke - the founder of Sho and Co firm, a philanthropist and fundraiser of Our Heritage Orphanage home. With chest, heaving and her breathing softly,  Linda rambled past the huge duplexes behind large black gates. She nodded and like one smothered, she sighed; earphones fixed in her ears as she swept past the bouganvilleas and daisies gazing cautiously at her. 

         " You gotta believe in what you do ....

You gotta believe in who you are......

 Never stop........" Linda silently crooned, swerved and practised some strokes. With her flexed arms and her forehead glinting like glass in the rising sun, she stopped - half - stooped, crouched, spreading out her thinly arms as an SUV and Volkswagen car rattled past her. Linda tilted her head, going further. It was a free day, a day to recline and enjoy soap operas with less worries and anxieties . A day to bond with family and laugh with much glee. It was saturday morning - thirty minutes after eight; a free day for some and hectic for another. Linda was one of those whose saturday tend to be free with no herculean task to disrupt the pleasant moment except a call for business trip.

         "Morning! " she called out to two lovebirds bonding at the balcony having heard the lady call after her. Walking past the gates, with grin she winced and her face became stern with a dismal aura encircling the ambience. Linda knew so well that the memories of the past flooded her thoughts at times amidst her rigorous battle in a bid to regain freedom from its yokes. She bent, stretching her legs as her heart pounded; recoiling in awe. Two days ago, she had felt pangs of fright and her stomach rumbled with much disdain for  the Casat organisation were yet to award the contract to the company she oversee at the moment, Linda was quite certain that they might give it out to another. She pursed her lips and slowed down, still on the run as she wondered why Tinu would never step down. Tinu's love for competition and schemes to bring her down had irked her wrath and with seething rage, she spurned her. Some pedestrians swept past her, treading on lanes beside the road.  She turned at a bend, wincing as a fat lady approached her, beaming. Linda stopped, forcing a smile and cautiously stealing a glance at the bag clasped in the woman's hand. 

        " Oh Linda! Morning jog? " the stubby woman questioned, averting her eyes to Linda's bare cleavage. 

         " Yes Mrs Jones, I've to burn some calories."

         "Calories? If you burn calories, I should too. I'm thrice your stature. I once tried to but I couldn't. So tough ! How do you stand the pains? That of the chest and your hips?Don't your chest hurt? Don't you feel exhausted? Do you visit gymnasium too? I guess I'm an inept person at practising exercise, Linda. "

      "Determination, Mrs Jones. You should try to, it's easy. I've got to go now..." Linda mumbled, walking past Mrs Jones.

         "Enjoy your weekend Linda! " she said. This lady acts weird, I know she won't stay to even let us chitchat for some minutes. At least, today is Saturday."

      With cholesterol and fats stored up in her bellies and arms, she found exercise repugnant, Linda thought. Sliding her hands into her pockets, she brought out her keys and nervously opened the gate. She live alone afterall except Cynthia volunteer to stay for a night or two. 

         Settling on the cushion with couch pillows rested on her thighs, Linda realised there was need to shower as she felt sweat trickle down her armpits. She rose with despair, pondering on how to spend the weekend - a visit to the mart or a blissful day at home, she thought.

          Striding towards the kitchen, she stopped glancing at the microwave;  she had left some spaghetti overnight but she wasn't craving to eat such on a saturday morning.

           "Cereals will do for now , " she mumbled. Still contemplating on whether to visit a mart and purchase some things or sit and watch soap-operas at home, her phone beeped with a faint click and raptly, she dashed to the cabinet with her right hand placed on the white wall of the kitchen. It was Aunt Yomola, her dad's younger sister. 

        "But it's early, I hope today won't be spent listening to one of her lectures. " Linda sighed.

         "Morning ma.....What! How?  .......Crescent hospital, l'll be there right now. "Linda yelped out, dashing out of the kitchen.