Jamal scrolled through the contacts on his phone again, for the umpteenth time. He thought he had friends but he didn't. They only hung around because of what he could get for them, for the luxuries his position afforded. He played the role, always patronising, the way the very rich pretended to understand the plight of others. They polished his ego and he paid them for it. Suddenly a memory flickered before his eyes; the word 'ego' jogged something. Jamal sat back as the scene played in front of him like a movie. It was one of the rare occasions he and Nabila got along.He watched her rub lotion between her palms as she gisted him of the pre-nuptial arrangements abroad where wives were entitled to half of their husband's property. He saw his eyes go wide, confused at how a man could just sit back and let any woman take anything from him. But that wasn't why he remembered this moment, it was what she said before, he rewound the image... "I like Ikenna." Nabila was saying, "Most of your peers just follow you around like lap dogs but Ikenna is on an even keel. You're good for each other's ego.Maganin ka wallahi[he's your medicine]"
