Akira's life had taken a dramatic turn after she left Liya in Lagos. She had shed her old life like a worn-out skin, leaving behind a trail of confused friends and abandoned responsibilities. She had always been restless, always chasing the next thrill, the next adventure.
Akira had traveled the world, soaking up new experiences and collecting stories like souvenirs. She had lived in Paris, Tokyo, and New York, always staying one step ahead of her past. She had dated men and women, each one a new conquest, a new distraction from the emptiness that had been growing inside her.
But as she approached her 50s, Akira had begun to feel a sense of discontent. She had done it all, seen it all, and yet she felt unfulfilled. She had tried to fill the void with possessions and experiences, but nothing seemed to stick.
And then, she had heard about Liya's accident. It was like a wake-up call, a reminder that life was short and fragile. Akira had realized that she had been running from her responsibilities, from the pain of her past, and from the daughter she had abandoned.
Now, Akira was planning something big, something that would change the course of Liya's life forever. She had been secretly buying up property in Lagos, building a network of contacts and influence. She was planning to return to Nigeria, to take control of Liya's life and shape her future in her own image.
Akira's motives were complex, driven by a mix of guilt, love, and a desire for control. She knew that Liya would be angry, that she would resist her attempts to re-enter her life. But Akira was convinced that she was doing what was best for her daughter, that she was the only one who could protect Liya from the world and from herself.
As Akira sat in her luxurious penthouse, sipping champagne and staring out at the Manhattan skyline, she smiled to herself. She was coming for Liya, and there was nothing that could stop her.
Her plan was to swoop in, take control of Liya's finances, and dictate her career path. She would make sure Liya never had to struggle again, never had to make the same mistakes she had made. And if Liya resisted, Akira would use every trick in the book to bring her around.
Akira's obsession with control was a disease, one that had been eating away at her for years. She knew it, but she couldn't help herself. She had to be in control, had to be the one calling the shots.
And Liya, poor Liya, was just a pawn in Akira's game of life. She was a means to an end, a way for Akira to redeem herself and prove to the world that she was a good mother.
As the days ticked by, Akira's plan began to take shape. She made phone call after phone, setting wheels in motion, building a network of allies and informants. She was a master puppeteer, pulling the strings from behind the scenes.
And Liya, still struggling to recover from her accident, had no idea what was coming her way. She was about to become a pawn in a game she didn't even know she was playing.
The stage was set, the players in place. All that was left was for Akira to make her move, to unleash her plan on the world and see how it would all play out.Liya's eyes fluttered open, and she was met with the sterile white ceiling of her hospital room. She groaned, trying to remember how she had ended up there. The last thing she remembered was walking across the University of Lagos campus, lost in thought.
As she tried to sit up, a wave of dizziness washed over her, and she fell back onto the pillows. That's when she saw them - a series of images flashing before her eyes like a slideshow.
She saw herself as a young girl, standing in front of a canvas, covered in paint, laughing as she created something beautiful. She saw herself as a teenager, sketching in her notebook during class, her eyes lit up with inspiration. She saw herself as a university student, standing in front of a crowd, talking about her art, her voice filled with passion.
And then, she saw her mother - Akira. Liya's eyes widened as memories came flooding back. She remembered the day Akira had left her, the feeling of abandonment and rejection. She remembered the struggle to survive, the nights spent crying herself to sleep.
But most of all, she remembered her art. It was her escape, her therapy, her passion. Liya's eyes welled up with tears as she realized that she had been given a second chance. She had lost her memory, but she had gained a new perspective.
As she lay there, Liya's mind began to wander back to her university days. She had always wanted to study art, but her mother had discouraged her, saying it was a waste of time. But Liya had been determined, and she had worked hard to get into the University of Lagos.
She had been assigned a project to create a piece of art that represented her heritage, and Liya had been stuck. She had walked around the campus, looking for inspiration, when she stumbled upon a group of students painting in the quad. They had invited her to join them, and Liya had been hooked.
The smell of paint, the feel of the brush in her hand, the rush of creativity - it was like a new heaven had opened up for her. She had found her calling, and nothing could ever take that away from her.
Liya's memories were coming back in bits and pieces, but one thing was clear - she was meant to be an artist. She felt a sense of purpose, a sense of direction. She knew what she had to do.
As she lay in the hospital, Liya made a vow to herself. She would not let her past define her. She would not let her mother's mistakes dictate her future. She would rise above it all, and she would create art that would make her mother proud.
With newfound determination, Liya threw off the covers and swung her legs over the side of the bed. It was time to take control of her life, and her art.
To be continued...
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