One of Sadiq's greatest fears was forming an attachment he hoped could last a lifetime with any individual of the opposite gender with a genotype that didn't complement his doomed AS gene. Why he had contained his jubilance until he dropped Hafiz off before he opened the gates, allowing floods of Amani's radiant images to flush his heart. Cleansing him and setting his heart free to be plugged out, squeezed, and used in whichever way possible.

Punching the steering, he whispered, "Yass!" Before dropping his hand, staring at the twilight.

The hunger that enveloped him hours back graduated to an obsessive-healthy-obsessive hunger for getting to know the lady that had generated annoyance in him their first encounter but now managed to erase it into predilection.

Sadiq hardly felt the need to generate excuses to see or talk to someone. Neither did his heartbeat race, his breath accelerate and his body temperature ostensibly heighten at the sight of a lady. The feeling was new, bizarre, and worth feeling for the rest of his days. He wouldn't sit around and wait for fate to make their paths cross again or abolish any shot they had at colliding again.

It didn't surpass Sadiq's collective memory when Hafiz mentioned she was an Instagram influencer on their journey out of school. Or was it content creator he said?

Stalking was a girl's game but he would beg to be excused on this occasion as he picked up his phone from the dashboard and surged the AC's vigor a bit-he was heating up at the thought of her.

Special appreciation from Sadiq went to the founder of Instagram. A few failed attempts at his search succeeded in him finding a certain '@amani_theexplorer' with a display name of Amani Katagum and her populous profile grazed the screen of his device. A display picture of her and three other individuals he deduced to be her mother, a sister, and a brother, he took note that she had over forty thousand followers and followed a few thousand as well with a post count that exceeded a thousand. Her bio occupied three other accounts that led to a perfume store page, Skincare, and Hair care brand.

She had puzzling lines underneath, 'Eighteen countries,' 'Next stop; Korea' which only interpreted down her post grids that she was a travel blogger, and tourist and Korea was her next country to visit. Also an aspiring photographer and an ambassador to a recently established Salcare skin and haircare brand.

Images of food, views, a woman who was supposedly her mother, and her two frequently posted siblings, products, and a few back or side view images of her summed up her account.

It took his phone's alert to be plugged into the nearest charger before he zoomed out of his trance, clicked the follow button, and with a crying heart clicked off the phone before driving off.

He could obsess over her page at night; he was sure he wasn't going to sleep with her thoughts clouding his senses. Now, he needed to go over the files he had been stalling to read.

Like every member of his family, he ought to engage in business no matter the zilch.

Successful people started somewhere, somewhere little to the best of your imagination, his mother had turned into a mantra she didn't let him or his siblings forget. The woman tenderly framed their minds from a young age that education was the salt to life, but business and independence were the corresponding sugar to it. They needed to devote the last cell of their body to it and watch it grow.

Dream chasers-she nurtured them and did a terrific job at it. Sadiq knew Amani was someone his mom would instantly click with. Such drive and dedication in someone who was just in their fresh year of uni? Her parents must be proud. She must have a great and supportive background of parents. This couldn't have been without great parents or a mentor and he looked forward to getting to know her and them.

Wait.

Get to know her and them?

Amani had denied Sadiq her number and he was scared that she was out of his league-why his finger couldn't brush the message button on her page.

But what was he? A persistent dream chaser. Maybe not soon but they'd collide again; Abuja wasn't such a big place when you know people and he was ten thousand followers ahead of her. No way they wouldn't clash again. In his favor, hopefully.

After his Salam at his mother's place, the retired hunger resurfaced through him at the smell of divine food-a virtue that ran through his family's blood.

"Fadila my love," He dragged, wiggling his brows at a short slender fair girl-the female, lighter version of him.

Fadila ignored him, passing through an open door in the chilly, fruity fragranced living room designed half with glass and the other half with lilac furniture. She placed a plate out to another female version of him, only much shorter and with more defined and striking features atop an almond skin like his.

"Thank you." The girl on the floor said, her face hidden behind a book.

Sadiq slid out of his shoes, planting himself on the rug in front of Fadila. Fadila instinctively shunned her plate to the side, denying him access to her plate of stir-fried rice noodles.

"Kar a jimu." He warned, stretching an arm forward. Her response was the opposite, rolling her eyes and shaking her head.

"It won't be enough for me," Fadila said and Sadiq's mouth went agape.

"All this food?"

His question went bereft of an answer and he hastily headed to the kitchen. Food warmers weren't in sight. Great. They were doing it the hard way. He grabbed a spoon on his way back to find his mother, the short woman generous enough to pass a few of her striking features down to him except for her creamy skin; rested on the lounge rest with her legs crossed at the ankles on a coffee table while her lensed eyes poured their attention unto the laptop on her lap.

Sadiq had sat, blocking Fadila's route of escape before the teenager wailed towards their mother, "Umma!"

Umma glanced at them before returning her focus to her MacBook. Sadiq smirked, his smirk growing into a suspicious grin that pushed his cheeks, halving his eyes.

"I will bend first before you eat this food," Fadila swiped the plate to the right when Sadiq's spoon aimed at it. Following his missed attempt at stealing her food, his aim pushed food off the plate, splattering on the rug and his Kaftan.

Umma's focus graduated into a glare and burnt it on Fadila who put the plate down to point at Sadiq. "Wallahi he was the one, ask Basma."

Heaven smiled at him, unveiling a faded voice that become more prominent by the second. Eyes fixated on the slide doors that produced a short, cream-tone woman with a sleeping child wrapped in her right hand and a basket secured in her left. A kid sprinted past her with wide arms.

"Tuwon shinkafa da miyan taushe from your favorite daughter," The young mother announced over the sound of Sadiq squealing at the kid, swiftly picking him up and heading to his mother-the next version of Umma, only more slender.

Sadiq put out a hand around her basket, grabbed it, and walked ahead to put down the basket along with the kid.

"Jays," he dragged, opening the food warmers. He dragged a breath, slouching his head to the right, "Allah ya baki Miji na gari."

"Inada miji abeg." She glared at him.

"Toh Allah ya kaiki Abu dhabi," he prayed instead, diving into the food.

With all the obsessing and dream chaser boast, you'd think Sadiq exerted effort into finding or talking to Amani-of course, other than the daily, creepy stalks of her Instagram and Twitter page.

Weeks went by him immersed in school, and endlessly flying back and forth to Kano for his fabric business to the point his blood pressure had shot down.

While normal people's blood pressure surged under over extensive state, Sadiq was a regular victim of anemia. A topic he'd rather not think nor reminisce about. He was put to bed under heavy blood and saline drip transfusions. As if that wasn't enough, Umma insisted on Sadiq's CT scan be renewed for the second time that month, to be on the safe side.

Adamant as ever, coupled with the stiff willpower to not let his amateur business collapse, life went on with an IV tube stuck to his hand until his daily shots had lapsed. Finally, he could breathe. And he could breathe even better if he saw Amani. Even if it was from across the street.

But he had sisters and would get violent with any man that showed any sign of stalking them. So he kept his strap tight on his high horse, deciding this must go right and gentle. She won't give him her number? Fine. He won't text her Instagram. He couldn't go see her? Fine, he won't physically stalk her. What was fine and what he could do though was scheme tricks in his favor.

"Maza, you just want to see Katagum."

"Eh?" Sadiq feigned ignorance, immersing foster focus on his phone.

"We both know you want us to go pick Sabrin, hoping to see her too. Cause when did you start to care about Sabrin's transport?"

Although some of it was true, that was a grim way of putting it, forcing Sadiq's natural smirk into a purse. "I do care about Sabrin, Hafiz. It's you that can go to hell."

The game room filled with the sound of player grunts, heavy rainfall, and the Ac filling the wood-fragranced room.

"You're going to be wasting your time. She doesn't play around like that," he paused the game to turn to Sadiq, "It applies to everyone. I tried too, she doesn't date and she is strong on that."

"Ni nace maka ina nemanta da dating ne?" The words sounded less convincing out loud.

Sadiq's hopes of getting close to her were deteriorating. Coupled with disturbing theories coming from Hafiz, his heartbeat surged, and warmth spread across his chest. The last he felt anything close to that was when he hugged his proud, crying mom at the scene of his business shop launch a year ago.

"Even if she dates you-"

"No need for that, I'll just marry her." Sadiq was a little bruised at his friend's words, un-slouching from the couch and fixating a look on his friend who laughed.

"Let me remind and pull you out of harm's way. She is eighteen, you're just about to turn twenty-one. Be using your brain."

"She is eighteen?" She looked and sounded at least twenty to Sadiq.

"Yes." 

Sadiq still had plans, opposing Hafiz's which was to play Fifa for the rest of the rainy day. "Dalla call Sabrin."

Silence.

"Call her mana."

To shut a generally reserved Sadiq who spontaneously remodeled into a talkative was to give him what he sought; pausing the game and dialing Sabrin's digits. Gushes of air from her side came before she named Hafiz a lifesaver as she was about to order her and Amani a bolt. She didn't drive and Amani needed the notes Sabrin left at home.

He sighed, clicking off the phone to announce to Sadiq but was cut off when the young man waved a key in front of him, "I'm driving."

"Nide I'll tell you again. Don't waste your time or hers making unrealistic promises." It wasn't debatable that Sadiq had turned deaf in relation to Amani. The poor, hopeless boy.

Sadiq drove to the uni like a cop in chase of a criminal.

Eyes glued to Amani and Sabrin's fruitless attempt at getting to the car without raindrops touching them, Sadiq unconsciously stuck his chest out and tensed his shoulders, lips parting and focus shrinking unto one person. In a few seconds, he memorized her black thigh-length top, matching slacks with sparkly white slides, a veil, backpack, and minimalistic jewelry topping off her look.

Sabrin greeted them as she wiggled her brows at Sadiq who chuckled and shook his head.

"Hi," Amani waved at him, a soft smile pulling her fluffy cheeks up.

"Hi," he weakly waved back. 

Unlike the reckless drive to uni, the drive back was slow and silent. Anything to breathe the same air as the lady sitting behind his opposing seat; bereft of the idea that he could feel her stolen glances which lasted longer than usual. Assuring him they were on the same page. Someone just had to make a move.

Hafiz gave Sadiq a nonchalant thumbs up, retiring back to his game. Sabrin sensing the idea, marvelously suggested an illness all to get a furious Amani alone in the car with Sadiq. She etched on a permanent frown, looking out the window and obscuring the party exclusive to needles and pins hosted at the pit of her stomach.

Visible to every individual was the surge of nerves and emotions both of them harbored for each other except for themselves. They were blind. Scared.

"So...how was your day at school?" He asked once parked in front of a five-stair porch she had directed him to.

"All I fantasized about was my bed and a plate of sweet food. In short, I'm ready to drop out of Law school before it even begins."

Sadiq laughed longer than he normally would. Again acting out in more ways than himself. "If it makes you feel any better, I'm doing this degree just so my father calls me a loser less."

Intrigued as to how he stated her entire reason for studying too-except the looser part, her attention drew her body to mimic his position, resting her back on the window. "I am only here to study law because my father said so."

"That makes the two of us." He was lost in the depths of her glamor even after a long day at school. Not a feature out of place. And if there was, his eyes saw her in and beyond, forgiving anything out of place.

"What are you studying?" She asked.

"Business management."

"Law." She nodded, reminding herself that she was doing this suicide course.

"I know," Sadiq said, following her heaving chest and quickly dropping his gaze before she thought he was creepy. All he wanted was to keep breathing her soft pineapple scent mixed with his under the rain.

His eyes roamed her face, obvious and obsessively slow that she began to feel conscious. Had her Kohl smudged? Great. He was staring at her when she was sure she looked like a person rescued from the teeth of a lion.

"I have to go." Amani dropped her folded leg, glancing out of the window to find it still raining. She closed her eyes in sync with his order.

"Wait," he unlatched the door, swiftly slamming it and disappearing.

Seconds later, Amani flinched at her door unlatching, the furious sound of rain intensifying along with a light splash of the water before it stopped and a figure swooped in with warmth, setting a palm out to her. The act was sweetly unusual to her, instinctively rejecting it before she gave herself a pep talk on how nice gestures should be reciprocated with gratitude. Their cold hands clasped, and Amani was pulled up, confirming her doubts that this was not a dream.

Dreams aside, her white slides, wrist watch, and her brain instantly protested at the sight of dirty pooled water fencing her stairs and the floor beneath it. She moved into him, closing their distance as his scent magnified until he pushed the door with his leg, eyes fixed on her dropped head.

Sadiq was no psychic but her expression had soured, "What is wrong?" So he could fix it and feasibly fix a better expression on her.

"My slides." Amani pointed a finger to her obstructed feet, "They're going to get wet and dirty."

"Oh," realization hit him and so did her slightly trembling figure. He needed to get her into her rez. "Can i..." he trailed off, voices battling in his head to conclude on what approach he was supposed to go with. He couldn't keep wasting time, she was freezing. "Can you do something for me?"

Amani rose her head to come face to face with him, their eyes clashing that close for the first time since their first encounter three months ago. Her knees slacked at the sync of eyes and his hold on her palms tightened. Voice vague, he hoarsed, "Hold the umbrella for us, will you?"

Again, hesitation. She took hold of the umbrella with her free hand, raising her hand higher so his taller frame of roughly about 5ft10 could fit in.

"Do you trust me?"

Weirdly and in a stupid blink of an eye, "Yes." She whispered.

A smile that almost tore the skin off the flesh of his face spread and he nodded, tuning out the heavy sound of rainfall that could deafen them if they stood there longer.

Tenderly, he slid off her backpack to slant on his shoulder with his free hand and untangled their fingers. Compensating their loss of skin contact by wrapping one arm around her back and another under her port thighs to smoothly sweep her off her feet. Literally and metaphorically, straight to his chest.

If she was freezing before, she damn well was burning now. He warmed her heart, her body, her soul.

Amani took the liberty to be a hypocrite, going against her beliefs about men and letting a gentle one pick her up the stairs of her porch, the umbrella intertwined between her fingers that were wrapped around his Kaftan neck.

Afraid of looking down at her and losing his last string of sanity, he stared ahead and rigidly. Hoping, praying his heart didn't beat loudly against the part of her flesh sandwiching his chest. At the door, his arm around her thigh loosened to drop her and she shrank further, clinging unto him.

"Key?" He opted for, looking down at her and so help him God he was the one whose heart was going to go weak and shut down if he didn't get away from her.

"My left slack pocket. Front."

He endured the struggle that came with holding her and searching for her key until he caught it. Reviving to click off the lock and push the door with his shoulder into a milk and brown lounge, down to a door she pointed at after throwing the umbrella to the couch.

In her room, she untangled from him when he tenderly placed her down, ready to stand and she took her sweet time memorizing his face down to her favorite part; his premature beard that hadn't connected in some parts.

The crisp air resurfaced before she crossed her arms and hugged herself. Sadiq help get rid of her shoes and socks, shifting her trashed-out stuff to allow him to pass without stepping on them.

"Am I too heavy?" A low voice asked.

Silence answered her question and she nodded.

"I know it, I am so heavy that is why you wanted to put me down so bad."

Sadiq tried to remember the part where he did that. What was she saying?

"People are right. I am adding too much fat. I need to stop eating. Slim down and then look good so I can feel—"

"Hey," he tucked her shoe out of the room. "I don't remember wanting to drop you because you were heavy," in all honesty, she was a bit heavy but he was too whipped to acknowledge it until she mentioned it. He also didn't mind. Anything to keep fit. "And you're not fat. You're plump and I think it is a privilege to be."

"But I am not-"

"You are whatever good thing you think you're not."

"You're just saying that because we just met."

Adamance does not showcase physically- a fact he learned that day. Why were they arguing about that when perfection was laying in front of him?

"You're perfect." He spoke from the depths of his heart within a second and without a zilch of doubt.