Dedicated to Toyeebah_ for the beautiful cover

CHAPTER 2

My name is Dayesha, and even though some people call me by my middle name which is Ameerah,some shortened 'Dayesha',and referred to me as 'Esha' instead. An example of people who call me Esha is Aunt Rahmah's second daughter; Zainab.

"Esha, how are you?" She hugs me.

"I'm good. Where's Aunt?" I walked into the house ahead of her.

" She's in her room, follow me".

She pulled at the China door of Aunt Rahmah's room. I entered the room and gasps inaudible at the weak frame of Aunt Rahmah. She looked a lot thinner than the last time I had seen her.

Her chest was rising and falling steadily. She was fast asleep. I said some duas and blow it over her.

I don't know much, but I know she has some serious issues with her former in-laws. Since Zainab's dad passed away last year, Aunt Rahmah had been facing some serious issues with her in-laws. Mum won't tell me much, but I know that it had to do with the inheritance he left behind.

Funny thing? It has already been shared according to Islamic rules, and yet, they kept on disturbing Aunt Rahmah and her kids.

"How's school?" I asked Zainab as we exit the room. She huffed dramatically and plopped down on her bed. I sat down on the couch in her room and pulled off my hijab.

"Those lecturers want to kill me before my time," she whined.

I chuckled. "You're just lazy".

"I'm not lazy. You just have more IQ than I do," she pouts.

I rolled my eyes at her. My phone vibrated yet again.

"When is Zoya coming back home?" I asked.
Zoya is Zainab's elder sister and the first daughter of Aunt Rahmah. She's in her fourth year at a private university studying Law.

Both Zainab and I go to federal universities which were currently under strike. The strike was said to last two weeks or until the federal government settled the academic staff union of universities.

"She's writing her semester exams and should be through with it in two weeks," she replied.

"That's fast,"
I unlocked my phone and logged in to the 'blue app' which I had been receiving messages from a certain unknown guy. Ilyas... not bad.

Ilyas: so the pretty girl with a pretty name, what do you do for a living?

Me: the unknown guy whose curiosity is getting weird, what do you think I do for a living?

Now, here's a catch. I like fast responses when I'm chatting with someone, most especially when it's from a guy. Though several guys I chat with are barely up to ten, there's just something about fast replies that makes me more interested.

Ilyas: you're a student who's currently under her parent's care.

Me: you sound confident in your response.
Ilyas: that's because I am confident. Are you though?

"Is that a new boyfriend?" Zainab asked.

I flashed her a lopsided grin. "I don't do boyfriends, Zainab. I've got no time for the drama that comes with it".

"If you say so," she hummed. I laughed at the face she was giving me.

"Have I ever told you that I love your facial expressions?" I winked.

"No, you haven't ".

"Well, I just did. You've got the most expressive eyes I've seen, and your face...is superb".

She raised an eyebrow. "You mean my facial expressions, ".

I shrugged. "Both. You're one of a kind".

My phone vibrated and I glanced at it. Zainab moved closer to me on the couch and peep at my phone.

"Ilyas Muhammad. How typical. You still got that fetish for males with the name 'Muhammad '?"

"Maybe, maybe not. And his name is Ilyas, not Muhammad ". I replied to her as I read his message.

Me: Depends on the definition of confident, and the situation.

Ilyas: confident girls are a turn-on for me.

Zainab coughed beside me. I realised she also read the message. We looked at each other and suddenly burst out laughing.

"Girl, you're crazy," she wheezes.

Zainab and I have been friends ever since I could remember. Since I had no sister, she filled in the spot for me. Together we'd do crazy stuff of all kinds not minding what other people think of us. We were like twins from different wombs.

Me: Am I supposed to reply to that?

Ilyas: no, you're not. I merely stated one of the qualities I look for in females.

Me: are you looking for a spouse?

Ilyas: not yet. Gotta check if the shoe fits before wearing it.

Me: sorry, but I'm not a matchmaker. You can go look for your potential bride somewhere else.

Zainab stood up and left her room to go bring what I presume would be snacks. I also stand up and powered on her laptop, and browsed through the dramas she had.

"Hey, let's watch this one. I watched an episode on a coursemate's laptop and it seems nice," I pointed at the laptop's screen when Zainab entered with a tray filled with cookies and scones.

She glanced at the screen. "I haven't watched it either. Someone recommended it, and I just downloaded it last night".

"Cool," I rubbed my hands together eagerly. I adjusted the pillows on her bed and placed the laptop the way we had always done it.

"Wait, let me quickly call a friend," she picked up her phone.

I nod and checked to see if there was a new message from the Ilyas guy. Funny how I was finding the conversation between us interesting.

He had replied to my message.
Ilyas: that's the main issue.

I took a huge bite from one of the scones, and quietly moan in satisfaction.
Me: you can't find a bride?

Ilyas: I can't find a bride who meets up with all my expectations.

Me: too bad. Expectations lead to disappointments.

Ilyas: why is it so hard to find a lady who matches common expectations these days?

Me: and what are the common expectations?

Ilyas: is that an indirect way of asking for my type?

I chuckled. This Ilyas guy is interesting.
Me: do you think it is?

One thing I had learned about guys was to push the question back to them in scenarios like this. It's one of the ways to get into their head, and while it might not work for some of them, it keeps them on their feet.

Zainab hung up with the friend she was conversing with and joined me on the bed. I turned off my mobile data and closed the blue app.

I pressed the play button for the first episode and adjusted my sitting position.
The second episode had just finished when Zainab turned to look at me with a serious face.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

"Be careful," she simply said.

I was confused. "About what?"

"About that Ilyas guy. I don't want to hear stories that touch the heart later on".

I waved her off. "I know Zainab. I'm just having fun in the meantime. Besides, do you think I have the time with the loads of textbooks I have to study?"

"Just warning you," she singsongs, shaking her head.

"I don't need that dear," I mimicked her and she playfully punched my shoulder.

"A simple 'thanks' would have been a better response," she frowns.

"Well, what can I say? I'm not a better person whenever I'm around you," I said and put on the next episode.

I twists the doorknob and dragged my feet inside, slamming the door behind me. I locked it and put the keys on the mini-shelf in the living room. Mum is working the night shift, so she won't be back until tomorrow. I'm the only one home for now.

I slipped in my slippers and walked straight to the fridge.
"Argh! Why do the macarons have to finish when I'm craving it?" I whined and kicked the fridge in frustration.

In case you haven't noticed, I love snacks, junk, whatever you call it. If not because of mum, I'd be feeding off of them my whole life.

Well, I still got some bars of chocolates left. I had put them away from mum's prying eyes. She would give them out to total strangers if she ever found out.

I looked at my reflection in the mirror. Med school is such a pain in the butt. After just a week of staying at home, my face changed noticeably.

Not only my face, but I had also gained little weight, and my eyebags were almost nonexistent now. I'm going to enjoy the privileges that come with staying back home now even if it's just a week.

Who loves stress anyway? Not me.

I turned on my mobile data and logged into Facebook. A tiny part of me was eagerly anticipating a message from Ilyas. I'm such an easy girl, I know. But, it's all for the fun that comes with it. Ilyas is a temporary distraction that would cease to exist once schools are back into session.

And yes, there was a message from him. No, three messages.
Ilyas: since you asked, I'll tell you.
I rolled my eyes at this.
Ilyas: I'm mostly into beautiful fair-skinned ladies whose height is at least 5'6"(short girls aren't my type). Excellent cooks, friendly and smart.

Ilyas: what else? Oh yeah, hardworking and knows the Qur'an too.

'Of course, I thought sarcastically. That's what 'every guy' nowadays is looking for. Perfect lady,bla bla bla.

Me: I don't know why you're telling me this, but good luck with your search for your perfect bride.

I hit the send button, and the thought of blocking him suddenly crossed my mind. This isn't going to end well, my inner voice said. Nothing good ever comes out of a social media interaction of this type.

Ayesha do it! My inner mind, the sensible part of me scolds.
But I can't. Why can't I?

The damn button was just a few centimetres from my fingers, yet it seems so far away. There's this part of me who isn't yet ready to let go.

Besides, I only have fun once in a while. I have a feeling that Ilyas would be fun and at the same time a challenge. And I love challenges.

I just want to enjoy this feeling while it lasts. Was that too much for me to ask?

Well, I'm doing this. It will only be for a while, and no strings attached.

I opened my WhatsApp p and started viewing contact statuses. That's basically what I do there anyway. The people I chat with on WhatsApp aren't up to ten.

Lame? Na, I prefer genuineness, and I'm not going to force communication with those who are uninterested.

I was watching a video posted by a secondary school classmate when the notification came in.

Ilyas: thank you. Is this the right time to ask for your real name, and if you're single?

Me: Ameerah is my name, and yes, I'm single.

Ilyas: this would have been the perfect time to use the cliché line 'my grandma or mum bears Ameerah ', but too bad, none of my family members that I know of bears that name.

Me: oh. How I love clichés.

Ilyas: the Princess got a sarcastic bone in her, I'm hooked. What other attributes are you hiding mi amor?

Now, I'll be lying if I say my lips didn't curve upwards at that. I giggled for a second, before composing myself.
Ayesha, don't put your heart into complications, the inner me cautioned.

Me: who are you, Ilyas?
That was a very short question, yet can be challenging for some. I want to believe Ilyas would be an exception to this.

The reply came in three minutes later.
Ilyas: straightforward, I see. My name is Ilyas, twenty-three and a software engineer. I'm happy doing what I do best and also making money from it. And, I'm an illegitimate child.

Illegitimate what? That was the last thing I was expecting to read, and even though I know I shouldn't be shocked at this. I can't help it.

Me: I can't seem to comprehend how you could tell me that you were given birth to outside wedlock so casually.

Ilyas: it's part of who I am. I see no reason to hide that detail about me. Smiles.

I blinked once, twice. This was...different. No, this Ilyas of a guy was different. There's something about him that kept on drawing me to him like a moth to a flame. I can't seem to place a finger on it.

Me: that came as a shocker to me.

Ilyas: don't fret over it, Princess. Now, it's your turn.

Ilyas: who exactly are you, Ameerah?

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Much love,
Midha....