Chapter Two
Nasarawa.
Present Day.

HAFSAT HABIB WAS TWENTY-TWO YEARS old, the last daughter of her parents and the final child to get married among her seven siblings. Hafsat Habib was younger than Fatiha Hassan, but Fatiha Hassan was yet to get married.

According to Fatiha, it was not all that bad to be twenty-seven and still unmarried; her mother however considered it a sin. A shame.

Hafsat got married yesterday and unlike the other girls who were sweeping through her new home in her new town, inspecting and taking pictures of themselves in the well furnished duplex, Fatiha was seated away from the crowd, tucked in a corner of the parlour with her head lowered as she tried but failed to avoid the many women filing in and out of the place.

Again, another of her younger sister had gotten married. Fatiha knew this day-no, correction-the next few weeks wouldn't be pleasant for her.

Someone stopped in front of her, a box that contained Allah knows what cradled in her hands.

Fatiha groaned softly under her breath. Talk about trying to be invisible.

"Fatiha," the woman breathed out hoarsely and Fatiha knew from her voice who it was. She looked up at the only maternal relative she had left. Auntie Halimah was only a few years older than her. Her nose was still red from the cold she was suffering from.

Auntie Halima had fragile skin and as a result of being born premature had a very weak immune system that made her get sick easily. She was weak yet beautiful, both in spirit and appearance. It was one of the reasons why she was Fatiha's favorite auntie.

"What are you doing here? Won't you go and look around like your sisters are doing? The place is really nice." Auntie Halima encouraged.

Of course it would be. They hadn't expected the first born son of the minister of finance to build a shack for his wife, had they?

Fatiha smiled at her auntie, then opened her mouth to say she was fine sitting where she was when another of her auntie, this one the bride's mother and her father's sister, walked over to the duo.

"Fatiha?"

Fatiha tried to squeeze herself further into the chair's wine and golden upholster if that was possible. But it was not. Being plus-size, she knew it was wishful thinking on her part.

"What are you doing here? Won't you go and look around?"

If she had been able to escape her other nagging aunties, Fatiha knew it would take a miracle to escape Hafsat's mother's grasp. Auntie Rahmah was a bloodhound; never giving up until she got what she wanted. What was she even doing here? Fatiha wanted to ask then she looked at herself internally, and asked herself, What am I doing here?

Fatiha took in the woman's face. A few crinkles had accumulated over time as she aged. Fatiha knew most of those wrinkles came as a result of her disapproval with the girl herself. Auntie Rahmah's once smooth and flawless bleached skin was beginning to age slightly after much strainsome years, but now that she had finally married off her last child, she had all the time in the world to relax.

Something Fatiha's mother wept every other night to attain.

Auntie Rahmah looked down at Fatiha, her hooded dark eyes narrowed in disapproval.

Fatiha would have loved to give an excuse but she didn't want to be the talk of their family meetings and seen as envious or a bad wisher. Allah knows a lot of people would be ready to jump on that very train since she was older than most of the girls in her extended family who were getting married.

"I've gone through the house," Fatiha smiled. "It is very lovely. Masha Allah. Allah ya bada zaman laffiya." She prayed.

The aunties muttered ameens and pleased with her they finally left with smiles. Auntie Rahmah however hoped the next wedding would be Fatiha's.

Huffing out in frustration, Fatiha quickly slid off the leather chair, grabbed her purse and began to walk out of the house.

One more minute in there with everyone secretly asking when she was going to announce the big day, Fatiha figured she might burst at the seams and scream that they all should get lost.

She fumbled with her bag as she walked to the gate, ignoring the voices of her sisters and cousins as they called out to her. She was pissed off and at no particular reason, but Fatiha knew if she went over to meet the girls she would end up screaming at them.

She needed to talk. She needed to vent and she couldn't tell her sisters what was bothering her. She couldn't explain to them why she felt annoyed every time one of their aunties asked "When is he going to come and see us?" And she feared she would ask one day if they were the ones he was coming to marry.

In her time of utter frustration there was only one person she could talk to.

Fatiha dug out her phone as she dropped unceremoniously onto a slab of cement blocks Hafsat's husband had attached to the walls outside the house for this particular purpose; seating. The late night breeze, a stark contrast to the blaze of the retreating sun cooled her skin. There were rows of Ixora plants and lemongrass around her, and underneath her dangling feet was a spread of recently mowed carpet grass.

Fatiha went to speed dial, her fingers pressing onto the name of the one person she could always count on in times like this one. Her fiancé.

Faisal Hammad.

Their first encounter had been like a scene out of a poorly written and cliché teenage romance movie. The type Noor loved to watch. The popular and good looking guy meets the plus-size girl who buries herself in her books and avoids socializing because she knows she'll never be good enough.

He had been the first to initiate a conversation when they had been paired to stay in charge of refreshments during inter-house sports day. His opening line had been him asking a lame question about why they were both bearing the same names. Fatiha had clarified that they weren't bearing the same name, they just had names that started with the same alphabetical letters.

The look he had given her had spelt 'nerd' but his soft chuckle hidden behind his dark palms had meant 'cute'. She had only been able to figure that out because she'd heard him mutter it.

Fatiha, then, like any other girl would have had they found themselves in that situation found herself pleased that such a good looking guy had initiated the conversation first and labeled her 'cute'. It had felt surreal and after some of his fawning girls had found out he was interested in her, she had crashed back down to earth. Her joy lasting only momentarily. The happenings only but a made dream.

Girls like her didn't get the good looking guys. She'd grown up knowing and believing that fact. She was the beast to his beauty. They were two different people. Polar opposites. Two ends of a magnet. The two sides of a coin. Harmattan and rainy season. Night and day. Really she could go on forever, but the fact remained the same. They were from two very different class socially.

Faisal had a large and boisterous social circle, while Fatiha on the other hand confined herself to the company and familiarity of her closest friends and family.

But Faisal Hammad had never cared much about all that. He had changed the facts for her. Made the dream she'd forbade herself from having come true. And all he'd wanted was to be with her. For who she was and what she was.

So, after endlessly trying to win her over and ease her insecurities, he finally succeeded.

During the years they had shared together, Fatiha had come to accept that it was fate that had brought them together and not some cheesy line from some drama he had memorized. Fate.

It was their destiny to be together. Qadr. They were fated to love each other. And she was deeply in love with him.

"Hello?"

Fatiha's heart shaped face lighted up at the smooth sound of her fiancé's voice and she broke into a grin.

"Hello, Fatiha?"

"Assalamu Alaikum. Hey, sorry for calling so late. I hope I'm not bothering you." She asked, girlishly playing with the teal chandelier earring in her right ear.

It took a while for him to answer and he cleared his throat before doing so. "No," he sighed, "it's fine. Is something wrong?"

Fatiha felt her heart skip a beat like it always did whenever he asked her small questions like this. It made her feel wanted. As the pleasure grew in her, she felt her cheeks heat and her chest grow warm. "No, I just... I just wanted someone to talk to," she was saying, pausing only slightly when she heard the gate open.

She looked up and her eyes fell on the one person she hadn't been expecting to see; Munir Adam Madaki.

Fatiha faltered as her mouth dropped open, her round darting eyes grew twice its size. What was he doing here? There was suddenly a bitter taste at the back of her mouth that threatened to consume her whole but she pressed her lips together to suppress herself from retching all over the grass beneath her feet.

"Fatiha, are you still there?" Faisal's voice called through the phone.

"Y-yes," she stuttered and cleared her throat, but was unable to take her gaze away. "I just thought of you that was why I called."

Munir mock-gagged, then made a kissy face at his phone. Fatiha responded by rolling her eyes at his childishness and shuddering in disgust while she mouthed, "Grow up already". She got a smirk as response.

Preferring to stay sane, Fatiha turned away from him with a shake of her head.

"Do you have time to talk?" she asked after clearing her throat. "I mean we haven't really had the chance to chat since I've been busy with Hafsat's wedding."

Faisal heaved a sigh that was followed by a long stretch of silence. Fatiha could hear Munir chuckling over something and as much as it was irritating to her ears, she didn't have the time to ask him for privacy. If she knew him well, he would only say something stupid like "It's not your room anyway", so why would she bother?

Besides, she had other things to think about. One for example, why was Faisal so quiet? Had she gone overboard with her request? She looked up at the sky and noted that it wasn't that late to chat over the phone either. So what was wrong?

Anxiety made her chew on her plain lip as he took longer to respond. She could hear muffled voices at the background and that was when she realized that she should have asked him if he was busy or already in bed. But what could she do now? She wasn't ready to go back to Hafsat's place.

Fatiha was cursing herself when Faisal's response came in. "I'm sorry, Fatiha. But maybe next time?"

She was caught by surprise by the sound if her name. He never called her by her name. It was either babe or habibti. Never Fatiha.

"Oh," she said, barely able to find her voice.

"Fatiha, are you there?" came Faisal's voice.

Again with the Fatiha. Her brows creased, but she forced out a chuckle. "Yes, I'm here. Well, I guess you must be busy, I'll talk to you later then. Goodnight."

She waited to hear him say I love you like he always did, but it never came.

"Toh, goodnight."

Fatiha? Toh? Goodnight?! What was going on?

Confused, Fatiha dropped her phone to her laps slowly. She wasn't the type of girl that threw the L word around, so she was reserving saying it for the one person she was certain she was going to spend the rest of her life with.

Or perhaps that excuse was just it... an excuse to hide her fear from hurting too much when the train wreck that was heartbreak came knocking on her door. But Faisal had never held himself back from telling her time and time again just how much he loved her.

But why was he so different today? What was wrong? Fatiha was plunging deep and fast into the tide of countless possibilities as to why Faisal had behaved the way he had when a voice boomed out, "Trouble in soyayya paradise?"

***
Translations:
1) Allah ya bada zaman laffiya: usually said to newly married couples.
2) Soyayya: Love.

Asalamu alaykum guys. How are you all doing? Great I hope. Here's another stop on our cruise. It's called Soyayya Paradise. 😂😂😂

Anywho, please don't forget to vote, leave encouraging comments as that would aid in smooth sailing, and also share.

Take care and see you in the next stop.
Ma salaam

-ZainaHijabi😘