Layla

I stepped out of Prof Fahad's class, feeling the cool evening air on my skin. His lecture had been rescheduled for late afternoon due to some important meeting at his firm. Earlier in the day, I'd been hanging out with my three best friends, laughing over coffee and unwinding before heading to class. Now that it was over, I walked toward my car, spotting Malam Daha waiting patiently by the curb in front of the department building.

As I started down the steps, I heard someone call my name. Turning, I saw Prof Fahad walking towards me, waving casually. I stopped and smiled politely as he approached.

"Miss Layla! Got a minute?" He asked, adjusting his bag on his shoulder.

"Of course, Prof Fahad," I replied, wondering what he might need.

"Just wanted to check in about the assignment due next week. If you have any questions or need clarifications, my office hours are open, or feel free to email."

"Thank you, sir, I'll keep that in mind," I said, confused at his approachability. Weird.

He nodded, then paused, looking thoughtful. "By the way, I was wondering... how often do you visit Adamawa?"

I froze, momentarily taken aback. How did he know I was from Adamawa? I'd only just turned to leave when his question stopped me in my tracks, and I turned back to face him, eyebrows raised.

"How do you know that?" I asked, the surprise clear in my voice.

He smiled, gesturing towards me. "Well, for starters, you definitely speak Fulfulde."

Only then did I realize that his question and my reply had slipped into Fulfulde, entirely on instinct. I hadn't even noticed the switch.

"Oh... and?" I prompted, sensing there might be more to his observation.

He hesitated, then chuckled. "Your face gave it away, and—" He trailed off, clearly unsure if he should go on.

"Okay, fine," I teased, starting to protest. "I could be from..." I searched for another Fulani-dominated state that might throw him off.

"Gombe?" he guessed with a raised brow, looking entertained.

"Yes, I could be from Gombe State," I insisted playfully, crossing my arms.

"Except you're not," he said confidently as if this was common knowledge.

Confused, I waited for him to explain.

"The dialect is different," He continued in Fulfulde, raising an eyebrow knowingly.

"Oh, yeah, right." I nodded, remembering that even within Fulfulde, regional dialects could easily distinguish a person's origins. "Good guess," I said with a smile, impressed by his attention to detail.

"The last name was the giveaway, though."

I felt a twinge of recognition at the mention of my family name. "Salihijo" was indeed a name with weight. It all started with my great-grandfather—a man of wisdom who named his son Salihijo, the first of his kind, carrying both virtue and pride. Derived from "Salih," meaning "righteous" or "good" in Arabic, the name had become a cherished legacy. I remembered my father telling me this story often, his voice full of pride. "It means righteous, Hajiya Layla. Your great-grandfather gave it to your grandfather so that he'd carry goodness everywhere, passing it down through the generations."

I smiled softly at the thought of my father and focused back on Professor Fahad.

"So, I guess the Fulani people in Gombe don't use that name?" I teased.

"I know a few," He replied with a grin, "but all inspired by your 'good Salihijo,' known for his wisdom and wealth."

"And knowledge," I added.

"And knowledge, Miss Layla." His smile broadened, and this time, I couldn't help but return it.

Walking into Uncle Alhajijo's house on a Friday felt like stepping onto the set of a never-ending family drama. And to be honest, I would've done anything to avoid it if I could. This semester had given me a perfect excuse; with my study schedule planned for Friday evenings, I'd gotten a well-earned break from these family gatherings. But today, thanks to Professor Fahad's class being rescheduled, I had to cancel the study session I planned and got home earlier than planned. And Ummi, seeing that I was free, wasted no time pushing me out the door and into Aunty Yamaniya's car for a ride straight to my uncle's house.

I wasn't particularly close with any of my cousins on my dad's side, at least not anymore. Sure, we liked each other well enough, and we could get along when we had to, but it was all surface-level. With some of them, like Zarah, it was easier. She was already married to a little boy I adored, and she was always nice to me, even if we weren't best friends. Umaima, who was younger than me, was probably the one I got along with best now that my closest cousin had moved overseas with her family years ago. Before she left, I actually used to look forward to Fridays. But with the way things were now, I really didn't enjoy these forced gatherings.

I'd barely made it past the entrance when I was greeted by all my cousins clustered around the living room, chatting loudly. As usual, Aunty Yamaniya greeted everyone with warmth, hugging them tightly, her energy like a wave of affection filling the room. I followed her lead, offering polite handshakes to some, and a few awkward hugs to others, all with a forced smile plastered on my face.

A couple of my cousins gave me warm smiles in return, while the rest just gave me the usual polite nods or half-hearted greetings. Then there was Hanifa. We'd had an unresolved tension since our high school days. She was still the same, poised and aloof. I wasn't even sure what she'd been so bitter about, to begin with, but it had started way back when she and her mom, Aunty Fa'iza, took some family drama a little too personally.

Back in high school, Hanifa and I had shared the same classroom, and although we were never close, we kept things civil. But eventually, things took a turn. At some point, her hatred toward me went from petty to personal. Hanifa's mom and mine weren't exactly best friends, which was one thing, but it was like Hanifa had inherited her mom's issues with mine. I didn't take it lightly, though, I wasn't going to sit there and pretend like she could walk all over me just because she felt entitled to her opinion. I might have been quiet most of the time, but I'd never let anyone walk over me, and Hanifa was no exception.

After months of back-and-forth, one day in grade eleven, she decided to go straight to my uncle, my late dad's older brother, and tattle on me about something. She knew exactly what she was doing, that was for sure. It was like she knew he'd hold me to a different standard. Uncle Alhajijo had been both a father figure and a guardian to me since Dad's death, and I'd always respected him deeply. But her little "revelation" put me in the middle of a storm that wasn't entirely my fault, and I'd taken the biggest hit for it. Since then, I hadn't been able to look at my uncle the same way, and our relationship had shifted to something distant and civil at best.

Even now, walking into his house and exchanging forced smiles, I couldn't shake off the tension of it all. It was like every room in his house held a piece of that memory, reminding me of just how much things had changed. But I kept it to myself, moving through the greetings with a smile that felt more and more force with every handshake.

Ummi, meanwhile, rarely came to these gatherings. She'd shown up only a handful of times over the past few years, and honestly, I didn't blame her. She got along with Abba's sisters well enough, speaking Fulfulde fluently and fitting right in with the family on the surface, but Aunty Fa'za was a line she didn't care to cross unless she absolutely had to. Ummi valued her peace, and if that meant avoiding the person who seemed to have the biggest problem with her, then she did it without hesitation. A part of me respected her for it, actually. The less people saw of her, the more they missed her and looked forward to the rare occasions she did come around.

I gave a tight smile as I made my way through the familiar faces, my thoughts lingering on my own grudges and past dramas. This place held too many memories, some I wished I could forget. But no matter how many times I returned, it felt like they were waiting for me in the walls, in the faces of my cousins, in the atmosphere that hung around this house every Friday night. I took a deep breath, hoping tonight would pass quickly.

Seated next to Umaima on Uncle Alhajijo's well-worn couch, I tried to keep up with her chatter as I discreetly replied to Asad's messages. She was practically bursting with excitement, her eyes wide as she leaned in, "Oh my God, Layla, I still can't believe tomorrow is the big day for your introduction! The whole family's buzzing about it! It's happening so fast, isn't it?"

I glanced over, caught slightly off guard. "It... really is," I replied, my fingers pausing mid-message. It was one thing to know that an introduction was happening, and another to realize that it was all moving along so formally, and tomorrow, no less. Even though my presence would not be required for the meeting, the thought alone felt momentous. It would all be the usual stuff, I told myself. Asad's family would come, they'd voice their interest, and my family would give a formal response days or weeks later, whenever we felt it was right.

My phone vibrated in my hand, pulling me back to my conversation with Asad. He'd been supportive lately, listening to my stress over the upcoming exams, and, out of the blue, he'd texted if he'd come to meet me today.

Umaima's voice jolted me out of my thoughts. "I mean, everyone is dying to know who you're marrying," she said with a smirk. "Half of them are in the dark about who Asad is, and the other half are obsessed with finding out if he's as impressive as people say."

Across from us, Hanifa rolled her eyes and muttered something, but I ignored it, focusing instead on my other cousins who'd crowded around, grinning.

"Come on, Layla," Hafsah urged, "we all know it's Muhammad Asad Nyako. And I need to know, is it actually him?" There was a gleam in her eye, practically begging for details.

I raised my eyebrows, feigning innocence.

"Oh, him? Do you mean Muhammad Asad? That's what he goes by online, right?" Hauwa asked.

They all laughed, and Umaima gave me a playful nudge. "Yes, that's exactly who I mean! No one's sure if it's really him, though. People say he's the one who has the whole business world buzzing, but..." she trailed off, eyeing me expectantly, "Is he actually as cool as he seems? There are only like 4 official pictures of him online, the others aren't even that clear. "

Zarah, who was always nice enough to never pressure me, still couldn't resist chiming in. "And which one is he again? How many sons do the Nyakos have? There's always something in the news about them, but nobody knows much about their private lives. Only one of the sons is online with his friends, I am sure."

I stifled a laugh. "Well, you guys know as much as I do about his family. But other than that... well, he seems nice."

Rukayya who was sitting beside Hanifa leaned in, her eyes wide. "So, he is rich then?"

At that, I just shrugged. "I mean... I don't really keep tabs on his net worth."

"Adda Layla, I heard from Nusaiba's friend who is his cousin that..." Rukayya said referring to her younger sister. She hesitated for a moment before continuing, "... that he is very intimidating and prideful. Like he doesn't talk to his cousins and other relatives at all. I mean, I don't know how true it is but she really is his cousin. A Nyako." She finished, her voice slowing down towards the end.

Oh, wow. I didn't know that. I bit back a big smile that threatened to reveal itself. Is this what I have been praying for, Ya Rabb?

"Rukayya!" Zarah shouted her name in an authoritative way before looking at me with a smile. "Layla, it can't be true. People lie about him all the time no one can know for sure how he is."

"But she really is his..." Rukayya started again.

"Shut it! Even I have heard lies about him that can't possibly be true. He just seems like... a very private person." Zarah tried to reason but deep down, I was happy about it but she didn't need to know that.

"There is no way a person of his caliber can possibly have no friends, no scandals, no social life, not even paparazzi pictures except if he is shady." From her seat, Hanifa crossed her arms, her voice thick with feigned sympathy. "You know, Layla, I did hear that this whole thing isn't even his idea. I mean, it must be tough, right? Rumor has it in the family that it was your brother Hamma Malik's proposal to Asad, and that Asad just agreed because he couldn't say no hence why no one knows about it except the families. You're really lucky he took pity on you."

I felt a flash of anger but took a breath, steadying myself. "Oh, really, Hanifa? I find it interesting that you are so concerned about me when you clearly don't know half of what's going on. Asad took pity on me? Please, if he didn't want to be here, I doubt he wouldn't be, trust me. He knows exactly what he's doing. Unlike some people, I know." I said, with venom spitting.

She smirked painfully and scoffed, folding her arms as if she'd won some kind of invisible argument. "I just thought I'd feel bad for you since that's how you had to get a man."

Without missing a beat, I fired back. "Feel bad for me? That's funny, Hanifa because at least I have a man who wants to spend time with me right now." I picked up my phone, typing a reply to Asad with a grin before flashing her the screen.

Come. I can spare you a few minutes. Maybe.

I glanced up, flashing Hanifa a smug smile. "Guess he is not as reluctant as you thought, huh?"

Yes, I am unapologetically petty. But I just couldn't stand Hanifa for the life of me.

Deep down, I was happy Hanifa didn't know much about Asad as she usually deprived joy from digging up on people but knowing her too well, I knew there was no way this fight was going to go unspoken of to my uncle. It always did so I knew knowing better for me was to get ready for the storm that would possibly come if she did twist my words to her father

After leaving Uncle Alhajijo's house in a rush, I barely paused to take a breath before heading to the shower. By the time I dressed in a blue Ankara blouse and skirt and draped my veil around myself, my mind was already reeling with anticipation. A quick glance in the mirror made me sigh, my head tie was refusing to cooperate today, so I gave up and simply wrapped the veil loosely around my head. A few rebellious baby hairs peeked out here and there when the veil slipped, but I couldn't be bothered.

When I walked into the living room, the first thing I noticed was the massive bouquet of yellow sunflowers sitting in the center. The sight of them made me forget, momentarily, about all the annoying jabs from Hanifa. The flowers were so huge, that I hadn't even tried to lift them, just like the pink roses he'd brought last time, which now sat on my coffee table, a little shrine to Asad's strange knack for suddenly knowing what I liked. I bit my lip, feeling a grin tug at my mouth. It wasn't working, though, so I just let the smile through.

"Thank you," I said, trying to keep my tone steady, even though my happiness was probably written all over my face.

He looked relieved, and a bit nervous. "I'm glad you like them... I chose them myself," He said, pausing mid-sentence as if he wasn't sure how much he should say.

I sat down across from him, the sunflowers between us, and he finally asked, "So... do you forgive me now?"

Deep down, I had to admit, the flowers had already won me over. But I wasn't about to make it easy because I was just a girl. "I warned you," I said with mock severity. "I don't forgive easily. But... I'll see what I can do."

A flicker of relief crossed his face, and I couldn't help thinking about the little mystery between us, how he'd insisted he didn't tell Ya Malik about the whole car and insurance incident, yet I was sure he had. I leaned back, raising a brow. "So, do you finally agree it was you who told my brother?"

He just chuckled. "No, I don't. But I know you won't believe me, dear Layla."

The term of endearment caught me off guard, and I made a face. "Don't call me that," I said with a shudder. "I hate it."

He looked surprised. "Why? Is it... that bad?" He said, unsure.

"Yes, actually." I grimaced, remembering that creepy teacher who used to say my name far too much whenever he saw me around campus. "It reminds me of this teacher back in school... I just don't like it."

"Alright then," He replied smoothly, tilting his head. "What would you like to be called?"

I blinked, feeling an idea spark. He was too sincere, too willing to play along, which made it too tempting. Mischievously, I met his gaze. "Let's see," I started, pretending to ponder it deeply. "When it's Monday... you can call me Hayati. Tuesday? Ya Noor." I held back a laugh as I continued. "If you're sad, you could try Ruhi, and when you're happy, maybe 3youni."

I could barely contain myself by the time I finished, and as the words tumbled out, I finally lost it, bursting into laughter at how absurd I sounded.

But when I looked up, Asad wasn't laughing. He looked... serious. "Okay," He said simply.

My laughter faded, and I stared at him, feeling like he'd grown two heads. "Wait... I am just joking."

He nodded, his expression calm. "If that's what you like, then let's do that."

A warm, strange feeling bloomed in my chest as I looked at him, momentarily speechless.

At that moment, Ya Malik strode in, breaking the charged silence between us. He went straight to Asad, shaking his hand warmly. I settled back into the couch, watching the two of them interact. Malik began talking about tomorrow's introduction, casually suggesting they play some football in the evening to unwind. Asad nodded, seeming to listen intently, though I could feel his gaze flicker in my direction every now and then as if checking to see if I was still part of the conversation.

The topics shifted smoothly from football to business, with Ya Malik going into a discussion about construction trends. I couldn't help but smile, my gaze drifting between them, warmed by the thought of how easily Asad had adapted to the little game I'd teased him with as if he'd do anything to make me feel comfortable. My little heart refused to settle behind my ribcage. Ya Rabb, my heart.

————————
Hello darling readers,

How're we all doing? Did anyone miss me?😅

How's the chapter? Do we like Hanifa? She's my favorite in this chapter😄

Spoiler alert: The next chapter is going to be a SUDDEN turn of events😄 Are we excited?

I need as many comments as possible to motivate me to update the next chapter, so take the floor😁

Let's connect on IG: husna_thewriter