Asad

It was Friday and Abu had requested to see me. He did that a lot because sometimes I didn't stay over at the house during weekends. Whenever he sent that; it meant whether I planned I was going home or not that week, I had to go and meet him.

From a young age, Abu had taken a hands-on approach to prepare me for the responsibilities that were eventually falling on my shoulders. He instilled a deep sense of commitment and purpose to drive the legacy of Nyako Corp., his sweat, and his vision was uncompromising. His vision was clear, the lessons I learned were rigorous and it built the strong character and resilience I led with. Intellectual prowess as well, but Abu would list that top 3 and it wasn't number 1.

"How's it going with the new projects?" It was after dinner, and he asked me to meet him in his office.

"We're launching the mobile UI with a more curated product selection, so we want them to confine with the launch. If everything goes as planned, it's possible to launch it this March." I told him.

He nodded. "When does Shaba land launch?"

"They open in April which is a month after our launch," I replied.

"Make sure to keep exercising caution and be attentive, they can always change the date of their opening." He said while removing his glasses and dropping the folder that had the information about the projects.

Having a rival company means being heedful of your consumers' tastes and keeping an eye on the company. It was a common thing to have to quicken projects and promotions because your rival company decided they were releasing theirs earlier than yours. Over the years, I came to understand that on the path to leadership, an effective disciplined approach when it came to decision-making was ensuring objectivity, not just skill and knowledge.

"I see the project with the Salihijo group is going well." He spoke.

"Yes, it is. We had the final supervision meeting with the company a week back."

Malik's office was the first time I saw her. Layla. Her name. That name has been echoing in my mind ever since. I encountered her again, twice in quick succession. I thought about her innumerable number of times and just yesterday, I realized why I did that. I appealed to her. Something about her drew me in, something that captivated me.

She had words for her brother the first time, completely oblivious to my presence.

She had words for me the second time we met, catching me completely off guard.

And then, she smiled at me and spoke to me yesterday when I went over to her house to pick up some documents and head to the mosque with her brother.

It was too late when I realized that a smile had unintentionally appeared on my face. Abba didn't seem to notice maybe because he wasn't wearing his glasses or perhaps the dimmed light in the office, whichever one, I was grateful. I wasn't sure how I'd explain why I was smiling like that.

"That's good to hear. Are they expanding? I saw the investment record of Nyako group and Mu'allayidi holdings and they're on top of the list for the whole year."

"Yes, they're planning to expand. The hotel they're working on is set to be the largest hotel in the country."

He nodded and was quiet for a while.

"What have you decided on the marriage proposal? It's been two weeks; I didn't think you'd need that much time to think." He said while resting his back against the support of his chair.

I knew this was coming, an inevitable moment. I had decided alright that I wasn't going forward with the proposal and didn't have a second thought since the minute I made it. But when it came to giving a reason, I was at a loss. The truth was, I simply didn't share the same feelings as Huda. I knew I could trust Usman, but that wasn't something I could explain to Abu. Despite the father-son relationship between us, there was the formal nature of our current nature, and being Fulani meant shying away from discussing some topics.

"In fact, yes, Abu. I've made my decision."

"And the decision is?" He asked in a low pitch.

Anticipation was written all over his face.

"I don't want to marry Huda." I ducked my head.

He slightly nodded and after a few seconds he said, "I hope you've got a reason for that."

I stayed quiet for a while before I raised my head to look at him.

"You're not a kid, you're already looking back at 30 so of course, I won't force you to do what you don't want to do especially with a course like marriage. But you must have a reason. You always need to have a reason." He said after sensing that I had no reason.

I had a reason. A concrete reason but how'd I have told him that my best friend was in love with the woman in question? How'd I have told him when Huda didn't even know herself? And how'd I have told him that I didn't want to get married to Huda because Usman, who hadn't confessed his feelings to her, had loved her even though she was, allegedly, in love with me?

I had no doubt, not even a single ounce, that Usman was going to love and care for Huda with his heart if he ended up with her. That was the certainty I held on to.

"I do have a reason."

"And the reason is?" He leaned forward his body against the table that separated us with his fingers laced between each other and placed on the table.

But then, in a moment of thoughtless honesty, I blurted out something that made my eyes widen in regret. "Layla." It was not supposed to come out. But it did.

It was too late to take it back or wish he didn't hear what I said. He looked confused for a good few seconds as he tried to piece together what I had just said. He tilted his head. Even though I wished I could retract what I'd said, the question about the reason would have still stayed.

I was left with the burden of giving a plausible reason or offering an alternative that made sense.

"Layla?" He asked with furrowed eyebrows. "Layla." He uttered the name, in all likelihood, trying to make good sense out of it. "Who is that?" He asked after.

"The late Engineer Umar Farouk Zayyed's daughter," I said haltingly, not sure where the little confidence came from.

"May Allah's Rahmah be with him. Is that his youngest daughter?" He asked, probing further.

The truth was, I didn't know myself. All I knew was that Engineer Umar and my father had been friends before his passing, that Layla's brother and my friend, Malik, was now head of the family, and that Layla was studying law. I'd figured that out because every time we crossed paths, she was dressed in the distinctive black and white which was a law student garb combination, and her brother mentioned it.

"I think so, Abu." I felt a little dolt after saying that.

He leaned back into the chair again, carefully considering my words. "From your answer, I take it you're not seeing her."

That was true. I wasn't even sure she knew my name.

I nodded and he mirrored the gesture.

"I take it you plan to do something about that, then. Right?"

I hadn't thought about it. Not before this conversation, and not even after I said the name out loud to him.

But I still went ahead and nodded.

"I want to hear what you do about it, then. The sooner, the better." He said, unremitting in making the demand, leaving no room for ambiguity. "You'll gain more attitude of esteem from the board of directors and partners once you're married. I tell you that. So do make it happen soon." Abu might have said that in a measured tone but whoever knew him, knew that that was no mere suggestion, that was an order.

The relationship between Abu and I, characterized by warmth gave way to a more formal and businesslike relationship. This transition was with its emotional cost but the passing of the torch after Abu's retirement was profound and bittersweet. The center of my father's life, the company, became my responsibility during a moment of immense pride. It was a seamless transition thanks to the rigorous preparation I had undergone. It was a moment of realization of the heavy burden of leadership. It marked the beginning of my journey in leading.

To clean up the mess I'd inadvertently made, I called up Malik the next morning and made sure he was going to the field. It was a weekend, and I made sure he was heading to the field.

That's where we, Usman and I, first met Malik three years ago, the chilled guy who sat near me after the training to drink water and exchanged a Salaam. We met a few more times before we formally introduced each other and surprisingly, Malik mentioned that our parents were friends. True to his words, Abu confirmed it later, explaining that they had worked together once and, being of the same tribe, Fulani, naturally became friends. According to Abu, Fulani people often bond when they met outside their hometowns, an unspoken connection that instantly brought them together always.

"Hey, man." He casually greeted me when he came into the dressing room.

I felt a wave of nerves hit me. How was I going to approach him? How was I supposed to approach a brother about his sister especially when the conversation could make a shift in our friendship?

How'd I feel if someone approached me to talk about Nahla? The idea made my stomach tighten.

"You wanted to talk about something, you said?" He asked after he changed into his gear and came to sit down beside me on the bench.

The game wasn't starting until 9 am, we usually came early to train before the time, so we had some time left. It was still a little past 8 am, but if I didn't speak now, I might never muster the courage again. That wasn't business.

I took a deep breath "I wanted to know if your sister is seeing someone. Or betrothed to anyone." I asked as my eyes flickered to the lockers before finally turning to him. I felt my heart race after the words left my mouth.

"My sister? Layla?" His eyebrows shot up in question, asking to clarify. I nodded. "Layla is not seeing anyone as far as I know, and she's not betrothed to anyone." His voice was steady but curious. He was looking at me intently waiting for more explanation.

"I wanted to ask for her hand, if that's okay with you." I started to feel rued at that moment. My nerves were on edge, and I regretted how bluntly I'd put it.

Malik's reaction wasn't what I expected.

"Woah. Let me get this straight. Do you mean you want to marry my sister? You want to marry Layla?" He asked and to my surprise, it wasn't anger that was in his voice, which threw me off. Amusement laced voice and face.

I nodded slowly, trying to gauge whether his amusement was masking something else, perhaps disapproval. That was not business, it was a personal matter, I had no way of guessing what someone was really thinking when it wasn't business-related, I have heard. It was one of the hardest parts of being someone of my demeanor, never quite knowing how to read people in social situations.

"Oh, okay." He said as he stared into space, seemingly in deep thinking. "I will think about this and consult Layla about it." He nodded slowly, absentmindedly.

"Okay," I said firmly. "I didn't know how this was going to go. It could have gone either way."

"Asad, that's great."

"It is?"

"Of course, man. I like you a lot and until I find a wrong attribute in you, I don't see any reason why not to consider this. But you've only met her two times if I'm not mistaken. Are you sure?"

He didn't need to know about the third time I thought. "Positive."

He nodded thoughtfully. "I'll hear what she has to say and get back to you with a decision."

I could only nod, utterly grateful the conversation went well and not as disastrously as I had feared, but still anxious about what might come after.