Taqaballahu minna Wa minkum❤️✨

SAADATU'S POV.

MAIDUGURI, NIGERIA.

I love Maiduguri people. To be specific, I love their culture, I find it fascinating.

As a Hausa girl, I don't really know much about Hausa tradition—kawai dai suna ne. I'm Hausa, but if you ask me what the Hausa traditions are, I really don't know. Does Eid Durbar count as one? If so, then that's the only tradition I know.

On the other hand, Maiduguri people are known for their culture, and they aren't ashamed to show it in the slightest, especially when it comes to their weddings, they go all out, and every time I see it, I find myself falling in love with the culture all over again.

Faiza's family is Kanuri, her mother's side anyways and I think it's one of the reasons she and I became friends to begin with—keep aside the fact that Ya Mama introduced us to each other when she found out I'm studying in Maiduguri, UniMaid, and same department with her sister. If we didn't have a common ground like we did, then we wouldn't have become friends regardless.

But, we did. We bonded over the tradition she seems to adore to the core as well, and her obsessive love for Turaren Wuta. I genuinely believe any girl, any woman, that doesn't love turaren wuta—unless she's asthmatic, she has to be a witch. A village witch for that matter because how can you not love turaren wuta?

Her father was originally from Kano; I think the surname already says a lot about that. He however moved to Maiduguri when he was really young and grew up there, till he married their mother and well, eventually that tradition and culture just sticks to them, almost becoming one.

Speaking of traditions and turaren wuta, I'm pretty sure my smile has reached my ears by the time the event is on full swing. The Wushe wushe is just as I'd anticipated it to be, even better to be honest and as someone who doesn't exactly know the mechanics of it as a whole, I could only stare by the side and get involved where needed as the bride's best friend and maid of honor.

Faiza made the most beautiful bride, with the long, jet black hair falling over her shoulders, it's enough to make one envious and I have no doubt her wedding events will be all over the gossip blogs on Instagram. We just need to add 'Auzubi kalimatillahi tammat min sharri ma khalaq' on top to ward away the evil eye. Not to mention, she's truly beautiful—her dark skin only accentuates to it all.

All the Bayero siblings are fine specimens really. It should be illegal to have that much good look to them.

Speaking of the Bayero siblings, there's a particular one I've been keeping an eye out for so I can avoid vehemently but luckily for me, he didn't make an appearance, much to my relief. You don't know how many times I had to look around just to make sure he's nowhere near and I'd have to make an exit.

I meant it when I said I embarrassed my whole generation because of this man. And I'm not exaggerating. I've been told I'm a dramatic person, and believe me, I know I am but there's no exaggeration intended in this equation. It's pure honesty. Kawai dai a bar kaza cikin gashin ta kar a tona asiri. Let me save face small here.

The event ended just a bit after Magrib prayer, and soon enough, everyone had dispersed back into the main building to pray while others had left to head to their various places abode. I helped Faiza, lending her a hand as we made our way to the guest side, where she's been staying and will be staying until tomorrow when the Wedding Fatiha will take place.

The moment we were in the confines of the room she's staying, she made a beeline to the bathroom to shower and perform ablution. I on the other hand used the bathroom in the other guest room, which our friends are staying in.

Light chatters filled the room as I prayed, while the other girls interacted amongst themselves, re-watching the clips they took of the wedding and conversing about everything that has happened and whatnot.

"Have you seen Ya Adnan?" I heard one of them asked after I was done, and was uttering my duas. From the corner of my eyes, I could see Samira, the one who asked the question turn around to look at the three other girls. "Dazu Ya Mama said he will be there but I haven't gotten a glimpse of him."

"Is that surprising?" Zainab inquired in a not so surprised tone, still scrolling through her phone. "Since when has he ever been spotted in a public gathering? Ko annual family meetings baya zuwa." Of course she'd know, they're cousins.

"Damn, I was hoping to get a glimpse of the doctor." Samira plopped herself on the nearby couch, sinking into it. "I've only seen him once and believe me, I feel in love at first sight."

Welcome to the group, sis. I wanted to say, but I kept my lips shut, finishing my duas and getting off the prayer mat. Folding it, I tucked it away before picking up my phone that's resting on the bed. "I'll just check up on Faiza." I offered them a small smile, which I got reciprocated before I made my way out, leaving the group of girls to themselves.

Perhaps, I'm not the most social friend but I meant it when I said I'm not a big group of friends type of person. I'm best with one or two close friends, and that's it. Everyone else is just superficial relationship type of thing. Don't get me wrong, I'm very social when I want to, but my social battery runs out after an hour max and believe me when I say, I've run out of my social battery after the eventful day.

I want to do nothing more than to head back home and get back in bed, maybe an hour of silence would be just what I need—and a couple hours of sleep as well because I haven't gotten a wink since I woke up. I'm surviving off five hours of sleep, I need to pay back on lost hours.

By the time I stepped into Faiza's room, she was still in the bathroom. Knowing her, she'd take a while, but I'm counting on the fact that she hasn't prayed Magrib so she'd cut her long shower down a notch. With that thought in mind, I settled on the bed and scrolled through my phone, going through my Instagram.

True to my earlier words, her face and event is already circulating through all those wedding blogs, and as I scrolled through them, I spotted myself in some of the pictures and videos. I liked those that caught my attention, and scrolled through the others.

When my gaze fell on the time, seeing it read 7:02pm, I exit the Instagram and went straight to the call log, tapping on Sallau's contact, I brought the phone to my ear. He picked up after the fourth ring, and I wasted no time in telling him to come pick me up.

Just as I'd ended the call, Faiza stepped out of the bathroom, freshly showered and covered in a bathrobe. Her hair was covered by another small towel, no doubt having washed it as well. She gave me a pointed look, "You're leaving already?" My best guess is, she must've overheard my call.

I offered her a sheepish grin. "You know me so well." I pulled the pillow under my head, snuggling into it. "It's seven already, hankali na yayi gida wallahi. I better go back before Yaya starts calling." I have a thing where no matter where I am, the moment Magrib time clocks, all my attention automatically rounds to being back home and I wouldn't be at peace otherwise.

We've been in this situation one too many times that she's used to it by now, she no longer complains.

Sighing, she picked up her essentials bag and settled beside me on the bed. "You didn't have to call the poor man, our driver could've dropped you off." She offered, pulling out one of her lotions and splurging it on her hand. "Or maybe, a certain brother of mine could've dropped you off..." She trailed off, a teasing edge to her voice.

I clenched my eyes shut, groaning slightly. "No, no, we're not having this conversation--" I was hoping to avoid having this conversation with her.

"What? It's good to have this conversation." She chuckled, clearly enjoying my misery. Muguwa kawai. She continued. "I remember you being every eager to have this conversation say...three years ago."

"Four actually," I corrected, "We had nine months strike so another academic year went down the drain like that." The time she was referring to was out first year in university, and in my defense, I was a young teenager then. It's been four years, I've grown and matured and I no longer have the same crush on her brother I had back then.

She hummed, in a way that showed she doesn't believe me in the slightest. "Remember the times you made me call him just so you can hear his voice?"

"Faiza--" I warned.

She ignored me of course, enjoying my misery a bit too much. "Or the times you made me tell him you like him."

"Faiza Bayero--"

"Or the times you made me give you the phone to talk to him but you were too shy to even speak."

"Nashiga uku."I buried my face in the pillow, blood rushing to my cheeks as I remembered those days. I've done crazy things really, and safe to say, I regret it. I don't even know what was going through my mind then.

Faiza laughed at my expense, just like she did back then—only when she told me back then I might regret it in the later years, I didn't believe her. Now, I do. I should've listened to the girl for once, maybe then I wouldn't be in this situation.

Perhaps, if I had just stuck to my principle of crushing and leaving it as so, then I wouldn't be in this situation. He wouldn't know, no one would know, and I wouldn't be so embarrassed to show my face in front of him.

But, in my defense, when I did it, I never thought a day would come where I'd have to meet him. He wasn't even in the country then, and when he did return, he wasn't staying in Maiduguri—Faiza said he hardly does so. So, the chances of us meeting was pretty much nonexistent.

"Bro, you pestered me for about a year nonstop." She added. But, what she didn't know was, I even found his Instagram account and stalked him for about that whole year. Unfortunately for me, it was a private account so I couldn't follow with my actual one.

So, I created a fake account and requested to follow him with that just so I could stalk legitimately. He didn't accept it. Never did, till today. I may or may not have checked once every few months to see.

And that's just amongst the things I've done. Let's leave the others aside so I wouldn't die of embarrassment.

"You should stop hiding really, whether you like it or not, you're bound to run into him during this wedding. Just suck it up, and do whatever you do normally." She added, reaching out to pat my shoulder as if that would make everything better.

It didn't.

Exhaling loudly, I sat up when I heard my phone ring. Looking at the caller ID, Sallau's name stared back at me. Tapping the answer button, I tapped the speaker one as well. "Assalamu alaikum, Malam Sallau ka iso ne?"

"Eh, ranki dade, na iso."

"Toh, gani zuwa." Ending the call, I looked up and flashed Faiza a tight-lipped smile. "That's my cue to get the fuck out of here before you make me dig a grave and bury myself." Extending my hand out, I picked up my maroon veil and slung it over my shoulder, gathering my belongings in the process.

"You should stop by and greet Hajiya." Faiza piqued in, "She's been asking of you nonstop, and I'm certain you didn't meet earlier."

"We did, amma kinsan da mutane da yawa so it was just superficial greetings and stuff." Being the mother of the bride, of course I didn't get the chance to speak much to her.

"Which is why you should drop by before you leave. Zataji dadi."

"I will, in shaa Allah." I leaned down to give her a short hug. "See you tomorrow matar Garba. A whole Mrs. In the making, iyye."

She hissed lightly, though a small smile still graced her lips. "Allah ya shirye ki." She waved me off. "And send my regards to Yaya."

"In shaa Allah." I made my way to the exit. "Love you."

"Hate you, idiot!"

Chuckling, I fixed my shoulder bag while using my other hand to hold my phone and leather bag with the outfit I had changed out of. Maneuvering my way into the Bayero Mansion, I wasn't surprised to see it still littered with people—though it was only half of size of the earlier crowd.

Taking the steps, I made my way around the corridors, knowing my way around it like the back of my hand. Four years of friendship, countless sleepovers, and more evening spent together resulted to feeling like Bayero mansion is a second home to me. And upon knocking on the bedroom door, I waited for the permission on the other end to come.

A familiar voice, belonging to the woman I consider a second mother came, urging me in. Taking the handle, I turned it around and stepped inside the air conditioned room—the heavy scent of turaren wuta welcoming me, the very familiar scent I always envision whenever I think of the said woman.

"Assalamu alaikum."

"Wa alaikissalam." Collective voices came, responding to the taslim.

My eyes fell on that of the couple of people in the room, and I instantly felt as though I'm intruding a family moment. However, before I could fully dwell on the embarrassment of so, the voice from earlier came, welcoming me.

"Ah ah, Sa'adatu." Hajiya, Faiza's mother's warm voice came, her lips curved into a small grin. "Yanxu nake tambaya kina ina. I thought you'd left already. Come, yalla." She waved me over. "Come and sit beside me, yar tawa."

"Hajiya's favorite child is here." Ya Mama teased, from where she's seated, leaning on one of the couches in the room. Her eyes held that glint that didn't diminish even after hours of interacting with people. It was clear she's exhausted as well though, as her head tie now rested beside her, leaving her braided hair in display. "Sa'adatun Hajiya."

Offering Ya Mama a small smile, I made my over to where Hajiya is, settling beside her on the carpet, not missing the feeling of eyes following me. I tried my best to ignore it as I took the spot beside the older woman, whom instantly took my hands in hers once I was seated beside her.

"Hajiya, barka da dare."

"Lafiya Qalau, Sa'adatu. Ya su Maryam da maman taki?"

"They're all fine, Alhamdullilah." I smiled, looking down. No matter how warm and welcoming this woman is, there's this intimidating aura surrounding her I still can't get over. "Anty sends her regards." My mom and Hajiya have been good friends since Ya Mama and I met in boarding school, but that relationship strengthened when Faiza and I became friends after I've moved here.

"Masha Allah, ina amsawa."

"Walida, kwana da yawa." Faiza's other brother, Yusuf, inquired from where he's seated beside Ya Mama. In the family hierarchy, he comes after her, but is older than Faiza as she's the last born.

I offered him a small grin as well. Though I don't know him much, he's been nothing but nice during the times we spent together—sharing the same teasing attitude as Ya Mama. "Ya Isubu, ina wuni." And we may or may not be on the same teasing page.

"Lafiya lau Atou tsohuwa." He teased back. "We're about to marry Faiza off, kice ma sarkin qauyen ku ya turo kema muyi naki bikin."

"Not a chance." We've been on this same topic for four years, I wonder how he isn't tired of it. Swallowing thickly, I yawed my gaze to the last person in the room, my heart instantly spiking up. I think I may or may not have come down with a case of tachycardia upon being in the same room as the one person I've been trying to avoid all night.

My eyes fell on the figure of the man seated right across me, and I willed myself to speak, hoping with every fiber of my being that my voice doesn't crack. However, when my eyes met his just in time the words rolled off my tongue, I knew I was screwed.

"Ina wuni, Ya Adnan." My voice cracked.

****

I hope  you are all enjoying your Eid❤️ I didn't forget at our little giveaway. I'll go through it when I settle down in shaa Allah.

Dropping another update because why not??

I hope you all stay safe and healthy. I'm in a rush so no long ANs today. I'm busyyyyyy.

So you've met our able dakta, kind of 🙂😂 welcome adnanu💕💕

Su Saa manyan mata😂

Love, Jannah Mia❤️