SA'ADATU'S POV.

KANO, NIGERIA.

He with glasses was right—he almost always is truthfully. But, I would never admit that in front of him. But, the point is, he was right. Whatever issues I had, all I had to do was communicate, and that would solve the issue. Or in this case, all I needed to do was discuss it with Anty the moment I had returned home, and I was able to understand the whole Hassan situation. I could still remember her words; they play vividly in my mind like a record played on repeat.

"Yes, Hassan did in fact ask for your hand in marriage again, and though your father did not decline it, he did not accept it as well. This is because of your aunt; you know how persistent she is. Your father thought by holding her off for a while without a clear, she would be able to stop pestering us for a while. Only then would she stop pestering us. But, even her husband knows—your father has no intentions of giving you out to Hassan—no father would want to hand his daughter over to such a man."

I could not explain the relief that explanation brought to me. Knowing my parents never agreed to marry me off to Hassan was truly a blessing in disguise, or perhaps, not even in disguise but an evident one but still. It gladdened my heart immensely.

But my relief was short relieved as I remembered I would then have to inform Anty of the said man with glasses, except, I could not bring myself to face her and say it. She took my silence as her cue to prod.

"Do you have something to tell me?" She asked, her tone knowing. "Anything else I need to be aware of?"

I knew from her tone that she knew, and when I flicked my head to hold her gaze, I saw it right across her expression—the teasing glint in her eyes. I could only look down, trying to hold back my smile. She knows, she definitely does. I would not be surprised if Hajiya had already told her—the two share way too much really.

When I did not say anything, she sighed, then said in a feigned ignorant tone. "Well, Adnan is quite a good young gentleman, do you not think so?" She asked, as if she was talking about the weather. "Dan kirki. Ki kalli how he brought you home earlier and even came in to greet me. He is respectful. A professor at a young age even, and a doctor for that. Masha Allah, it quite impressive. Ga hankali, ga addini, ga good family."

I could only hum, knowing this is a trap but not able to avoid it even if I wanted to. There is no way out really.

"Sa'adatu," She called out, making me lift my head up to hold her gaze. She then gave me a look, her tone serious. "Do you like him?"

Blood rushed to my cheeks, and I felt like a deer caught in headlight. I looked down, though a smile dance on my lips, one that I desperately tried to hold back, hoping she would not see it.

The sound of her chuckle reached my ears, and it only made my cheeks heat up even more. "Well, silence is an answer as well." She breathed out, the elation behind her tone impossible to miss. "But, were you the one that gave him the permission to send his elders?"

I nodded, my head still down. I could not shy away from this, knowing she would need my permission after all.

"Masha Allah, Masha Allah." I could swear anyone can tell of the happiness in her tone. "My Sa'adatu is all grown up as well. Allah ya sa alkhairi." Then, I felt her move close to me, and the next thing I realized were her arms wrapping around me, pulling me into her warm embrace. She patted my back slightly, her tone softening when she spoke. "If he makes you happy, that is all I care about. Farin cikin ki. Are you sure you want this? You do not have to marry at this point if you do not want it, you know. We are not pressuring you into anything."

Perhaps, it was her words, or how soothing her words were. Or maybe, it was her warm, homey embrace. But my eyes stung with unshed tears at that moment, and I found myself melting in her embrace.

"Is this your choice, Sa'adatu?" She asked, her tone serious. "Are you sure you are making your own choice and not because of us?" I realized something else at that moment.

Our parents are humans as well. We may think badly of them over certain decisions, but at the end of the day, they are humans. And it is not like they were given a manual beforehand on how to become the perfect parents. They are flawed, just like we are. We may even hate them at one point—question and criticize their decisions, even. But, at the end of the day, they are our parents—they love us, and want the best for us.

Iyaye, iyaye ne no matter what.

Here I was, blaming my parents for certain decisions they have made, and yet here we are, with my mother wanting nothing but the best for me. How could I not find myself shedding tears?

I nodded, unable to find the right words in fear that if I do speak out, I would end up in tears. "This is my choice," I whispered, for it was the only thing I could mutter at the moment.

"Kin tabbata?"

"Na tabbata, Anty."

"Allah ya miki albarka, Sa'adatu. Ya ta, yar albarka." She whispered back, rubbing soothing circles on my back. Her voice cracked when she continued to rain prayers on me, her words genuine. "Allah ya raba ki da duniya lafiya. Allah ya baku zaman lafiya. Allah ya saki cikin farin ciki. May Allah give Adnan the strength of taking care of you, Allah ya sa shine alkhairi a gareki. May this be the beginning of a lifelong happiness for you both."

If I was not emotional before, then I was at the moment, for I found myself sobbing quietly, her prayers opening the dam I have keeping close. Her words, they make everything feel all the more real, that this is happening, I have made my decision.

"Ameen, Anty." I whispered. "Ameen."

It was not something to happen at that moment, but it truly felt as though I was truly leaving, and the realization hit me like a truck. This is the second time I am making such a decision. Only, compared to the last night—I did not feel uneasy this time. Not in the slightest.

I was actually quite happy. Genuinely, whole heartedly happy. I made my choice. He is my choice.

~*~

Faiza and I have not contacted each other in days, and with each minute that passes by, I found myself more on edge than I already am—if that is possible. My guilt only grew a pile, and I did think of calling or sending her a message—I have even typed the messages a couple of time only to go back to it and delete it before I could even type the send button. Nothing felt right—and I could not even dwell on the joy of knowing the official greeting would take place in a couple of days, and she is unaware of it.

Contrary to her brother's words, her trip got extended by a day, which yet again added to my worries because with more time that passes by, the more I beat myself up. Eventually, the day of her return came at last, and that was how I found myself in the airport, to pick her up.

And as they started to file out, I found myself bouncing on the edge of my feet as I looked around, trying to spot her amongst the sea of commuters. Soon enough, her face came into sight, one hand dragging her suitcase while she held Amani with the other hand, judging by the way the girl had her head on her shoulder—my guess is, she is fast asleep.

Faiza did not notice me at first, until she neared and looked around, spotting for the familiar face that is supposed to pick her up, and instead of the expected face, her eyes fell on me. My lips slanted into a small smile, and I offered her a slight wave to accompany it.

I could not decipher the look that crossed her face—for it was somewhere along the lines of confusion and surprise at the same time. She looked around once more, as if the face she is looking for would appear—it would not. She must have realized that as well, because then she settled her gaze on me once again. Still, her expression did not give her away—nor did it change in any way as she approached me, her own lips set into a slight frown and I will not lie—I felt intimidated because it appears this would be harder than I expected really.

Once she was close enough, she came to a halt.

"Hey..." I found myself speaking, awkwardly. I mentally cringed.

If she did notice the awkwardness, which I am sure she did, she did not say a thing about it and instead, offered me a slight nod of acknowledgment. "Hey..." She said back, her voice softer than I expected it to be. Her brows then drew in, and she asked. "...where is..."

Before she could finish, knowing who exactly it is she is seeking, I found myself answering. "He...something came up." That is a lie. I mean, he does have something to do since he has a busy schedule especially at the hospital, but he could have picked her up at this moment. I asked him to let me do it instead, and he agreed, knowing I have to fix things myself.

Faiza's brows drew in even more if possible, suspicion no doubt stemming from how I knew of her brother's schedule no doubt, and knew he was the one to pick her up. But, she did not voice it out, and simply nodded—her expression still hard to crack.

I stared at her, weighing my next words and deciding what to opt for. I came to a decision, and then spoke out again. "Let me help you..." I gestured to the suitcase, deciding against taking Amani from her. Something tells me I am not exactly welcomed to touch the girl at the moment, and truthfully, I do not have the face to do so—not after what I said to her mother about her.

As I had expected, Faiza easily handed over the suitcase quietly, and then used the now free hand to hold her sleeping daughter closer to her. She may have done it unintentionally, but she was subtly putting boundaries between her daughter and I will not lie, my heart ached at the sight, but I did not say a thing about it.

"Let's go." I said instead, then turned around and let the way—releasing a shaky breath from how awkward the entire situation feels to me. It was not supposed to be this hard really, and yet, here we are.

No words were exchanged between us as we made our way outside to my car, and while she got settled in the passenger seat, I dropped her suitcase in the trunk then rounded the car to settle in the driver's seat as well. Revving the car to life, I drove out of the airport and onto the bustling, busy streets of Kano and considering it was rush hour, we soon found ourselves stuck in traffic.

My fingers drummed the steering wheel as we waited, and the silence between us only ensued to an unfamiliar knot that kept on growing to the point it even felt suffocating. I cannot remember the last time Faiza and I fought—even when we did in the fact, it was never like this. We never offended each other this much to the point of using our weakness against each other. I guess that must be why it felt so different at this moment—and that made it even more awkward.

I played with so many strings of sentences in my mind, trying to pick out the right one to use and break the silence but nothing felt right. I have been practicing what I would say for days, and now that I am here, everything I had practiced flew out the window, leaving me stranded and struggling to find the right words to use.

I eventually settled on one, much practiced and very much needed statement. And just as I had parted my lips to say it, Faiza's voice suddenly came, beating me to it.

"I am sorry." She apologized—the very same thing I was about to utter. That to say does not mean her suddenly speaking out did not catch me off guard. Here I thought she was still holding a grudge and that it would be hard for me to get her to calm down—yet, she was the first to apologize. Something I did not think was remotely possible given her cold attitude thus far.

I whipped my head around to look at her, caught off guard. She did not have her eyes on me when she uttered the words, but she turned around then as well, her eyes holding mine as her expression softened. "I am sorry," She repeated once again, her words earnest. "For prodding in like that, for not considering your feelings, for what I said about Khalil, and for crossing the line." She added, her shoulders slumping as her eyes lost that edge it had earlier. "I should have been considerate of you and knew when to not cross the line."

Now that she has said all that, I am suddenly at loss for words—as the knot within me melted, the tenseness in my shoulders evaporating, making it slump and let go of the weight it carried. Her words, they made something bloom in my heart—something akin to relief.

"I am sorry as well," I found myself able to find the right words after all. I may have forgotten everything I had practiced, but there was really no need for it when all I needed to do was say what is on my mind. "You were indeed looking out for me, and you were not aware of my predicament," I sighed, drawing my lower lip between my teeth for a split second before I offered her a humorless smile. "Whatever I say will sound like an excuse really. So, I will just stick to apologizing. I am sorry for what I said about your marriage, and Amani. She is extremely lucky to have you, and your family as well. She has me as well." My next words came out as a whisper, but I meant every bit of it. "She is loved—and so are you, Faiza."

"You are still very much annoying though," She mumbled, looking away in an attempt to hold back her smile. She then threw me a pointed look. "And I still hate you."

"I hate you more," I threw back at her, my tone light. 

She held my gaze for a second longer, before she suddenly smiled, and the last bit of worries I had evaporated upon seeing that smile. I found myself smiling back. And just like that, we managed to make up and return back to our old selves.

"Sa'adatu?" She called out after a while of silence, as the traffic began to move forward slightly.

"Yes?" I hummed, as I moved the car forward as well.

"Your friend," She started out, and my brows drew in as I wondered who she could possibly be talking about. She must have noticed that as well, because then she added. "The reckless one obsessed with anything wheels."

"Zaheer?" He fits the description perfectly. She nodded. "What about him?" I asked, throwing her a quick, curious look before I focused my gaze on the road again.

She sighed, then clicked her tongue against the corner of her cheeks. "He is not so bad after all." She said in a low voice, and I almost missed it if I was not paying close attention to her. "I take back most of the things I said about him."

My eyes dilated, and my mouth fell open as I found myself turning my head around to look at her with a suspicious look. "Uhm, excuse me, Ma'am. Am I missing something here?" I did not bother to hide the teasing edge in my tone, nor the surprise in my tone on how the two managed to get along.

Truly, did I miss something here?

She did not give me an answer, and all I got in response was a shrug and a small smile that danced on her lips, that which she tried to hide but I saw right through to it.

"Faiza Sunusi Bayero!" I called out, because it truly appears to be something going on behind the scenes.

"What?" She dragged the word, feigning innocence. "There is nothing. What are you talking about?" She mumbled, avoiding my gaze. "Besides, he is just a kid."

"Excuse you." She and her brother are truly two peas in a pod. "You are only two years older than him. There is nothing wrong with that." To be honest, keep his reckless driving attitude aside, Zaheer acts much older than I am most times that I tend to forget he is actually younger.

But should that really be a determining factor in this type of situation?

"Whatever." Faiza waved it off, and I could tell that she does not want to push the matter forward at the moment. So, I respected that, and decided to leave the matter as such despite the fact that I did not see that coming in the slightest.

The traffic started to move once again, and so I focused my gaze on the road, as I continued to drive. Silence ensued once again as I thought of how to break my own news to her. Realizing there is no grand way to do it really, I decided to just rip the band aid and get it over and done.

"Faiza?" I called out.

"Yeah?"

I tightened my grip on the steering wheel, then just threw it out, preparing myself for the reaction I know I would be getting without a shred of doubt. "I forgot to mention. Your uncles will be coming to my house in three days to discuss your brother and I's marriage."

She was quiet for a second—and for a moment I wondered if I had broken her because not even a single sound came from her. But I know her, and know the momentary silence was simply of shock. So, I prepared myself for what was about to come next.

In 3, 2, 1...

"WHAT THE HELL?!!" And so, the screaming started.

***

Tohhhh the besties don make up finally finally.

Now let's start wedding preparations 💃

Tbh I don't even have anything to say for today's AN so... there's that.

How are you guys doing?? How is the wedding preparation ongoing? How's the venue booking? The songs? The ankoooo???

I hope you've called your tailors o. Hold am tight! Yawwa mine Dey start to show me small hege but whatever...

Stay safe and in a relationship😂

Love, Jannah Mia❤️