0o0

04|Day Out...

0o0

One Week later.

With my Mother, Ummi back everything became tightened into place, a lot of things were remedied-

Like the maids slacking off in their jobs just because she wasn't around.

The cooks not following the scheduled rules and menu.

The gardeners not watering the flowers three times a day as per her orders.

The drivers not maintaining the cars as supposed.

And Daddy complaining about my dressing.

Yes I take note of everything and reports everyone immediately after she's back. She's the backbone of the house. When she says no, then it's definitely no. Unlike Daddy who can be persuaded but I am inspiring to be like my mother.

"You said something about going to a Royal wedding from the Zazzau emirate." Ummi said, taking a sip of her tea.

"No Ummi, Kano, it's Kano not Zaria and I'm not going anymore because she's too dull, boring and annoying. The events aren't much so I suggested that lace that you brought for me before you travelled but she was like her friends won't afford it, it's too expensive bla bla bla... I swear Ummi my mouth hanged open for a minute. She expects me to go to a wedding like that? Hell no. If they can't afford that then what could they afford? Do they want me to be seen wearing cheap clothes?" I complained feeling more annoyed as I recalled our conversation.

"Ah you're not going. That would be a disgrace yes." She pursed her lips in disgust.

"Never!" I exclaimed.

"Your phone is ringing." She handed me over the phone.

My heart leapt for a moment thinking it was him but to my utter disappointment it was Samha. Talk of the devil.

"Hey girl." She greeted.

"Hey yourself. What's up?" I rolled my eyes, making a face.

"Um my bridesmaids outfit has been chosen so I thought I should let you know." Her perfect British accent made coverage for her unlady-like voice.

"Uhh no thanks. I would actually not be in town then, sorry dear but I will make it up to you?" The lie slipped from my tongue perfectly and easily.

"Oh, okay then bye." She cut the call.

She wouldn't even plead! Pathetic.

I ripped a leather bag open to take out whatever it is I had inside. Socks. Of all things. With a grunt I pushed them back into their bag and dropped the thing on the floor.

Ummi has this thing, she hardly travels without bringing home toddler clothes. It's like an OCD, whatever baby clothes interest her spend the rest of their lives in her closet. That is until I get married, that's if I do get married and after getting married IF I will agree to give birth. The mere thought of a child growing in me makes all the hairs on my body to stand at attention talkless of one coming out of me. Well that's like a no-go area for me and my thoughts.

I sashayed to the dresser before lavishing myself with tons of different perfumes, swiped on Kohl to make my eyes pop out, dubbed on powder before coating my lips with nude coloured lipstick.

Very much satisfied with my look I turned to Ummi who was now clad in a multi colored native dress and was in the process of tying on her head-tie. Inquisitively, I raised a brow in her direction to which she replied with "I'll be going to your Aunt Bahijja's place. Are you coming?"

"No. Yazid and Mufasa are waiting for me already. We're going out." Mufasa is a name created by me, the guy's name is Mufid, during the time we made acquaintance he was in a relationship with a girl named Rashida. Initially the ship name was Mufash made by me, too. So one day, we went to watch The Lion King, the Movie and well Mufasa emerged. And he kinda looks like Mufasa with the oversized head and everything. Yazid is my childhood friend though.

"Okay then. I'm leaving, see you later." I waved at her before she left the room leaving me to myself.

I turned to the dresser immediately after to look at myself. Was there anything actually wrong with my looks? My face? Am I unattractive? Or is it that he finds me unattractive? This shit is really starting to scare me now. I've never in my whole 23 years of life been so self conscious before, so why was I trying to confuse my life now?

Okay so it has been a week since that day and I've received no text no call from my arrogant stranger. I've been intentionally posting pictures of myself too- something I only do once in a while on WhatsApp to grab his attention but he didn't even bother to check on any of them.

Now I feel stupid. Pathetic, even. But I can't bring myself to stop hoping.

Hoping like a fool!

The worst part is knowing that our recent connection was born from an honest mistake.

Everyone dismisses the person who made them say, "Sorry, wrong number," including me. I know we're not supposed to be communicating at all. But at the same time, I can't help but wonder if I'm the only one feeling strange things towards this stranger.

You said it yourself: he is a stranger. Block him out of your life, girl! What are you doing obsessing over someone you don't even know? My subconscious chimed in.

It's all true—except for one tiny detail: I desperately want to know who he is. I care! I've never felt so confused in my life, and there's nothing I hate more than uncertainty.

Grumbling to myself, I walked out of the room, adjusting the buttons on my top. Even the buttons seemed determined to give me trouble today.

I paused in front of the mirror, applauding myself internally. In my navy blue, baggy long-sleeved chiffon top and high-waisted ripped jeans clinging to my body like a second skin, I was ready to take on the world. My favorite pair of sunglasses added just the right touch.

Confidence surged through my veins. I wrapped a lilac cotton veil around my head, expertly creating winged eyeliner before applying mascara, making my eyes pop with boldness.

Murmuring Jason Derulo's "Get Ugly," I shoved my camera into my red Chanel bag and slipped into a pair of red flats. All set, I walked out of the house, fully aware that Daddy wasn't around. However, David, my personal security, was. His main job was to follow me around like a shadow. An irritating shadow.

I motioned for him to come closer for a chat. David was a sturdy 42-year-old man, standing at 6'2 with impressive biceps. But I wasn't intimidated by him.

"Ma'am," he greeted.

"David, dear," I began with an exaggerated smile, "I'm going out with my friends. Don't worry, I'll be safe, so there's no need for you to follow me around. I'm not a frickin' teen. Don't. Follow. Me. Around. I'm not a kid." I waggled my finger in emphasis.

"His Excellency's orders take precedence over yours," he replied, his expression as stoic as ever.

The audacity of this man! I glared at him for defying my request and walked towards the blue BMW parked closest to the door, ignoring his protests. I heard the screech of tires behind me before I even caught him in the rearview mirror.

He's fast. Game on.

The neighborhood was quiet and peaceful, so I pressed the accelerator, shifting gears as I sped down the road with no fear of hitting anyone.

I'm quite a good racer, thanks to Yazid, my best friend, who taught me how to drive like a wild woman. I love it. I weaved through the streets with skilled precision. After ensuring David had lost my trail, I headed toward our meeting point.

"Daddy's girl!" Mufasa called out as I entered the open area. I shot him a glare before moving to Yazid, who was waiting for me with open arms. I missed him.

After returning his hug, I settled on the trunk of his car, pulling my pet out of my bag. "You started without me, right?" Yazid groaned in mock displeasure.

"That's exactly why you love me," I giggled.

"Yeah, right," he muttered, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

"Mufasa," I called out, "Yazid says he hates me." Mufasa grinned and opened his mouth to respond but was interrupted as Yazid tossed his cap at him. I wondered what nonsense was about to spill from his lips.

"Dude!" Mufasa exclaimed. "You almost hit my phone!"

"I should've. It belongs on the ground just like you," Yazid shot back.

"Your crush is getting married," I teased, wiggling my eyebrows.

"Who? You?" He replied, feigning shock.

"No!" I playfully swatted his chest, knowing I was never his crush. "Samha!"

"Please. She never was and never will be. She's my ex, for God's sake!"

"Battered ego," Mufasa joked, referencing the way Yazid was when they broke up. He was devastated.

"Don't you feel anything?" I taunted, my curiosity piqued.

"The hell would I feel? It's been a year, guys!" he exclaimed, throwing his hands up in frustration.

He has always been the kind of guy who makes grand gestures when he speaks. You get what I'm saying? Our trio is nothing short of chaotic. Mufasa hails from Potiskum, Yobe State, and belongs to the Gizm tribe. Yazid is from Gombe and is part of the Fulani tribe, while I represent a blend of Hausa and Fulani. Though, to be honest, I feel more like a pure Hausa since I don't understand a word in the Fulfulde language. No kidding.

It's our norm to meet frequently, and we never run out of things to discuss. We literally have the same circle of friends. My father and Yazid's have been close since they were in diapers. Well, more like napkins. We grew up together, and when I moved out of the country for a while, he followed suit, just to different places. He ended up studying in Ghana, where he met Mufasa, the loud and crazy one in our trio.

0o0

AN

Assalamu Alaikum wa Rahmatullah. Here's a little something for za people.

.❤️.

Even though Stranger didn't make an appearance at all. This is all about our girl.