"What about this one?" She raised the dress at Bushra. It was a white long chiffon dress, covered in crystals. "Am I getting married?" Bushra asked her, she tilted her head to the side. Madina looked at the dress thoughtfully. "Too fancy," she mouthed and dropped it on the bed before strolling back to bushra's drawer.

"This has to be it," she declared, walking over to bushra. The dress was dark blue, with a flowery fringe at the neck. Bushra scanned the dress. It was beautiful, she admitted. But it didn't fit the occasion. It was just a dinner with someone she doesn't know if they were friends or not. "Let me," bushra walked pass Madina and searched through the drawer.

She gave Madina a tight lip smile as she made her way to the bathroom. Madina sighed, feeling anxious about the dress Bushra picked out.

Bushra walks out in a black abaya that glistened under the bright lights almost making it sparkle like the stars in the sky. "This is it." She beamed from ear to ear. She walked to the full length mirror and looked at herself. She squealed. "This is definitely the dress for tonight." Madina smiled and nodded. She walked over to her and squeezed her shoulders gently. "I couldn't agree more," she said, admitting.

"Now what's left? Makeup?" Madina asked, she opened Bushra's dressing mirror to fetch out her cosmetics. "No! I don't need it. I don't want to look like I want to look good for him. Uh-uh, I have to pass on this." She snatched the makeup bag and placed it back into the drawer.

"Then do it because you want to look good for yourself." Madina opens the drawer again and grabbed the bag. "Now sit your butt down and let me do my job." Madina was a pro at makeup. She learned it from a makeup school she attended to start a business but failed to pursue that dream. Instead -- she worked as the manager in her father's company and she loved it.

"It's going to be subtle and elegant, I promise." She placed her hands on bushra's shoulders and guided her to the vanity stool. Bushra settled down, murmuring under her breath. She could not wait any longer for the evening to end. Madina had already tired her out. "But you're going to clean my room," she mentioned and madina agreed.

Madina was done glamming up her face in less than 15 minutes. She takes a look at herself in the mirror. "Wow," she mumbled, astonished. "See, I told you it was going to be simple." Madina said to her gleefully. "You did a great job and I love it. Now, I have to get going, I'm almost late." She rose up and ambled towards her shoe rag and bag hanger. She picked up a matching one and took a glimpse at herself one more time.

"Adda Bushra have you seen..." Yasmin paused, she gave the both of them a dubious look. "Are you going somewhere?" Yasmin asked, giving her a distrustful look. Bushra cleared her throat. "Yes -- with madina obviously. What did you say you were looking for?" Bushra was trying to play it imperturbable but Yasmin wasn't buying it. She scanned through bushra's outfit and then Madinas'.

Madina was wearing a hijab and it obviously looked like it wasn't meant to go out on occasions with. "I thought madina was sleeping over?" Yasmin's eyes narrowed and bushra was getting out of patience. "What are you looking for, Yasmin?" She asked her annoyingly.

"Adila's bottle."

"Well, it's not here," she retorted angrily. "Hmm! Okay -- are you going out with Ya Sadiq? Cause you're obviously going out on a date or something," she said, taking in Bushra's appearance. The make up and dress Bushra had on said it all.

"You know what, you should just go get us the things in the supermarket. I'll just -- stay here and help -- Yasmin out with the Adila," Madina said to Bushra. She nodded and hurried out before Yasmin could get the chance to interrogate her more. Yasmin turned her gaze to Madina, a brow raised.

"It would be nice if you keep your mouth shut,Yasmin."

Bushra arrived at the location he gave her. It was a 5-star restaurant that she quiet knew but had never set foot in. That was her first time being in the there and the atmosphere was welcoming.

"Okay," she murmured and ambled towards the entrance. On her way, she looked around the parking lot -- the only cars she spotted were owned by Mahir. The restaurant was always filled with people, causing holdup whenever she passed by. Be it in the morning or afternoon or in the night - it was always packed up with people. What happened tonight?

She shook the thought away and made her way in. To her disbelief, she found the whole place empty. Was she in the right place?

"Good evening, Miss. Mansur. Mr. Adam is waiting for you in the VIP. This was, please." He led the way. She hesitantly followed him as many thoughts washed over her head. Why was the place empty? Are they closed? But it was barely 8 in the night.

He opened the door for her and gestured her to go in. "Thank you," she mouthed and gently took small steps in.

She scanned the room. The lighting was romantically dark and perfect for a candlelit dinner. The atmosphere was cool, with high beamed ceilings and eclectic decor.

"Fashionably Late? I like it." Out of the blue, she heard his husky voice. The booming voice that made her shiver with fright. "Common, have a seat." His voice was rich and deep. She let out a shaky breath and took a seat facing him. Her heart was pounding against her ribs as if trying to fulfil a thousand beats.

She exhaled, releasing some of the tension that had built up in her shoulders.

"Relax, no one is asking you to decide whether to cut the red wire or the blue wire. It's just dinner." He said in a playful tone but Bushra couldn't understand whether he was teasing her or not because of his stoic expression.

"Why is the restaurant empty?" She queried to calm her inquisitiveness. He heard a finality in her tone -- he smiled. "Oh -- I rented the whole place and place tend to get choked up all the time, and I love my privacy." He answered in a low and nonchalant tone. Her lips gaped but nothing came out. Could he do that? Of course he could -- and he already did. And he looked like he didn't care a bit about it.

The waiter saunters in with the menu and placed it before them. He curtly bowed his head and walked out to give them some time to go through it. Bushra sensed he was looking at her -- she gently took the menu and opened it to avoid meeting his gaze. She breathed in his cologne and exhaled. Her stomach churned but she ignored it.

The menu there was combined with traditional and modern food you could possibly think of. Bushra scanned through to see what she could get for herself -- there was nothing. She had so many options but couldn't think of herself uttering it to the waiter -- not when he was there looking at her like she had magically grown to heads.

"Seen anything you want?" He asked her. She raised her head, taking a look at him. "Uh -- I don't... why don't you just order for us? I mean you know this place more than I do and I'm sure you have an idea of how their food tastes like." She told him -- her voice flowed like a river.

"If you say so then," he said proudly and closed the menu.

The waiter mildly walked in and took the order. She sat there and closely listened to what he ordered. It wasn't a bad choice and she won't regret it, she hoped.

"Miss. Mansur..."

"Bushra is okay," she insisted. He cleared his throat and glanced back over his shoulder. His guards were vaguely standing behind him. "Okay... Bushra," he called. When he called her name, his voice was warm and comforting -- even the stingiest stranger could warm up to his voice. "Tell me about yourself."

"What exactly do you want to know, Mr. Adam?" She asked him. "Mahir is okay," he told her and she could sense the joke in his tone. He was mocking her. She smiled for the first time since she settled down. "Well... you know my name, where I work, what else?" She asked him readily.

"Where you live, where are you from, your age, are you single or not?" He spoke openly and sipped a glass of sparkling water. Her eyebrow shoot up with shock. Did she heard the last question correctly. "Why do you need to know my relationship status? Like, why would a guy like you be ever interested in that?"

"Wasn't the only question I asked, Bushra. But since you insist, I'm asking for a friend and I am just a regular person like others -- no difference." She raised her brow again. He wasn't just a regular man, she declared. He was different from so many men she'd come across. He was bossy without even thinking about it. His second nature was being domineering.

"I live in wuse, zone 2, I'm from Yola, I'm 25 years old. And my relationship status is inaccessible." She spoke confidently. He raises an eyebrow at her. "So you're Fulani? I thought Fulani people were shy -- you're the opposite." Her sharp mouth had made it hard to believe that she was Fulani. Maybe her pointed nose and her light skin, but that wasn't enough. "So you speak, what do you call it again..."

"Fulfulde?" She said curtly. He nodded his head. "Yes, fulfulde. Do you speak it?" He asked her and she nodded. "Fluently."

He leaned back against the chair, his muscular arms relaxed.

The waiter, rolled in a table with their order. Their first course consisted of a thin slice beef, marinated in oil and seasoning. It was very tender and quite looked delicious. They prepared their meal in a unique fashion that complicates any direct comparison.

"So... what about you?" She said and took a bite of her meal. She slowly chewed, letting her taste buds figure out what was traveling through their domain.

He smirked, not looking up. He knew she'd ask him back. "What about me? You want to know my relationship status?" He asked with a playful tone. It never seizes to amaze her how playful he could be and then the next he was frowning and trying to make things look professional.

"I'm not interested in that." She told him and he couldn't help but chuckle. "Okay." He shrugged it off. "You also know my name and where I work. I'm from Dan-Musa, Katsina state. I am a thirty-four years old man still living with his parents."

"So old," she said jokingly. "Hmm..." He nodded. "Couldn't agree more." He said and took a sip of his drink. He dropped the glass and leaned back to take a good look at her. She paused and looked up at him. "So, the other day you were speaking on phone with someone -- about me. What exactly where you guys gossiping about?"

The waiter routinely came by at just the right time to check whether their needs were satisfied, never made them rush. Bushra couldn't be more relieved that he showed up. And Mahir ordered deserts.

"Oh no, I'm already full. Desert won't be necessary," she declined politely. But he insisted she gets a take away. She accepted that instead -- at least she has something to take to Madina and Yasmin.

"Are you going to tell me what you guys were talking about?" He asked as he raised a brow. His eyes never left her sight. "You already heard everything. What more do you want me to say?" She said quietly and looked up at the ceiling, as if appealing to a higher power. "Look at me," he ordered. His voice was hard to describe at the moment. Their eyes met with a flare of heat, causing her to blush and turn away in flustered embarrassment. Mahir couldn't help but chuckle. "So you are shy -- now I believe you are Fulani..." His phone chimed, interrupting the moment.

The waiter walked back in with the packed desserts and the bill like Mahir ordered him to. He finished the phone call and paid the bill before they stepped out.

They strolled out of the restaurant side by side -- both engrossed in their own feelings and thoughts. "Hey, listen," she called out and paused. They were at the parking lot, by her car. With a yearning expression, he gazed at her. "Thanks for... all of this," she told him, gesturing with her whole hands. "You shouldn't have booked the whole place to spend just two hours, really."

Without realising it, he chuckled. It was light, and laced with a hum of amusement at the matter. "I did what I could..." A car drove in, flashing it's light on them. They both squint their eyes shut at the light. Mahir grunts lowly as he turned his head away.

"It's my friend. We have a meeting and I told him to meet me here after 10 -- turns out he doesn't know how time works. I apologize." He looked at the time, it was thirty minutes after 9. Bushra laughed softly.

Mansur drops down from his car and waved. He approached them with a smile. "I'm so sorry for flashing you guys that way -- didn't mean to..." He gaped his eyes at Bushra in amusement. "Daughter?" He called out. "Dr. Mansur?" She was as amused as he was.

"Wait, you two know each other?" Mahir asked, looking at the both of them, perplexed. Mansur nodded, "of course you should know. Well... I know when you want something you always find your way to get it." Mahir was still dazed and he could sense it. "Don't play this game with me, Mahir. This is Bushra Mansur. Your saviour. The girl you have been going head over heels for."

Mahir's breathing had become light and his mouth gapes. His world suddenly crashing down on him. His heart pounded and his mind churned. For several moments, he stood there unmoving.

"Oh, wait! This is the guy you were telling me about at the hospital? Oh my God." Peals of laughter burst from within. If only she had known it was him that night. If only she had known, she would've thought twice before donating her blood to the so called man standing before her and acting like the world revolves around him.

"Dr. Mansur, I have to get going now. Good night and thank you for the 'friendly dinner'." She emphasised and laughed softly, as she made her way to her car.