MUHAMMAD IMRAN
It was the first time he had seen her in her brother's house that day, the first time he had seen her at her brother's house since he last saw her many years ago. Recognition wouldn't have dawned upon him if her brother hadn't introduced her to him. But where their family friendship once epitomized innocence, he now perceives it as anything but innocent. The girl who used to narrate stories of her pets and paintings has matured into a woman more enchanting than a spell of sihr. There has been this torturous feeling of ache in his heart since that day, and he knows there's only one way to ease it.
"Jadwa," he gazed at the Eid pictures posted by her sister Hanan, "My jewel, my precious treasure." A smile graced his lips. She is meant for him, or Qadr wouldn't have conspired to reunite them. She is destined to be his, and he will marry her.
JADWA
"Jadwa, come on! Is everything ready? Abdulhakeem is also coming I thinks they are here."
Jadwa lifted her gaze off the three jugs of hibiscus, tamarind, and coconut milk she prepared for her brother Ahmad and his friends.
"Really?"
Ameerah, her brother's wife, nodded promptly. Jadwa moved away from the table, washing her hands, and wiped her wet palms on her jilbab.
"You should change before meeting him," Ameerah said, eyeing Jadwa's appearance.
"Yes, I think so too."
For four months, Jadwa had been eagerly anticipating this moment. Her boyfriend was finally returning to Nigeria. She hurriedly ascended the stairs to the room she occupied at her brother's house.
Suddenly, she collided with her sister. "Where are you going?" Her eldest sister Hanan asked.
"To get my phone" She scrutinized Jadwa from head to toe and asked, "Isn't that your phone in your hands?"
"Uhmm no, mine is upstairs this is Ameerah's." She gave Jadwa a suspicious look, and she scurried upstairs before she commenced interrogating her. Jadwa reached her room swiftly and opened the window, her focus on the three cars that just arrived. Her heartbeats accelerated, and she placed a hand on her face to stifle a giggle. There he was, Abdulhakeem, adorned in a blue kaftan and a zanna Bukar. Her heart raced even faster. How handsome is this man? He looks even more impressive in person, surpassing the memory of their first meeting at her brother's wedding.
Her reverie dissipated when she noticed four men leaving from their cars and making their way into the house, including her beloved. She hastened to change into a simple black abaya with black embroidery, already infused with bakhoor for almost a week. There was no time for makeup, so she swiftly brushed and styled her hair, twisted the lengthy braid into a low bun, brushed her brows, applied lip gloss, sprayed some humra, and oiled her skin with sweet oil perfumes.
Why all this effort when she doesn't intend to converse much with him?
Quietly walking down the stairs, she followed the back stairs to the kitchen. By the time she arrived, it was already time for iftar, and they all broke their fasts.
"Quickly take these drinks and dates to them before they head to the mosque."
Jadwa's palms became sweaty, and she pleaded with her sister-in-law with her eyes she was nervous.
"Don't you want to have a close look at your future husband? Eh! Matar Abdul" (Abdul's wife).
She opted not to entertain her teasing, instead asking if she looked okay, and Ameerah nodded. Jadwa uttered bismillah and carried the substantial tray, praying she wouldn't drop it.
She offered her Salam, and they all reciprocated. "Ina yinin ku?" (good evening) she greeted.
"Jadu Jadu!! An girma fa (you are all grown up now)" Ahmad's friends exclaimed, and she could only muster a shy smile.
"Barka da Shan ruwa, Ya Muhammad finally! You have graced us with your presence" (Iftar Mubarak) Ya Ahmad walked in and exchanged pleasantries with the person sitting directly opposite her, serving tea in small traditional cups from her tribe for the guests.
Wait! There are five people in this room, not four, as she initially observed. She kept her head low as she listened to the resonance of his voice. It was deep and somewhat intimidating. Her scarf slipped off her shoulder, and she swiftly adjusted it, stealing a glance at her boyfriend who was smiling at her.
Placing the tray on the center table, she cast a glance at the man her brother addressed as "Ya." Who is he?
"Jadwa, did you greet Ya Imran?" She nodded, readjusting her veil. He scrutinized her, attempting to make out her identity, much like her attempt to do the same.
"Jadwa, my younger sister" Ya Ahmad clarified for him, but his expression remained unchanged. She finally recognized him, he's a family friend! She hasn't seen him probably since they were young. His gaze lingered on her, making her fidget, playing with her fingers.
"Sannu da zuwa, Ya Imran."(you're welcome Ya Imran) she greeted him with a smile, and he nodded. Sensing the tension, Ya Ahmad nudged her to hand him the tea before she exited the room. While others engaged in political discourse, she could still sense his gaze on her as she approached the couch where they were seated.
"Ahh, ouchhhhh," The tea overflowed slightly, scalding her, and before she could react, he stood in front of her, taking the tea to Ya Ahmad. It served as a reminder for carrying hot tea without a saucer.
"Ba a wasa da ruwan zafi haka, It's enough now, you can go back"(you shouldn't be playing with hot water like this) he spoke in a soft tone, noticeably gentler than how he spoke to her brother or the other men in the room.
She looked up at him, he towered over her, a true man with broad shoulders. His jallabiya hung loosely, revealing robust muscles. Wearing a black face cap, she tilted her head to get a better view. Impenetrable eyes, a scar on his eyebrow, striking masculine features adorned his deep complexion, and a thick black beard covered his jaw. A sharp nose and very dark eyes accentuated his presence.
She mumbled a small thank you in a calm voice, surprising even herself. She doesn't have a loud or high-pitched voice, but this wasn't how she typically spoke to her brother or boyfriend. He exuded an intimidating aura, not scolding her, but making her uneasy with his voice and unwavering gaze.
What a man! That's all she kept repeating in her mind as she turned to leave the room. Apologies echoed from the living room because of her little burn as she drowned her hand in iced water and sipped on cold zobo.
After a few minutes, she heard the men leaving, prompting her to take the stairs for prayer and a proper iftar with her sisters. As she approached the door, it opened slightly, revealing Abdulhakeem.
A wide smile adorned her lips as she enveloped him in a bone-crushing hug. Ugh, he's so adorable. He truly embodied the essence of a handsome Fulani man.
He kissed her cheeks and wrapped his hands around her waist, catching her off guard. She pulled back, giving him a stern look.
"What if someone sees?" she eyed him.
"Come on, baby, I missed you so freaking much! I could do so much more, but I have to pray," he winked and tapped her shoulder. "We have a date tomorrow, okay?"
"Okay," she smiled, hugging him one more time before he left.
The night unfolded with a myriad of emotions. She couldn't shake off the encounter with Ya Imran there was an air of mystery around him. As she laid in bed, the anticipation her upcoming date.
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