POV: Fatima
“Ah this long queue, abeg,” I muttered as I approached the ATM beside our house.
The line was long and slow, the kind that makes you start calculating how much time you’re about to waste. I stood there for a few minutes, shifting my weight from one leg to the other.
“When will it come to my turn? Gaskiya banda lokaci. Let me be going,” I said to myself as I stepped out of the queue.
Just as I turned to leave, a voice called out behind me.
“Hello, come and go before me.”
I turned around.
“Ah thank you!” I said quickly, almost running back to the front as the people still in the line grumbled under their breath.
“Thank you,” I added again, flashing him a big smile.
“You’re welcome,” he said calmly.
To be honest, I didn’t give him a second look. I was just grateful to be done quickly. I withdrew my money, thanked him one last time, and started walking away.
That was when I realised he was following me.
“I didn’t catch your name, miss,” he said.
“I didn’t throw it,” I replied without missing a beat.
He laughed. “Haba now, this is not how you respond to your knight in shining armour.”
“Knight ke?” I burst out laughing.
“Okay then,” he said, clearly enjoying himself. “What’s your name at least? Do you mind if I drop you?”
“My house is just down the road, so don’t worry. And yes, my name is Fatima,” I replied.
“Oh, you see, this is meant to be,” he said immediately. “You have my mum’s name. Can I call you Mama na?”
“Well, you can call me Ummi,” I said. “That’s what my family calls me.”
“Can I see your phone?” he asked suddenly.
“Why?” I asked, instinctively glancing at my shattered screen. I quickly hid it with my veil.
“I want to dial my number so you can have my contact. You need me in your life,” he said with a smirk.
“Is that what you say to every girl?” I asked, folding my arms.
“No,” he replied. “Just the ones I like.”
“Let me go,” I said, already stepping away.
“I won’t let you go until you give me your number, or your Instagram handle, or Snap,” he said, smiling like this was all a game.
For the first time since we started talking, we locked eyes.
Something rushed through me — sharp, unexpected, electric.
He was a fine man. I won’t lie.
“08134435581,” I said quickly. “Can I go now?”
“Wait now, haba mana, Ummi na.”
“Ummin ka?” I laughed. “You are such a charmer. Just now, now I am your Ummi?”
“Yo da ta wacece,” he replied smoothly. “Tun da kinki na rage miki hanya, shi ke nan.”
He opened his car door and started the ignition.
Suddenly, my phone rang.
“Aren’t you going to pick that?” he said, grinning broadly.
“Mijin ki na kira, baza ki dauka ba.”
And just like that, he drove off.
I stood there for a moment, staring after his car.
Omo, wetin be this?
This guy wan carry me go where I no know.
POV: Ahmed
“Hello. Ya how far, kana ina?” I asked as I placed a call to Jibrilla.
Jibrilla is my best friend and my partner in crime.
“Guy, I just met the girl of my dreams,” I said, still smiling to myself.
“Please free me,” he replied immediately. “I don’t have energy for your dreams or your girls.”
“Walahi this girl is what I want. Exactly fa — komai da komai,” I insisted.
“Yanzu dai where are you? Are you in the office?” I asked.
“No walahi. Baba sent me to Senator Rufai’s office to drop some documents. I’m on my way as we speak. Let’s just meet later at the spot,” he said.
“Ba matsala. See you later,” I replied.
As I hung up, it hit me.
I forgot to withdraw the money that made me stop at the ATM in the first place.
Shit.
I drove back to the office, but all day Fatima was on my mind.
How can a person be so perfect?
Her height.
Her complexion.
Her smile.
Her shape.
Chai, I don die.
“I should call her. It’s been five hours,” I thought to myself.
Another voice in my head said, Calm down, nigga. Ka ciki zakewa. Don’t call now. Leave it till later.
Yes. I wouldn’t call.
Not now.
But even as I decided that, my hands were already dialing.
“Fatima? Did you miss me?” I said when she picked up.
“Who is this?” she asked.
That hit me like a bad joke.
“It’s Ahmed. We met earlier, remember?”
“Ahmed? Ahmed, Ahmed?” she said playfully. “No, it doesn’t ring a bell.”
“Har kin sa gaba na ya fadi,” I laughed. “Walahi you’ve been on my mind all day.”
“Lol, why?” she asked. “You just met me.”
“Kinsan Allah ne ya kawo ni ATM din nan just to meet you,” I said. “Because I don’t even know what brought me to that street in the first place. I never follow that route. And kinsan I didn’t even withdraw the money?”
“Kiranye na maka,” she said, laughing.
“What is kiranye?” I asked.
“It means I used jazz to bring you to me,” she replied.
“Yes please, jazz me. I am all yours,” I said. “Dan kam na fola gabaki daya.”
We both laughed.
“So what are you doing? Can I come over?” I asked.
As we were talking, another call kept interrupting.
“Let me call you back in one minute,” I said. “I need to pick this call.”
“Hello babe, ya dai?” I answered.
“Sadiq’s temperature is still high,” Jamila said. “Can you come so we can take him to the hospital?”
“Oh, that’s not good,” I replied. “Let me call and see if the doctor is on seat.”
“Ok toh,” she said and hung up.
I called the doctor.
“Hello, good evening. My son is running a temperature.”
After that, I called Fatima back.
“Hello, Ummi. Na so na zo na ganki yanzu, but something came up. I will call you anjima, insha Allah.”
“Ok toh,” she replied softly.
“Do me a favour,” I added. “Kar ki yi tunanin kowa sai ni.”
“Toh, Ahmad.”
“Ahmad gatsau? Haba mana,” I laughed. “Gaskiya a samo min suna. Ina lefin baby?”
“Se fa baby,” she teased. “Godo godo da kai. Har na tuna da wani video na Aisha Dankano tana cewa, balan ne baby, toh bashi feeder.”
“Wace ce Aisha Dankano? Wane Bala?” I asked.
“It’s a scene from a Hausa film,” she said. “Bari zan turo maka ka gani.”
“Ok toh.”
“Gaskiya ni babyn Ummi ne,” I said.
“Toh babyn Ummi.”
“Yauwa. Bari na barki now. I’ll call you later,” I said.
As I dropped the call, I realised something.
This is a beautiful feeling.
I can’t remember when last I felt like this.
Da gaske dai, if they say you feel butterflies in your stomach, you actually feel them.
I made a U-turn and headed home.
It’s a twenty-minute drive, but I did it in fifteen.
Sadiq is my heart. I love him with every bit of me.
As I approached my gate, something didn’t feel right.
There were familiar cars parked outside.
My heart skipped.
Inna lillahi wa inna ilaihi raji’un.
Allah please, no. No, no.
My body started shaking.
For a brief moment, my legs couldn’t carry me. I opened the car door but couldn’t step out.
Should I call someone? Or should I just walk in?
I stood there, confused, scared.
Subhanallah, my heart couldn’t take it.
For five minutes, my mind ran through every terrible possibility.
“Ya Allah,” I whispered. “Na roke Ka da sunan Ka kyawawa. Allah ka sa ba abin da ya faru da kowa. Please Allah, have mercy on me.”
Tears slipped out before I could stop them.
Hard guy, hard guy — yau ina?
Jiki na se bari yake.
I wiped my tears, calmed myself, and stepped out of the car.
Que sera sera. Whatever will be, will be.
I opened the door.
To Be Continued….
Masha Allah, what an amazing novel.