Fa'iza Mubarak Hakimi

I watch as Ruqayya comes down from the car that is no doubt BK's and then she disappears through the gate. I can't miss the drama that will unravel downstairs. I actually like drama that doesn't involve me or top notch violence.

I walk down the stairs, the edge of my veil flailing behind me but do I care about it? Absolutely not.

"Meye ne kikayi order?" Ummi says as she checks Mary and Blessing's work on the kitchen drawers. The way Ummi has been working since morning, she will definitely have a fever after the whole tambaya is done and Abba's brothers are gone.

Abba's milk brothers are menaces. Most of them have two or three wives, and so they expect Ummi to be all two or three of their wives. How that is supposed to be possible is a mystery none of us have been able to unravel.

And to top it off, they have zero manners for privacy. Baffa Bashiru literally barges into Ummi's room whenever he needs something. And he is the only one that still does that till this day. Whenever Abba talks, he will tell him that she's his Mahram and so he can even see her naked. He is utterly shameless, and not the kind of neutral shamelessness Ruqayya has. No, the disgusting kind.

"Bani nayi order bafa. Yimin akayi." Ummi stops the thorough inspection of the glass cups and turns to Ruqayya with a look that we all know too well. She's not buying whatever nonsense Ruqayya is saying. We all know she's lying.

"What?" Ruqayya widens her eyes as she drops the three Sahad stores bags.

Ummi looks at the white writing against the black and turns to Ruqayya.

"Since when does Sahad do deliveries?" Ruqayya opens the bag and brings out a small ice cream container that has my brows flying up.

"Ruqy na." I draw with a smile and she turns to me with a bored expression. I gesture to the ice-cream and she rolls her eyes.

"Shegiyar yarinya. You know very well it's you I'll give." She pushes the ice cream to me and I squeal and open it immediately.

"Ruqayya, don't call your sister that. It's not a good thing to say." I watch her discretely roll her eyes but she grumbles a reply to Ummi.

Next thing she pulls from the same bag is another nylon that is tied. She opens it and her face blooms into a smile.

"This is for me alone." She closes the bag but the scent of suya has already filled the entire kitchen.

I smile and reach for the bag but she smacks my hand away.

"Hawainiyarki ta kiyayi rama ta," Ruqayya says with narrowed eyes and I give her a cheeky smile.

"Amma hanu na ya kusanci suyan ki koh?" Ruqayya snatches the bag off the counter and puts it on the vertical fridge making me frown. She knows I can't reach the top of the fridge without using a stool and I'd rather give up on whatever is on there than go to the store, get a stool, use it and return it.

I'm not particularly short, but I'm at least a head and a half shorter than Ruqayya. And she never fails to use that to her advantage. Just like she did now.

Ruqayya opens the second nylon and brings out yogurt. She rolls her eyes and pushes it towards me, a frown on her face.

"Amma wanda ya miki order dinnan baisan baki shan abu mai sanyi bane?" I think Ummi is finally agreeing that Ruqayya didn't order the stuff by herself. We all know Ruqayya and money, she will never buy something unless she is going to use it.

"Nakega ya manta ne." Ruqayya's eyes widen at her slip up and I can't help the smirk that forms on my face. Ummi turns away from the ceramin bowls with raised brows.

"Ya manta? Waye shi ya din?" Ruqayya looks to me for help and I simply shrug, taking a spoon and sitting by the kitchen counter. I take some ice cream in my spoon and smile cheekily at Ruqayya who's giving me the middle finger while pretending to scratch her head.

"Erm, wani ne." I hide my chuckle behind another spoonful of ice cream.

"Shi wanin bashida suna?" Ruqayya looks to me for help again and I drop my spoon.

"Ahmad ne fah Ummi, he doesn't want to believe za'a bada ita gobe so he's trying his best to get in her good books." Ruqayya widens her eyes, definitely wondering why I said that.

"Shikuma dai. Kuma sai ki karba ke kuma?" Ruqayya shrugs. Knowing if she talks, she'll expose herself.

"Toh yanzu dai go and bath. Your uncles are already on their way from the airport. Kunsan halin Walid, kar ku ja min magana." We both leave, each with our goodies in hand and take the stairs.

Once we're out of earshot, Ruqayya turns to me.

"What the fuck, Fa'iza? Magana kike so ki jamin?"

"Language, Ruqayya." Ruqayya reaches out to whack me and I run, dodging her long lean hand.

I drop loudly on my bed and sigh. We had an agreement with Ummi, and she went ahead and broke it just because Baffa Rabiu spoke. So what if I'm going out after Asr? My curfew isn't until 9.59pm. And I'm not even going to be staying past 7pm there. If I get what I want the moment I go there, I'll even be back by 6pm.

I pull my feet out of my sneakers with more force than necessary. I'm not even angry, I'm just annoyed that after arriving here like ten minutes ago, Ruqayya's uncles have already started taking the reigns.

Telling Ummi about how she needs to keep her niece in check. What they don't know is that I'm not the one who needs checking, their niece is. In fact they know very well I have no issues whatsoever. But if they don't rile Ummi up and then myself in the process, they don't ever feel satisfied. Bunch of aging men that don't have direction in life.

I wonder how their wives deal with them. I don't think, for the life of me, I can live with a man like Baffa Bashiru, Baffa Walid, or the worst of them all, Baffa Rabiu.

Baffa Bashiru is the kind of man that thinks women have no need for privacy. He doesn't respect a woman's body. And he's always passing comments on Ummi's body. If he's not asking her what she takes to keep her mounds firm so he can tell his first wife to drink it, he's talking to her about how not tight his wives are and how he needs to marry. He is sixty years old! For Allah's sake why will a sixty year old man be asking or saying those sort of things?

Then there's Baffa Walid who is as controlling as they get. He acts like a remote controller and expects you to act like a remote controlled car. He was just telling Ummi about how his second wife wanted to come but he shouted at her and told her to get back inside the house, in front of her kids.

The worst of them all, Baffa Rabiu. That man is supposed to be beaten by anyone and everyone. Sometimes I wish I had Jinns so that when he annoys me, they will deal with him. Astagfirullah but that's how much I hate him. He's one of those men that will come into your house and seconds later they're trying to turn it into their own little shrine.

Why he does that? God only knows.

And to top it off, he is controlling and hard to please. When he's around, he demands Ummi cooks. Apparently, maids disgust him so he won't eat what they cook. And he can't even be deceived into thinking Ummi cooked because he will stand in the kitchen and keep blabbing her ears off as he watches her cook.

Not only do I find that uncomfortable and unnerving, but it also is giving incest. Because Ummi is his younger brother's wife, why will he be standing in the kitchen, watching her cook? That's disgusting on his part.

Then again, sometimes when she cooks, he'll start eating and say he lost his appetite and that he needs something else. Again, Ummi has to go and cook it. And what pains me is the fact that Abba never speaks about it. Maybe it's because he doesn't want anyone saying Ummi has charmed him. But honestly, so what if they say so?

A knock on the door followed by the twisting of the door knob snaps me out of my thoughts. Ummi walks in and sits beside me. I can't even stay angry at her when she looks this tired. I turn to her.

"Yadai Ummi?" Ummi sighs.

"Baffan ki ne fah, wai shi homemade roasted chicken yakeso. I don't even have fresh chicken fah." Ummi sighs again and I swallow my words. I wanted to say she should tell him to go bring his dearest obedient amarya to come make it for him. But Ummi will definitely smack my mouth, she has forbidden us from talking bad about uncles, that doesn't mean I can't wish bad for them though.

"Anyways, so I asked the driver to get me roasted chicken. I will just prep it up again for him. Idan ma yaga bai masa shiya sani yanzu kam." I smile, happy that Ummi isn't killing herself over that condescending undeserving he-male.

"We had an agreement, and you did what I asked you to. And I know you've been waiting for this fair for months. So what if you're going out now? We just can't let your uncle know. You'll go out under the guise of buying the chicken, and the driver will drop you off. Once you're done, call me and I'll send a driver." I jump and hug Ummi, squealing in the process.

"I love you so much, Ummi na." Ummi chuckles.

"I love you too, mamana. Maza saka takalman." I wear my sneakers back and we take the front door since Ruqayya's uncles are in the dining room, eating. Ruqayya must've locked herself up in her room because of those uncles if hers.

I enter the car and Ummi waves me bye before walking inside.

The drive to the fair ground is kind of long due to Friday traffic, but I make it just when my time clocks 5pm.

I start walking around giddily, looking for the main reason I'm here. Obviously his tent won't be big since he's not that big of an author. After almost twenty minutes later, I find the stand.

All I want to do is see him. I want to know what he looks like. Is he fat? Lean? Tall? A short king? What is he? Well, obviously he's human but... A deep rumble, like a chuckle reaches my air, covering the expanse of my skin in goosebumps.

"I can't touch you, dear. I'm a Muslim." Holy macaroni! I turn to the direction of the baritone and much to my chagrin, the man is wearing a mask.

"That's Kay Bee. Even without seeing his face, I know he is dreamy." Some girl says from behind me but her words seem like background noise to me.

He's wearing one of those joker masks, making any of his facial features hard to make out. I guess that's what should be expected since he is an anonymous author. But is it bad that I wish something or someone would just knock him off the table he's seated on and result in the reveal of his face?

My eyes involuntarily travel down to his arms. Oh my Allah. I have never seen anyone eat up a simple plain white long sleeved shirt like this. It should literally be illegal! His arms are muscular, not muscular in the sense that you can tell he gyms, no. Muscular in a way that looks like his muscles developed naturally, or he exercises a little.

The shirt clings to his arms and torso, giving an underlining for the taut muscles on his chest and stomach, and it looks like he's even wearing a singlet. Astagfirullah. But I can't help but let my eyes drift lower, to his jeans clad legs, long and strong looking. Too bad no inch of his skin apart from his neck can be seen.

He's wearing gloves and his feet are clad in sneakers. I just wish he'd reveal a little more skin.

Years of hearing him say the salaam, and I finally get to hear him say something else. His voice is even deeper than he sounds over the phone, and it makes goosebumps rise on my skin.

I join the not so long queue and in less than twenty minutes, I'm standing in front of the only man that has ever been able to make me act brazen, wanton and unruly without even having to lift a finger.

"Do you have a book here or are you buying a copy?" I absent-mindedly pull out a limited edition copy of Amari, my favorite of all his books and hand it over to him.

I can't see his eyes, but I swear he is looking right into my eyes, staring deep into my soul. Can he tell that I'm the one who has been calling him once every month for the past twenty six months? Can he tell that everytime I read a romantic line from his book, I imagine him saying it to me?

"What's your name?" He doesn't call me dear like he did every single girl that stood in front of him. And I don't know how, but I can tell he's not smiling. He was smiling at the girl in front of me though, his voice was light and carried an air of playfulness.

Right now, he sounds like he wishes I wasn't standing here in front of him. Like I have done something abominable by coming here and standing in front of him, most definitely having longing splashed all over my frame.

Or maybe I'm just reading too much into the omission of one four lettered word. I can be delusional at times.

"Dear, are you okay?" His voice snaps me out of my thoughts and I look up at him.

"Yeah, Fa'iza. My name is Fa'iza." He starts to write and I look down to see that he had already written the letter F. He couldn't have possibly known my name, right?

"Thank you for reading, Fa'iza. There are personalized Kay Bee annotation items, bookmarks and even t-shirts just on the other side of the this stand. I hope you enjoy all my works." I smile widely at him.

"I do, I really enjoy your books. More than I should. I've read Amari fifteen times." He chuckles, lowering his head and I swear it's the most beautiful sound I've ever heard. It's rich and deep and just makes me want to lay there and hear that sound for the rest of my life.

Thank God I'm recording every part of our conversation. I'll get to listen to it all my life.

"I'm glad you enjoy my works that much." I stand there, smiling foolishly until the girl behind me taps my shoulder.

"Are you going to move?" I mutter a quick sorry even though I'm anything but sorry. I step away and decide to check out the items Kay Bee said are available for sale.

I manage to snag the last limited edition of Nana's diary, which I had no idea was out for sales. I buy some other things including a t-shirt with one of the quotes from Amari.

"If you were water, I'd drink up the whole pacific ocean and throw out the fishes so I don't have to share you with anyone. If you were the sun, I'd gladly take a rocket to you even if it means I'd burn. I love you, Amari".

By the time I'm done with Kay Bee's tent, the sun is nowhere to be found although traces of its light lingers. I call Ummi and let her know I'm done.

On my out, I bump into someone that sounds awfully familiar. But they're wearing a face mask so I can't tell who they are. They head to a tent and I watch them sit and take books from people and sign them. There's another anonymous male author? I'll have to find out who he is.

I immediately join the line and when our eyes meet, he immediately averts his gaze. Do I know this man from somewhere?

When there are just two people in front of me, the driver calls me to say he's here. I just leave the queue since I can't leave him waiting and buy the first book I see in the tent.

The beginning of forever. I put it in my tote bag and head out to meet the driver.

When I reach home, I rush to Ummi's room only to find Baffa Bashiru knocking on the bathroom door, trying to coerce Ummi to come out. Is this man mad?

I don't even bother to control myself as I walk towards him and yank him away from the door. He turns to me with widened eyes and I give him my fakest cheeky smile.

"Au, ashe kaine. Kayi hakuri ba tsorita ne danaga wanda ban sani bah a dakin Ummi." He tightens his facial muscles before he leans away from the door.

"Kice mata tayi maza ta fito ta sa mana abinci. Ina jin yunwa." He storms outside and leaves making me wonder, once again how Abba shared the same milk with this man. It is as if they are both totally different people from different parts of the world.

Ummi steps out looking flustered.

"Fa'iza kuje kuyi serving dinsu. I just got my period." My eyebrows furrow.

"Ummi? Period kikace fah." Ummi smiles and head towards her closet.

"Shi din dai."

"How do you still get your period? I thought you should be in menopause right now." Ummi shrugs.

"The doctor said it's normal but rare for one to have their menopause late but here I am, foty five years an still getting my periods."

"Wow." Is all I say before walking out of the room.

16-06-2023
Edited.

So, who's the other masked author? 🌚

Jumu'ah Mubarak everyone.

This chapter is for my better half, I can't seem to tag her. Happy belated birthday girl <3

So, I'm done with 2/3 of this book offline. And hopefully, before Eid, I'll be some with it altogether. And then Y'all can get daily updates.

But, you guys are not even encouraging me, no comments, no sharing, nothing. Ahbi una no like the book ne?

Maybe I should just leave it here and take it to Okadabooks.

Anyways, I'll see Y'all next week.
Bye!