Ruqayya Ibrahim Tahir.

I could tell from the first time I saw Bello, that he is a romantic. It isn't just about how he talks about how much he adores certain traits in couples, or how he would spoil his wife and kids rotten.

There's something about the way his jet black pupils dilate and take over the oceans of white in the background, making them almost invisible when he talks about love. And the way his lips widen to the extent that lines mark the corners of his eyes and lips when he smiles at a thought regarding his dream marriage.

Too bad I'm not even close to a romantic. Matter of fact, I'm more of a realist. Fa'iza once called me a humdrum. I had to check the dictionary for the meaning of the word —its an irony that I am the English student but Fa'iza is the one who knows more than a thousand words she most probably has no business using in her day to day life —, it means someone who is boring or has no excitement towards life. I'm anything but that.

It's just that, I don't understand how you will believe that you will get married to the man of your dreams who will treat you like a barbie princess and tick all your boxes. That's too picturesque to be put into real life. Surely, I have seen something relatively close to that in my parents. But they have had their downs too. I've seen a time when Ummi left the house for seven months and didn't come back until my grandfather —may his would rest in peace —threatened to disown her.

And if I believe that is just something that "fate" has written for Ummi and Abba, then what about what I see on divorce diaries, northern hibiscus, northern tulip, moments with ray and all those other pages that feature the kind of scary life couples have? There's no doting man out there that can give you an impeccable relationship.

But for the past one week, Bello— no, Bee has started to convince me otherwise and my opinion is slowly swaying. The one week he promised to use to convince me was exhausted yesterday and honestly, after all he's said and done, I don't mind getting married to him next week. Well, that's an exaggeration on my part but it's just so surreal, having someone say so many sweet things to you, do so many thoughtful things for you and all that.

Regardless, I haven't completely believed that he is the perfect man or that we will have a perfect relationship. I'm not a pessimistic, I just know that marriage is far from all what he has shown me. A lot of men have shown more than this, yet after the marriage it's as if they've been switched with an evil twin.

I just finished my clearance today and sitting in the bakery just few minutes from the school I graduated from, everything is just going through my head in a jumbled mess. I thought about school, Fa'iza, Ummi, Abba, my friends and now, Bello. I rarely have these types of thoughts but when I do, it's hard to clear my thoughts.

My phone pings with a message and it takes a lot of effort to pull my head from my swirling conflicting thoughts to the notification on the screen. It's Fa'iza.

Your dress has arrived.

My face breaks into a smile and so swiftly, I take my degree which is now cramped into one rectangular paper, and pay for my snacks. I leave and all but speed home, barely keeping myself below the speed limit.

On Tuesday, after a long day of going around Wuse Market to find a suitable material for my send forth gown and the after party, I finally decided to just let the fashion designer do her. That was Fa'iza and Ummi's first suggestion but my stubborn self insisted on picking out the material myself.

Ummi knows my indecisive self will end up wasting the day so she made Fa'iza tag along with me instead of my earlier request for her to do so. I am confident and knowing in all that I do. But when it comes to clothes, I become a total mess. Now, the problem is not the cloth itself. The material used to make the cloth is the problem. During Sallah, Ummi let's Fa'iza pick our clothes for us because she knows that if it's left to me, I will end up coming back home empty handed.

After Tuesday's debacle —well that's too much of an exaggeration but oh well—, I went to the fashion designer's place the next day and told her what I wanted. Well, I didn't know what exactly I wanted. But I needed a beautiful gown that will bring me out and make me outshine everyone there. I want something modest, not too revealing, but enough to bring out the slim curves Fa'iza lacks.

The woman sewed my Matriculation gown so she knew exactly what I needed. She told me to give her a color and just go home. She knows I have my fittings at home so she'll see me on Friday. The send forth is on Sunday so even if there's any problem, she will have rectified it and returned my clothes by Sunday.

I slam my hand on the honk sign impatiently until the gate man slides the gate open. I speed in and don't even bother closing my car doors properly before I rush in. I find the woman talking to Ummi with a tumbler and some snacks in front of her.

"Good afternoon." I greet her and she hands the bag to me after returning my greeting.

It takes every bit of my self control to not run to my room. Once I'm inside. I literally wrestle out of my Abaya and wear the beautiful laced gown. Fa'iza comes from behind me and helps me zip it up. Once I have it on. I turn to the mirror and a gasp falls from my lips.

I chose red for the send forth party, and Ya Allah it's beautiful and fits just the way I like it. The gown is made from a mesh-like material that is covered in rhinestones and heavy beaded embroidery, perfect for someone like me who loves to go extra.

The neck is Queen Anne which is perfect, that means I don't need to wear a veil. The sleeves are long with plain mesh net twirled around it giving it a rope like look. And the bust is covered with glittering rhinestones that shimmer and shine. From the under bust down, the gown flows. It's not quite giving princess vibes which isn't what I was going for anyways. But it's absolutely amazing.

The trail should be about twelve inches, not too short and not too long. I can already see myself pairing it with one of the heads I have for occasions like this.

I take off the gown and open the bag to try the other. Before I can even take it out of its own bag, I can see the glitters on the material. This will definitely have to go with silver jewelries and shoes.

I put on the gown and look in the mirror. This isn't as intricate as the send forth gown. It's a simple silk gown that looks like it is sewn to fit me in every angle and corner of my body.

I don't have particularly wide hips or large busts, but the gown enhances my slim curves, ousting my flat stomach and slim waist. It features a surplice neckline with three quarter illusion sleeves. It's beautiful, but it's nothing extraordinary, I can bet my next month's allowance that there will be someone with something similar at the party, if not even exactly the same.

"You don't like the dress." Fa'iza states from behind me. I turn to her with a frown.

"I thought you left." Fa'iza raises her head from her phone.

"The gown is fine, Ruqayya." I scoff and roll my eyes then take it off.

"Maybe to you, it is. But she knows better than anyone I don't do simple. It's go big or go home for me. And if she can't do that, then why am I paying her tens of thousands of naira?" Fa'iza rolls her eyes and stands up.

"Okay oh. If your cloth doesn't come back home in time for the party, I'll definitely be there to say I told you so." Fa'iza sashays out of my room leaving me there in the room.

I take off the gown and wear back the jeans and top I wore to school today. I don't bother with the Abaya since I'm not going anywhere far and take the bag to the parlor with the clothes.

I express my disappointment towards the cloth and Ummi simply sighs and shakes her head. She knows more than anyone there's no stopping me when I want something so she doesn't even bother.

The fashion designer sighs before she takes the bag. She also knows there's nothing she'd say that will convince me the gown is just right for me. Like I said, it's go big or go home for me.

I turn to Ummi when the fashion designer leaves. I sport my best innocent smile but she stops me before I even say a word.

"No, Ruqayya no. You have enough red shoes and bags. I understand that you love red. But you can't keep buying new shoes, bags and jewelries everytime a new event comes up. You have enough in your closet." I pout.

"But Mama, I don't have rose gold shoes and bags. I want to wear rose gold." I suddenly remember the wristwatch set Bee got me and I stand up.

"Ummi, ina zuwa." I go to my room and take the only box that has a bow in my jewelry drawer and go back down the stairs to the sitting room where Ummi is waiting, anticipation all over her face.

I place the box in her hand and lean back on the couch.

"I want to center my entire fit for that event around this." Ummi loosens the bow and drops it.

"I don't think I know this one." Ummi sounds skeptical.

"Ke kam Ummi just open it." She gives me a blank stare before opening the box. Her mouth contorts in a frown.

"Ruqayya you bought another Tiffany? Your dad gave you his Amex koh?" I laugh.

"I thought it was a Tiffany too! Amma look," I turn a the box around for her to see. "It's unbranded." Ummi's frown gets deeper.

"Bello sent it to me on Monday before my final defense." Ummi's brows fly up in surprise.

"Oh, toh. Kinyi godiya?" I frown.

"Eeh mana. You don't trust me to thank someone for a gift?"

"A'ah. I just have to remind you ne." I nod before Ummi looks back at the set again.

"Amma this is very beautiful fah. Yayi kokari wallahi. Allah ya masa albarka." I mutter an Ameen and turn to her.

"So, Ummi, can I please buy new bags and shoes?" Ummi's resigned sigh comes and I squeal and hug her.

"Thank you Ummi na." She smiles and hugs me bag.

"My card is in the room, take it. Consider it my graduation gift to you." My smile gets wider and I hug her tighter before rushing to take the card.

I stop by Fa'iza's room and literally drag her out to accompany me to buy what I need.

She simply wraps a veil and adds an Abaya over her pallazo and spaghetti strap top. We decide to take her car so she can drive because knowing me, I'll over speed because of the excitement going through my veins.

I wear my abaya back and we leave.

Fa'iza Mubarak Hakimi

It's been one month since the last call. The recording has served its purpose for a good twenty eight days, and it's time for another one.

I know a month has thirty or thirty one days. But I was taught in primary school in units of time that four weeks, make one month. And if that is true, then four weeks is twenty eight days.

This is just me trying to convince myself that whatever I'm doing is not unhealthy. This is just for my mental health.

Moreover, it's just a crush. I don't like like him. I'm not obsessed with him like Rukayya is with Bello, or Bee as she calls him.

I take in a deep breath.

"This is the last time you'll be doing this, Fa'iza. Last time." I know I've been saying this for the past four months but who is counting?

I type in the number off hand and say a small Bismillah before dialing it. I immediately mute my side of the call and drop the phone on my working table, well, reading table but it doesn't matter.

It almost ends but then he picks and I immediately hit the record button.

"Assalamu Alaikum warahmatullahi wa barakatuh." Something akin to... I don't know what, but a good emotion, washes over me. I only allow myself this privilege once a month. And I will stop, soon.

"Hello?" I sigh, knowing he can't hear me. His voice is like a red velvet sponge cake. Soft, beautiful, sweet and everything in between.

"Is there anyone there?" I end the call after that, the recording also ending.

Every month, his voice sounds more familiar. But this month, his voice sounds like that of someone I know. Like someone I have spoken to one on one before. But I can't remember who exactly.

I take out the sim and break it. I'll need another one next month but it doesn't matter. I got to listen to his voice and that's what matters.

For the past two years, since I discovered Kay_Bee, a poet and writer who wrote my most favorite books; Withered Soul, Sehri for Mehr, Nana's diary, A Sprinkle of Hayaat, Amari and Enigma or Cynosure, I have called him every month unfailingly.

His writing is one of the most beautiful I've ever seen, and I've been reading since I was ten. I came across his book when I was nineteen. And after reading The heart's duology —Sehri for Mehr and Amari— I had to buy every single one of his books.

He has an Instagram account, but there's nothing personal about it. The profile picture is his logo, he has it on every of his books, poems and the likes. The bio only says that he's male, and then some added information about his recent books or works in progress.

So, some days after I turned twenty one, I decided to stalk him. I had finished reading all his books and had entered a slump. Nothing, not even movies could get me out of that slump.

So that night, I tossed and rolled in bed. I have insomnia, but it comes and goes. That night insomnia had hugged me and said "I'm going to be here with you all night, darling". Eventually, I gave up on trying to sleep and picked my phone.

And from going through the many edits on Kay_Bee's page, I ended up in his following list. He was following only ten people, but almost a hundred thousand people were following him.

He wants to be anonymous and I tried to respect that but that night, my curiosity and love for his work got the better of me. I stalked every single person in his following list and I eventually found someone that looks like she knows him on a personal note, a certain Elizabeth Evelyn (Mrs).

I noticed that she was tagged in a lot of his posts, on his stories, highlights and feeds. I then proceeded to look through her feeds and then I found out that she was actually his manager. His writing manager.

I sent her a dm, begged, no groveled for anything personal about him. She didn't give it to me. No matter how much I begged, she just blatantly refused. And when I offered her money, she blocked me.

I'm sure Kay_Bee pays her like three times of what I offered but you can't blame me. My monthly allowance was fifty thousand naira. And I mostly bought books, tabs and annotation items with them. I'm not a huge fan of junk food so my money was almost always saved.

I offered her half of my monthly allowance for starters, and before I could offer her something higher, she blocked me.

Not willing to give up, the next night, I was up again. But this time, I was stalking Elizabeth Evelyn. And I eventually found her daughter's account. I told her what I wanted and offered her my monthly allowance for one month. She took it and gave me what I wanted.

Only, what I wanted was not what I got. In fact, I got more than I asked for. I asked for a picture of his, or his personal account handle, anything personal about him. And the thirteen year old girl got me his private number. I deleted the account I used for that obviously.

And now, every month, I buy a new sim card and call him just to hear him say the same things again. Someone else would've been bored. But not me.

I don't know if it's love, like, crush, admiration or something else. I know it's definitely not lust. Because I don't think I've ever had sexual thoughts about anyone. I read smut, but it's just for the fun of it.

It doesn't matter what exactly it is I feel towards him though. I know for sure that the chances of me every getting to meet him on a personal note, are minus infinity. So whether it's a mere crush, curiosity or more than that, it won't make a difference.

02-06-2023.
Edited.

Happy new month Y'all!

How do we like the new sides to Ruqayya and Fa'iza we got to see today?

Is this chapter a yay or a nay?

Who else can't wait for the drama to start?

Also, someone suggested a chapter with Abdullah's POV, do you think I should do that?

Okay, bye!