Three days later

The funny thing about university was that time never moved at the same speed.

Lectures lasted forever.

Weekends disappeared in the blink of an eye.

And somehow, deadlines always arrived two days earlier than you remembered.

Three days had passed since I'd borrowed Nafisa's turaren wuta.

Three days since I'd accepted a random Snapchat friend request.

Three days...

And I'd forgotten all about it.

"If Dr. Musa tells me to restructure my literature review one more time, I'm changing departments."

Maryam's voice echoed through the corridor, making the students around us laugh.

"You've already spent four years here," I said, patronizing her .

"Endure small."

"I refuse."

"You don't have a choice."

"I'll cry."

"That one is free."

She bumped my shoulder.

"You enjoy my suffering."

"I really do."

Nafisa shook her head as we climbed the staircase toward the Faculty of Arts.

"You two are impossible."

"We're stressed," Maryam replied.

"There's a difference."

"There isn't."

"There is."

Asma'u smiled quietly, adjusting the books in her arms.

"I still think Amira has it the easiest."

The three of us stopped walking.

I looked at her.

"...Excuse me?"

"You've barely complained about your project."

I stared for a moment before laughing.

"You think that means it's easy?"

"It means you're hiding your pain."

"I'm just surviving and laughing in pain."

"That's not an answer."

"It is." Maryam folded her arms dramatically.

"Tell them." I sighed.

"My supervisor crossed out seven pages."

"Only seven?" "Exactly."

They all groaned in sympathy.

"You know what he told me?" I continued.

"'Your ideas are good, but they're still thinking like a three-hundred-level student.'"

Nafisa burst into laughter. "He actually said that?"

"Word for word."

"Ouch."

"I wanted the ground to open."

Maryam nodded seriously.

"Supervisors enjoy humbling people."

"They do."

"I've accepted my fate."

Asma'u smiled.

"At least we're almost done."

That sentence made all of us quiet.

Almost done.

It sounded exciting. It also sounded terrifying.

Four years.

Just like that.

Soon we'd stop introducing ourselves as students.

Soon we'd all go home.

Some would start NYSC.

Some would get jobs.

Some would continue to Master's.

Life was already waiting for us outside the university gates.

I wasn't sure I was ready.

Our Research Seminar lecturer arrived almost ten minutes late, carrying a stack of dissertations under one arm.

Without greeting anyone, he dropped them onto the table.

The sound echoed through the classroom.

"I have finished reading some of your Chapter Ones."

A collective groan swept across the room.

He ignored it.

"Some of you..."

He paused dramatically.

"...are trying to graduate without conducting research."

Laughter.

"I won't mention names."

He looked around the room.

"But if your literature review has only five references..."

"...please know your external examiner will mention your name in prayer."

The class erupted.

Even the lecturer smiled.

"For next week, everyone should have completed Chapter Two."

Pens immediately started scratching across notebooks.

Next week?

Someone behind me whispered,

"Does he think we don't sleep?"

"I don't think he cares," another answered.

I smiled to myself.

University had taught me many things.

One of them was that lecturers and students lived in completely different realities.

When the lecture ended, we drifted outside with the rest of the class.

The afternoon breeze carried the smell of fried yam from the small canteen near the faculty building.

"I'm starving," Maryam announced.

"Weren't you starving before class?" I asked.

"I've grown."

Nafisa laughed.

"Let's buy food."

"I don't have cash."

"I'll transfer."

"The network will disgrace you."

"It always does."

We started walking toward the canteen.

Halfway there, Nafisa suddenly slowed down.

"Amira."

"Hm?"

"Can I ask you something?"

I looked at her.

"What?"

She hesitated. Then frowned.

"Didn't someone message you on Snapchat?"

I blinked.

"Who?"

"My friend."

"What friend?"

"The one that was in my room the other day."

I searched my memory.

Blank.

"I don't remember."

She stared at me for a second.

"I knew it."

Maryam laughed.

"What happened?"

Nafisa pointed at me.

"I told him."

"Told who?"

"My friend."

"I told him she probably didn't even notice him."

The three of them burst into laughter.

I looked between them, confused.

"What are you people talking about?"

"The guy in my room."

"What guy?"

"The quiet one."

I frowned harder.

"There were three people."

"Exactly."

"I don't know which quiet one you're talking about."

Nafisa covered her face.

"Ya Allah..."

"I told him!"

"I literally told him!"

Maryam was laughing so hard she had to hold onto Asma'u's shoulder.

Nafisa looked back at me.

"He asked for your Snapchat."

I stopped walking.

"...He what?"

"I gave it to him."

"You gave a stranger my Snapchat?"

"He wasn't a stranger."

"He was to me."

"He just wanted to talk."

"Why?"

She smiled.

"I think he likes you."

I stared at her. Then laughed.

"You've already concluded that?"

"He called you beautiful."

"So?"

"So..."

She spread her hands dramatically.

"That's a big deal."

"Is it?"

"For him?"

"Yes."

I shrugged.

"I don't even know what he looks like."

"I know."

"Open Snapchat when you get home," Nafisa said.

"Why?"

"Just do."

"I hardly use it."

"I know."

"Then why did you give him Snapchat instead of WhatsApp?"

She grinned.

"Because I wasn't giving your number to anybody."

I nodded slowly.

"...Fair enough."

"See?"

"I'm still annoyed."

"You'll survive."

"I probably will."

We reached the canteen still laughing, but somewhere else in Kano...

Someone was wondering why the girl he'd been thinking about for three days hadn't replied his message.

The canteen was exactly what you'd expect at one in the afternoon.

Packed. Every table was occupied.

Students stood in small groups with plastic trays balanced in one hand, waiting for someone to finish eating.

"I told you we should've come earlier," Maryam complained.

"You say that every day," I replied.

"And every day I'm right."

Nafisa laughed. "There's one table."

We all turned.

A group of students had just stood up.

"Asma'u, run!" Maryam shouted dramatically.

"I'm not running."

"If you don't, somebody else will take it."

Asma'u sighed. "You people have no shame."

"We're hungry."

She shook her head but hurried toward the table anyway.

By the time we got there, she'd successfully defended it from another group of equally hungry students.

Maryam pulled out a chair triumphantly.

"Our heroine."

"I deserve free lunch."

"You deserve our gratitude."

"I'll take rice." We burst into laughter.

Lunch lasted longer than it should have.

Not because we ate slowly.

Because conversations with friends had a way of refusing to end.

Maryam spent fifteen minutes complaining about her supervisor.

Nafisa insisted she was exaggerating.

Asma'u quietly listened, occasionally adding a sentence that made everyone laugh.

I mostly watched them.

Sometimes I wondered how we'd all become friends.

Different states. Different personalities. Different lives.

Yet somehow...

Allah had written our paths to cross in Kano.

By Maghrib, I was back in my apartment.

The silence felt different after spending the whole day surrounded by people.

I prayed, folded my prayer mat, and reached for my phone.

Three notifications. One from WhatsApp.

Two from TikTok.Nothing important.

Then i remembered what Nafisa had said.

"Open Snapchat when you get home."

I almost ignored it. Almost.

With a sigh, I tapped the yellow icon.

The app took a moment to load.

I rarely used it.

Most of my conversations happened on WhatsApp anyway. The chat list appeared.

Right at the top...

Ahmad. "Oh..."

I remembered. The friend request.

Curious now, I opened the chat.

"Assalamu alaikum. This is Ahmad. We met in Nafisa's room the other day. I hope you don't mind that I asked for your Snapchat."

It was... polite. Nothing more. Nothing less. For a second, I stared at the message. Then I typed.

"Wa alaikumus salam."

I paused. Deleted it. Typed again.

"Wa alaikumus salam. Sorry, I just saw your message."

I read it once before pressing Send.That was all.

I locked my phone and reached for the novel lying beside my pillow.

If he replied immediately...

I wouldn't know.

I wasn't planning on opening Snapchat again that night.

.........

Author's Note 🤍

Thank you so much for reading these two Chapters.

If you enjoyed it, please don't forget to vote, leave a comment, follow my profile, and share your thoughts. Your support means more than you know, and every vote and comment motivates me to keep writing.

I'd love to know what you think so far, and I'll see you in the next chapter, In shaa Allah. 🌙

Xoxo 😘