The Beginning of Us
#
By the time I entered 200 level, Ridhwan and I had become something I could no longer describe as ordinary friendship.
Not because either of us had officially named it.
We hadn't. There had been no grand confession. No dramatic declaration.
No moment where he looked at me and announced that he wanted me. It had simply happened.Slowly.Almost imperceptibly.
And perhaps that was why I never noticed how deeply I had fallen until there was no longer any way of pretending I hadn't.
---
My second year in Gombe felt different.
I was no longer the frightened first-year student who got lost between lecture halls.I knew which lecturers liked punctuality.
Which ones could be bribed with nothing more than a respectful greeting.
Which food vendors gave generous portions.
Which parts of campus became unbearable under the afternoon sun.
I had begun to feel like Gombe belonged to me.
And then there was Fati.
Fati was one of the few people I trusted enough to tell things I normally kept locked inside my chest.
She had a way of listening without making everything about herself.
She was married to Dr. Ra'es, one of Ya Ridhwan's friends and a senior doctor who had already completed the stage of training Ridhwan was still working through.
Their marriage had happened quietly, and somehow Fati had become one of those people who could move between different parts of my life without making them collide.
She knew my family and my friends.
And, eventually—
she knew about Ridhwan.Although I did not tell her immediately.
---
The first time Ridhwan came to see me on campus that year, I almost didn't recognize the car. I was standing near one of the faculty buildings when a black Mercedes-Benz GLE 450 pulled up slowly beside the road.
The windows were tinted, engine remained running.
I looked at it briefly before turning away.Then the driver's window lowered.
“Se’ad.”
I stopped.
That voice.
I looked again.
Ridhwan.
He smiled.
“Come.”
I stared at him.
“What are you doing here?”
“I came to see you.”
My heart did something ridiculous.
I tried to hide it.
“Why?”
He raised an eyebrow.
“Do I need a reason?”
“Yes.”
He laughed.
“Get in.”
I looked around.
Students were everywhere.
“Hauwa might see me.”
“So?”
“So she'll ask questions.”
“Then tell her the truth.”
I narrowed my eyes.
“You're enjoying this.”
“A little.”
I walked toward the car.
The moment I opened the door, I was greeted by the coolness of the air conditioner and the faint scent of his perfume.The interior was immaculate.
Black leather seats, A polished dashboard.
A small bottle of perfume tucked neatly into the console.Nothing was out of place.
I closed the door.
He looked at me.
“Assalamu alaikum.”
I smiled.
“Wa alaikumussalam.”
“You're late.”
“I didn't know I was supposed to come earlier.”
“You should always be ready.”
“For what?”
“For me.”
I laughed.
“Who do you think you are?”
He smiled.
“Your friend.”
I rolled my eyes.
“Drive.”
He did.
---
We didn't go anywhere important.That was the funny part.He simply drove around Gombe.Past familiar roads.
The afternoon sun was beginning to soften, turning everything outside the windows golden.
We talked about university, family, and some funny incidents from the past. Anything that came to mind.
At one point, I noticed him glance at me.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“You're looking at me.”
“I know.”
“Why?”
He smiled.
“Can I not look at you?”
My cheeks felt warm, faving out the window before he saw my smile
He laughed.
“Why are you shy?”
“I'm not.”
“You are.”
“Drive, Ya Ridhwan.”
“Yes, ma.”
I smiled despite myself.
---
That became a habit.Not every day.Not even every week.
But often enough that I began recognizing his car before I saw him.Sometimes it was the GLE.Sometimes he came in a Lexus.
Once, he arrived in a silver Mercedes-Benz E-Class belonging to one of his brothers.
Each time, he would send a simple message.
“Come outside.”
And each time, I would pretend I wasn't excited.
I was terrible at pretending.
---
Hauwa noticed.
Of course she did.
She noticed everything. One afternoon, I returned to our room after spending almost two hours with him.
she was sitting on her bed, scrolling through her phone.
She didn't look up.
“Where were you?”
“Library.”
She hummed.“Interesting.”
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“Hauwa.”
She finally looked at me.
“Since when does the library drive a black Mercedes?”
My heart stopped.
“You saw?”
“I saw everything.”
I stared at her.
She burst out laughing.
“Relax!”
“You scared me.”
“So it's Ya Ridhwan?”
I said nothing.
Her smile widened.
“Aha.”
“Don't tell anyone.”
“Why?”
“Because.”
She laughed.
“Se’ad, I'm your sister, not the police.”
I covered my face.
She shook her head.
“I already knew.”
“You did not.”
“I did.”
“When?”
“Long ago.”
I looked at her suspiciously.
“How long?”
“Let's just say you've never been as subtle as you think.”
I groaned.
“Please don't tell Mama.”
She laughed.
“I won't.”
Then she added,
“But I'm keeping this information.”
“For what?”
“Blackmail.”
I threw a pillow at her.
---
Things changed after that.Not dramatically.
Just enough.
He began calling more,Our conversations became longer.
We started talking about things that weren't happening yet.The future.Marriage.Children.
The kind of house we wanted.
Where we would live.How many children we wanted.
I remember one evening when we were sitting in his car beneath a large tree near a quiet part of campus.
The air was cool.The sun had almost disappeared.
He rested one arm against the steering wheel.
“How many children?”
I laughed.
“What kind of question is that?”
“Answer.”
“Four.”
“Four?”
“Yes.”
“Why four?”
“I don't know.”
He smiled.
“I want three.”
“Only three?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because children are expensive.”
I laughed.
“You're thinking about money already?”
“Someone has to.”
I looked at him.
“And what if I want four?”
“Then we'll have four.”
I smiled.
The words were simple.
But something about the way he said them made them feel like a promise.
Then he asked,
“Boys or girls?”
“Girls.”
“All?”
“Maybe.”
He laughed.
“You'll spoil them.”
“I will.”
“And the boys?”
“I'll spoil them too.”
He shook his head.
“You're going to be a terrible mother.”
I gasped.
“Excuse me?”
He laughed.
“I'm joking.”
I smiled.
Then, after a moment, he said quietly,
“You'll be a good mother.”
I looked at him.
“You think so?”
“Yes.”
I didn't know why that made my heart ache.
Maybe because, in that moment, I could suddenly picture it.
A home.
Children.
Him.
Me.
A future that had not yet happened.
But somehow felt real.
---
The first time he held my hand, it wasn't planned.We had gone out for dinner.
Nothing extravagant. Just a quiet restaurant in Gombe, with warm lights and soft Hausa music playing somewhere in the background.
Afterward, we walked toward the car. I was talking about something ridiculous.
I don't even remember what.Then his hand brushed mine.Once.Twice.
He looked down at me.Neither of us said anything.
Then his fingers slipped between mine.
My entire body went still.
He looked ahead as though nothing had happened.
I looked down at our hands.
My heart was beating so hard I was convinced he could hear it.
“Ya Ridhwan.”
“Hm?”
“You're holding my hand.”
“I know.”
“Why?”
He smiled.
“Do you want me to let go?”
I hesitated.
“No.”
His smile grew.
“Then let me hold it.”
That night, I couldn't stop smiling.
---
The first kiss was even simpler.
Not the kind of kiss people write poems about.Not dramatic.Not passionate.
Just his lips touching my forehead after he had dropped me near the hostel.
I looked up at him, startled.
He smiled.
“Goodnight.”
I stood there speechless.
He drove away.
I remained where I was for several seconds.
Then I touched my forehead.
And smiled like an idiot.
---
Fati knew something was happening before I ever admitted it.We were sitting together one afternoon when she suddenly looked at me.
“You're in love.”
I almost choked.
“What?”
She laughed.
“Don't lie.”
“I'm not.”
“You are.”
“With who?”
She stared at me.
“Se’ad.”
“Yes?”
“Please.”
I laughed.
She shook her head.
“It's written all over your face.”
I looked away.
“He's good to me.”
“That wasn't my question.”
I remained quiet.
She sighed.
“You love him.”
I smiled.
Maybe I did.
Maybe I already had.
---
By 300 level, everyone close enough to notice had noticed. Fati, Hauwa, and of course Amrah knew. The Turaki house was no longer unaware.
Amrah, naturally, had been the first to suspect.
She had always been too observant for her own good.
Every time I visited Lagos during holidays, she watched us with the sort of expression that made me uncomfortable.
One evening, she cornered me in the hallway.
“You like my brother.”
My phone almost fell off my hand
“What?”
She grinned.
“You heard me.”
“No.”
“Liar.”
I laughed nervously.
“Amrah, stop.”
She leaned closer.
“Don't worry. I won't tell Mummy.”
“Please don't.”
She laughed.
“I'm happy.”
“Why?”
“Because you're nice.”
I smiled.
Then she added,
“And because my brother needs someone who can tolerate him.”
I laughed.
“That's true.”
She hugged me.
“Don't hurt him.”
The irony of that sentence would become cruel much later.
---
Ridhwan's final examinations approached.
The atmosphere around him changed.
He became more serious.More withdrawn.
He studied for longer hours.Sometimes we barely spoke.
I understood.I tried not to complain. Instead, I supported him,sent him food when I could,reminded him to sleep.
I bought him little things I thought he might need. A watch.A pen.
A small gift bag after one of his major examinations.Nothing extravagant.
Just things that said: I am proud of you.
When he finally completed his final examination, I was almost as relieved as he was.
That day, he came to see me. He looked exhausted.
But happy.
I smiled when I saw him.
“You're finally done.”
He laughed.
“Finally.”
I hugged him.
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
Then he whispered,
“Thank you.”
“For what?”
“Everything.”
I smiled.
“You deserve it.”
He looked at me for a long moment.Then kissed my forehead.
I closed my eyes.
For one beautiful moment, I believed the future I had imagined was already beginning.
I didn't know that I was standing at the edge of something I would spend a long time trying to understand.
---
Two days later, he called.
“Se’ad.”
“Yes?”
“I'm going to Lagos.”
My smile faded slightly.
“When?”
“Friday ”
“Oh.”
“I'll come and see you before I leave.”
“When?”
“Thursday ” today is Wednesday, “ so in 2 days time “ I thought to myself
I smiled again.
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
His flight was Saturday morning.
Friday came.
I waited.
No message.
No call.
Nothing.
I checked my phone repeatedly.
By evening, I finally called.
No answer.
I tried again.
Still nothing.
Later that night, a message came.
I'm sorry. I couldn't make it.
I stared at the screen.
Why?
His reply came after several minutes.
“I had to collect some messages from relatives to take to Mummy in Lagos.”
I read it twice.
Then typed: “Oh. Okay.”
That was all.
I told myself it was nothing.He had promised but hadn't come. It was fine.
It had to be fine.
The next morning, he flew to Lagos.
And by the time his plane landed, people who mattered to us already knew he had arrived. Mama knew too.
I didn't know yet that the trip to Lagos had carried something back with it.
Something that would soon change the meaning of every promise he had ever made to me.