5

Hamdah's pov

I had always heard people say that if you have a crush on someone, or if you like someone, you should first get to know them before thinking of anything serious.

But in my case, I was already imagining what life with Shuraim would be like, even marriage. The thought made me blush and hide my face under my palm. If I was being honest, I didn't really know him at all. It wouldn't be wise to start anything with someone I barely knew.

Still, I liked him. More than I wanted to admit. But would he ever like me back?

I couldn't tell him how I felt. I was a girl. Even though I knew in Islam it wasn't haram for a woman to approach a man she admired, even to propose to him, it wasn't something I had the courage for. My tongue would freeze before the words could ever leave my lips.

Since that day we last chatted, he hadn't messaged me again. I badly wanted to text him, but I couldn't bring myself to do it. I didn't want him to think I was chasing him. Some guys hated that.

Sometimes I opened WhatsApp and just stared at our chat, scrolling up and down, re-reading his messages until the words blurred. The silence hurt. What did I expect? After all, I was the one who got his number and texted him first. He hadn't sought me out. 

The woman who plaited my hair came that afternoon. She worked silently at first, her fingers pulling and parting my hair. I kept my eyes down, pretending to scroll through my phone. But slowly, my chest grew heavy. Tears spilled before I could stop them, rolling down my cheeks and wetting my lap.

"Meyafaru? meyasa kike kuka? (what happened? Why are you crying)" 

"Bakomai (nothing)" I answered. 

She paused, startled. "Kaman ya bakomai?" she asked softly in Hausa. What happened?

I quickly wiped my face and forced a small smile. "Nothing. Please don't tell Mama," I whispered.

She looked unconvinced but went back to plaiting, humming under her breath as if to distract me. I sat quietly, my lips pressed together, wishing my heart would stop aching over a boy. I had promised myself after my last relationship that I wouldn't cry over a man again. Yet here I was, heart breaking over someone who didn't even know he owned it.

By the time she finished and left, I felt drained. That night, I lay on my bed, staring blankly at the TV. SpongeBob played loudly, but my mind was far away.

Whenever my phone beeped, I grabbed it instantly, only to sigh in disappointment. None of the messages were from him. I became restless, twisting and turning in bed. Sleep had never come easily for me, and tonight was no different. I stayed awake until dawn, my thoughts circling around Shuraim like moths around a flame.

The next day at work felt like walking through fog. Everything moved, but nothing touched me. Smiles from colleagues bounced off my quiet walls. I went through the motions, my heart too heavy to pretend.

When Asr came, I prayed with slow movements, whispering du'a with a lump in my throat. 

Afterward, I left my phone charging on my desk, deliberately avoiding it. I needed a break. I was tired of checking it every two minutes like a fool.

By the time it was closing hour, I sighed and finally reached for my phone. A single notification blinked across the screen. My breath caught. It was from him.

My hands shook as I unlocked the phone.

Hi, Hamdah baby. Good day. Two days you have been quiet.

My lips parted in disbelief. I read it once, twice, three times, my chest swelling until I thought I would burst. The sadness of the last few days evaporated, replaced with a bubbling joy that made me want to dance in the middle of the restaurant. 

I couldn't reply immediately. My fingers hovered, trembling, unsure what to type. Thank God I always kept my read receipts off, he wouldn't know I had opened it already.

Finally, I typed: Hi, cutie. My cheeks burned. I couldn't even bring myself to call his name.

Almost immediately, he replied. 'Cutie?' He added a laughing emoji.

I bit my lip, smiling into my scarf. 'Yeah, you are cute, I typed back.

'No, you are the cute one. I'm a boy oo' he wrote.

A laugh slipped out of me before I could stop it. My fingers tapped quickly. 'From today that is your nickname.'

'This girl, you are funny, he sent back.'

I covered my face with my palm, laughing silently. Then I sent him a laughing emoji.

The chat continued, light and playful. He asked how I was, his words laced with warmth. Then he said something that made me pause, staring at the screen.

'Feel comfortable chatting with me. You can message me anytime. If I don't reply immediately, then I'm just busy.'

I exhaled shakily, my chest tightening. Did he know? Did he already sense how much I liked him? His words felt like an open door, but I was still too shy to step inside.

I wasn't sure, but deep inside, I felt it, Shuraim already knew.

                                       *****

Today, I gathered the courage to chat with Shuraim. I asked if he was free. I didn't tell him why, but in my heart, I knew I wanted an excuse to see him. To my surprise, he said he was free.

My lips curved into a smile I couldn't hold back. Quickly, I slipped into a black abaya, smoothing the fabric down more than once. Maybe, just maybe, he would notice. Maybe he would wonder why I looked nice tonight. I didn't care if he asked himself questions, as long as he saw me.

When I got to their street, I lingered by the corner, hugging myself and fiddling with the edge of my veil. My heart thudded fast as I typed, I'm outside.

Moments later, he came out. The sight of him made me both happy and shy. I felt my smile stretch wide and unstoppable.

"Your smile go finish one day," he teased, shaking his head with a grin.

Heat rushed to my cheeks. "Good evening," I whispered.

"Good night abi na good morning? I know say now na your morning," he added, eyes twinkling playfully.

I ducked my head, fighting back another smile. There was something about the way he looked at me, it steadied me, made me calm in a way I couldn't explain.

"Which way should we go?" he asked, glancing around.

The street was as quiet as always, only the hum of crickets filling the stillness. Empty verandas and darkened windows watched over us.

"Any way," I murmured.

He nodded, and we began to walk. He talked, and I listened, like always. His words flowed easily, jokes and little stories tumbling from his lips. I found myself laughing softly, hiding my face with the sleeve of my abaya whenever I couldn't stop smiling.

After a while, he looked at me sideways. "So why you no like to talk? Since we start this walk na me dey talk since."

I shrugged, looking down at my fingers that were nervously twisting my veil. "I just... like it when you talk," I said.

He stopped briefly, staring at me as we reached near my house. His lips curved slowly into a smile. "So I'm now a talkative?"

I shook my head quickly, my lips pouting before I could help it. "No now. You're not."

His eyes lit up. "Wow. Abeg do that face again. See how cute you look." He laughed softly. "So you have that kind cute face? This girl, you go make man miss road."

I burst out laughing, covering my mouth. "Abeg oo."

We both laughed, but in the quiet between us, I noticed something. He was shy too. His smile came easily, but sometimes his eyes darted away like he couldn't hold my gaze too long. I wondered if he was always like that, or if it was just with me.

Then, his tone changed slightly. "So... why did you collect my number and chat me? Like, how did you even get my number?"

My stomach twisted sharply. My fingers fumbled with the strap of my bag. "Ehm... why are you asking?"

He tilted his head, studying me closely. "Because I know how shy you are. How you don't like making friends. You're mostly on your own. So I don't think you just collect my number like that and chat me without reason." His eyes held mine, searching.

I dropped my gaze immediately, my throat dry. How could I tell him? How could I say that I liked him so much it scared me?

"I just... wanted us to be friends," I muttered.

He raised a brow. "No. I don't believe you."

I bit my lip, my hands fidgeting with the edge of my scarf. "Okay, fine. I can't tell you now. Maybe... maybe I'll type it in chat and send it. It's hard for me to say it face-to-face... since I'm a girl." My voice dropped even lower.

He paused, then smiled gently. "Come on, I'm a free and very understanding guy. So feel free."

I nodded quickly, still staring at the ground. "Okay." But deep down, I still wasn't sure if I had the courage to confess.

"Don't forget to type it oo," he added with a teasing smile.

"Insha Allah," I whispered, my lips curving shyly. I couldn't even look at him properly.

He chuckled softly. "Thank you for your time, and for inviting me to walk with you. Beautiful girl, you are so beautiful and gorgeous. I like your dress."

I gasped lightly, my palm flying to cover my face. "Oh, cutie... thank you," I mumbled, peeking at him through my fingers.

"So you're calling me cutie abi?" He laughed.

"I told you, that's your nickname. I can't call your name. Honestly, I'm feeling shy too," I admitted, barely above a whisper.

He stepped a little closer, lowering his voice. "I like that. It shows you really like and respect me."

I glanced up at him, surprised, my breath catching. Did he really mean that?

But before I could reply, he glanced at the sky. "Good night. It's getting late, almost 10 p.m. now."

"Thank you. Good night," I said softly, waving.

He waited, standing there quietly until I slipped into the compound. Only then did he turn and leave.

That night, lying in my bed, I hugged my pillow tight. I couldn't shake the feeling that Shuraim already knew I liked him. Maybe... maybe he liked me too. Maybe that was why he was still here, still talking to me, still being kind.

******

Do you think Shuraim already knows that Hamdah loves him? 👀

Do you think she'll tell him she loves him? 🤭❤️