Journey to 'I do'

Chapter 3

As the day unfolded in London, I found myself caught in the bittersweet dance of packing and farewells. The city, which had been my companion through various chapters of life, was now witnessing my departure. An air of nostalgia lingered as I neatly folded clothes and tucked away memories into my suitcase.

I planned on stopping over at Sasha's to have lunch with him at his restaurant one more time. I put on my crocs, the best travel shoes, and slung my bag over my shoulder. I called an Uber and headed out, once I arrived at the restaurant. Sasha, the maestro behind the kitchen, welcomed me with a warm smile as always.

"Sasha!" I exclaimed, "I'll miss you so much, and I'll miss you cooking for me"

He chuckled, "And I'll miss your interesting critiques."

"You know, when I'm miles away, you can always DHL me some of your wonders," I teased.

He grinned,"Of course! I'll just add a sprinkle of magic and a dash of longing, express delivery to your doorstep."

"Perfect! You should plan to come visit by the way"

"I told you I'll come to Nigeria only for your wedding you know I love a good Nigerian party"

"I told you I don't want a wedding" I said rolling my eyes at him.

"But, you know, I've been chatting with Adam lately. He's quite the gentleman, isn't he? I think you two would be a perfect match."

I rolled my eyes again.

Sasha leaned in, his voice a conspiratorial whisper, "He talks about you with this excitement in his tone, as if you're the missing ingredient in his life's recipe. I'd say, give it a chance."

I smiled, appreciating Sasha's matchmaking enthusiasm. We continued to chat about Adam for a little bit, I found out more about him. He was the first born of 5 siblings and he had just taken over his Family's Manufacturing business, VistaWorks. Sasha said he was usually cold and never spoke about his problems because he felt he always had to be strong but he knew the right woman would melt his heart. Well I'm not a room heater or microwave so I am not interested in that work. I don't think I wanna deal with a difficult or unhealed man, or was I scared he sounded kind of like me? Not wanting to ever be vulnerable...

Anyway, I  enjoyed my farewell lunch, just reminiscing on our life in London with Sasha.

Later, as the sun dipped below the London skyline, I made my way to Heathrow. My flight, a luxurious business class, a treat from my father marking the end of this chapter of my life. I pondered on my family's modest travel habits, realizing the significance of this journey.

Throughout the evening, amid last-minute check-ins and security checks, I exchanged texts with Muhammad. Our conversation, brought a sense of comfort to me.

Once settled in the airport lounge, Muhammad suggested a call. The sound of his voice, a familiar melody, resonated through the phone.

"You look uneasy" he noticed halfway through our conversation and I couldn't help but smile mentally, he's observant! Nice.

I playfully confessed my little fear of takeoffs and he chuckled, "are you making fun of me?" I playfully snapped feigning a pained look.

"Of course, just try to sleep off quickly so you don't feel it" he joked.

"Kai ka sani" I retorted. We talked for about 45 minutes until I heard the call for boarding and told him I had to leave. I thanked him for keeping me company while I was waiting for my flight.

"Don't mention. Before you go recite the dua for safe travels with me, A'isha. It eases the heart. Do you know it?" I nodded my head, Together, we recited the dua: "Allaahu 'Akbar, Allaahu 'Akbar..." The rhythmic words wrapped around us like a protective cloak. This was hands down one of the most romantic things a guy had done for me or with me. This guy is doing too much.

As I boarded the plane, I promised Muhammad a text upon my arrival. The gentle hum of the aircraft engines and the soft glow of cabin lights formed a calm ambiance. Guided by the promise of a new chapter, I popped a sleeping pill, closed my eyes, and surrendered to the embrace of dreams.

Authors POV:
In the quietude of the night sky, as the plane soared into the clouds, A'isha's heart carried the whispers of departure, the echoes of Sasha's encouragement, and the shared dua that bridged the distance between her and Muhammad. The journey, both physical and emotional, had begun, and A'isha embraced the promise of new horizons with a heart filled with gratitude and anticipation. She was especially excited to see her family and her best friends and let's not forget, eat a nice home cooked meal with ENOUGH spices.

Aisha's pov

As I stepped into the arrival hall, the familiarity of home embraced me like a long-lost friend. Dialing my sister's number, I anticipated the happy reunion that awaited.

"Fefe, just landed. Who's picking me up?" I asked, my voice carrying a blend of excitement and curiosity.

"The driver and a surprise guest," Faiza teased.

"A surprise guest? Tell me!" I demanded, but she only chuckled in response. The anticipation danced within me as I retrieved my suitcases from the carousel.

Finally, there she was – my best friend, racing towards me with enthusiasm. Flowers in hand, she grinned, "oyoyo!" Which made me cackle.

The bouquet she handed me spoke volumes, a language of affection, I loved flowers so much. We caught up in the car, stories flowing seamlessly, laughter punctuating the gaps between our words. The suggestion of a detour to "Calabar Pot," our favorite spot for spicy jollof rice and Maltina, added a flavorful twist to my homecoming.
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Arriving at the family residence was a sensory overload. My parents, my older brother Ashraf, and my little sister stood there, their smiles echoing the joy in their eyes. Baaba, a maid that had helped bring me up came to the car to collect my bag "oyoyo baby" she shouted and I laughed enveloping her in a hug.

The gate-man Genesis, rushed over to help bring out my suitcases and take them in. "Sannu da dawowa hajiya karama," (welcome back small madam) he greeted.

Balloons proudly declared "welcome," inside the living room and a table adorned with an array of delicious dishes beckoned. Small chops, an all time favorite, whispered promises of indulgence. As we exchanged hugs, laughter, and stories, the fatigue of the journey began to tug at my eyelids. Rabia, my best friend had left after promising to come back the next day to collect her gifts and for us to catch up some more.

In the midst of the family's joyful chaos, I found myself surrendering to the comfort of home. The scent of 'turaren wuta' mingled with the aroma of the feast, creating a nostalgic ambiance. I indulged in the joyous banter, savored the familiar flavors, and, eventually, succumbed to the embrace of sleep. In that moment, surrounded by the love of family and the symphony of home, the world beyond – even my daily text exchanges with Muhammad – momentarily faded away. Home had its way of weaving a cocoon, where everything else became a distant echo. My heart was full.

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-Aïcha