Journey to 'I do'

5- Unraveled Threads

It had been a stretch of about 2 to 3 weeks since my return from London, and during this time, I found myself engrossed in conversations with both Usman and Muhammad. Usman, being more lighthearted and playful, often suggested calls and even reached the FaceTime level with me. On the other hand, with Muhammad, our interactions were filled with intelligent jokes, relatable references, and thought-provoking conversations. But he was always so busy so we only spoke once in 2 days usually. As a self-proclaimed sapiosexual, I naturally felt more drawn to the depth of discussions with Muhammad, while Usman kept things playful and fun, not particularly interested in books and such.

On this cloudy Friday afternoon, I was lazily lounging about the house, indulging in a bowl of chin-chin while chatting with my brother, Fahd, in the living room.

"Ya Fahd, so when are you getting married?" I asked, a teasing smile playing on my lips.

"When are YOU getting married? You're at the right age," he retorted, throwing the question back at me.

"When are both of you getting married? And she's right, especially you, Fahd," Mamma chimed in, joining us in the living room.

Our banter about marriage continued, and that's when Mamma casually dropped a bombshell—I discovered Fahd had brought his girlfriend home and introduced her to the family a couple of months ago. How on earth did I miss this significant piece of information? I feigned mock outrage at them, unable to believe they hadn't shared this news with me earlier. I'll revisit this issue later!

Mamma, in her usual straightforward manner, reminded me that I had plans for the evening and inquired about my departure time.

"It starts at 6 pm, and it's in Central Area, so I won't leave the house till 6," I explained.

"Toh, Fahd can drop you off because the driver is usually gone by that time," Mamma suggested, glancing toward Fahd, who subtly nodded in agreement.

After Faiza got back home she joined us for a brief chat, I excused myself and headed upstairs to start preparing for the evening's event. After a refreshing shower, the droplets still lingering on my skin, I went to quickly perform asr prayer. I carefully selected my outfit—a vibrant two-piece ensemble. The long white top, elegantly tailored with a playful tail and a daring slit up the right leg, harmonized with white matching pants. To add a touch of flair, I chose a colorful scarf, artfully wrapping it around my head in a chic turban style.

Moving to my vanity, I opted for a single makeup look, no eyeshadow, no highlighter and very little blush. Amidst this preparation, a text from Usman appeared.

Usman Danbattiiii: What're you doing right now?

Me: Getting ready to go for an art show at Retro Africa.

Usman Danbattiiii: I'm also going for that show. How are you getting there? I can pick you up.

Me: Aw, thanks Danbattii . Don't worry; my brother is dropping me off. We'll see there. See you inna bit.

Despite Usman's persistent attempts to visit me over the past week, I remained hesitant. Rabia kept encouraging me to allow it, but my reservations lingered.

Opting for a bold red lip accentuating my plain makeup and the crisp white outfit. I slipped into white vintage Jimmy Choo slipper heels and I grabbed a transparent clutch, adorning myself with silvery jewelry. Daddy wasn't around to protest the red lip, something he detested, allowing me the freedom to express myself. A red lip would suit Mamma so beautifully because of her light skin complexion but her husband wasn't having it. Downstairs, Ya Fahd was already waiting in the car, and after bidding farewell to Mamma and Faiza, we left.