Journey to 'I do'

Chapter 14

"Oh, modest wear is for everyone. Take, for instance, the one I'm wearing right now. It's only twenty-five thousand, and you can pair it with whatever you like underneath—trousers, a skirt, a dress, however long or short. It's essentially a kimono with a matching scarf. Come with me; I'll show you other colors," I gestured towards the next row, encouraging her to explore more.

Hannan passed by, winking at me—a silent thank you. The lady chuckled, "You're a great marketer, did anyone tell you that?"

"It was one of my majors in university."

"Ah, that makes sense. So, what do you suggest?"

"I think this navy blue one complements your skin tone perfectly," I took the abaya off the rack and handed it to her. "Feel free to try it on."

After she tried it on, she returned to the shop and ended up buying two pieces. Hannan and I expressed our gratitude for her visit as she left. I immersed myself in the task of persuading more people to explore the collections, the energy of the store opening day pulsating around us.

Usman entered, dressed impeccably in a kaftan, exuding charm as he added a pleasant presence to the event. Rabia and I approached him, extending a warm welcome and offering snacks.

"So, who are you shopping for today, Danbatti? Your mom? Your sister? Your babe?" Rabia quizzed Usman, casting a sly smile my way. Ugh, I felt the urge to smack her head right then.

"I'm sure we can find something for all of them," he replied with a snug smile, and I mentally rolled my eyes.

"Yauwa, that's the type of energy I like," Rabia exclaimed, ushering him toward a stand to showcase some pieces.

In just 20 minutes, we had selected a black abaya resembling a boubou for his mother and three black ones with dramatic sleeves for his sisters. After a quick call to confirm their sizes, we assisted him in picking the items. Usman also opted for the hijab box for his sisters, a special package with a veil, three different hijab pins, fashion tape, and an under cap. While Rabia managed the packaging at the cashier's, Usman turned to me.

"And what would my babe like?" he inquired.

"Who is your babe?" I asked, playing dumb—or was I genuinely playing? I'm not his babe so who's she?

"Her name is A'isha; she's a really pretty girl, brown skin. What color would suit her best?"

"Hmm, I don't know. Maybe just go for something black to be safe."

"Okay, choose something," he insisted.

I laughed and shook my head. "Don't worry, Usman. Thank you."

"Come on. I know you'd want to support your friend today by buying from her business. Just show me the ones you wanted to pick; I'll pay for it."

"It's fine, really. Thank you."

"A'isha, please."

"Oh, I know what she wanted. Don't worry; I'll show you," Rabia chimed in unexpectedly.

"Rabs, don't," I said, giving her a stern look.

"It's just a nice gesture, A'isha. Accept it," she insisted.

"Haba, Aisha, please. Just let me do this for you, this once." Usman pleaded.

"I'll get them," Rabia said, sauntering off to the pile of items we had set aside for ourselves earlier.

"I'll pay you back," I said to Usman.

"Don't be silly," he responded, disbelief in his eyes. He stepped closer to me, lowering his voice. "Look, A'isha, I'm not paying to impress you or anything. I just want to do something nice for you. I like to give gifts. In shaa Allah, I'll never hold it against you or say you owe me, God forbid. Kawai relax. Let me take care of you, love."