Journey to 'I do'

Chapter 16

*This is a filler Chapter*

Aisha's pov
The weeks rolled by in a whirlwind of activity for me. Amidst the wedding preparations, work continued to demand my attention. One day, as I was working a call came through. It was from a government official, a contact Usman had referred me to for a potential contract job in the realm of business and advertising. The opportunity presented a new challenge, and I am always eager for professional growth. The man said his PA would call me within the week to set a meeting time with me. I was excited.

In the midst of my busy schedule, I found time to accompany Hannan for a routine pregnancy checkup. After the checkup, we decided to extend the day with a casual lunch.

As we savored our meal, the conversation took a turn. Hannan, with a knowing look in her eyes, shared a piece of unexpected information. "Aisha, you won't believe who I saw this week," she said with a mischievous smile.

I turned to her with an intrigued look, urging her to spill the details. "Who?"

"Usman," Hannan revealed, pausing for dramatic effect. "I saw him at one restaurant lounge, enjoying shisha with a girl me and captain went to get takeout there."

My eyebrows shot up in surprise. "That's unexpected."

Hannan chuckled, "Right? I thought you should know. Maybe he's just being sociable, but you know how these things can be interpreted."

"He's not my boyfriend anyway"

"But still isn't he acting serious about you? Anyway you know I'm team Muhammad. He's more handsome and his pocket is deeper too"

"You're a thief" I joked and we burst out laughing.

"How's that going by the way? You and him"

"So far so good. We talk regularly more. Extremely late replies but it's not like he's ghosting me so that's good. But I don't even know what I'm doing honestly just talking to both of them feels weird. And see you said usman was with a girl together I can't be upset at that cause somebody can also see me with Muhammad and tell him or see me with usman and tell Muhammad if they know of course. You know? It's just ugh"

"Babes stop stressing. These things are normal. And I know you, you don't even care that I saw usman with someone I'm just telling you anyway you're just weighing your options seeing which one is better nothing is wrong"

"Someone will get hurt"

"That's life."

I nodded thoughtfully, a mix of curiosity and mild concern clouding my thoughts. As we continued our lunch, I couldn't shake the lingering questions in my mind. The dynamics of her relationships were taking unexpected turns, and I found myself navigating uncharted waters.
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Days rolled by, each one carrying its own set of challenges and uncertainties. The delicate balance of juggling work commitments, the impending weddings, and the intricacies of my evolving relationships created a constant whirlwind of thoughts.

One evening, as I was wrapping up a meeting for the potential contract job, I received an unexpected call from Usman. "Hey love, how's your day going?" he greeted.

"It's been hectic, but I'm surviving. What about you?" I replied, the echoes of our recent conversations and Hannan's revelation lingering in the background.

"Same here. By the way, there's this event happening this weekend. It's a charity auction for a cause I'm involved in. Would you be interested in joining me?" Usman asked, his voice carrying a mix of enthusiasm and genuine interest.

The invitation caught me off guard. The idea of attending an event with Usman seemed innocent enough, yet the undertones of our connection and the recent revelation about his shisha outing lingered in my mind. "Sure, I'd love to," I responded, my mind calculating the implications of accepting such an invitation.

As the weekend approached, the excitement and nerves intertwined. The charity event promised to be an interesting experience, and my mind swirled with thoughts about Usman, Muhammad, and the delicate dance of emotions I found myself entangled in.

Saturday evening arrived, and I found myself standing at the entrance of the charity auction venue. Dressed in an elegant outfit, I scanned the crowd, looking for Usman. As I spotted him, a fleeting moment of uncertainty washed over me.

"You look amazing love, thank you for coming" Usman greeted, a warm smile on his face.

"Of course," I replied, reciprocating the smile, but the undercurrent of complexity lingered beneath the surface. I silently shot up a prayer that Muhammad wouldn't somehow be at this event.

As the evening unfolded with the rhythm of a live band and the cadence of auction bids, a hushed murmur rippled through the crowd. A distinguished figure named Yahaya Salman stood up, his presence commanding attention. Tall and possessing strikingly similar features to Muhammad, he exuded an air of authority and charisma.

The room fell silent as Yahaya Salman stepped forward to give a short speech. His words were eloquent and impassioned, emphasizing the importance of community involvement and the impact of collective efforts. The crowd listened intently, captivated by the sincerity in his voice.

My eyes widened as I recognized the man on the stage. A quick text was sent to Muhammad:

Me: I think I just saw your parents.

The realization struck that the man making the biggest donation that night, contributing significantly to the cause, was none other than Muhammad's father. Yahaya Salman's generosity spoke volumes, mirroring the values he had instilled in his children.

Beside him stood his wife, a woman with a captivating aura of confidence and an unmistakable "you can't sit with us" energy. Her dark skin radiated a kind of beauty that was both regal and unapologetic.

The charity event concluded, and as the night air embraced the city, Usman graciously offered to drive me home. The soft hum of the car engine provided a backdrop to the gentle conversation that unfolded.

Usman, his eyes focused on the road, initiated a casual discussion about the evening's events. We shared thoughts on the various speeches, the impact of the donations, and the overall success of the charity fundraiser.

The city lights blurred past us, creating a serene backdrop for our conversation. Usman's easygoing demeanor made the talk feel comfortable, and I found myself sharing snippets of my thoughts and experiences from the night.

As we approached my destination, the conversation lingered for a moment in the dim glow of the car interior. With a genuine smile, Usman bid me goodnight, and I stepped out of the car, grateful for the unexpected companionship the night had offered. As I watched his car fade into the distance, I pondered the intricate web of relationships that continued to weave through the tapestry of my life.

As I laid down in bed I texted with Muhammad.

Muhammad Salman: did you talk to them?

Me: no. I just recognized he looked like you when he was on the stage.

Muhammad Salman: next time say hi to your possible future in-laws

Me: lmao you're delusional.

Muhammad Salman: What? You didn't like what you saw?

Me: Nahh too much for me. And this proposal it's too little for me.

Muhammad Salman: sigh, what do women want?

Me: Peace of mind, money and Roses.

Muhammad Salman: Noted.
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~Aïcha