Journey to 'I do'

Chapter 18

In the cozy living room, the remnants of a delicious dinner lingered in the air. Finding a moment with my parents, I broached the topic, "Daddy, last time I was in Lagos, my boss discussed the possibility of relocating for a more permanent position. He believes it would open up more opportunities for promotions and career growth."

Dad, leaning back on the plush sofa, considered my words with a thoughtful expression. "A'isha, I appreciate your dedication to your work, but relocating to Lagos is a significant decision. You have just relocated back to Abuja."

Continuing, he added, "Lagos is a busy city, and while it offers its own set of opportunities, it comes with its own set of challenges. The traffic alone is a daily battle. Plus, you've been doing well from here. It's essential to weigh the potential benefits against the disruptions it might bring to our family dynamics and your own peace of mind. And I won't have you living alone there. Kinji ko?"

I nodded, appreciating his wisdom. "I understand, Daddy. It's just an offer for now, and I wanted to discuss it with you first before making any decisions. Family will always be my priority."

As the conversation unfolded in the warm glow of the living room, Dad, after expressing his thoughts on the potential move to Lagos, shifted the discussion. "A'isha, my dear, I've been thinking about your future. You know, your mother and I would like to see you settled, building a family of your own."

Continuing the discussion about my future, Dad expressed, "Ideally, it would be wonderful if you could find a good man soon. We would prefer someone with a similar background, a northern man, and, of course, a practicing Muslim. It's important to consider these aspects."

"Haka ne, Daddy," I replied, acknowledging Dad's sentiments.

He smiled warmly, "I trust your judgment, A'isha. Is there anyone you're considering?"

I shook my head, "No, Daddy. Right now, my focus has been on work and family responsibilities." As if if I had a boyfriend, I would even tell him.

Dad, accepting my response, spoke gently, "Well, I'll revisit this topic after your brother's wedding. For now, let's concentrate on the family celebrations, and you focus on your work."

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In the aftermath of the confrontation, Usman's absence spoke louder than words. The silence from his end echoed through the passing days, leaving me with unanswered questions and a growing sense of distance. I was expecting an apology honestly. As the week unfolded, it became increasingly apparent that the once assertive presence of Usman had receded into the background.

On the flip side, Muhammad's demeanor remained consistent – a steady and reassuring anchor amid the swirling currents of uncertainty. His understanding nature provided a stark contrast to the turbulence that characterized my interactions with Usman. It felt like a reprieve, allowing me to focus on the budding relationship that held promise and authenticity. I hope he doesn't ghost again but knowing him I wouldn't bet on it.

The flight to Lagos served as a literal and metaphorical departure from the complexities left behind in Abuja. The city welcomed me with its vibrant chaos and the distinctive hum of urban life. As I checked into my hotel, the anticipation of a week in Lagos for work brought a mixture of excitement and relief.

Excited about the change of scenery, I decided to call up Bimpe. We hadn't seen each other since my last trip, and I felt an overwhelming need to share the recent whirlwind of events with her. After a few rings, she picked up.

"Bimpe, ore mi! Long time no see!" I exclaimed, a genuine smile breaking through the remnants of the emotional storm.

"A'isha! Back in Lagos already cause you missed me?" Bimpe's voice, filled with warmth, echoed through the phone.