Journey to 'I do'

23- Invasion of Privacy

It's been three days since Rabia's wedding, and I find myself utterly exhausted. The anticipation builds as family members are set to arrive in the next few days for Ya Fahd's wedding. The hustle and bustle surrounding the upcoming events have left me questioning the magnitude of guests attending, given that he's having only two events – the daurin aure and Fatiha on Friday, followed by a dinner on Saturday. But I suppose the overwhelming turnout reflects the love and significance attached to the celebration of the first and only son.

Jamal had initiated a conversation with me
yesterday, trying to keep it light and casual. However, a subtle sense of guilt lingered as I  reminded herself of my committed relationship with Muhammad. I told him I was busy and would talk to him later and then redirected my focus back to the ongoing kitchen preparations. I left my phone in my room determined to fulfill my role in the upcoming events.

Six hours into frying chin chin outside on firewood with Babba, I called out to Faiza, "Fefe," asking her to bring my gum from my handbag and a face towel from my room upstairs. She returned with the items along with my phone.

"I brought down your phone because it was ringing, and notifications are buzzing non-stop," Faiza said.

"Haba? Wa ke kira na? Meya faru haka," I responded, wiping my hands on the wrapper tied around my waist,before taking my phone. Glancing at the screen, I noticed 1 missed call from daddy, 6 missed calls from Rabia, 5 from Hannan, 2 from Sasha, 10 from Muhammad, and 2 from Ya Fahd. They had all left messages, and there were new messages from Bimpe, Rachel, Farida, Jamal, and other friends and family.

"Omg, A'isha, I think I know why!" Faiza exclaimed, showing me her phone. On the screen was a picture of me and Muhammad at Rabia's wedding featured on a wedding blog, alongside a photo from the daurin aure and one of us talking at the dinner, where he held my hand.

"Inna lillahi wa inna ilayhi rajiun!" I exclaimed, realizing what news had spread far and wide.

"Menene?" Babba asks concerned.

Taking my sister's phone to examine the post more closely, I scrolled a bit and saw the headline: "Nigeria's Renowned Business Scion, Mohammed Salman, Heir to Suleyman Salman's Empire,  Seems to have been take off the market by Aisha Yahya, Unveiling a New Chapter in the Life of the Under-30 CEO."

I couldn't help but feel a twinge of offense at the brief mention of me compared to the elaborate introduction for him. And HOW DO THEY KNOW MY NAME?! However, my immediate concern was the fact that my private relationship had become public knowledge, reaching my family and friends before I had the chance to share the news on my terms, especially with Ya Fahd's wedding just around the corner. I wanted to tell them all after, when everybody was less stressed and had peace of mind. I didn't want to make this time in their life about me in any way at all. Innalillahi.

As I scrolled through the comments on the blog post, I noticed a mix of supportive messages, curious inquiries, and a few not-so-friendly remarks. Faiza and I exchanged glances, realizing that my private world was suddenly under public scrutiny.

"How do we get this blog to take it down?" I mumbled to myself.

"Well, Ya Aisha, you're on Arewa Family Weddings, Fabric Blogger, Hausa Room, Gistlovers Blog, Keeping Up with the Elites, and even on Instablog9ja's story. The damage control is a lot," Faiza pointed out.

"Wow, thanks for comforting me," I retorted, rolling my eyes.

"I'm sorry. But, oh my God, I can't believe you managed to get into a relationship, and you're dating him. You guys are so cute. He's so handsome, wow, MashaAllah."

"Stop."

I opened his messages first.

Muhammad Salman:
- How did this happen?
- Who the heck did this?! I hate my private life being on social media.
- Babe?
- Aisha, pick up your calls.