Journey to 'I do'

28- Games and Warnings

It's been nearly a month since Muhammad and I parted ways. The wedding festivities have come to an end, and life is gradually returning to its usual rhythm. Surprisingly, I haven't crossed paths with him during this time. Everyone seems to be moving on, and I'm trying to do the same.

My father, however, still can't resist throwing shades about how things didn't end well with Muhammad. The constant pressure and disapproving remarks have become a part of my routine. On the brighter side, my mother is my pillar of support, managing to calm my father down and reminding him not to burden me too much.

Life is attempting to find its balance again, and I'm navigating through the aftermath of a broken relationship, trying to piece together the fragments of my emotions and dreams.

In those quiet moments when solitude embraces me, my thoughts often stray to how this one time I dared to open my heart to what I thought was genuine love, I witnessed it crumble before my eyes. Muhammad's memory lingers, a bittersweet symphony playing in the recesses of my mind. Each note resonates with the pain of a love that slipped away. Sometimes, I find myself wondering if I should've given Usman a chance. I think I'm almost going crazy.

Dressed in a pink floral dress and comfortable flat shoes, I prepared to meet Jamal, the guy I had encountered at Rabia's wedding. Ever since he had reached out to me on Instagram, we had exchanged a few conversations. Jamal was a financial consultant. Today's meeting held the promise of discussing potential investments and exploring the details of a new business venture I was thinking of to keep myself more busy. Anticipation and nervous excitement accompanied me as I made my way to the restaurant.

As I approached the table, Jamal rose to greet me with a handshake, and we exchanged warm pleasantries. His eyes lingered for a moment on my pink floral dress, and he offered a genuine compliment, "You look lovely today, A'isha. Pink suits you well." I thanked him with a smile, taking my seat as the anticipation of our conversation filled the air.

Seated across from Jamal, I delved into the details of a project that had been brewing in my mind—a holistic learning center for young women. The concept aimed to create a safe and empowering space for women to learn a variety of skills. From practical handiwork like sewing and cooking to creative pursuits like bead making, writing, and painting, the center would offer a diverse curriculum. Additionally, I envisioned incorporating fitness activities, such as a gym and swimming lessons with a dedicated pool.

I expressed my belief in the transformative power of education and skill development, emphasizing the need for such a haven in Abuja. A place where women could not only gain valuable skills but also find a supportive community. Jamal, intrigued by the social impact potential, engaged in the discussion, offering insights into potential partnerships and ways to optimize the project's outreach. The conversation unfolded, breathing life into a vision that went beyond business—a vision of empowerment and community-building.

The conversation meandered through various topics, and as we delved into more personal territory, Jamal broached the subject of the recent social media buzz around me and my ex.

"If you don't mind me asking, what was the whole social media thing with you and Muhammad Salman?" He inquired with a genuine curiosity.

"Men and gossip," I replied with a playful tone, and he chuckled, seemingly a bit embarrassed.

"That's not it, wallahi. I was just concerned about you. Plus, the media was saying one thing, and you said you have no boyfriend, so I just wanted to know," he clarified.

His concern was unexpected, and I pondered whether he had a different motive. "We were something and realized that we don't want the same things at this point in our lives, so we parted ways."