My Crush

Chapter 1

Deejah's POV

"Deejah! Deejah! Deejah!!!" I heard someone calling my name from what seemed like a distance. "Who the hell is calling me this early!" I grumbled, with my eyes still closed.

Groggily, I was about to open my eyes, when mum suddenly barged into my room, uninvited.

"Won't you come down for breakfast?" She questioned, gazing intently at me. "Your dad has been waiting for you for a while now. His tea has gotten cold, just because of you." She queried.

Before I could give her a reply, she had already turned around and walked out of the room.

I go out of the comfort of my bed and rushed to the bathroom to take care of my business.

Emerging from the bathroom, I sauntered to the closet and put on a maroon coloured gown, with a scarf tied around my head. Immediately I was done, I left the room for the dining.

"Good morning, Dad," I greeted after peaking his cheeks, and taking a seat on one of the chairs, beside him.

"Good morning, my princess." He smiled at me. "how was your night?" He asked.

"It was fine, dad," I responded, before turning to my mum and greeting her as well. "Good morning, mum."

She responded nonchalantly, in an almost inaudible voice - like a grumble.

By the way, she responded to my greeting and the demeanour she had on, anyone could tell the type of relationship we shared. I was much closer to my dad than I was with her. Right from when I was just a kid, she had thought dad spoiled me too much. It aggravated her.

My mum, Mrs Rukkayah, was a simple, yet strict woman. She was very gorgeous. Her one-sided dimple made me admire her. Though she always reprimanded me for every single mistake, I understood it was because she wanted to instil good morals in me. Because she believed it was women's job to take care of their home singlehandedly, she remained a housewife.

My dad, Mr Muhammad Agogo was the most handsome man I had ever seen. His smile alone meant the whole world to me. As the only child he had, he loved me immensely. He was a renowned businessman in Nigeria, having many companies across the cities, where raw materials are converted into finished products.

My name is Khadija Muhammad Agogo. I just turned twenty. Fortunately, I was able to gain admission to Bayero University, Kano, and was assigned to the course 'Business administration and management to study. For me, being in my final year was a dream come true. I couldn't wait to be finished with university.

I ate my meal slowly because there was no need to rush. After all, it was already the weekend. The freedom of not having to leave the house and being able to spend the entire day relaxing at home was liberating.

I wiped my mouth with a serviette after finishing my meal and called out to one of the maids in a high pitched voice, "Ladidi!"

Mom's face was contemptuous as she looked at me.

She knew I was going to ask her to clear the table before I even said the words. Wasn't that a maid's job? - I rolled my eyes and averted my gaze. I had nothing else to do in the dining room since I had finished eating, so I drew back my chair and stood up to leave. The main goal is to stay out of trouble with Mum so early in the morning. When no one said anything, I knew it was time to go.

My gaze wandered around the unkempt room as I pushed open the door. "Maryam!" I summoned my maid. "Maryam!" I called again, louder this time.

She appeared out of nowhere, looking at me suspiciously as if I were some kind of threat.

"What happened here? Why is my room looking like a garbage dump?" I questioned, narrowing my eyes at her.

"Ma'am, I'm sor...sorry." She stuttered. "Act..ually, I was doing som.. eth. Ing, that's wh-"

A glare from me was all it took for her to cut herself off. I felt like slapping her into a stupor. "Before I close my eyes and open it again, I want you to arrange this room, neatly. I'll be on the balcony. Call me immediately you're done." I ordered and sashayed away with my phone.

I've never been deprived of anything in my life; everything is always at the tip of my finger. With my father, I'll never have to worry about poverty.

When I was engrossed in listening to Nicky Minaj songs with my ear pods plugged in, my phone jolted me out of my reverie.

"Hello, baby," I said as soon as I heard the sheriff's voice in the background.

"I'm missing you here, babe," he said sweetly, making my stomach churn as if I should sneak out of the house without mum noticing.

"I miss you as well; how are you doing?" I asked a question.

"That's interesting, I'm good. I'm craving for your lips babe like I can"t wait to wife you and have you in between my things." He said flirtatiously making my stomach twist at his word.

"Stop flirting with me, sheriff," I jokingly said.

"Don't be shy," he said, and I heard my mother calling me downstairs.

"Mum is calling me downstairs, babe; I'll call you later," I explained.

"Sure, babe, I love you," he replied.

"I love you too, darling," I said as I hung up the phone.

Sheriff was my favourite person to be around, and I would do anything to be with him. He has become an inextricably linked part of my life. He was the last thing on my mind before going to bed and the first thing on my mind when I woke up every morning. I just remember my mother calling me downstairs.

I'm wondering what she's up to this time. Mum can be quite dramatic with her never-ending nag. I hissed in annoyance as I walked out of the balcony.