BECOMING MRS BUGAJE (COMPLETED, 2019)

CHAPTER 9: THE NOTEBOOK (PART TWO)

He looked up thoughtfully, and he was so quiet she thought he wasn't going to answer her. Then his voice came, gruff at first, he cleared it, and it went straight to her, she had no idea how, but it did.

"I used to love bling and colours that pop, but they are somebody's favourite, and I'm not allowed to think of somebody now. So..."

Maryam felt a twinge of sadness from his statement. "That is bad." His eyes looked distant, she recovered quickly from her lull. "Tell you what? Why do you have to stop loving your favourite things just because they remind you of somebody? You don't have to hide from it, knowing that it is still there hidden, your hidden favourite will only keep reminding you of why you stopped loving it openly. But if you let it out, eventually you will create new memories that aren't related to that somebody. It can be your new normal;"

Mubarak let out a sigh. "Good point. Black is majestic but a little colour won't hurt, you know. Cream is nice, heard it looks great on the skin too." He said, his eyes briefly sweeping over her. Then he took a bottle of water from the patio table. "May I go with this?" he tapped her notebook.

"No way!" Maryam extended her hand to snatch it, but he uneventfully gave it back to her, letting out a defeated sigh.

"I was so looking forward to reading my favourite pass time and my favourite thing about a woman. How in the world did your mother get all that information 'she assumed' are my favourite things?"

"I don't know, ask your mother."

He gave her a short nod and began to walk away. "Wait, my mother does not know number nine. Please tell me she doesn't."

Oh, he read that one, too bad. She tried to warn him.

"Well, you may want to check again with her and see."

Mubarak grunted and turned, making her laugh.

***

It was 2 a.m. when Maryam woke up with a start, that was when Mubarak's words registered to her, he had told her cream suited her too. She wore a cream dress when she went to see him that first night at Hajiya's living room. Why would he even notice that? He hadn't even spared her a look on that day. Just that blazing murderous glare.

It must have been one of his spiralled thoughts. But what if this was him making an effort towards the alliance? Oh, it would be fun working with his mother. She rubbed her hands excitedly and smiled.

She prayed a few units of nawaafil prayers, seeking Allah's guidance over her affairs before she got back to sleep.

***

On Saturday, Hajiya took them out. Maryam was impressed with what she saw. When Hajiya Kulthum spoke in plural about her initiative, she had no idea she was talking about a team of many people volunteering from all walks of life trying to better the lives of the future generation. There were doctors, educationists, lawyers, accountants, founders, homemakers and many more. Maryam watched as this amazing woman who she had no idea what she was before now, deliver a wonderful speech about pushing it forward.

That was when she knew what she wanted to do with her life. At twenty-two, the revelation finally dawned upon her. "Sorry, Mama but I am going to be a full-time writer. These people need content and I am going to give the best to them." She smiled. And just when she was plucked out of her thoughts.

Her eyes travelled across the green park, seeing how many people were participating until her eyes landed on his. He stood several feet across the field. He was there, leaning on a tree, his arms were crossed over his torso. Dressed in a plain white T-shirt with a light army-military khaki jacket, a pair of blue denim jeans and some clean white sneakers, he stood waiting for his mother to finish her program.