Ayaan Fadel.
Maroudi, Nigeria.
Getting Basma Wambai on board was simply the beginning of my plan. There's a lot more to come. I wasn't surprised it went according to plan, and at the same time, I wasn't exactly relieved.
I've been in this position long enough to know the beginning is always the easy part. For now, everything I'll do for a little while longer will all be termed as the 'easy' part of the whole ordeal.
Even as I strolled down the stone path leading to the backyard, with Basma strolling quietly beside me, I didn't have any worries regarding it. From the corner of my eyes, I could see her straightening her spine, and squaring her shoulders. She tries to hide it, but I could tell she was nervous.
I can't say I understand the feeling exactly. But at the same time, I can't blame her.
The sun was up, though the weather is still pretty chill. This has to be one of my favorite things about Maroudi—the weather is unlike any other. Given, there are days when the temperature is excessively high, such that the sun becomes relentless when giving heat. As well, there are days as well when the temperature drops, and the arctic coldness engulfs the entire place.
Yet, there are days where it lies in the middle. The sun would be up, accompanied by the clouds giving warmth and at the same time, it won't be blazing. The air would be chilly, leaving one yearning for it to remain constant.
This weather brings back memories to me. It brings back days I wished I could turn back time to live in.
The sight of the couple up ahead pierced into those memories I keep locked and hidden deep down, and without a warning whatsoever, roughly tugs at it till it shattered into pieces with no hopes of repair.
I blew out a small, barely visible breath as we reached where they stood, donning warm smiles as they moved their gaze from me, to the woman beside me. My lips stretched into a small, ghost smile as their eyes met mine again. "As promised, meet Basma Wambai." I gestured with my hand to her.
Immediately, she crouched low—taking me by surprise. "Barka da safe." She greeted in Hausa, the words flowing past her lips smoothly in a normal Hausa accent. "I hope you're both well, Mr. and Mrs. Fadel."
They both shifted their gaze from her, and then gave me a curious look—obviously taken aback by her showcase of culture.
I would be lying is I say I wasn't impressed, and I didn't hide it. When our eyes met, I simply gave them a curt, barley noticeable, go-ahead nod though they got it. In spite of their initial shock, I knew they were as impressed as I was.
Don't get me wrong, from what I know about Basma, she seems like the type that was overly invested in the western culture. She didn't seem like the type that would still honor her culture as a Hausa woman from Arewa—considering Maroudi is one of the States in Northern Nigeria.
So, you can imagine my surprise. Especially since it doesn't seem like she's faking it.
Trust me, I can tell when someone is faking something. I'm an expert in that field.
I could tell she isn't.
See this is other side of Basma that people are yet to see, or may never even see. It is as well a reason why you shouldn't believe everything you see about people on the Internet or the news.
"Alhamdullilah. Tashi kinji." The older woman's warm tone reached my ears, snapping me out of the little stray of thought. I blinked, and shifted my gaze back to the trio just in time Basma got on her feet, offering them both a small smile. "How are you my dear?"
"I'm good, alhamdullilah."
My father smiled, his expression welcoming. I could tell he recognized her, even though I technically did inform them beforehand. "You're Wazirin Maroudi's daughter, right?" He inquired.
She nodded, "Yes." She affirmed. "He's sending his greetings as well." Did he really? Because I don't remember overhearing her speak to him on the phone?
Nonetheless, I zipped my lips shut.
His smile broadened at the mention of an old friend of his. "Masha Allah." He grinned, before going on to offer, "Please, join us. We're having brunch together."
Her eyes dilated slightly, before she lifted her gaze to meet mine curiously. She obviously wasn't certain what to take of their invitation, and I don't blame her for it. She must've thought they would be hostile towards her or something—she tried to hide it, but it was obvious she was nervous.
I'm still surprised by how easily she agreed to come over. Considering I went straight ahead to her place after showering to wear off the jetlag, I supposed convincing her to come over would be hard. And no, I don't mean that in a negative way.
I wanted to introduce her to my parents—you'll eventually find out the real reason why. And yes, she doesn't know the actual reason but at the same time, I didn't lie to her. I just intentionally slipped some information out of the whole thing—and that did give her another definition contrary to what it actually is.
"I want to get to know you better." I said, slipping my hands into the pocket of the hoodie I donned. A pretty random outfit, I know. But, it's the least likely outfit anyone would expect the Ayaan Fadel to wear.
And no, I don't mean that in a narcissistic way, but in a factual one.
By now, I'm certain news of my arrival has started to go round—though I was hoping to camouflage with the other guests that arrived.
The guests that arrived from other places all had such so it would be odd if I stuck out.
Could've went for a normal flight and move around with the other commuters—but, the press aren't dumb. I used that trick the last time I was in Hadewa. I don't know if you're aware, but the press in Hadewa Caliphate are just as annoying as that of Maroudi—maybe even more.
So before I even arrived, the airport was swamped with press waiting for me to commute since it would be easier if I'm alone. You'd be surprised how easily they can spot me amidst hundreds of people.
So, yes. I wasn't taking any chance.
If I couldn't have my simple entrance, might as well go for the grand one.
Visiting Basma's boutique was a risk, but not a big one. Not a lot of people know my face, and I doubt they would recognize me in a simple outfit. And, it pretty much worked.
"—If you don't mind that is." I added, my smile unwavering.
She blinked, her eyes still narrowed warily. Despite knowing who I am now, I could she is even more guarded. She probably already assumes the worst of me. "That's so random." She stated, not seeming to care how sudden her response sounded. "Why me?" She questioned skeptically.
I shrugged, "Why not?" I inquired back. Not giving her a chance to answer, not that she seemed like she planned on doing that, I added. "Your father is a friend of my father—I'm certain you know that. And I won't lie to you, I did run a background check on you."
She scoffed almost instantly, obviously annoyed and offended. "So typical."
"I apologize if you feel offended, but that's normal where we come from. I'm certain you did the same thing." I might sound cocky if I say this, but believe me when I say I know she ran a background check on me too.
Maybe, she didn't hire a PI like others. But, she definitely searched me up on the Internet knowing I would make an appearance. She probably wanted to know who she is dealing with and what to expect.
And, she didn't deny it. "That's why I said it's typical." She's bold, I'd give her that. I guess the papers were accurate regarding that. She dropped her hands by her side, her shoulders though still squared to not be intimidated though that isn't my intention at the moment. "I don't care what your real motive is. You being here means you need something from me, and I'll agree to help as long as it doesn't exceed my boundary." Her tone came out strong, just as her resolve.
I know I should feel threatened, or maybe, even slightly offended that she's outright laid out my intention bare.
But, would you believe me if I say I know this would happen.
Just as I know what she would want at the end is the same will align with my goal.
For the benefit of doubt though, I decided to play along. "On what condition?"
Her answer came almost instantly. Her expression gave away her intention before she even voiced out the words. "Nailah Zayed." I knew it. "The business they want with you, it shouldn't go through. No matter what, she shall never get what she wants from you. Whether she demands, compromise, or grovel at your feet; you shouldn't agree."
"You hate her." That much is obvious. Anyone can see it. And if I hadn't known before, she just made it crystal clear.
"Hate is a small word." She answered with no hesitation whatsoever. "I loathe her."
I nodded slowly to myself, choosing to not dwell on their long laid hatred. "And, you do know I would benefit from that business though, right?" Anyone in their right sense would agree to what they are offering. It's pretty good to be honest, and an opportunity no one would want to pass out on.
But, I'm not anyone.
"—Why would I put something that beneficial on the line for you?"
"Because you want to gain something even more by using me." She sounded so certain of herself, it actually had me chuckling slightly because she's right. She wasn't fazed by my chuckle though. "It's a win-win opportunity for us both."
"If you don't mind me asking though, is there a particular reason you're so much against her?"
"That has nothing to do with you." She has zero plan of revealing it to me. "It's personal. So, do we have a deal or not?"
My smile widened in amusement. This is honestly more entertaining than I thought it would and I would be lying if I said I wasn't enjoying it. "Deal."
"Good." She smiled for the first time in satisfaction. "Now what?"
"Now, we meet my parents."
"Huh?"
So, here we are. With my parents. She didn't question much what the actual reason behind me bringing her here is. I'm a little surprised by how she trusts me that easily—or at least, to a certain extent.
Let's just say I'm creating a safe-house for her in case things go wrong; and she would need somewhere to stay. Might seem far fetched now, but you'll understand what I mean later on.
I gave her an encouraging nod, and before I could even say a word more, my mother was quick to jump in. "Great! Come along." She reached her hand out and held Basma's. Before any of us could bat an eye lid, she was already dragging her over to where we are having brunch, leaving me alone with my father.
Before they were out of sight though, she turned around and gave me a look that screamed we're having a talk later. I'm already fearing for my life, believe me, I am.
Lifting my gaze to my father's, our eyes met before we both chuckled. Leave it to my mother to be enthusiastic towards welcoming a guest—especially since it's someone I bring.
He shook his head, just as I came to stand beside me as we strolled after the women. "So, to avoid your mother's long nagging session, you decided to bring home a woman for the first time." He stated, having already got a hang of the entire ordeal.
I sighed, and shook my head sympathetically. "I cannot stand another nag please. Even she knows I need to focus on my current predicament here. But no, I know she won't. Instead, she'll talk my ears off yet again about how she's in need of grandchildren soon."
"Can you blame her? You refused to bring home a woman and you're turning thirty soon. You intentionally decided to stay in your penthouse rather than here with us to avoid the nags."
I can't even deny that. Bringing Basma home has nothing to do with what brought me to Maroudi. Truth be told, it was an act of impulse. I originally had zero plan of bringing her home. But, there's something about her that intrigues me.
And besides, she seemed like the perfect woman I can use to save myself from my mother's nags. Plus, like I said earlier, I'm also providing an escape plan for her in case she'll need one.
It's killing two birds with one stone.
So what is I'm the Ayaan Fadel to the others? Within the walls of my parents house—wheresoever we are, we drop that 'the' in front and go with 'Ayaan. The poor, unmarried guy that suffers in the hand of his matchmaking mother in need of grandchildren because she isn't getting any younger'.
She doesn't know that fame and power whatsoever. It doesn't apply within the walls of her house as she likes to say it.
Even now despite bringing Basma home, I could tell from the look she gave me that the nag is far from over.
God help me. Don't tell others, as I need to uphold my image. But, I'm scared of that woman.