Mom silently stirred
the pot of ogbono soup as the smell
of beef stock whiffed the air. She tasted the soup and crushed another
seasoning cube.
“What? Are you here to
stare or assist me?” she asked with a frown, noting the way I had been studying
her since I joined her in the kitchen.
It was a Saturday and
two days after Dad decided to call off the wedding. Khalid’s parents had
promised to return to Nigeria to explain why they had to postpone the wedding.
The house had suddenly turned quiet. Mom no longer spends the day talking about
hiring the best caterer for the wedding or ensuring that she sends the invitation
to every family member. Instead, she would spend most of her time in the living
room, looking deep in thought as she stares at the TV.
“Mom, you can’t continue
like this. It’s obvious you’ve not been yourself since Dad called off the
wedding,” I stared at her with pitiful eyes.
She swallowed hard and
turned off the cooker, walking towards the shelf and grabbing the bag of semo. “What do you expect me to do?
Dance around after learning that all my efforts have been wasted? Rafiah, I’ve
spent months planning this wedding. Finally, I’ve told my family and friends.
Everyone knows that my daughter will be getting married grandly. What will I
tell them now?” Mom said with a shaky voice.
I could see her eyes
swell with tears as she leaned on the wall. “They’ll laugh at me, Rafiah,” she
said with a scrunched-up face.
I reached over to her
and pulled her into a hug. “We’ll get through this, in sha ALlaah. Let’s wait
for Khalid’s parents to visit. I believe what they say will determine the
success of this wedding. Please, Mom, try not to think about this. I know it’s
hard for all of us…but we have to try to remain calm. Troubling over what
people say will solve no problem,” I said as she cried in my arms.
“Thank you, my
daughter,” she pulled away and cleaned her eyes. “Will you help me prepare this
semo? I want to rest in the room.”
“Of course,” I
responded, turning on the tap and filling the pot with water. “Have some rest,
Mom.”
Her steps faded away as
I placed the pot on the fire. I was walking out of the kitchen when someone
bumped into me.
“Oooh!” Rasheedah
chuckled as she regained composure. She surreptitiously whipped up her head to
check behind her and returned her gaze, grinning from ear to ear. “I didn’t
want Mom to notice that I’m going out.”
I stared at her
incredulously, wondering how the lady, who had bawled her eyes out when Dad
broke the news, was smiling affectionately. Rasheedah was putting on a red
pleated gown and black veil. She toyed with the hand of her new leather
tiger-skin bag with her lower lips curved in a smile. “What?” she laughed.
“What is going on?
Where are you headed?”
She moved closer to
where I was standing and whispered. “I’m going to meet Khalid.”
“Khalid?” I glared at
her. “Does Dad or Mom know about this?”
“Nope, they don’t. So, Rafiah,
you think it’s easy to let go just like that? To accept that you’re not getting
married to the love of your life?”
“Have Khalid explained
the meaning of that matter-of-life-and-death statement? I hope you understand
why Dad made that decision?”
Rasheedah tapped her
legs impatiently. “Look, Rafiah, I’ll get married to Khalid. I know that for
sure. His parents are coming next week. They will see Dad, and all issues will
be resolved. Just like it used to be,” she adjusted her veil and gave me a
warning look. “Please, don’t tell Mom I went to see Khalid. I believe you’ll
keep this as a secret.”
“Yes, whatever. Just be
safe,” I stated as I returned to the kitchen to open the pot of boiling water.
***
I had just gotten to
the company’s premises when I caught sight of Asmau and Jamal seated in the
car. I could see Jamal placing a kiss on Asmau’s forehead and saying words I
could not hear from a distance. Asmau laughed in response, grabbed her bag and
alighted from the car.
As she strode towards
the company’s building, she spotted me standing by the gate and waved her hands
with her smile. “See my bestie!” she exclaimed.
Before Jamal drove out
of the building, I greeted him with a wave. Then, I walked towards where she
was standing and pulled her into a hug. “My pregnant bestie, Asalamu ‘alaykum.”
“Wa’alaykumu salam. You
look beautiful, Rafiah. I love your blue skirt,” she trailed my outfit with a
smirk. “Munir’s doing.”
I rolled my eyes. “Oh,
please. Munir is just a friend and nothing more. By the way, I saw you and your
husband doing mushy-mushy in the car. Well done.”
“That’s one percent of
our mushy-mushy. You haven’t seen us act romantic,” Asmau laughed as she
resumed walking. “What’s up with you? You look unhappy.”
“Ah, nothing really,” I
cleaned the beads of sweat that had formed around my forehead with my handkerchief.
“Rasheedah is still seeing Khalid. You wouldn’t believe it.”
Asmau shrugged. “I’m
not surprised. How are your parents doing?”
We stepped into the
building and hurried towards the counter to fill in our names. “They are trying
to be fine. Should I feel guilty for feeling somewhat relieved that the wedding
plans have been halted? I’m not pleased that the wedding might not hold. I’m
just glad that there is no pressure anymore. Mom doesn’t bug me about finding
someone real quick, and relatives do not visit anymore to lecture me about
making marriage my top goal. No one wants me to stop by Oregun to meet a caterer or pick flowers from Ojota.”
Asmau stared at me with
furrowed brows. “You should feel guilty.”
“Oh, astaghfirLlaah!” I muttered as we
entered the office.
Munir was standing by
the window with a phone pressed to his left ear. My heart flipped in excitement
as I caught sight of him. How could someone be so handsome, cute, kind, and
intelligent at the same time? If there was a perfect man somewhere, Munir had
to be the one.
I never imagined that I
could look forward to resuming work every single day. The thought of seeing
Munir dressed in one of his crisp shirts would make my heart race faster. Asmau
settled on her seat, and I walked towards mine, placing my bag on the table and
trying hard to keep my shivering hands steady. I knew Munir would spot me and
walk up to me. As I turned on my computer and noticed a familiar figure
approaching my desk, I knew that I was right.
“Asalamu ‘alaykum,
Rafiah. How are you today?” Munir greeted with a bright smile.
He was dressed in a
black shirt and a grey pair of trousers. I smiled in return, trying hard to
ensure that it didn’t come out too wide. “Wa’alaykumu salam. I’m fine,
AlhamduliLlaah. How are you, too?”
“AlhamduliLlaah. So, I
spoke with my brother yesterday. He was shocked when he read those emails. But
he didn’t send them. Farouk might be a snob sometimes, but he would never
ridicule anyone.”
“Who sent it, then?” I
asked.
Munir tried to hide a smile.
“My younger brother, Adam.”
My face blanched in
shock. “Your younger brother?”
“Yes. Farouk kept his
phone on the table in the living room…and guess what? Adam decided to play a prank by replying to
your emails. We’re so sorry. Adam has apologized. Farouk was so furious. I
mean, what if it was a business client?”
“Wow. So, it wasn’t Farouk.
Okay. Apologies accepted.”
“He wants to make it up
to you. Would you be chanced this weekend? Farouk would like you guys to meet
up and talk about writing.”
“That’s great. I can
always adjust my weekend tasks. So it’s a yes.”
“Okay. See you during
lunch, Rafiah,” he smiled and walked away.
I smiled in excitement
as I prepared to start the day’s task.
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