1 of 2 - Shukr series.
{COMPLETED}
___
• His African Angel & Her Brown-Eyed Stranger •
___
I whispered to him as we continued to sway to the lyrics. "They say, 'every life is a story', but I thank you. Thank you for being part of mine, thank you for...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
***
ABUJA, NIGERIA.
Tick, tock. Tick, tock. Tick, tock. Tic--
She shook off the figures in her head. Insomnia be cursed, she had work. It was probably insane for one to be working at 2a.m. Perhaps, every single soul in the medical field had no sanity in them, then. It was better than tying her feet in running shoes and running about the neighborhood at 2, to say the least.
It was a nightly occurrence. No, in fact, when home, her work was mostly done in the nights - midnight.
-Mine.
That too, had a hand in her lack of sleep. She had gotten off work few hours ago just to be met with a bouquet at her doorstep. Fresh or not, carnation was not her most favorite flower, especially when it was in a vibrant color - pink. That color was too girly and it hurt her eyes. Whoever sent the bouquet was wis to have known beans about colors.
How could one send a lady flowers - pink flowers, with a black card?...coupled with the stupid message it had. It was lame.
Sadiya sighed. That was not what's on ground. Right. The more important thing or rather, question, was who sent them and how did they know her address? Could she have a stalker? She rolled her eyes at her dumbness. Of course she had a stalker. To her, having a secret-admirer was equivalent to having a stalker. The thought ran a cold, uncomfortable shiver down her being.
Your D.U.
What was D.U.? Rather, who was D.U.? Also, how in the world did they know her and vice-versa? How and when did it/they even become hers?
Her questions were left unanswered. She felt as if she was being watched. Sadiya scratched her nape, it was getting creepier as seconds passed. The bouquet was by her feet, the computer-written card in her hold. Her tightened, shaky fist crumpled it unknowingly, heart beating harshly against her ribcage. She quickly recovered, not wanting an attack when there was work waiting by the side.
Sadiya stretched an arm across the bed to grab her phone. She rose to her feet and got rid of the pink and black eyesore in the trashcan beside the building. Twenty-four minutes past two in the morning, eyes as dry as dust, she dragged her feet to the study table, began working, as well as studying.
Moments into paperwork, nose-deep into books, her phone rang, alerting her of the set time for a run. Sadiya threw her head back against the chair, puffing out breaths with shut eyes. She shut her laptop, gathered and put the papers and books on one side of the desk in order. Then, unknotted the silk scarf she covered her midriff-length hair in. It had been long she'd coddled herself with a day for salon de beauté, right then, she knew a trim was needed for the mass on her head.
