Two Brothers, One Heart

Part 2: Chapter 53

Firdausi revved the engine of her bike into the parking lot at the restaurant. She wasn't sure about taking the job because she wasn't a foodie person. She had recently quit working at Creativity Haven because her boss was an asshole. She thought she walks around like she runs the world when she was just a mere artist using her talent.

She was planning to tell her family, but she didn't know how because she knew they would all panic and ask her to go back to her former job. She wasn't planning that because she was moving to Abuja after everything. Her boyfriend, Habib, was buying a house in Abuja, but she was buying it for the house while they both moved in. She was also planning how to announce the presence of Habib in her life to her family, who were narrow-minded. She was an adult. Twenty-four is adulthood, but they kept treating her like a child.

Habib was just a mere rugged boy who was their regular customer in Creativity Haven because he bought paint for commercial purposes and public vandalism. They drew graffiti on walls, and that was his expertise. As the bad boy.

She looked at her reflection in a car's mirror and could see how ridiculous she looked. She was sporting an oversized hoodie with trainers on her first day at work.

Just then, the car window was rolled down, and a little girl's head popped up, bursting into laughter and calling Firdausi different names.

"Children of these days got no manners," Firdausi muttered under her breath, eyeing the girl.

"Yes, they don't," agreed a voice. Firdausi looked in his direction to see a man in chambray trousers but without his shirt on, sweating badly while holding tools for fixing a car.

She looked at him astonished before looking away and said, "Sagir."

"Oh yeah, it's me, I'm back," he said, smiling. The dimple on his left cheek undeniably looked like Mubarak's. He was even his brother, a half brother who was so stubborn that he got himself in jail one day. He was younger, though. They hated to talk about him because he had a bad reputation in the family.

The last time she inquired, he lived with his mother in Katsina, but she didn't know anything beyond that.

"What are you doing here?" she asked in awe.

"Well, I'm back and reborn. You look ridiculous in this costume. How will my brother look at you when you dress like this?" he taunted.

"Shut up and wear your damn shirt," she said, slightly yelling, while he kept joking around. She couldn't stand his constant jesting, especially in serious matters. "What do you do to earn a living?"

"Nice question," he said, tucking his hands in his back pocket. "Well, I'm now a driver and bodyguard to that girl who ridiculed you. No drugs, at least I'm not the only one who landed in jail."

"It's called rehab, not jail. I don't sell drugs to people like you," she said offensively.

"But you buy, what's the difference?" he asked annoyingly, while she rolled her eyes.

"Same old Sagir. So annoying," she said while walking away.

"And same old Firdausi who doesn't accept her mistakes," he retorted as she ignored him and continued walking. "You'll look good in dresses," he called out loudly, but before she turned, he was already driving away.

She smirked and was about to face forward when she bumped into a mysterious guy. He was solid and adorned in a kaftan with a cap for a finishing touch, but his glasses disclosed his identity. They were photochromic.

"What will it take for you to look where you're going?" she asked angrily while packing her AirPods, phone, pen, scrunchie, and other items that spilled from her bag.