CONNECTED HEARTS

27: The Intriguing Enigma

Kaltoom's POV

I've been sleeping like a corpse ever since we returned from Niger, probably due to the exhaustion of traveling. Faruk was waiting for us at the airport and swooped me away, despite the Salmans' offer to drop me off. I didn't mind, though - I've missed my brother terribly. It's weird being without Khalid's constant presence, but Faruk's been stuck to me like glue since I finished boarding school. I'm used to having him around, so it's nice to have him back in my daily life.

My family was overjoyed to have me back, and Ammi made sure the Salmans were well-fed before they headed home. Now, as I sat lost in thought, my phone's vibration brought me back to reality. Amani's been blowing up my phone, and I couldn't help but chuckle at her persistence. She's been on my mind a lot since I got back, and I guess she's not letting me forget about her.

I picked up my phone, and Amani announced she was just two minutes away from our house. I reluctantly dragged myself to the shower, and by the time I came out, she was already sprawled on my bed, chatting with someone. Turns out it was her brother Salman, the one who works in Mexico and is hardly ever around. Amani demanded a full debrief on our trip to China and Maradi, and I filled her in on all the juicy details, showing her pictures of Raudha and Nidhal. "I'm so jealous, they stole my BFF's!" she joked, pouting playfully. I teased her, saying, "Well, only for a day, dumbass," and she mouthed a sheepish "Right."

We headed to Ammi's room, disturbing her peace on the balcony, and then made our way downstairs, following the heavenly aroma wafting from the kitchen. The dining area was already set up, and my stomach growled in anticipation. I grabbed a can of Hollandia, while Amani opted for a chilled fruit juice, and we headed to the table. Ammi had outdone herself - Waina, vegetable and liver sauce, roasted chicken, and an assortment of local drinks: Local Chapman, Kunun Aya, and zobo. It was going to be a feast!

I hadn't finished raving about the dessert - the red velvet cake, cupcakes, and coconut rice were the perfect finale. "Ammi, you are the best!" Amani exclaimed, and I chimed in, "And we love you, just so you know." We grabbed plates, and I piled mine high with Waina and liver sauce. Just as I was about to serve myself, Ammi appeared with Abee, a sly glint in her eye. "I set this table for my husband, not for two unproductive fellows," she teased. We greeted Abee, still raving about the meal, and he good-naturedly intervened, asking us to sit and eat.

Amani and I didn't need to be told twice - we dug in immediately. Ammi's cutlery and dishes were, as always, impeccable. Faruk joined us shortly, and Amani and I were the first to finish, having sampled everything on display. Aishatu was tasked with clearing the untouched drinks we'd brought to the table. I took a glass of the fragrant Local Chapman and headed to the garden, checking my phone on the way. I had missed calls from Laila and Adyan, and I returned Laila's call first, which quickly turned into a video call. Then, I called Adyan, and Amani gave me some space - or so she claimed. We ended up talking for almost an hour, both of us surprised by how easily the conversation flowed. Now, I was curious about what Amani was up to, and I excused myself to go find out.

After an eternity of a week, I'm back to my routine, and although a part of me wishes I was in Egypt, soaking up the Arab culture and experiences, I'd still choose my family - Mom, Dad, Khalid, and Faruk - and my dear friends Amani and Laila. And, if I'm being honest, a tiny voice in my head whispers "Adyyyaaan." When did I become so obsessed with Mr. Ego? It's official: I'm hopeless! Or maybe not? Adyan's not that bad, is he?

Life's fallen into a comfortable rhythm - school, sleepovers, and indulging in luxuries courtesy of our brothers. Khalid's absence is felt, especially since I miss him dearly and love borrowing his tees. Dad and Faruk spoil me rotten, while Mom keeps me in check with her scolding. As for Adyan, that enigma hasn't reached out in two weeks. I've visited the Salmans' mansion a few times, but he's been MIA. I couldn't ask about him without Laila teasing me mercilessly, and definitely not his mom. The mystery surrounding Adyan only seems to deepen.

I'd tried calling Adyan twice, but he seemed either too busy or too tired to talk, so I gave up and decided to ignore him. On this cool Thursday evening, the morning rain had left the city feeling fresh. I grabbed my car keys and told Mom I'd be heading to Amani's, but she reminded me not to stay too long. As I drove, I listened to Maher Zain's "Rahmatu lil alameen," letting the soothing music wash over me. My phone kept beeping with incoming calls, but I wasn't in the mood to talk. I wasn't even sure if I'd still go to Amani's; maybe I'd just drive around and head home.

The phone beeped again, and I finally checked the caller ID. My heart skipped a beat when I saw Adyan's name. I felt a surge of excitement, but I decided to play it cool. I cleared my throat and answered the call with a calm tone, "Hey! As-salamu alaykum?" Adyan heaved a sigh before responding, and I couldn't help but wonder what was behind his sudden call.

"Wa 'alaykum salam, where are you? You gave me a fright," Adyan said, his voice low and smooth. I responded with a hint of playfulness, "Oh, so you care!" He chuckled, and I was struck by his accent - it was unique, neither American nor British, just... him. "Come on, I'm at your house. Are you on your way back or...?" I cut him off, "On my way home," and hung up, taking a U-turn to head back.

Amani would kill me for changing plans last minute, but she'd forgive me when she finds out it was for Adyan. I arrived home, honked at the gate, and headed to my room. Seeing his car, a shiny new Mercedes C300 4Matic, I felt a flutter. I freshened up, applying lip gloss and wearing a coffee-brown jilbab over my black abaya. A spritz of Dior perfume and a confident glance in the mirror later, I sauntered out to meet Adyan and Mom in the guest parlor. I greeted them with a salaam, and they responded warmly as I entered.

Mom excused herself, leaving Adyan and me alone. I sat down on the sofa, and he stood up, walking towards me. I couldn't help but notice the Armani sunglasses tucked into his pocket, the stunning blue kaftan, and the Gucci watch on his wrist. He looked like a runway model, and I felt my heart skip a beat. "Astagrillah!" I whispered to myself, shocked by his handsomeness.

To my surprise, he sat down on the sofa next to mine, close enough for me to feel his presence. "Still upset with me?" he asked out of the blue. I shot back, "Who said I was upset? And for what exactly?" He smirked, and those dimples appeared, making my heart flutter. I internally slapped myself, trying to snap out of it. "Stop swooning!" I told myself, but it was hard to resist the charm emanating from him.

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