Two Brothers, One Heart

Part 2: Chapter 87

Firdausi stood by the vanity, checking out her reflection and adding a touch more lip gloss. She rocked a basketball jersey over a long-sleeved black shirt, paired with baggy beige trousers. A game date with Mubarak was on the cards that sunny Sunday morning.

The house still held onto yesterday's decorations, not fully dismantled, as she gracefully descended the stairs towards her waiting car.

Stepping into the car on that scorching afternoon, the sun beamed brightly, painting the sky a vivid blue canvas. Firdausi switched on the air conditioner, feeling the cool relief as she cruised towards Murtala Square, where a basketball court awaited. Mubarak had extended an invite to watch him and his hoop-savvy friends in action, a chance to mingle with his business partners too. His thoughtful gesture of blending his passion with professionalism was truly admirable.

As she cruised down the smooth road, her eyes caught sight of a black bucket hat with a smiley silhouette perched on the dashboard. It seemed she might have left it there. A smile crept across her face as thoughts of someone special flashed through her mind.

Upon reaching Murtala Square, a vast field with neatly trimmed grass greeted her, housing a designated spot for basketball. She parked her car among the cluster of vehicles already there.

The walls adorned with what Mubarak humorously referred to as "funny graffiti" or public vandalism added a quirky charm to the surroundings. Graffiti, in its own way, was a vibrant form of artistic expression.

"Hey babes," Mubarak's voice rang out as he jogged towards her. Dressed in white faded jeans, a grey shirt, and his basketball jersey paired with Nike shoes, his chiseled physique stood out under the blazing sun.

"Hey," she cheerfully called back, ensuring the car was securely locked.

"Nice hats, where'd you get 'em?" he inquired, squinting at the hat as they strolled down the paved road to the field.

"Umm from a store I think. Flora, you know that vain dandy," she fibbed with a nonchalant shrug, casually scratching her penciled eyebrow.

"You look beautiful," he complimented.

"Yes, I do. Thanks though," she replied with a chuckle.

"Can't you say something about me too?" he teased, shrugging and raising an eyebrow.

"Oh, you were just doing so because you want me to say you look good too. Well, you don't," she playfully taunted as they arrived at the meticulously maintained basketball court, complete with hoops and bleachers. Among the few players, all boys except for a petite woman sporting bell-bottoms and a jersey that proudly displayed 'Ambrose.'

"I look good, say it," Mubarak joked.

"I look good," she repeated with a laugh.

"Oh, sorry, I didn't notice the henna, they're dope," he added with a smile.

"Hmm," she sighed once more as they reached the court, an outdoor basketball oasis bathed in sunlight, vibrant lines crisply marking the boundaries. The smooth court surface echoed with the squeaks of sneakers as players darted swiftly. The towering hoops stood ready, awaiting that perfect shot to swish through the net.

Nine figures graced the court, including Mubarak and the lady who warmly bear hugged her, enveloping her in a cloud of cologne. "Hi, I'm Tyler. You look radiating in person," Tyler complimented with a friendly smile.

Firdausi beamed angelically and glanced at Mubarak, who slyly winked at her as she playfully rolled her eyes.

"So, you won't even introduce your girl to us, TJ?" teased one of them, sporting a receding hairline in jerseys and knee-length knickers. "By the way, I'm..."