Chapter Ten
The Snooker Spot Where his friends had concluded would be their meeting spot was a little over twenty minutes drive from Munir Adam's place. Due to the hot weather, he had decided to dress up in a light cotton T-shirt and dark sweatpants.
The rain had finally ceased. It had happened one night and had been accompanied by growling and ground shaking wind. The rain had started at around 11pm and had stopped abruptly by 4:30am. Munir took a moment to glance around at the crowd in the open snooker space while his opponent took his shot. Most of the guys had on jean trousers and light t-shirts, while others were putting on short knickers.
"Oya o, Oga. Your turn." His opponent announced, burgling his reverie. "Wetin you dey think?"
Munir smirked as he positioned himself over the snooker table. "You fail?" he asked his friend in Hausa as he placed the cue stick between the curve of his left hand's thumb and index finger.
His companion guffawed. "For where? Dey play!" The brown skinned and average height man clad in a short sleeved polo and overwashed ripped jeans jabbed. "Na you go pay today," he said and after considering added in good English, "it's our welcome home gift for you."
Munir snickered. He knew that the reason his friends had invited him out was do he could handle the bill, but he was glad they had done so. Since he'd returned back home, he had barely gone out. The only reason he had come back to Nigeria in the first place was because a close colleague and friend of his had invited him to his wedding.
As Munir studied the table with its two remaining balls, ready to make his shot a conversation began between his friends.
"Hassan," someone with a throaty voice called, "what about Hussaini?"
Munir's opponent answered the question without taking his eyes off the table. "He's fine," he replied. "He's in town sef. We came together. He'll be here soon."
"Abeg, talk true." Throaty voice ordered.
"Wallahi, Sani." Hassan laughed. "Momsy asked him to come so he could meet Fatty. They are planning on getting married."
The last sentence from Hassan's words shook Munir that it ended up costing him the game. He watched with unseeing eyes as the white ball bounced off the walls of the snooker table, completely missing its pot. He didn't have to rank his brain to figure out who his friend was referring to. It was Fatiha, his sister's best friend.
Munir let his hand slide down to his side as he thought about what he'd just heard. But she was engaged, he mused. Then why would she be getting married to someone else? Nothing was making sense, he concluded with a frustrated exhale. One time she's defending that faceless fiancé of hers and now, she's getting married to another man? He couldn't understand a thing that went on around that woman!
"Yes! Yes, yes, yes!" Hassan cheered as he grabbed his cue stick and charged for the table.
"What happened?" Another guy rushed inside with his phone pressed to his ear. His small eyes big in his small head as he scanned the open area for what could have possibly happened to eject such jubilee.
Sani shook his head, mirth evident in his big black eyes. "Nothing o, just that our Royal Architect has failed."
Munir shifted from the table to take a seat at the mention of his friends nickname for him. Ever since they had been young, Munir had decided to become an architect. So, when he had gone abroad to study his friends had began to call him the 'Royal Architect'. The royal didn't seat well with him but he couldn't blame them because he was in fact from one of the royal families in his town.
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