Our Fates: Book III of the Fate Trilogy

Eight: I Hope He Will Call

The motor park is busier than I expected, and it's just 10:00A.M. Although it's partly my fault for not coming out as early as I planned. But what other choice did I have? I love to sleep.

Unfortunately, due to my lateness, the driver has moved my load to the park store, situated at the far corner, blocked by over a dozen new luxurious buses, meaning I have to trek all the way down the muddy road.

What nonsense.

Huffing and grunting, I lift the end of my beautiful pink abaya and trudge down the slimy path. By the time I reach the office door, my pink strappy heels are already caked in brown mud. Uggh.

As I am about to enter the office, I bump into something hard that almost sends me flying backward. But I manage to catch myself. "Ba ka gani ne?" I shout at the hulking form before me.

The bespectacled man adjusts his cap and smiles, as he's about to speak, a tall man in a suit appears from behind him. "Kina hauka ne?"

I gape at him. Me? Mad? How dare he? "Uwarka ce mahaukaciya." I tell him, widening my finger for emphasis. This is the insult that earns me a hot slap from Habib, especially as his mother is late. As for this idiot in a suit, he raises his hand, ready to slap me. But I don't care. I'm not a coward.

But the Ismila holds his hand, shaking his head. He turns to the man, then me. Even with the dark shades covering his eyes, I can tell that he's glaring at me. I glare back.

"My apologies, hajiya." Ismila says, bowing his head. I blink in surprise. "I didn't see you coming."

Without waiting for my reply, he walks away, the suit man following, but not before throwing one last glance at me.

"Nonsense." I hiss at the fourth rickshaw rider as it zooms past me. This is the motor park driver's fault. We had agreed that he would get me a bus to take my load all the way home, only for the driver to start listing out the things in need of repair that I would have to pay for.

Quickly, I gave him a piece of my mind, hoping that he would relent and accept my price, only for the fool to start raining curses on me, calling me karuwa.

I shake my head to get rid of the memory, the hurt. Me? Aisha Kabiru, a prostitute? I shouldn't be bothered by such insult. But I am, as it was my former life, a life I gladly left after meeting Habib. But with him gone, does that mean I would go back?

Just then, a black Range Rover parks in front of me. Surprised, I move back, clutching my leather purse. I look around. The park is a few meters behind me, and beside it is a bank with no one going in or out.

The front door opens and the suit man comes out. I move backward again. Am I going to get kidnapped?

He opens the door at the back, revealing the bespectacled man from earlier, sitting, facing me with a smile. "Sannu, hajiya." Ismila greets.

I eye them, "Yauwa, sannu dai."

"Where are you going with so much boxes?" He asks, titling his head at my things.

I fold my arms, "Home."

He laughs, "get in let me drop you. This sun is not good for your skin."

I hold back a smile. "No, thank you."

He shakes his head. "Foul-mouthed and stubborn, I like that." His eyes scan me from head to toe. I hide a smile. I've missed this.

A phone rings from inside the car. Ismila picks, smiling as though the person is right in front of him. "Your excellency, sir."

My ears perk up at that. He must be a very big man to be talking to an excellency, or maybe it's just a nickname. I eye the suit man. But why have an escort?