Over and Over

Gite

HUTginger007, here is your chapter. Don't eat me.😅😅

ABUJA,
NIGERIA.

NARRATOR'S POV

As night descended, an air of uncertainty settled over the room.

Hakeem, feeling the weight of unspoken words, chose the couch to sleep on.

The choice was deliberate, a silent statement marked by the indifferent presence of furniture that separated him from Layla.

With a sigh, he switched off the light.

The room was bathed in the soft, silvery glow of the moonlight streaming through the window, casting gentle shadows that danced around the room.

He lay down, the cushion beneath him a cold reminder of the distance he felt.

In the morning, he woke up to an empty bed. He approached the door, twisted the handle, and found that it was open.

He decided to order clothes before taking a shower.

Colors had always been a mystery to him, his comfort found in the simplicity of black.

Thus, he ordered a black jallabiya, six black casual outfits, and five white kaftans.

His order arrived swiftly, and he dressed in one of the beautifully sewn white kaftans, completing the ensemble with a cap and wristwatch that added a touch of elegance.

At the breakfast table, he cautiously sought Layla's gaze, his heart yearning for a connection.

But she avoided his eyes, focusing intently on her food.

Dada, with a knowing smile, probed Layla about her night, her voice laced with mischief.

The locked door had been no accident; it was Dada's doing.

The room was filled with an uneasy silence, broken only by the clinking of utensils and the soft rustle of Hakeem's new, immaculate white kaftan.

Ilham, observing quietly, noticed Hakeem's persistent attempts to catch her sister's eye, only to be met with evasion.

Dada, relishing her role as the orchestrator of this arranged marriage, continued her teasing questions, as she enjoyed the discomfort it brought.

After breakfast, Hakeem joined Baba and Hammad in the living room to watch a match between Liverpool and Manchester City.

After the Zuhr prayers, Hakeem announced his departure.

Despite Dada's attempts to make him stay longer, he insisted he had work to attend to.

Layla, seeing Mallam Inuwa the driver, quickly ran upstairs to her room, asking Ilham to cover for her, claiming she was bathing.

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LAYLA'S POV

"Babe, there's no parking space here," Kamil grumbled as he navigated the crowded street.

I sitted quietly in the back seat, watched Yasmin and Kamil's affectionate banter with a mixture of embarrassment and regret for tagging along.

"Babe, Layla and I will quickly pop into that shop. Don't go far; we won't be long," Yasmin said, dragging me by the hand.

I stumbled, my long jalbab tripping me up. I wondered what urgent purchase Yasmin had in mind.

But it was just a perfume. A single, ordinary perfume.