Roses & Bullets ✔️

~1

Ihsan's POV
Kaduna, Nigeria
August 11th, Monday
7:44 a.m

"Ihsan! Ihsan!! Ke tashi daga barcin nan fa (wake up)! You know you have school. You're in SS3, for God's sake, but your mother must wake you up to go to school." I heard Maami yelling, making me jerk up from my sleep and pretend I wasn't sleeping. By the time she entered my room, I had already started pretending to make my bed.

"Ah, Maami, ina kwana? Na fa tashi tun dazo (good morning, Maami, I woke up since)." I lied through my teeth. I know lying isn't a great way to start the day, but still, astagfirullah.

"Uhm, lafiya (fine). Ki yi sauri, baban ki zai tafi wurin aiki kuma yace (hurry up, your dad is going to work and said) he wants to see you." Maami said, looking at me skeptically, but I ignored the look she was giving me and ran in full speed to see my dad. I missed him so much! I haven't seen him for the past 5 months! My dad is the absolute best. And I'm not just saying that because he always buys me the latest iPhone even before it gets released or because he sends millions to my account. It's because he is so kind and understanding. His passion is helping the poor, and I admire that about him.

"Daddy!" I squealed as I jumped on him, giving him a bone-crushing hug. "Baby," Dada laughed as he embraced me. "How have you been, daddy's princess?" Dada inquired, patting my head affectionately.

"Alhamdulilah, fine, but I've missed you," I pouted, making him mirror my expression. I couldn't help but burst into a fit of laughter because of how funny he looked pouting.

"Don't worry, kinji, I'm not going on any business trip soon. I'm going to take you to Korea. I know you love that country so much, and BTS, right?" He announced, making me chuckle and nod my head. See, my dad is the absolute best.

"But, Dada, it's BTS, not BST," I said, laughing, making him join me and mumble an "oh."

"Who is going to Korea? Nobody is going anywhere. Ka manta ta na zuwa school ne (have you forgotten that she used to attend school?)" Maami burst my bubble, making my smile turn upside down.

"You over-pamper her, wallah, and will you go and get ready for school, my friend?" Maami glared at me, making me push my mouth forward in an annoyed manner, but nonetheless, started dragging my feet to my room.

"Get ready, baby, I'm going to drive you to school," Dada shouted, making me turn gingerly and give him a wide grin. What he means by driving me to school is that we get to stop for ice cream and do a little shopping, of course, I will be late for school, but Dada will just say something came up. I can't wait!

"You are not taking her anywhere. Nobody is going anywhere. She can drive herself. What's the point of teaching her how to drive at 16 years and buying her a car, but she can't drive herself to school?" Maami interjected, making me scowl. She is such a killjoy.

I sighed one last time and looked at my dad with a sad smile and headed to my room to get ready for school. I know you are probably thinking that I'm a brat and all, but no! Even though my dad is the top 3 richest man in the world, I like helping the poor, and I'm friends with everyone. I don't choose who I befriend. You may be in the same class as me, higher than my class, or lower. Allah (swt) gave my father the wealth, and he can take it away. What's the point of bragging about something that isn't yours?

I stripped off my clothes and took a nice, refreshing hot shower, did my skincare routine, brushed my shoulder-length brownish wavy hair. My hair was actually straight when I was born, but I decided to make it wavy, and yes, if you are wondering, I don't use to braid it at all now that I'm 16.I got dressed in my ash and pink uniform - a white shirt, an ash jacket with pink embroidery around the collar, and an ash skirt with pink stripes that reached my knees. I put on my long white socks that reached the middle of my thigh and put on a baby hijab designed with stones after packing my hair in a messy low bun. I picked up my bag pack and keys, then headed downstairs.

"Dada, Maami, I'm going," I hugged them, picked up two toasted bread that I'm going to eat on the way, and waved bye at them. I entered my black mini Cooper and roared the engine back to life. I'm 16, and I drive a car - it's illegal, I know, but as the daughter of Ahmad Abdullah, it isn't. The drive from my house to my school is just a 20-minute drive.

I parked in front of the prestigious school and entered. I peeked from the window of my class and saw the English teacher complaining about something as always. I rolled my eyes and entered the class with a Salam.

"Ms. Ahmad, you are always late for class. Why is that?" he asked the moment I entered.

"Good morning, sir. My dad came back from a business trip, that's why I was late," I replied, sitting down next to my seatmate, Hanan, who is also my best friend.

I checked my wristwatch and saw it was just 8:10 a.m.

"Dada is back?" Hanan whispered with a big smile. She is fond of Dada, and Dada is also fond of her.

I nodded my head eagerly with a smile.

"Ms. Ahmad and Ms. Usman, please direct your attention to the board," Mr. Henry ordered with a straight face.

30 minutes later, the class ended, and everyone was jumping from one seat to another.

"Guys, I heard Mrs. Samira isn't around today, so free period!" Jamal, the clown of the class, shouted, making us all dance in celebration.

"Amal, where did you get your henna done? See the way it is shining," I asked, looking at my friend's hand.

"At Deedee's spa, it's beautiful, right?" she bragged, shoving it in our faces.

"Yes, it is," I chuckled. "We should go there, don't you think?" Sadiya suggested, making us all nod our heads.

So I have three best friends - Hanan, Amal, and Sadiya. We are the smart but classy girls of our class. Hanan is the crazy one, Amal is the fashionista, Sadiya is the nerd.

"Who is coming for your open day, please?" Amal asked worriedly.

"My mom is coming," I answered, because if not my mom, who then? She takes my studies seriously.

"My sister, Janan," Sadiya answered, sitting on my desk.

"My cousin, Abba," Hanan answered, making us all look at her.

"Tohpaaaaa, who is this Abba? How come I have never heard of him?" Amal asked, eating my toasted bread.

"Yana Abuja ne fa, he just came to stay with us for two weeks, then go back," Hanan shrugged, trying to collect the toast from Amal.

"What about you, Amal, who is coming for you?" I asked. Amal's dad has passed away, and her mom is really busy; she rarely has time for her, and her big brother is in another country.

"No one, as usual," Amal sighed sadly, making us all hug her.

"Is this class a market square!" Mrs. Samira shouted, making us all scramble to our seats and bring out our biology notebooks.

Hi readers! This is the first chapter of Roses & Bullets. I hope you enjoyed it! Don't forget to vote and share, please!