Manifesting To Be The Rich Man's Wife

13

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Amina's POV🩶

What I did back there was ignite a spark. I'm not just suspecting. I'm convinced that Ibrahim has a soft spot for me. Otherwise, he wouldn't have let me go or switched topics when I started describing Abbah.

"Amina!" His voice carried a warm tone as he called out to me. Hearing him sent a flutter through my heart, my smile widening before I remembered to control my excitement.

Turning towards him, I responded, trying to sound nonchalant, "Yes?"

He offered, "Your house is far away. Why don't I give you a ride home?"

"You, or your driver?" I corrected, knowing he probably never drives the car himself.

"Me," he said confidently. "I'm a good driver, and I have a valid license. It would be my honour to drop you off. Considering I'm the one who brought you all the way here, it's the least I can do."

"Sure," I agreed because I had no cash on me and my phone was at home, so contacting my father was impossible. On top of that, I couldn't even remember the name of the road his house was on.

With a gracious gesture, he guided me towards a stunning G-Wagon. The tinted windows gave it an aura of luxury, leaving me in awe at the sight.

I stood there, expecting him to open the car door for me, just like in the movies. However, I quickly snapped back to reality and slid into my seat after he entered. The car interior boasted luxurious features, including pristine leather seats. He pressed the button to start the engine, and while the air conditioning hummed to life, the engine roared into action.

"It's still so cloudy," he said, breaking the dawdling silence. I simply smiled in response. Then he turned on the radio, and the mellow beat of "Infinity" by James Young filled the air. Ah, it had slipped my mind—we were the only souls on the road tonight, with darkness enveloping the sky. It was past 11.

I looked over at him and saw a broad smile spread across his face. He looked utterly handsome under the soft glow of the streetlights. As we glided through the empty streets, it genuinely felt like a fairytale. I had never imagined myself in a G-Wagon, especially with one of the richest billionaires at the wheel.

"There's a stand open," he observed, slowing the car as we approached the kebab shop. "Should we stop by?"

I smiled and replied excitedly, "Of course, let's stop! You know, the only reason your people found me today is because I was hungry and heading to the kitchen." I continued with a playful tone, "Otherwise, they wouldn't have been able to find me without breaking into my room."

I pointed ahead and instructed him, "Park over there, quick!" a few metres away from the shop.

"Why?" he halted the car. "Let's park by the shop."

"If you park by the shop, he will see your luxurious car and make money off you. He might even double or triple the price of the kebabs," I warned.

"So what? Then it's his lucky day. I will pay," he retorted, unfazed.

I shrugged nonchalantly, still insisting on parking a bit further away. "Seriously, it'll save you money. Take my advice for once." After opening the door, I stepped out, and he followed. The air was pleasantly cool and breezy, a refreshing change because it had rained an hour ago. The scent of sizzling meat greeted us, and I couldn't help but let out a satisfied moan with my mouth watering already.

He inquired with a casual tone, "How much per stick?"

The old man scrutinised him from top to bottom, then replied with a sly grin, "N2000, sir!"

My eyes widened in surprise, and my mouth fell in shock. "Haba Malam!" I protested. "It was N200 before, but due to the rise in meat prices, it's now N300 per stick!" I clarified assertively.

The old man explained with a serious expression, "Believe me, meat really has become quite expensive these days. It's N2000 per stick because it's not just plain meat. There are seasonings, spices, and groundnut as well."

I retorted, "Even taking all of that into account, it used to be N200. Please, this is Kano! Things are literally more affordable here. I could maybe agree with N350 in Kaduna, but definitely not here."

He whispered to me, "Just let it be. I'll pay it."

I shot him a long, disapproving look and hissed back, "I won't stand idly and watch this injustice and corruption unfold right in front of me. No way! I'm telling you it should be N200 or N300. He probably noticed us when you parked, or he can differentiate based on the quality of your apparel."

"It is N2000, and it's a reasonable sum considering the current market."

I retorted firmly, "Let me clear things up. This isn't Abuja we're talking about. Nothing about this is fair or reasonable."

I relented with a slightly deflated tone, "Fine!" I glanced at the old man who had been eavesdropping on our conversation, a faint smirk playing on my lips.

"Your kebabs are overly expensive, sir. We won't buy them." I turned to Ibrahim and said, "Let's get out of here."

"What?" he wanted to oppose, but I interrupted him, grabbing his hand and dragging him along.

"Shut up!" I sizzled under my breath as we walked away from the kebab stand. "I told you we should've parked further away."

We halted at the sound of the man's voice calling out to us.

I muttered to Ibrahim, "Watch, he's about to lower the price and then eventually disclose the real figure."

"Alright!" the man yelled, panting from his jog towards us. "I'll offer you a discount. If you buy five sticks, I'll charge you N1000 for each."

"We said we don't want it anymore. Sorry, but we can't afford it." I told him firmly.

He then became desperate, his tone becoming more accommodating. "Fine then. I'll bring the price down to N250 per stick, but just for you since it's your first time here."

Turning to Ibrahim, I asked, "Should we buy from him?"

He nodded, replying, "Let's do it."

We returned to the stand.

"Make mine extra spicy," I bade, craving an intense kick of heat.

"Certainly, ma'am," he replied, heading behind his stand to prepare our order. As he worked, Ibrahim turned to me and asked curiously, "How did you manage to convince him to drop the price from N2000 to N200?"

"I didn't convince him. The price was always N200," I clarified.

He hummed approvingly, still smiling. "You have a talent for bargaining."

My brows raised slightly in response. I hesitated for a moment, then asked, "Should I tell you something?"

He reacted with a reassuring reply, "Absolutely, go ahead."

I drew a deep breath, contemplating my words before confessing, "I never imagined someone like you would eat roadside kebab. You know, I always thought wealthy people considered everything dirty and unhygienic."

He chuckled gently and replied, "This is indeed my first time, but I'm enjoying it because I'm doing it with you."

A warm flush spread across my cheeks, and I lowered my gaze, chuckling softly. "Seriously? But a while ago, you were so arrogant to have things your way that..."

The cold touch of his large hand when it cradled mine sent shivers down my spine, and once again, I was entrapped by his soft gaze. He murmured, "Let's forget the past and start afresh."

For a brief moment, I was lost in the depths of his eyes before I recovered back, replying softly, "We can't simply start fresh. You fired my father." I averted my gaze, and the man handed us six sticks, three without spice and the other three an intense, fiery red, just as I had asked.

He paid him the exact amount, and we strolled along the road, eating the kebabs as we went.

After I took another bite and chewed it, my taste buds came alive with the tang of pepper, the heat seeping into my tongue.

"How is it?" I asked while chewing.

He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, the scent of his cologne mingling with the smell of meat.

"Delicious," he replied in a low voice, his eyes twinkling with contentment.

We arrived at his car, and, after finishing my kebab, I started forcefully exhaling breath to help cool my mouth from the fiery spice.

I choked out, "Water!" when the heat was becoming unbearable.

"There's no water in the car!" He retorted quickly.

I responded in urgency, "Find one for me." The spice had reached its limit, and I desperately needed some relief to annihilate the burning heat.

"Where?" he exclaimed, his eyes darting around the area. "All the shops are closed, Amina."

I pleaded urgently, tears forming in my eyes, "Please find me some water." The spice had become very unbearable, and it felt like my mouth was on fire.

We walked further from the car, searching for any open shops. To our surprise, the heavens opened, and heavy rain poured down.

I burst into laughter, turning my hands into a cup and drinking the rainwater that was pouring down until I became satisfied after quenching the fire.

He chuckled, shaking his head, and said, "What in the world are you doing, Amina? Let's get back to the car before we catch a cold."

I continued laughing joyously, spinning around, excited by the rain beating down on me, while enjoying the moment to its fullest extent.