WHISPERS OF ENCHANTÉ

16: market trip

Kaduna State, Nigeria.

"Maa..." Yasmin groaned, reluctantly accepting the one thousand naira note from her mother.

"No one asked you to spend the money you earned, baby. And your father will be mad if he finds out, so no," her mother replied firmly, crossing her arms.

"But Maa, Madam Gloria gave me extra money! I can add it so we can buy fish today. I really want fish in the soup. Please? Pretty please?" Yasmin pleaded, her eyes wide and hopeful.

"Yes, Maa! Since she's using her own money, let's have fish today. Kinsan miyan kubewa'n ki da kifi duniya ne (You know your okra soup with fish is the best in the world)," Siyama called out from the other room, getting ready for work.

"She always wants me to spend my money!" Yasmin muttered, glaring at the door to their shared room where her sister was.

"I'm doing a project, Yas! I can't just spend money anyhow. My supervisor is some rich doctor who doesn't understand what it means to be broke!" Siyama grumbled back, her voice muffled as she continued getting dressed.

"These girls will be the end of me, I swear," their mother sighed, rolling her eyes. "Fine, buy the fish, but not too much."

"If not you, then who?" Yasmin laughed, wrapping her arms around her mother in a tight hug before heading to grab her hijab from the room to go to the market.

"You know we haven't talked about that night, right?" Yasmin casually mentioned as she rummaged through the neatly ironed clothes.

She had gone to the neighbor's house just yesterday to use their iron, as they didn't have one of their own. Their father still used the traditional one with hot coals, but Yasmin was too lazy for that.

Usually, she would wait until he finished ironing his clothes, but he had done them just a few days ago, meaning he wouldn't do it again until next week. They couldn't keep stepping out in wrinkled clothes!

"Which night agai—" Siyama started, then stopped mid-sentence, realization dawning on her.

She remembered Yasmin catching her talking to herself behind a tree after being abandoned by that arrogant footballer. Yasmin had asked what happened, and in her flustered state, Siyama had blurted out a jumbled mess of complaints.

"Ah, that night. Of course, you remember," Yasmin grinned. "I'm dying to hear all about them. I mean, they're such a mystery! Except for Ahmad. I don't think I saw Mahmud at the wedding."

"I don't know which one it was. I don't know their faces," Siyama replied, rolling her eyes as she thought back to the encounter.

Ugh, she wished she could have just hit him with the branch she'd angrily pulled off the tree that night. She had never been so infuriated, not even when her supervisor had asked her to start her project from scratch, all the way back at chapter one.

Yasmin was usually the emotional one, the social butterfly, extroverted to the core. Siyama, on the other hand, was the reserved, quiet observer. How that man managed to get such a reaction out of her was still beyond her.

"We'll talk when I come back," Siyama said, wrapping a navy blue veil around her head like a muffler.

"Sure, sure. And I'll tell you about mine too. I've met the lo—" Yasmin stopped herself, biting her tongue. Not now. Later.

She didn't want to start babbling about her mysterious Whisperwind just yet. If she did, Siyama, the most curious person she'd ever known, would surely be late for work, and they couldn't afford that.