Love unveiled

Chapter 1

Kano, Nigeria.

         ~Amina

I descended the stairs with a lightness in my step, my long skirt swaying around my ankles as I made my way toward the kitchen. My mother, already bustling around with the morning routine, looked up from the counter and smiled.

"Me shirye ummi - I'm ready, Ummi,"I announced, adjusting the thin scarf draped over my shoulders. "I'm heading to Zara's place."

Ummi, a warm yet ever-watchful presence, nodded approvingly. "Homnam mama mako - Extend my greetings to her mother, will you? And don't stay too long—it's a busy day." She gave me a quick glance, her words half in reminder, half in affection.

"I will," I replied with a grin, before turning and making my way to the door.

Outside, the morning sun bathed the courtyard in a soft golden light. The family driver, Malam Musa, was already waiting for me by the car, his hands behind his back in his usual courteous manner. As I approached, he opened the door for me with a polite nod.

"Good morning, Malam Musa," I greeted warmly.

"Morning, Hajiya qarama— as the workers call me," he replied, his smile reflecting years of loyal service to the family. "Where are we off to today?"

"Sultan Road," I said, slipping into the back seat. "Zara's house."

He acknowledged my instructions and eased the car into gear, pulling smoothly out of the driveway. The ride through the bustling streets was familiar, the city of Kano alive with its usual energy. I  watched as vendors set up their stalls, and pedestrians hurried along the sidewalks, the sights bringing a sense of comfort and routine.

As we approached Sultan Road, the familiar tree-lined avenue with its wide, quiet streets signaled our arrival. Zara's house stood proudly among the others, its large gates opening as Malam Musa slowed the car to a stop.

"Here we are," he announced.

"Thank you," I said as I stepped out. The scent of burning incense greeted me the moment I entered the house, the rich fragrance of oud and spices lingering in the air. Zara's mother, Mami, a graceful woman of Shuwa Arab descent, prided herself on her home's warm and welcoming atmosphere, a blend of tradition and modernity.

I inhaled deeply, smiling as I made my way further into the house. I found her in the living room, seated on a cushioned chair, the remnants of her morning tea beside her.

"As-salamu alaykum, Mami," I greeted her, bowing slightly in respect.

"Wa alaykumu s-salam, my dear," the older woman responded, her voice soft but full of affection. "It's always so good to see you. How is your mother?"

"She sends her greetings," I replied, warmth in my tone.

"Ah, wonderful, wonderful," Mami said, nodding with a smile. "Go on, then—Zara is still sleeping, that lazy girl. She should be up by now!"

I laughed softly and excused myself, making my way down the hallway toward Zara's room. The scent of incense grew fainter, blending into the subtle fragrance of fresh linens and sunlight filtering through the windows. As I gently opened the door, I found my best friend still curled up under the blankets, lost in a peaceful slumber.

I smiled to myself and crossed the room. There was something comforting in this ritual, in the ease of my friendship with Zara and the welcome warmth of our families' long bond.

I tiptoed across the room, my grin widening as I reached Zara's bedside. I stood there for a moment, watching my best friend sleep peacefully, bundled up under the covers. The morning light trickled through the curtains, casting soft shadows on the walls. I resisted the urge to laugh as I leaned in close.