Over and Over

Cyan

EL-BAAZ MANSOR,
KANO.
NIGERIA.

LAYLA'S POV

The laughter from the games still echoed in the air, but now it was time for one of the most anticipated moments of the evening—the cutting of the cake.

And it wasn’t just any cake.

Standing at what had to be seven feet tall, it towered over everyone, a masterpiece of confectionery art.

White as snow with delicate gold and turquoise accents, it was crowned with our initials, "H & L," displayed in elegant cursive.

I glanced at Hakeem as we moved toward the cake.

His usual calm, composed self walked beside me, while my mind raced with nerves.

The MC's voice broke through the chatter, "And now, the couple will cut the cake... but only after spelling the wedding hashtag!"

A wedding hashtag? I wasn’t even aware we had one.

My stomach twisted slightly in anticipation.

Would it be something tacky? Or worse, completely not to my taste? I braced myself as the crowd joined in, spelling it out loud, “H-A-L-A 24.”

Hakeem and I cut through the soft layers of cake just as golden confetti rained down on us from above, shimmering in the soft lights.

I smiled, but relief washed over me—thankfully, we weren’t asked to feed each other the cake.

I wasn’t in the mood for any cliché romantic gestures tonight.

Then the MC’s voice rang out again, “Now it’s time for the couple to exchange gifts.”

I froze.

Gifts? What gifts? The panic began to rise in my chest.

I hadn’t prepared for this.

What on earth was going on? The MC surely wanted to embarrass me in front of everyone tonight.

We were seated as the lights dimmed slightly, and a soft, slow melody filled the room.

Hakeem, of course, was the first to move.

From his pocket, he pulled out a small, velvet red box.

The audience erupted into applause, and the MC, ever the showman, grinned, “Oh, my people, please clap for Hakeem! First time he's doing something so simple.”

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t help but smile.

He handed me the box, and the MC dramatically urged me to open it.

“Your Highness,” he joked, “would you mind unveiling your gift?”

I opened the box, and there, nestled against the deep red velvet, was a stunning sapphire ring and matching earrings.

The stones glistened under the dim lighting, but before I could even fully comprehend the beauty, the MC had snatched it from my hands.

“A sapphire ring and earrings with royal provenance, from none other than Harry Winston!” he announced with flair.

The room erupted into applause again, the sound bouncing off the walls.

I leaned toward Hakeem, whispering, “Who on earth is making such a big fuss over a ring and earrings?”

He smiled softly, meeting my gaze with warmth.

“I don’t have anything for you,” I murmured, the embarrassment creeping into my voice.