The Riddle Of Us.

2; HIS FULANI.

Jumuat Mubarak❤️

My comments! And enjoyyyy.

It was not the way she could never seem to pronounce his name, 'Qasim' correctly and instead, resorted to calling him 'Kasim' since she was young. Nor was it her innocence that follows her everywhere around, accentuated by her delicate Fulani genes that could be spotted from miles away. It was her entirely. Her mere existence as a whole, is the axis upon which Amir Qasim's life revolved.

He was not sure when it started exactly, when specifically, did he stop seeing her as his best friend's younger sister, and as a woman. When did that line between them get crossed, and suddenly she was no longer like a sister to him, but a woman. He could not say when exactly those feelings changed, but he would admit that the moment he realized them, the first thing he did was approach her brother about it. That was two years ago, she was only eighteen then, and he, was twenty-two.

He knew at that point that his feelings for her was more than just a superficial thing, and he thought the best way to go about it was to meet a mahram of hers. As close as he is to Ibrahim, the man indeed threw a tantrum and did not speak to him for a week straight unless when extremely necessary and when he had to pass by the 'salaams'. Eventually, the man cooled off and they had a serious conversation about it.

Ibrahim brought up the fact that she is young into the picture. Of course, she has friends her age and even younger than her that are married, but she is the pride of her family. She was only about to write her JAMB and WAEC the following year, and if she passes, she would gain admission to study Law, her dream course.

It was not the right time to talk about marriage. Not to mention, Amir Qasim's age and background as well. His family would never agree for him to marry that young, and to someone from a humble home as hers. So, Ibrahim tried to dissuade him from the entire topic, but he could not, and instead, just postponed it until she manages to get her foothold in the university. Then, they would have the conversation again.

Amir Qasim did not mind waiting, for no matter how many years it would take, he did not mind waiting for her. For Nusaiba Tukur, his Fulani. He did not mind the odds, all he knows is, if it is meant to be—and he prays it is, she would become his wife. For only in her, does he find the light in his life. Sounds cliché, but that is how he feels.

And even in that very moment that he felt suffocated by everything, he would be honest. He admittedly went to her house just to see her, knowing well she could fully lift the problems that have been weighing his mind. He found it to be astonishing that even in the very moment when he felt as though his life was crumbling, he still found his way to her. Is that not enough to express his feelings towards her?

But, it was all worth it, for that little moment he had with her as he was about to go back home. As he stepped out of her house with her in tow, a step behind him, her strides slow, and unhurried. Amir Qasim, upon noticing this, slowed his steps as well, so he evened his strides with hers, and they were walking side by side.

She looked up, her lips curled into a shy smile as she met his gaze, and then she looked down, trying to hold back her smile. "So..." She started, her voice low, and delicate—just as she is.

"So..." He prodded, his tone encouraging, knowing she must have something on her mind.

"So..." She started again, then chuckled at the ridiculousness of it, and how it sounds to her ears—an act that he as well found himself doing. When their chuckles died down, she finally decided to speak, her voice low as she leaned to him so only he could hear. "...are we going to pretend as if he is not here?" She made a gesture with her eyes to the other person by his right side.