Shattered illusions

8: A long-time crush

Abuja, Nigeria.

Muhammad woke up in his spacious room, the dark walls and sleek furniture exuding an air of luxury. The room was a testament to his refined taste, with every detail meticulously chosen to reflect his sophisticated personality. He stretched, yawned, and swung his legs over the side of the bed, his tall frame unfolding.

He took his time, savoring the quiet morning moments, before making his way to the en-suite bathroom. The shower was a refreshing escape, the warm water cascading down his chiseled features like a gentle rainfall. He dressed with precision, his movements economical and deliberate.

The black suit he chose was a bespoke masterpiece, tailored to perfection by one of the finest designers in the city. The fabric was a rich, velvety wool, with subtle sheen that caught the light. The cut was sleek and modern, accentuating Muhammad's broad shoulders and lean physique. A crisp white shirt and a slim black tie completed the ensemble, transforming him into a vision of elegance and sophistication.

As he walked, his very presence commanded attention. His stride was confident, his movements fluid, like a panther gliding across the savannah. His tall frame seemed to fill the space around him, his aura of quiet authority drawing eyes like a magnet.

Downstairs, the spacious living room was bathed in warm sunlight, the elegant furniture and intricate rugs a testament to the family's impeccable taste. Alhaji Ibrahim Sambo, his father, sat on a plush armchair, reading a magazine. He looked up as Muhammad entered, a warm smile spreading across his face.

"Assalamualaikum" he said, his voice deep and resonant.

"Sannu, Ina kwana baba."

Muhammad greeted his father in kind, his voice respectful and affectionate. "Waalaikumu Salam."

"Ahh, Muhammad ya dai, muna lafiya?"

"Lafiya Alhamdulillah ".

Alhaji Ibrahim's eyes shone with pride as he looked at his son. Seeing Muhammad grow into a successful, independent man was a blessing, a testament to his own hard work and dedication.

"Ya aikin  koma?" Alhaji Ibrahim asked, his eyes sparkling with interest.

Arif smiled, taking a seat beside his father. "Alhamdulillah, baba. Work is going well."

The two men chatted for a while, discussing everything from business to politics, their conversation easy and relaxed.

As they finished discussing politics and the economy, muhammad met his mom at the dinning room.

Hajiya Fatima. A beautiful Fulani woman with a petite frame and a gentle demeanor. Arif's eyes lit up as he approached her, his face softening into a loving expression.

"Good morning, ummi habibty." he said hugging her from behind.

Hajiya Fatima's face lit up with a warm smile as she responded "Good morning, my son. How was your night?"

"Good Alhamdulillah."

Muhammad helped his mother set the table for breakfast, his hands moving deftly as he arranged the utensils and plates. His love for his mother was evident in every gesture, every glance. Everyone knew about the special bond between Muhammad and his Ummi, and it was a relationship that many admired.

Just then, Alhaji Ibrahim, joined them in the dining hall, taking his seat at the head of the table. The family sat down together, sharing a warm breakfast and engaging in small talk.

After breakfast, Muhammad pushed his chair back, smiled at his parents, and said, "I'll be off to the office now."

Hajiya Fatima's face showed a mix of love and concern. "May Allah protect you, Drive safely."