Over and Over

Delta

KANO,
NIGERIA.

LAYLA'S POV

The next few days unfolded like a slow, intoxicating dance.

Despite my best efforts to keep my emotions in check, Hakeem's persistence was impossible to ignore.

It wasn't just grand gestures or lavish gifts that he showered me with; it was the little things, the subtle moments that seemed to pull me deeper into his orbit.

Every morning, I would wake to the sound of him humming softly in the kitchen, preparing breakfast with an ease that made the house feel more like a home.

He would bring me my tea just the way I liked it—light with just a hint of sugar—and when I thanked him, his smile would be the most genuine thing I'd seen all day.

"You know, you don't have to do all this," I said one morning, watching him carefully arrange the fruit on my plate.

He raised an eyebrow, the corners of his mouth curling into that playful grin. "I like making you happy."

The words lingered in the air, and despite myself, I felt a warmth spread through me.

That evening, Hakeem surprised me again. After dinner, he invited me to the garden for what he called a "private evening under the stars."

When I stepped outside, the entire space had been transformed—soft string lights twinkling between the trees, lanterns casting a gentle glow, and a small table set for two with a candle flickering between us.

"Hakeem, this is..." I trailed off, trying to process the sight in front of me. "You did all this?"

"Of course," he replied smoothly, his voice tinged with amusement. "A little romance never hurt anyone."

He pulled out a chair for me and held my hand gently as I sat down, the air filled with the scent of jasmine and the soft hum of the night.

He poured me a glass of champagne , then sat opposite me, his eyes warm and steady.

"I've been thinking," he said, swirling the Champagne in his glass. "About us."

I immediately tensed, not sure where this was going.

He noticed. "I don't want you to feel pressured, Layla. But I do want you to know that I'm not in a rush.

I can wait... but I'm here, and I'll keep showing you who I am."

His words wrapped around me like a soft, invisible thread, tugging at the part of me I was trying so hard to keep closed off.

I couldn't deny how his presence had begun to feel less like an intrusion and more like something I needed.

The following week, Hakeem continued to weave his quiet magic.

We spent an afternoon at a secluded part of Kano, where he had arranged for us to ride horses along a quiet trail, the vast, open desert stretching endlessly in front of us.

He guided me through every step, patiently teaching me how to handle the reins, and as we rode side by side, I felt a strange calm come over me.

There was something in the way he would glance over at me, his expression tender yet determined.

His gaze lingered just a bit longer than necessary, and I couldn't help but feel the weight of his unspoken words.

"You look beautiful today," he said as we stopped to rest. "The desert suits you."

I flushed, unsure of how to respond, but he simply smiled and reached for my hand, helping me down from the horse.

One evening, after a quiet dinner, he led me to the living room, where soft music played in the background.