TALES OF THE HEART (EDITING)

chapter 13

Sayyid

It's been nearly a month since I last saw Aidah. She traveled to Spain with her family, but she's returning today, inshallah. Based on my calculations, she should arrive around 3:30. I can't wait to see her—I miss her so much!

It's Friday, and I'm sitting in my office reviewing some plans Baba gave me yesterday when I heard a knock at the door. "Sorry to disturb you, sir, but you have a visitor," Patience, my PA, announced.

"It's fine, Patience. Please send them in," I replied, turning my attention back to the plans.

She nodded and stepped out, closing the door behind her. A few minutes later, the door opened, and the visitor entered. I was focused on my laptop and didn't look up right away. "Welcome," I said, still engrossed in my work.

"Thanks, darling," a familiar voice replied. I looked up, my expression a mix of surprise and recognition. Standing before me was a girl dressed in tight clothes that revealed much of her upper body. Astagfirullah.

"Hanan, what are you doing in my office?" I asked, furrowing my brows. She was the last person I expected to see here.

"What? Aren't you happy to see me, Sayyid?" she asked, leaning over the desk and making her cleavage visible. I quickly turned my head. "I missed you, baby. I came back for you."

You're probably wondering who she is. Hanan Ibrahim Dabo, my ex-girlfriend. We met in university and dated for almost three years. I truly loved her, but she broke my heart by cheating on me with a friend. I ended things then, and I hadn't seen or heard from her until today.

"What brings you to my office?" I asked again, my tone stern.

"Sayyid, I came back for you. I'm sorry, really—I've changed. Just give me a chance," she said, leaning closer. "I want you to marry me. My dad insists I find a husband, or he'll marry me off to one of his friends. Please, Sayyid, help me."

I sat there, speechless, unsure of how to respond. Is she serious? Me? Marry her? Allah ya sawake. I can't even imagine being with anyone but Aidah. It's always been her, and it always will be, inshallah.

"Look, Hanan, I have someone I love. I've moved on," I started. "I can't and will never marry you." With that, I gathered my things and left the office, leaving a shocked Hanan behind.

I met my PA, Patience, and asked her to lock the office once Hanan left. After that, I drove home, my mind racing with thoughts. It was already past noon when I arrived, so I went inside the main house and settled in, waiting for Baba. We always go to the masjid together for Friday prayers, and I cherished that routine.

"Uncle Sayyid!" Abdallah, my three-year-old nephew, ran toward me and jumped into my arms. He's Meera's son, and his energy always brings a smile to my face.

"Hey buddy, how are you?" I asked, lifting him into my arms. His laughter filled the room, brightening my mood instantly.

"I'm fine! Where have you been?" he asked, crossing his arms over his chest. This boy can talk for Africa, just like his mother—definitely inherited that trait from Meera!

"I've been in the office. Now, where's your mommy?" I asked. Abdallah took my hand in his small ones and eagerly dragged me toward the living room upstairs. I said salaam as we entered.

"Aunty, ina wuni," I greeted my stepmom, then turned to Mami. "Jam bandu na, Mami," I said in Fulani, giving her a warm smile.

They responded to my greetings as I sat down next to Meera, who was busy enjoying some awara (soybean cake). I reached for a piece, but she swiftly smacked my hand away. "Shameless guy! What do you think you're doing?"