HER CRUSH

Chapter1

U/SARKI, KADUNA
Zarah...
I was sleeping soundly in my cozy bed, wrapped in my favorite fluffy blanket, when my alarm rudely jolted me awake. The loud beep felt like an insult. With a groan, I rolled over, slammed the snooze button, and tried to drift back to sleep, clutching my pillow like it could shield me from the harsh reality of Monday.

But just as I was about to sink back into dreamland, an image of him floated into my mind. Abdullah. My heart's wahala since 2021. The boy who doesn't even know I exist.

I've been crushing on him for years. And when I say crush, I mean serious crush ..: like, FBI-level research skills. I've never actually met him, but I've seen enough Instagram posts from his cousins to write a full biography. He doesn't even have his own account, which makes stalking him ten times harder.
Abdullah Muhammad Bello.

The name alone makes my heart skip. His dad is a wealthy businessman with four wives. Abdullah and his sister, Rukkayya, live with their Bahraini-Nigerian mother, so their Hausa is... questionable at best.

They grew up speaking Arabic, and whenever I see him in pictures, he looks like he belongs on a magazine cover, not Kaduna.

One day, I came across a picture of him on his sister's Instagram. The caption read: "Best brother 💕" and the comments section was flooded with "MashaAllah 😍🔥" emojis. That day, I zoomed in on that photo until my phone almost crashed.

And the obsession only grew worse when his stepsister, Hanan, casually promised she'd drag him onto her Instagram live whenever he comes home for the holidays. Wallahi, I've been counting days ever since.

"Fatima! Fatima!"

My mother's voice yanked me back to reality. I groaned, pulling the blanket over my head.

"Ugh, Monday."

"Fatima! Ki fito ki wanke kwanoni kafin ki tafi makaranta!" she yelled again.

I knew there was no escaping that tone. I rolled out of bed, still half-asleep, and shuffled to the kitchen. "Gani , Ammi!"

My mother, Maryam, gave me her usual side-eye. "Kai Fatima, if laziness was a person ehn."

I ignored her sarcasm and started washing the dishes, the cold water snapping me fully awake.
Okay, enough with the sappy introduction. Let me tell you who I am.

My name is Fatima Ibrahim Tukur. I'm 20, a second-year medical student at Kaduna State University. My dad, Ibrahim Tukur, passed away three years ago, so now it's just my mum, my two brothers, and my sister.

Ya Hafiz: Oldest sibling, works at Zenith Bank, acts like our father now.

Ramla: My makeup-artist sister who's getting married in four months, InshaAllah.

Aliyu: The youngest, and professional troublemaker of the house.

After breakfast and chores, Ramla left for her studio job, while Aliyu went to school. Ammi handed me some transport money, and I finally left for campus.

Outside, the Kaduna sun was unforgiving as usual. I hailed a keke napep, squeezed myself in with two other passengers, and tried to enjoy the hot breeze.

By the time I reached school, I was already sweating.
I made my way to my usual seat, dropped my bag, and heard someone tap my shoulder. I didn't even need to turn to know.

"Amatullahi." I smiled at my best friend as she plopped down beside me.

"Ama, where's my book? The one I gave you last week."

Her eyes widened. "Kai! Wallahi, I forgot. I'm so sorry!" She quickly dug through her bag and handed it over.

I shook my head, pretending to be annoyed. "You and your forgetfulness."

"Abeg, forgive me." She grinned. "Any gist today?"

"Oh, nothing much," I shrugged, pretending to be unbothered. "Just observing birds, clouds... and annoying flies."

"Hmm. You're acting somehow. Fatima, talk to me.

"No, nothing's wrong," I said, faking a smile. "Just one of those days."

She narrowed her eyes. "Okay, fine. Speaking of 'days,' Zarah Faruq has been disturbing me for your number."

I groaned. "Faruq again? Your cousin is stubborn."

Ama bit her lip. "He promised to take me shopping if I help him. Wallahi, ki taimake ni. Give him a chance."

I laughed. "Fine, give him my number. But when I finally meet Abdullah, don't say I broke your cousin's heart."

She gasped dramatically. "Subhanallah, this Abdullah matter is serious o."

"You have no idea," I whispered, grinning.

We fell into silence, scrolling through our phones. That's when I saw it. Hanan's Instagram story.

"Going live with Abdullah tomorrow, stay tuned!"
My heart skipped. Tomorrow. It was finally happening. I couldn't stop smiling at my phone

"Can you put that thing away?" Ama hissed, nudging me. "Mrs. Adama is coming, and you know she'll seize your phone."

I shoved it into my bag immediately. The thought of Mrs. Adama confiscating my phone on the eve of the most important Instagram live of my life was terrifying.

Class dragged on, but my mind was already at tomorrow's event. By 6:00 p.m., I was back home, exhausted. I prayed Maghrib, ate dinner, and flopped onto my bed.

As I drifted to sleep, I whispered a dua. "Ya Allah, make him notice me, even just a little."

Little did I know, that dua was about to change everything.

How was the first chapter!!!?
We've met zarah are you guys ready to meet Abdullah?
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