HER CRUSH

Chapter5

Zarah
Saturday finally arrived, a sweet escape from the relentless school grind.

"Who said school is easy?" The past month had blurred into a haze of lectures, assignments, and late nights, but Alhamdulillah, I survived. I thought the weekend would feel like freedom, but my excitement was short-lived.

Because that's when I stumbled on the biggest shock of the year:

Abdul had joined Instagram.

Wallahi, I squealed like a child, jumping around my room when I saw his profile. Then I clicked his picture... and my jaw dropped. He looked breathtakingly handsome. My crush meter skyrocketed.

But just as quickly, reality struck. He hadn't liked or replied to any of my comments. Talk about a buzzkill.

And then came the real heartbreak:

Abdul was dating Asma'u Abubakar Bulama....the daughter of the former governor of Katsina State. She was everything I was not: stunning, intelligent, accomplished. They looked perfect together.

Scrolling through their pictures felt like twisting a knife into my chest. Their love was obvious, the kind of fairytale relationship that made me wonder if I ever stood a chance. His family even knew about her....her comment on his last post proved it.

Jealousy consumed me. Ama had been right all along....I'd been crushing on Abdul hard, and he was completely oblivious. To him, I was invisible.

This morning, his new post announced his return to Nigeria. My mind raced. Was he back for Asma'u? Or something else?

My heart ached. Questions swirled like smoke in my head:
Will Abdul ever notice me?
Can I ever compete with Asma'u?
Should I keep loving him from afar?

But deep down, I knew the truth: Abdul was out of my league.

Glancing at the clock, I saw it was already 1:30 p.m. I dragged myself up, headed for the shower, and came out wrapped in a towel, my mind still stuck on Abdul's post.

"Is he really back for her?" I whispered.

I dressed in jeans and an oversized black shirt, plugged in my phone, and silenced it....ignoring potential calls from Farooq.

Oh, and I almost forgot: Ama and I finally patched things up. We hadn't spoken for a week, but she apologized, saying Farooq had been bothering her. I forgave her. I can never stay mad at her.

In the kitchen, I cooked spaghetti and stew. While I ate, Ammi mentioned that Aunt Ramla had gone to her studio. I planned to stop by later, partly to beg her for makeup, partly to beg her for money. Her shop was in U/Dosa, but I didn't even have transport fare.

So I turned to Ammi.

"Where's Chuchu?" I asked.

"They've gone to the barber," she replied. Then she added, "Tomorrow, you and Ramla will attend Hajiya Shamsiya's house for Iklima's wedding dinner. Eight o'clock sharp."

I groaned. "Ammi, I don't want to go. And who will take us there?"

"They'll provide cars," she said flatly. "And Ramla is doing the bride's makeup. You'll go with her."

I pouted, half-choking on spaghetti. "Okay, fine."
Ammi wasn't having it. She smacked my mouth lightly. "Stand up before I slap you properly!"

I jumped up, hands raised. "Ammi, please, just give me N100. I need to go to Aunt Ramla's shop."

Her eyebrow shot up. "Why? Where's the money Hafiz gave you yesterday? Two thousand naira, gone already?"

"Ammi, I used it for a data subscription," I confessed. "Please, just N300. I'll manage."

She sighed and finally relented. "Go inside my bag and take it."

I thanked her quickly and was about to leave when Ya Hafiz's car pulled up. He rolled down the window.
"Where are you going?"

"To Aunt Ramla's shop. Please drop me, ya Hafiz.

This sun will fry me alive," I said dramatically.

"Enter."

I hopped in, smiling at my luck. Chuchu sat in the back, happily eating ice cream.

"Chuchu, where's mine?" I asked, pretending to sulk.
He proudly showed off his cone.

I turned to Hafiz. "Ya Hafiz, did you buy some for me too?"

"Keep quiet before I throw you out," he said, deadpan.

We stopped at Ramla's shop, bustling with customers. I stepped inside, flashing my most innocent smile.

"Aunt Ramla, aren't you happy to see me?"

She scoffed. "Why would I be happy, knowing you only come when you need something?"

I laughed nervously. "You wound me! Wallahi, you're my one and only. If you get married, I'll miss you so much. The house will be boring without you."
She didn't even look up from her client. "Yes, I know about the wedding."

"Exactly! That's why I came. About my share and my makeup...

She cut me off. "Where's the money? Last time you didn't pay me."

"Ehen! But it was yaya Hafiz who said he'd cover it, not me. Please, will you do my makeup before we leave tomorrow? You'll be busy with the bride, I know, but please, wallahi, don't say no."

"We'll see," she said sharply. "But first, clear your debt."

I gasped. "Aunt Ramla, haba! You act like I owe you millions. Okay, maybe not millions, but definitely thousands... of favors. Fine. I'll do chores. Anything. Just don't abandon me, please."

She rolled her eyes. "You and your wahala."

I pouted. "Even Hafiz bought ice cream for Chuchu but not for me. If I had a real boyfriend, I wouldn't be begging anyone. He'd bring me ice cream whenever I asked. That's true love. Honestly, maybe I should just marry ice cream instead...it won't judge me, won't leave me, and it'll always make me happy... until it melts."

She  threw a comb at me, laughing. "Keep quiet, chatterbox! Aren't you tired of talking?"

But I refused to leave until she gave in. Finally, she sighed and handed me money.

"Here....N1,200. One thousand for ice cream, two hundred for transport. Now go!"

I beamed, hugging her. "Wallahi, I love my siblings."
At Smart Kid, I bought my ice cream, of course. The rest? Hidden away for my next subscription.

What did you guys think about the wedding??

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