HER CRUSH

Chapter6

Abdullah
I returned home around 4:30 p.m., my mind already half in Kaduna. Tomorrow, in shaa Allah, I'd be heading there. I wasn't planning to attend the pre-wedding event, but I'd be present at the dinner tomorrow night.

It had been years since my last visit....maybe when I was twenty. The details were blurry, almost like a dream I couldn't quite place.

This trip wasn't supposed to be a solo one. Sufyan had agreed to come along, but as usual, that girl got in the way. He backed out last minute, choosing her over me. Part of me was disappointed; the other part was relieved. I never liked her. She was changing him, and not in a way I could respect.

I pushed myself off the bed and stepped onto the balcony. The evening air kissed my face, cooler now that the sun had dipped lower. I leaned against the railing, staring out at the world beyond the walls. The streets were alive.....horns blaring in the distance, children laughing, neighbors shouting greetings across compounds. Yet in the middle of all that noise, my heart felt heavy.

People thought I had it all. The clothes, the cars, the confidence. They thought I was careless, free, maybe even spoiled. But no one really knew me. Not my friends, not even Asma. My issues with Abba... those were too deep, too personal, too painful to ever share.

Life, was like living two parallel stories. The one people saw and the one you actually carried. A laugh could be a mask. A smile could be armor. If only people knew how heavy silence could be.

My phone buzzed in my palm, snapping me out of my thoughts. An Instagram notification. I rolled my eyes, tossed the phone on the chair beside me, and exhaled sharply.

I hadn't spoken to Asma all day. Not after last night. Twice, I had called, but her line was busy. On the third attempt, she picked up, casual as ever, saying she had been talking to "a new friend." Hours on the phone with another man.

"You're too possessive," she had snapped, tired of my questions.

Maybe she was right., she called five times to apologize, but I refused to answer. I shut down my phone, not because I wanted space, but because I wanted her to feel my absence. To know what silence felt like.

Ummi name " flashed on my screen.

"Assalamu alaikum, Ummi."

"Wa alaikumus salam. Tuala ila nahiti, wa ana fi intizarik ala." Come to my place, I'm waiting for you now.

"Hassanan, ina qadim, Ummi." Okay, I'm coming.

I changed into a maroon jalabiya and slipped on my shoe , the heaviness in my chest refusing to lift.

When I arrived, I froze. Asma was there. Crying. Her head buried on Ummi's shoulder like a child.
Ummi beckoned me in. I greeted her quietly before taking a seat.

"What's going on between you two?" Her eyes darted between us, sharp with disapproval.

"Nothing," I lied smoothly. "She didn't do anything wrong. I just didn't like that she was talking to someone else."

"But didn't she apologize?" Ummi pressed.

"Yes, but....

"But what, Abdullah?"

I clenched my jaw. "I told her we need a break."

The look Ummi gave me was one I knew well...disappointment wrapped in patience. "I don't like this. Go and apologize to her."

I shook my head, arms folded. "I won't. It's her fault. I didn't do anything wrong."

From the corner of my eye, I saw Asma lift her face. Her eyes were swollen, rimmed red. "I'm sorry, Abdullah," she whispered, her voice breaking.

Ummi sighed and left us alone. The silence that followed was suffocating.

At last, she spoke again. "I'm sorry, Abdullah."

My chest tightened. I wanted to soften, but my pride wouldn't allow it. "Asma'u, listen to me carefully. You're clever, you know how to convince people...even Ummi. But whatever happens between us stays between us. If you ever involve her again, we're done."

Her lips trembled, but she said nothing.

"You think I don't see through you? Whatever you and your mother are trying...it won't work. I love you, Asma. Genuinely. Not because of charms or tricks. But don't test me. If you do, you'll see a side of me you won't like." My voice was rising, sharper than I intended.

I inhaled, tried to calm down. "Now tell me the truth. Who were you on the phone with for two hours yesterday?"

Her eyes widened, fresh tears spilling. "It was just... just a friend. We lost touch. We met at the mall, exchanged numbers, and he called. That's all. I swear."

I studied her, every flicker in her eyes. Deep down, I knew she wasn't lying. Still, I hated that she gave me a reason to doubt.

"Fine," I said at last, softer. "Wipe your tears. And listen carefully....if your father ever asks if you're ready for marriage, tell him no. Because I'm not ready. And if I hear from Abba that a date has been set without my say, you'll regret it."

She nodded quickly, still crying.

"Stop crying," I muttered. "Wash your face. I don't want to see those tears anymore."

She obeyed silently.

I watched her from the corner of my eye. As much as I claimed to love her, part of me hated what she represented....her mother, her influence, her world colliding with mine. I promised myself: no one would ever control me. Not Asma. Not her mother. Not anyone.

Later, I told Ummi I would drop her home.

The car ride was filled with silence, heavy and suffocating. Finally, she spoke.

"When are you going to Kaduna?"

"Tomorrow, in shaa Allah."

"Take care of yourself... and please, promise me you won't look at other girls."

I gave her a faint smile. "I won't promise. But I'll try."

At her aunt's gate, she reached for the handle. I caught her hand, held it firmly. "I'm sorry for making you cry today. I love you."

Her lips quivered. "I love you too," she whispered before climbing down.

I sat there for a while after she left, gripping the steering wheel, staring at nothing.

The next day, at exactly 4:30, I hit the road to Kaduna with my boys. The car was alive with their chatter....laughter, music, half-serious arguments about football and politics. Yet my mind was elsewhere. The road stretched endlessly ahead, familiar yet strange.

Memories of Kaduna tugged at me...my younger days, reckless laughter in the streets, nights filled with dreams bigger than reality. It felt like another life. A life I wasn't sure I could return to.

As the car sped past villages, hawkers balancing trays of fruits, and endless green fields, I leaned my head against the window, watching the blur of Nigeria unfold. For the first time in days, I felt something like peace.

But it didn't last long. Because deep down, I knew...Kaduna wasn't just about a wedding dinner. It was about facing ghosts. And sooner or later, ghosts demand your attention.

Toh save journey Abdullah...
What do guys think Abdullah in kaduna maybe it's a chance to zarah to meet her crush..

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