HER CRUSH

Chapter30

Zarah
I was in Abuja because Aunt Ramla's due date was near, and Ammi insisted I stay with her. Honestly, I didn't mind....her house was peaceful, and she pampered me endlessly. Plus, the thought of Abdul hovering somewhere in this same city gave me butterflies.

My marriage to him was already arranged, and the more I thought about it, the more thrilled I became. At first, Ammi and Uncle Yusuf had objected, mostly because of the whispers that Abdul was planning to marry me and Asma on the same day. Just the thought of it had made me furious...like, excuse you, sir, am I on buy one, get one free promo? But eventually, with explanations and a lot of persuasion, Ammi softened, and now here I was... nervous, happy, and utterly confused.

Today, Abdul had asked me to prepare to meet his mother and sister. Ya Allah, the thought alone had me sweating. What if they don't like me? What if I smile too much? Or worse, what if I trip on the stairs and break their imported chandelier?

I dressed carefully in my sky-blue atamfa with black patterns, smoothing the fabric for the hundredth time. A delicate touch of powder, lip balm, and my elegant turban (ture kaga tsiya) completed my look. I stood before the mirror, tilting my head side to side. Not bad, Zarah. You look like someone's potential daughter-in-law.

After a light spritz of perfume, I hurried to the kitchen to pick up the cake I had baked for Abdul's mother. A peace offering of sorts. Hopefully, chocolate sponge covered a multitude of sins.

My phone rang, Abdul's voice instantly warming me.
"He's here," I announced to Aunty Ramla as I quickly wrapped my veil around me and grabbed my bag.

"Zarah, ki chanza daurin nan? Haka zakije?" Aunty Ramla frowned, eyeing my hurriedly tied veil.

"I'll change later!" I blurted and rushed out the door

Abdul was leaning casually against his car, that boyish grin spreading across his face when our eyes met. "My bride," he said softly, opening the passenger door.

The way he said it... my heart just gave up. Game over, Zarah. You're finished.

I slipped inside, glancing at his outfit. Black jeans, a blue-black plaid shirt, and a cap with "Champion" printed boldly across it. Typical. He really thinks he's some Instagram model.

"I'm just starting to practice the 'husband material' thing," he teased, winking as he settled in beside me.

I rolled my eyes. "Practice harder then, because right now you're just... material."

He chuckled, leaning a little too close. "Babe, you've got hair like this?" His fingers brushed the edge of my turban.

I smacked his hand away. "Excuse me? Don't touch. What did you think?"

"I thought you had our hair." He tapped his own head dramatically

Whoa, dude, you don't have to be insulting me! Are you saying your  girlfriend has long and silky hair?"
I have long and natural hair, Masha Allah, which is nothing to compare with his other girl, who has long hair but a relaxed one.

He shrugged. "I don't know, and I didn't say that." I know you will  try to pick a fight later, he concluded, fixing his gaze on the road.

"Who always looks for trouble, Abdul?" I asked, raising an eyebrow. "Is it me or you?"

He chuckled. "You look for trouble and pick up a fight always."

And I end up apologizing always, I grit my teeth as I looked at him.

He let out a laughter. "My Fadimatu Zara'u, gosh, I'm in love with you; I swear, I'm in love with you." noticing my frown. "Why are you frowning now?"He questioned