Since his confession to me, he never talked about it again and I never talked about it but it still baffled me!.
I stylishly asked my friends their view about it saying it in third person point of view but those fools said it was alright and there was nothing new under the sky.
Nothing new my ass!, I thought.
I didn't really know him personally as in meeting him in person but I'd been hearing and seeing people falling in love through cyber and ended up marrying each other but for me, it was not possible!.
A big F9!.
Argh...my brain volunteer shut down whenever I heard his voice...
Stupid, right?.
I'd registered for Gce and jamb, unlike my first exam. I'd cleared all my papers with flying colours. I scored above 250 in my jamb and I didn't choose any southwest universities but chose the northern side 'Abu' Zaria- my dream school. I'd stopped my online classes because the money was huge than what I could afford as a part-time worker. And my dad couldn't waste his money on a mistake like me. "A waste of sperm" according to my dad and I vowed to myself to make him swallow his words. I would work hard to become someone.
Zain had been helping me with my school processes and where I would stay whenever I relocated. He had become my anchor and he helped me socially, spiritually, academically, morally and financially. He was a blessing in disguise and a family.
He taught me Quranic recitation and Tajweed classes through WhatsApp every weekend. And he taught me government and literature every day. We had a special time and he would call me often. We always talked for an hour before we started the lesson for two hours. He never allowed me to call him because he said it was his duty.
Every time he called, he'd always ask me how I was and everything, including my financial needs but trust me, I never told him anything even though I deeply wanted to.
He was the one who registered me for Jamb which was supposed to be my father's duty. Well, I was no one to him except a mistake he wished to erase but it was impossible.
God really sent him to me as my guardian but I couldn't love him because he was married and had a kid. Even though I loved his kid so much, I always talked to his son on the phone.
I couldn't be a second woman. A second choice. Another woman. Second women were always the home wrecker.
I hated love! much more of marriage but loved weddings. I wanted a wedding but not a marriage of commitment.
Love was foolish, crazy. It made us do something we didn't want to do.
"Love is the puppet master while we are the puppets. It controls our heart anyhow to anywhere it wants. It either breaks us or makes us" I whispered, messaging my temple.
It reminded me of my childhood crush: the foolish young me.
I liked him with everything but never had the courage to confess.
He was my brother's best friend.
He was so handsome during that time, a hafiz. I really liked and longed him for seven years.
Crazy, right?, blame it on the so-called 'love'.
My thoughts were cut off when my phone beeped. I checked the ID and saw it was Zain, a big board smile made its way to my lips voluntarily.
"Assalamualaykum fluffy rukky," he said in his usual deep manly voice.
"Wakaykum salam" I replied breathlessly. Who wouldn't when his voice was so alluring and awesome?. Most especially when hearing his Quranic voice, it was worth dying for!.
I didn't love him but I loved his voice.
"Rukky rukky" he yelled, I flinched from his hard voice.
"What?!, You want to damage my eardrum?" I growled.
"Sorry, I've been talking to you but there was no reply" he chuckled lightly while I smiled sheepishly as if he could see me.
"I was carried away," I said, scrunching my nose.
"Carried away? To where?" He teased.
"Uh.., uh nothing" I replied flustered.
"Okay, I just called to inform you that the bus is moving by 2:00 pm and meet me at the garage at 12:00pm... " I didn't allow him to finish his sentence before I hung up.
My dream was beginning to come true. I was going to my dream school - Abu Zaria. I loved the school so much-more likely obsessed.
And I was travelling to the school along with him for the next 14hrs.
I am meeting him today but am I ready to face him?, I thought.
I left my shitty apartment with my luggage and I went down the street to meet mom in her husband's house before leaving Lagos for good. When I got there, she cried her eyes red and lectured me as a mother she was.
Yoruba moms are usually argh...and too emotional, I mentally groaned.
"Argh ...stop crying mom or I will cry too," I said, gulping the blockage in my throat.
I was going to miss mom, she was my best friend. We gisted, laughed, talked and played together, it was hard to differentiate us because we were...
She understood me better than anyone except for Zain.
Since when I'd talked to him about Zain, she had become a cupid maker, trying to set me up with him.
Typically Yoruba moms are always matchmaking, I rolled my eyes when I thought about what she did a week before.
Before I could leave the house mom made sure I read all that she had listed on a leaflet and made sure to promise her to follow the list.
*Do not interact with boys except Zain's family.
*Always put on decent dressings.
*Stay away from arizo girls.
*Always adhere to Zain's parents' rules and regulations.
*Always eat homemade food and always take your bath.
Always....blah blah
"Mom, I promise to follow all the rules and never bring you shame"I vowed, holding my hands up in surrender then pecking her cheeks before leaving the warmth of the house.
I arrived at the garage and searched for Zain, I never saw him before, not even his picture. I brought out my phone to call him. But as I was walking to the other side of the road, I collided with a hard wall which made me staggered. Closing my eyes to feel the impact of the ground but I found myself being held tight. A hand snaked around me then I heard a minty breath "open your eyes masoyi na"(my dear).
That voice!.
I opened my eyes accordingly and took in the beautiful sight in front of me.