Layla

Accidents... I hated them with every fiber of my being. They're like these terrible reminders of how quickly life could change, how fragile it all was. It's not just some abstract fear for me, it's personal. I lost my dad in a horrific car accident when I was younger, and it shattered me.

Now, every time I heard screeching tires or see a close call on the road, it brings back all those memories, the pain, the loss. I couldn't help but be hyper-aware of my surroundings, constantly on edge. It's exhausting.

I found it hard to trust others behind the wheel, always wondering if they'd be as cautious as they should be. It's made me overly cautious too, almost reluctant to take risks or enjoy the freedom of just going with the flow. I kept replaying worst-case scenarios in my mind and struggled to let go of control.

Sleep refused to take my consciousness away last night, all thanks to the fact that I witnessed an accident yesterday. I couldn't get a wink until the early hours of the morning which got cut short by my darling brother, Ya Malik.

"Layl," Ya Malik dragged my name. "You either wake up this instance or I cancel the brunch date." Oops, I forgot about that.

Ya Malik messaged me last night after he came back home about having brunch early this afternoon. I was too shaken to reply or even remember. I was always the one initiating dates with my brother except when it came to occasions like birthdays, graduations, him securing a big deal at the company, or when he felt intense surges of love for me, which was never until today.

"I will throw cold water on your face right now if you don't wake up." He threatened at the same time I turned my blanket-curled body towards him.

"Why are we having brunch today again?" I asked, still half asleep.

"Oh, I can still change my mind. It is not too late." He said with his two hands pinching his waist acting like a stern dad.

"No, no, no." I chanted while sitting up on the bed. I loved dates with my brother. I loved dates in general, to be honest. I was the one mostly doing the dragging, so I was not going to mess up my sweet chance to be dragged. "I will get ready in 20 minutes. Record time, count!"

"15 minutes." Ya Malik playfully bargained.

"18 minutes."

In about 40 minutes, we hit the road en route to the restaurant. There was a buzzing café downtown I had earlier suggested we go check out, but lo and behold, here we are sitting in one of Ummi's new restaurants. What a surprise. Who would have thought since we go there only 90% of the time?

"I thought we were going to the place I chose," I spoke

"No, we are going to the place of my choosing."

"But it hasn't even launched yet. Why are we coming here?" I asked fully aware that this restaurant is not launched until a week or two to come. It is fully done and furnished, only waiting for the launch date.

"I know. Ummi is delaying the launch date because she thinks the recipes aren't perfected to her standard." He responded while turning off the ignition. I knew that.

Ummi operated a series of 4 restaurants, each featuring a distinctive blend of cuisines from around the world, combined with Nigerian flavors and her uniquely curated recipes and flavors. So far, Ummi had nailed down a fully Nigerian cuisine restaurant which is the main branch, an Indian cuisine, a Lebanese cuisine, and a Chinese cuisine. She was adding one more addition to the collection; a Khaleeji cuisine restaurant, which will be made up of the Gulf countries' cuisine.

"Owh, so we are trying out the unfinished recipes?" I whispered loud enough for him to hear. "For our date?" I raised my hands in fake frustration.

"Don't be a brat and follow me. They are already informed about us dining here." He said as I joined him to walk into the restaurant.

I always gave it up to Ummi when it comes to every and every detail in her space to be nailed to perfection. The main driver of these restaurants was, obviously, the delightful food cuisines that celebrated the richness of these cultures. Each cuisine was crafted with care and attention to detail, ensuring a delicious and memorable dining experience for the guests. From aromatic spices to fresh ingredients, every bite reflects the culinary expertise and cultural heritage of the region the restaurant represents. Hence, why the restaurant is not open yet. When it came to appearance, they were always culturally rich and ambient, respectfully. The seating arrangements are mostly spacious yet intimate, allowing for both group gatherings and more private dining experiences, one of the many things that drive Ummi's passion. The kitchens were organized and efficient, modernly equipped to ensure top-notch service.

Al–Sabah Janti Restaurant, the Khaleeji, was no different in all these areas. The name symbolized a fresh start and tasty cuisine, a combination of Arabic and Fulani Languages, respectfully. Including the Fulani culture in almost all that Ummi worked on was to honor my late father, the love of her life, and I know that much because I partook a lot in brainstorming in different steps of every aspect of her work, which I loved a lot.

"Perks of having a chef mom," I said with a big smile, intentionally forgetting my fake anger.

"No, perks of having a restaurateur mom because your mom didn't cook what you are about to eat." He playfully smacked my head lightly. He pulled out the chair from the center table after we walked in and sat directly opposite.

"Hello! Good morning and welcome to Al–Sabah Janti Restaurant, Mr. and Miss Nyako. I am Kande and I will be your server today." A very chirpy lady said enthusiastically. "What would you like to have this morning?" She asked with a big smile.

"Good morning." I greeted her with a big smile. Her energy was so contagious that I couldn't help but be excited to talk to her. 10/10 for service already, I thought. "What do you have on the menu today?" I playfully asked.

"Everything?" She playfully asked back, her head going to the side, with an even bigger smile. Ya Malik had already mentioned that every finalized breakfast recipe will be served. "Everything is almost out for your dining. Would you like some tea or coffee to start you off?"

"I will have tea and he will have coffee. Thanks." I said while Ya Malik looked up from his phone to offer a smile.

"Okay. Your food will be out in a few." Kande said. Again, with a big smile. "Should you need anything, please don't hesitate to ring me." She pointed at the ringer implanted in the middle of the table.

I looked around the restaurant and even though I was familiar with the surroundings from countless visits while construction and decorations were going on, I had not dined to see it from the eye of a guest. Wow. Just wow. Everything was brand new, elegant, and cultural. The décor showcased intricate Arabian artifacts alongside authentic Fulani and Kanuri objects, a harmonious fusion of three distinct cultures. The Arabian Gulf objects, newest to the franchise, exuded elegance and mystique. Very low Arabian music beats play in the background and the aroma of exotic spices filled the air. My mouth watered.

"Ummi keeps outdoing herself with each restaurant. I'm so proud of her." I said with a smile while turning my attention to my brother who dropped his phone at the sound of my voice.

"Yep, she's always impressive, to be honest." He nodded. "And you too. You are always involved in these. I am very proud of you." He put his hand on top of mine.

I scoffed with a smile. "I was mostly involved with the initial stages of this restaurant. The school didn't let me give my all, you know. I wish I could have done more."

"No, you did great. Amazingly well and that's more than enough for Ummi. She wants you to focus more on your schoolwork than this. Besides, Malika was with her so there's nothing to worry about." I got a flashback of Ummi outrightly telling me these words in order to get me to focus more on my semester exams a few months ago.

"I am not worried. I guess I am kinda used to being involved in lots of processes in the other restaurants. But yeah, the third year has been beating me badly anyway. Things haven't been funny in school, at all." I said with a dramatic face.

"That is university for you, Layl, but you are even almost done with the year ai."

"Yeah, and then I will get to even harder classes so that doesn't make me feel better," I said as Kande and two more servers came in with our food. They all carefully unloaded and arranged the bowls and plates of different foods. Kande served our beverage.

"Hope you enjoy your meal." She said before walking out.

"Ooh, these all look good. I have missed you, babies." I said while lovingly looking at the food spread on the table.

Ful Medames; a hearty dish of fava beans cooked with garlic, lemon, and olive oil, served with bread, Balaleet; a sweet and savory dish of vermicelli noodles and eggs, sprinkled with sugar and cardamom, Khameer bread; a soft and fluffy bread served with cheese, honey, or date syrup, Machboos; a flavourful rice dish with meat, served with yogurt and salad, and Shuwa; a traditional slow-cooked meat dish typically served with rice and bread, and Chabab; a thin pancake filled with cream and cheese, my favorite. I have had all of them, most, only a few times while some, more times than I dare to count. I knew how to make all because cooking was my favorite pastime. Duh. I always went through recipes Ummi worked on or looked up online even if I wasn't going to try making them, or even better, cooked together with Ummi when she was working out and perfecting her recipes.

"I am glad my talkative Layl is back." Ya Malik said, and I stopped midway to take a bite in. I took a bite and chewed.

"I never left Ya Malik." I lied. My talking self left. I left. These past few weeks have been a rollercoaster ride for me. The sudden change had left me constantly feeling way less of myself most days. Everyone around me has noticed and I know that. But I'm taking time for myself to think and come to terms with my decision, keeping in mind how much it impacts my future.

"If you say so." He dramatically shrugged. "But I love this Layl." He finished with a smile.

"Look, I'm sorry..." He started. "All of these... I didn't know things would turn this way."

"What things? I promise you, I'm okay." I retaliated with a comforting face. He didn't look convinced one bit. "I have just been doing a lot of thinking here and there, plus school has been really hectic with assignments and quizzes so I have been buried in work, and there is..., "I trailed. "The proposal," I said carefully so that my brother doesn't hear it in my voice. The worry or fear or uncertainty. Maybe all. But I didn't want my brother to worry or feel guilty at all, which he has been doing a lot, I've noticed.

He came into my room way more than usual, messages to "check-up" on me daily even though we stayed in the same house and met every day and dropped me off at school more. Not only him, it's the same with Ummi and Aunty Yamaniya, but theirs's less overbearing than his. They usually show their concern mostly by giving me "talks" and trying to convince me even though I was already convinced and onto the idea. Or better, cooking me my comfort foods when I am studying, safe to say I have luckily been eating well even with all that's going on through my head.

"You know I am always here for you, right?" He asked with a serious face.

"I know, I know. I'm never worried about that. Now, I need you to stop worrying about me."

"Okay, I will." He gave me a tight-lipped smile. "I promise." He picked my right hand with his from across the table, bent over, and kissed it.

"Awn, you can be sweet sometimes, you know." I flashed him a sweet smile.

"Yeah, yeah. Let's finish eating. We've another place to go after here." He started eating and I did the same.

"Where are we going?" I asked, curiously.

"You will see." Sure, I guess.

We stood in front of the ice cream shop, and a flood of memories washed over me like a sweet, nostalgic wave. That place, where every Friday evening without fail, my late dad would bring us there – me, my siblings, and sometimes our cousins too. The old shop, with its quaint charm and worn wooden sign, used to be our haven of laughter and sugary delights. But now, as I gazed at the renovated facade, a mix of old and new, I marveled at how it transformed into a modern gem while still holding onto the echoes of our cherished past.

"It has been forever since we came here," I said with my glistening eyes.

"It has, hasn't it?" He said with a smile. "Let's go in."

The once familiar wooden benches where we would squabble over flavors were now replaced with sleek, metallic seating, and the vintage ice cream cart had given way to a gleaming display of vibrant gelato flavors. As my brother led me inside, a lump formed in my throat. The air was filled with the sweet scent of freshly made waffle cones, and the walls were adorned with photos of families enjoying their treats, a testament to the shop's enduring legacy of creating joyous moments.

Taking a seat at a cozy corner table, I watched as my brother, with a soft smile, ordered our favorite flavors, a blend of nostalgia and new beginnings. As the first spoonful of creamy goodness touched my lips, I felt a warmth spreading through me, grateful for the simple yet profound moment of connection and love.

"Thank you for bringing me here."

"My pleasure. Don't cry, my love." He hugged me from the side while he was standing. "I know you have not come here in a while. Remember when Abba used to bring us here every Friday." His voice carried a softness, a hint of melancholy wrapped in warmth, as he stirred his iced-coffee absentmindedly.

I nodded, a small smile playing on my lips. "Yes, those were the best times. Abba would let us pick any flavor we wanted, and you would always stain your clothes making Ummi mad."

Ya Malik burst into a fit of laughter. "How do you even remember that? You were just a baby then. But yeah, he loved this place so much and it was all because of you." I remembered how I used to always ask Abba to take us to the colorful building to get ice cream before I could talked, and it eventually became a tradition.

"You are right." I chuckled softly, a tear glistening in the corner of my eye. "Thank you for bringing me here today. I love you."

"I love you too, my baby." He nodded. "Let's keep the spirit alive. We will come here whenever we can from now." He reached across the table, his hand finding mine, a silent reassurance passing between us. Abba may not have been here with us physically, but his love and laughter still echoed in that place.

In that ice cream shop, I found a piece of my past intertwined with the promise of a future where memories, like the flavors of gelato, could be savored, and shared, bridging the gap between what was and what could be. One thing was for sure, my dad, Abba's love would forever live with me and all my memories with him.

"Let's go if you're done." Ya Malik said as he stood up and brought his car key out from his pocket.

"Can I drive your car?" I flashed the most innocent puppy eyes I could pull. "Pretty please." My palms pressed together.

"So that you crash it like you did the other?" He said with a knowing look and wiggled his right eyebrow.

My jaw dropped and my eyes rounded in surprise.

How the hell did he find out?

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Hello readers, 

Hope you are all well! 

How are we finding it so far? ;) 

Where are all the Ya Malik enthusiasts? Today's chapter is for y'all, I guess. 

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