No ANs today. I'm battling cold and Omo, Allah bamu Lafiya kawai. Who is watching Queen of Tears? Bro I cried buckets today. Can't wait for tomorrow's episode to destroy me wholly as well😂😭

Stay safe.
Love, Jannah Mia❤️

SAADATU'S POV.

KANO, NIGERIA.

"Sa'adatu." Yaaya, my father called out, dropping aside the Qur'an he was reading when I came in.

"Na'am, Yaaya." I looked up from where I'm seated on the carpet a few feet away from him. I'm surprised my voice came out firm, considering internally my insides were squirming. I tried to convince myself to not think much into him asking my brother to call me, but something feels off.

Sure, Yaaya and I have always had a good relationship, maybe even more than most kids do with their parents. And if I'm made to pick a favorite parent between him and Anty, my mother, I'd probably pick him—but don't tell Anty I said that. This stays between us.

However, regardless of all that and our normal everyday conversations with no worries whatsoever, I couldn't shake off this feeling of being called out of the blue to go to him. Normally, he'd either call me up himself, or come to Anty's, where we always end up having a good time all together—catching up on life and simply chatting away.

Being called to his living room out of the blue had me getting cold feet almost instantly. But, I tried to shake it off, trying to deter my mind away from any bad thoughts. I'm probably just over thinking this.

"I spoke to the CMD," He started, making me release a discreet relief of breath. "He said he had given you the permission to do your IT at the hospital, right?"

A small, relieved smile made its way on my face, glad this conversation is about my IT I'm supposed to start the following week. "Eh, I went to the hospital earlier and cleared everything. Sunce I can start Monday in shaa Allah." I came back from school just yesterday, being Thursday after concluding my exams two days ago. Considering it's the second semester of the third year, it's time for my IT.

Yaaya nodded, "Masha Allah." He released a small exhale. "Allah ya bada sa'a."

"Ameen, Yaaya."

He was silent for the next few seconds, and believe me when I say the silence feels uncomfortable. My mind may have been at ease due to the topic brought, but his silence had my insides in uncomfortable knots. The feeling of the calm before the raging storm.

I was right. His next words, they knocked the air out of my lungs. "Next year, by this time, you'd be preparing for your final semester in university." He started.

I could only nod, wondering where this conversation is headed to. "In shaa Allah."

"Sa'adatu, what are your plans after your degree?" He suddenly inquired, his undivided attention on me.

I was silent for a while, pondering his words. What are my plans after university? I've never really given much thought to it for real. It's always 'I can't wait to graduate' but the idea always seems far-fetched. As if it won't actually happen and I'll be slapped in the face with the reality of labor market.

But, really, what are my plans? I don't know really. I suppose NYSC follows and then the thought of getting a job, right? But, the thing is, I'm not exactly into the idea of pursuing a career in my degree. Given, we're in Nigeria of course so in certain situations, degree doesn't matter when it comes to work but I really haven't given any real thought into it.

I'll finish my degree, go for NYSC, meet a nice man during the time, find a job soon after and get married. That's it. Sounds farfetched, right? I told you so. Even I know life is harder than I paint it to be, but I just hang onto that because I really have no actual plans. I'll just be up for whatever will happen, ta panjama panjam.

My silence must've not sat right my Yaaya though, because his voice came, putting a halt to my direction-less thoughts.

"Do you have someone?" Oh. So, that's what he was referring to?

It's honestly the same response. I'm a hopeless case in that aspect. The idea of finding a job easily in Nigeria's labor market seems even more reasonable than my non-existent love-life. Sometimes I feel ashamed to say at twenty-two I'm single as ever, but I've long realized there are others like me.

It's not my fault—minus the fact that I'm always stuck in my house never wanting to step out except for school, but men these days aren't exactly saints. You'd meet ten men, and nine out of the ten are all looking for a relationship outside marriage before they dump you. The other one isn't completely excluded, he might just be willing to marry you but then he has a wife at home he's scared of and she would do just anything to screw your life over.

Toh, me yayi zafi? It's better to just leave her husband and avoid 'Malama hide my id' in Instagram blogs later.

Not knowing how to handle having this kind of conversations with Yaaya, I resorted to shaking my head no instead because words seemed to have evaded me.

He sighed, bobbing his head a couple of times. He was silent for a few seconds, before his voice came. "There's a marriage proposal that came through for you." He dropped the bomb, and I could swear my heart skipped a beat the minute those words left his lips. But, he then threw an even bigger shock. "Hassan's father has met me to officially ask for your hand, daman he has been bringing the issue up, shima Hassan in has expressed his interest amma dai, sai yanxu ne abun sukazo formally."

Hassan? The same Hassan I know?

I'm so close to screaming 'God forbid' almost instantly. I have a sharp tongue, but luckily even my sharp tongue knows not to act stupidly around my father, so I was able to bite the words back.

I folded my lips in, keeping my head hung low for I genuinely don't know what to say. I mean, I know my answer at the very tip of my tongue, it's a huge 'NO' for me but then again, I don't know whether I have a choice in this or not.

If I say no, what excuse would I give? That I just genuinely don't like the said man? My father wouldn't take that for a reason enough, not when I don't even have anyone else to present in his stead.

Arranged marriages isn't new in my family, in fact, it's more like a norm. My parents marriage was arranged, considering they are first cousins. Yaya, my only sister that's married, her marriage was arranged as well. And I, as the second born, it was only a matter of time before I joined the cue as well. I didn't mind...at least till the man became Hassan.

No. No way. Not if I have a say in this.

Yaaya continued. "I haven't given them a response yet, I told them I'd discuss this with your mother and you first." Thank God. I thought I've been given away to the man already. "I'll give you one week to think it over. Of course, if you have no desire to marry him, you'd have to bring a man to me. Ki kawo wanda kikeso. Or, your mother and I would have to make the decision for you"

One week. How am I supposed to find a man and bring home in one week? I did well to mask my emotions in front of Yaaya but all I wanted to do was too scream at the top of my lungs.

I could see it in front of my eyes as I made my way back to my bedroom, settling on my bed with slumped shoulders—still frozen and trying to digest the news. I could see my life crashing before me, like a building demolished. I'm honestly yet to get a hold of myself and react how I'm supposed to.

I was too stunned, wondering how my life flipped within the span of thirty minutes.

I'm not stupid, even in that state, I could see where this is leaning towards—an arranged marriage—the same familial tradition about to be passed onto me.

Only, as much as I've thought it over before, I know there's as much tendency of an arranged marriage falling through to that of it working. I mean, for one, I know it's nothing like that I've read in Wattpad novels when I was 14, going through that girlhood phase of day dreaming about getting in an arranged marriage with that cold brooding cousin that will be soft only to me.

Adulthood has slapped me right across the face, and that dreamed mine died along with the fourteen-year-old I was when I crossed over that phase of puberty.

The sound of my phone ringing jolted me back to reality, and when I looked to my side, my gaze fell on the device vibrating on the bed. Sighing at the caller ID, I tapped the answer button and brought the phone to my ear.

"Babes, ina kika shiga? I've sent you a VN since a Whatsapp har yanxu baki ansa ni ba." Faiza's bubbly, yet clipped voice as always came almost immediately. The girl can be the sweetest soul out there, but she can be scary when she wants to be do.

Only, at the moment, I couldn't care about the impending rant from the girl on the other end over whatever the hell she couldn't wait to tell me, and had to call to rant.

I blew it a large breath, not finding it in me to care about what gist is brewing. "I..." I kissed my teeth. "...I'm getting married." I stated dryly, my tone monotonous.

Silence ensued from her end, drawing the same blank mind as I am no doubt. Only, she recovered faster, her string of questions flowing almost instantly. "Married? Aure fa? Keh, wa zai aure ki? Does he know you don't have sense? Wait seff, aure fa. Sa'adatu M. Sulaiman ke zakiyi aure? How come I don't and have never heard about this man you're marrying till now? Don't get me wrong, I'm glad some man finally cracked that stubborn heart of yours, he deserves an accolade for it seff amma...marriage?" She rushed out, her confusion palpable.

I could only sigh for the nth time since leaving Yaaya's living room, sinking back in my bed, not bothering to remove the jilbab I had thrown on earlier. Instead, I slipped the head back, letting it and the string drop to my neck.

"Who are you marrying even?" Faiza inquired again, when she got nothing but silence earlier.

"Oho." I stated, as earnestly as I could. Clicking my tongue, I then added. "Perhaps, but I hope not...Hassan."

"Hassan?" She repeated, in a did I hear you right tone. "Hassan, your cousin that has been shooting heart eyes at you since you were eighteen?"

"Sixteen actually." I corrected. "Attended the same secondary school so he's been that way since then." I just never thought it was serious. I thought it was part of that age phase where you'll eventually grow out of it.

Apparently not, since we're talking marriage now.

Faiza hummed, "Well, is that so bad?" Her tone was serious, sounding genuinely curious. "He's not a bad person, right? And last time I checked, you are very single."

"Proud member of NBSB."

"Huh?"

"No-boyfriend-since-birth."

"Oh." She paused for a moment. "Yeah, all that...so, what's wrong? Is it that you won't want to get married, or shi dinne bakison aura?"

  I thought about her question. Which is it exactly? Don't I want to get married? Yes, actually. I mean, it's cute and all when you see couples and you go, 'God when,' and 'God abeg'. You'd want to settle down as well...but regardless of that pressure, I genuinely don't want to get married. I want to keep waking up in my parents house, chat with Yaaya about everything and nothing, get grilled by Anty and Yaya about sleeping in till 11 in the morning.

But, that's not doable, and sooner or later, I'd have to leave and marry someone's son and live with him...for the rest of my life. God abeg, the mere thought makes me want to shudder, and I did.

"I don't want to get married." I confessed, "I'm not ready for it, will probably never. How am I supposed to leave my life and start a new one as someone's wife, and as part of another family for life? My life will change entirely, I'll be saddled with responsibilities of married life." I've always wondered, those that decide to get married, did they have these same thoughts?

Or was it so easy for them to just decide to leave and live with someone's child?

Didn't they have any worries? What about being saddled with chores? To clean the house, cook three meals a day, take care of yourself and that same man? What if kids come into the picture? How did they handle the anxiety because I'm about to have a panic attack?

I'm a steady person. I hate change. I like how my life is going. I like having the same thing every day at night—my tuwon semo da miyan kubewa, has never been beaten by another. I like having just one friend I trust the most—Faiza, is all I could want in a friend and more. I like staying in my room with no social interactions—my phone, Internet, food and TV are enough.

I don't want any of that to change. I don't do well with change.

But marriage, it's the biggest out there. And the mere idea scares the living hell out of me.

"—I mean, what if I want to have my moment, to cry to my pillow at night or something then boom? I turn around and there's someone's child in bed?" I threw out again, unable to help myself because I'm genuinely curious.

Faiza snickered, and I could envision her rolling her eyes in the process. "That's what you're worried about?"

"Amongst others."

"Allah ya shirye ki." Her favorite phrase, loving to act as if she's older than I am.

I'm the older one.

By one day, but older nonetheless.

"Ameen."

"What about Hassan? Why don't you want to marry him?"

"I just don't like him."

"That's it?" She sounds like she was hoping for more reasons to hate the guy on my behalf. "Girl, I'll need more reasons to back you up on this."

"I just don't like him, bana son shi. That should be enough." We need to normalize not liking someone because you don't feel like it. There must not be a bad habit lingering to dislike someone. Especially when marriage is in the picture, you can't just marry and believe za'a chanja. It's not always as simple as that.

Faiza must've shared the same thought as me, because she resigned as well. "Yeah, you're right." A beat passed, then she added. "What are you going to do now? And how long do you have?"

"A week." I kissed my teeth, determination lacing my tongue. "And I guess I need to find me a husband in seven days."