Her plan failed. Literally.

Because she had done her absolute best to get in contact with Asad, but to no avail. She tried calling him too, but he never picked up. She tried messages, Allah knows how many messages she dropped but none got answered.

She complained to Tauhida who was still in Nigeria but was planning to return to the UK with Nana and Farrah, but all she got from the woman was the same response. In her words, he's still in contact with his father and grandmother. But perhaps, he didn't see her call that's why he hadn't replied.

Yasmeen knew that's impossible, and that Tauhida was simply trying to lessen the blow for her. She didn't want to certify Yasmeen's thoughts that she might've done some permanent damage to her marriage.

That he by all means saw her messages, and calls—but choose to ignore it intentionally.

It shouldn't hurt much because Yasmeen knew what she did was wrong, but she couldn't help but feel that way. Allah knows how many times she cried because she wasn't getting through to him.

To say she was wrecked will be an understatement though. She had taken a 360 from worrying about her existence to worrying about how to win him back. Nothing worked though, up until a week ago.

Whilst still staying at her parents' house, she suddenly received a book bouquet one day delivered to her house. The wrapping was a mess, because it's obvious the person who made it had never tried that before.

And besides, how many people can make book bouquets?

Truth be told, that one wasn't exactly appealing—anyone could see it. But regardless, it's the intention that truly matters.

That one was made of three books, somehow placed together and wrapped like a bouquet.

At first, she vehemently turned it down reminding them all that she is still a married woman and on no circumstance will she receive a gift from any man no matter how heartwarming it was.

But for some reason, even her mother convinced her convinced her to open the letter that came with the bouquet—perched right in between the pages of the first book.

Hesitantly, she pulled out the letter, not interested in the least bit.

She couldn't help but wonder why her mother would go along with such a thing. After reading the first few lines though, she was sold.

I.

Dearest Yasmeen,

I am not sure about this, but from the few books of yours I've read—no, I didn't pick it up intentionally; I just accidentally happened to stumble and read them. But, I've come to realize women love hand written letters, and I also remember you once saying something like that so...here I am.

I never thought I'd be the one to sit and do something like this. Truth be told, I've never done this before so my work will be all rusty but well, I hope it turns out well.

I will forever remember the first day I met you. My first impression of you was, 'This woman has some loose screws'. Truth be told, a part of me still holds that impression regarding you because well, you know how you are—I've seen a lot of crazy Yasmeen side that I doubt there's anything else you'll do to take be aback.

But, like I was saying, my literal impression of you was simply wondering whether you're in your right sense. I'm still yet to know what happened for you to treat me that way—you owe me an explanation, no corner corner—but I'll speak from my point of view.

'Who is this short, hot tempered, and crazy woman?' I wondered throughout our first conversation. I never thought that woman—you—would make me lose control and make me crash hard. I'm going to need some navigation system in order to navigate myself to you—hopefully, no turbulence would be enough to stir me away.

In case you don't get it, this is me letting you know that I'm going to woo you. I'm going to do it the right way, since we never got the chance to do so. This time, you shouldn't worry about bumpy rides; I'll make sure the flight is smooth all the way.

And yes, that's me using cheesy pilot pick-up lines. Sue me, Barrister.

Love, Bros (I still hate this name).

She reached her hand out to clasp it around her mouth to stop herself from letting out a squeal. She truly found it hard to hold back her grin, and she didn't. She ended up letting out a small squeal and a slight dance—forgetting that her mother is there.

When she realized it though, she looked up to meet her mother's knowing gaze and smile—obviously being involved in this whole thing. Yasmeen was quick to excuse herself and disappear to her room.

For a brief second, she wondered whether someone was playing tricks on her by pretending to be him. But that encounter, it's impossible for someone to play such tricks on her, right?

Still in worry, she called Tauhida to inquire whether the man is in town but the woman was as clueless as she is. Wanting to try her luck, she hastily picked up her phone and tried to call him, but like the other days, he didn't pick up.

Bumped, she dumped the bouquet and letter on the chair in her room—her mood dampened. She didn't want to get her hopes high as much as she wanted to. She simply convinced herself to let go of it and not give it much thought.

Then the next day came, and yet again, she got a bouquet of books with another letter. This raised more suspicious in her, but she still received it hesitantly. Not that she was given much of a choice—Mama practically forced her to receive the bouquet.

That day, it looked much worse than it did the day before. The paper wrap was all scrunched up, and the gum used to patch it all together stuck to one of the three books in the bouquet. Yet again, there was another letter there, perched up nicely though not seeming to belong to such a mess.

L.

Dearest Fake Baby,

First of all, I HATE making these book bouquets. How can one even make something like that? I've been on it for hours, and it still looks terrible.

That aside...

This is me bringing us back to the second time we met. I'm sure the memory is fresh in your mind as much as it's in mine. Who would've thought me making you my fake lover will turn into what we have?

Your book infested brain probably saw it coming, don't deny it. You were hoping to have that 'book moment' of yours, weren't you? Tell me how that's going for you?

Am I living up to your fictional men or not?

But, to the fake baby I met back then; you still left the impression of having loose screws to me. And at the same time, I had the exact same feelings towards you just as the day I first met you.

To the girl who suddenly got into a random stranger's car, STOP GOING INTO RANDOM CARS. You have a husband now; the only man's car you should hop into anytime is mine—you're welcomed else I'll actually be vexed.

But on a serious note, I doubt either of us saw this coming for real—we seemed too different, and at the same time, so alike. I didn't realize it before, but that was when the lines between us started to blur out, and my smooth flight began to waver. My simple, yet extremely complicated life took a turn as you came, and found yourself a place in there.

You are welcomed to stay for as long as you like; hopefully, forever. May I have a clearance to continue wooing you?

Don't try to say no, I'll still continue anyway.

Love, Your Then Fake Boyfriend.

By the time Yasmeen was done reading that letter, she could bet her life on the line that it has to be from Asad. She didn't want to get her hopes high but that letter crushed that thought to pulp.

Now, she did want to raise her hopes high—she wanted to take it as high as she could. And she did.

Because when the next day came, and the days that followed, she stood by the door of the living waiting for the daily bouquet and letters that became an everyday thing. That was basically the only thing she was looking forward to for the past week.

And it came, every single day.

With each day that graced them all in good health, she was sent a book bouquet—ones that gradually looked better than the last with a letter perched there perfectly.

Day three;

O.

Dearest Car Crasher,

Yes, I'm directing this to the Yasmeen that crashed into my car and caused a dent. I haven't forgotten about that; we'll talk about my compensation later as promised.

That very day, I wondered for a brief moment whether we're fated to be. Of course, I was quick to toss away that thought because I believed I've done nothing to deserve such a horrendous fate.

The thought of me being intertwined with you seemed far-fetched. I didn't want to be tied to such a crazy individual—let's been honest, you're a whole other breed, Yasmeen Khalid. A rare one; but at the same time, one that never has a dull moment.

The more I cross path with you, the more I realize you and I are alike in a way. And, if I'm being honest, the thought of being with someone with the same character as me was simply a nightmare. I'm still better than you in that aspect though. Yours is simply on a whole other level.

So, to the girl that bumped into my car and told me the dent looked like my face, yes, I haven't forgotten about that—I believe you need more driving lessons. And yes, I know you've been eying my cars. I can't just give it to you knowing what you're capable of. Who knows what you'll do now?

Authorization to land back into your life?

Love, The Man whose car you bumped into.

Day Four;

V.

Dearest Home Crasher,

That sounds off, but you know what I mean.

To the woman who came to my house and told my mother she's the love of my life;

If I wasn't certain before, I knew then that you have to be my fated soul mate in this life or the next (and yes, I know such stuff doesn't exist).

Truth be told, as much as I was annoyed by what you did, I was also stunned. Who would've thought you could do something like that? You blew my mind to be honest, and in a good way which was weird because I don't think I would've felt that way towards someone else.

Then I started to wonder, what made you so different?

I guess, even my heart knew then that you would come crashing and land yourself a spot there. It's about time we depart and continue what we started. We have a life ahead of us, and I don't want that to go to waste.

In case you didn't realize, by then, your presence in my life caused a turbulence each time I come across you. Hopefully, it'll continue that way.

Love, Your About to be Husband then.

Day Five;

E.

Dearest Mrs. Bros,

I'm getting better at writing these letters, right? Weirdly enough, I enjoy writing them too.

I know you've been wondering what made me marry you, right? A part of you must've thought I felt guilty because of what happened, and another part must've wondered whether I took pity on you, that's why.

Well, here I am—about to answer your questions and satisfy your curiosity.

Yes, I did feel guilty then. Because as much as I didn't want to admit it, I knew I was at fault too. So in a way, I did so to fix what I ruined. And yes, I did take pity on you. Perhaps, that's just the part of me that never did well with women in such situations—but I'm sure I would've felt the same way towards anyone else.

But the real reason, which I had tried to deny and lie to myself too all this while, is that I didn't propose our marriage for such reasons. I told myself those were my justifications all this while, but they are truly not.

I didn't realize it then, but by that point, I guess a part of me already knew we are meant to be. With you, it just felt...right—that is, after I started to see you past that crazy image I painted of you in my head.

You're stubborn, outgoing, and free spirited. There's never been a dull moment with you, even when you got on my nerves and hurt my feelings. Nonetheless, that's when I first got the first crack on my resolve. My life has been so boring and plain over the years, and I thought I was fine with it, until you.

So, I guess I was unconsciously selfish enough to keep you to myself. That's the reason why I married you.

Love, Your then Unexpected Husband.

Day Six;

Y.

Dearest Mrs. Captain,

That name actually fits you. Mrs. Captain...has a nice ring to it, doesn't it? Mrs. Asad Gidado sounds good too.

After our wedding, I was still finding it hard to accept the decision I made. I thought it was impulsive and out of instinct, and I had my insecurities as well.

What if I mess up this time around too?

What if I just dragged an innocent person into my messy life?

What if you can't handle the baggage I come with?

What if I fail as a husband?

I had myriad of doubts, and for the whole week before we got together; I tried to distract myself with work. And it worked, up until you landed right back into my life for a permanent stay. I couldn't escape those thoughts again no matter how high I fly—you always pop up right beside me as my co-pilot in this life.

And when we met again, I didn't miss the way you stared at me. I knew you could feel the emotions brewing between us then. Truth be told, it wasn't just you. It felt like I've never seen you before—because at that moment, everything felt new...better.

You looked utterly graceful and ravishing.

That was when I knew,

I was utterly screwed.

Love, Captain Asad Gidado.

Day Seven;

O.

Dearest Spongebob,

You know that impression I had of you being beautiful? Yeah well, it changed the first night we spent together under the same roof.

To the woman I saw in oversized Spongebob pajamas and bird nest hair...I was taken aback. Is this the same woman I saw earlier? I wondered, before shaking my head and certifying my thoughts that I was mistaken earlier.

There was no way I would feel such way towards you.

But then every little act of yours, and every version of you I came to see during our time together—be it crazy Yasmeen, flushed Yasmeen, and daring Yasmeen...I thought every single time that you're cute.

Why did I have such feelings? I have no idea.

It's just that instead of seeing those sides of yours, and I do see them, but beyond it, my heart and mind always goes 'She's cute'. And you truly are.

I didn't realize then that I was slowly losing the walls I had up. I mean, I even tried to focus as a comrade but it didn't work. And well, I guess I've been in denial all this while. Not anymore though.

Love, Your Secret Admirer.

Day Eight;

U.

Baby,

I have a lot I want to say to you—so much that I feel a river of ink and a world of paper won't be enough for me to write them down. So, before I admit it to you, I would like to confess here.

Being with you, I felt like a teenager having his first crush. I mean, I was even nervous around you! Me? A whole Captain, the captain Asad Ahmad Gidado, nervous? Abun mamaki wallahi. But it happened, and it was all because of you.

I would be utterly honest with you, that has never happened before. I always seemed to know what to do and what not to do. But I found myself subconsciously wanting to impress you, and getting nervous or embarrassed when I do something wrong.

I genuinely believed there was something wrong with me.

So, I went to my friend, Dr. Aslam who is a cardiologist and told him I am sick. His response was, "What is wrong with you?". I went ahead to explain my symptoms,

"My heart races when she smiles, I find myself staring at her, noticing every little detail about her each time like it's the first time I'm seeing her. I get nervous when I'm trying to do something for her, in fear of messing up. I get embarrassed when I do something wrong, and all in all, I feel like an effing teenager around her. It's honestly not normal! Check, maybe I have one disease yet to discovered by WHO."

In all honesty, I was expecting him to certify that I'm indeed sick, because I believed I was.

But then, he nodded, his expression yawing serious "Eh gaskiya akwai abunda ke damun ka." He stated seriously, and my heart began to race even more as I anticipated his response. "It's a life threatening situation" He added.

Whilst filled with complete anxiety, I found myself questioning. 'What is it? Do I need surgery or something?' I thought I needed a heart transplant or something.

He shook his head. "No, bawani surgery. But I'll prescribe some 'Kana ruwa tsundum' pills and 'Dude, you're in love' tablets".

For a moment, I thought they are real medications. So, I started brainstorming where to get them in order to cure myself of whatever it is I'm going through.

I'm slow witted in that aspect, I know.

Then it dawned what he meant. And for the next few seconds, it was utter silence between us. The fool was smiling though, almost as if he knows something I don't.

And then, I said. "I think I'm in love..."

Love, Your Slow Witted Husband.

Day nine came, with Yasmeen seated in the living room for the whole day awaiting another letter. To say she loved getting hand written letters from Asad would be an understatement. It made her forget the problems she was going through.

She tried calling him numerous times, but it didn't go through either. She ended up convincing herself that when it's time, he would answer—that she should trust him.

The man literally sends her letters and book bouquets every day, he has to still have feelings for her.

The sound of the doorbell snapped her out of her trance, making her toss her phone to the side as she hastily got on her feet to reach the door. She had been waiting the entire day for this, and she was in such a rush that she found herself battling with her veil as she reached the door.

Unfortunately, she tripped and fell on the floor with a thud. "Nashiga uku." She muttered, having landed and twisted her ankle. The side she fell on ached, and her foot hurts too—but, she still forced herself up despite the pain and limped to the door all the while muttering prayers under her breath.

She truly was in pain, but who cares.

Pulling the door open, she looked up—prepared to rest her gaze on the gateman that always brings the message to her. However, instead of the lanky, old gateman, her gaze fell on the man she hadn't seen in what feels like forever.

Her mouth fell open, eyes wide as saucers as she momentarily forgot the pain she's going through. "A...Asad?"

The man's lips stretched into a small smile, and she could swear she nearly had a heart attack then. "Hello, Baby."

"You...you actually came." She whispered, her eyes instantly glossing. Is it because of the pain of her fall, or is she emotional seeing him there? She'd go with both. "You came back."

"I told you I'll always back to you." His expression yawed serious. "You can't get rid of me that easily. Not now, not ever."