Kaduna State, Nigeria.

Siyama slipped into their room to get ready, relieved her mother was at the market and Yasmin was still out. A Sunday to herself was rare. Normally, she'd savor the chance to sleep in and let the day drift by, but with Mahmud coming? No way.

The old Siyama might've felt those familiar butterflies, that unbearable tension whenever someone wanted to visit her. She used to hate it, the way her stomach would flip. She would even visit the toilet due to anxiousness all the time.

But with Mahmud?

She could hardly wait. Her pulse quickened just thinking of him, and it didn't matter that they'd only met yesterday, somehow, it felt like she'd known him for ages. For decades in all honesty.

Those countless texts between them had done more than she'd anticipated, slipping past her defenses, warming her in ways she hadn't allowed herself to feel in years. Since that major heartbreak, she'd met a few men, all of whom barely lasted.

They wanted something and they think she was letting her ego get in the way not knowing she has been through her own fair share of trauma and she was just a freaking introvert who thinks hard and long before allowing anyone in her space.

She knew from the start they wouldn't stick around.

But with Mahmud?

She didn't feel that usual urge to push him away. Somehow, with him, it just flowed, as if he belonged. Even though she wasn't actively looking for anything, God had sent him her way, and she was beginning to think it was all for a reason.

Excitement stirred as she opened the new suitcase Yasmin brought back, a gift from Amani. She skimmed through the clothes, and a blush of joy warmed her skin. Her fingers brushed a red dress right at the top, and without a second thought, she pulled it out.

It didn't even matter if it fit or not —she was wearing it. Red had always been her thing, her comfort color, even though people tried to talk her out of it. That the colour was not for her. That she was a bit too dark skinned for that.

Like her first boyfriend, who'd once said she was "trying too hard" with a color that didn't "suit" her. She almost gave in, but why? She'd decided long ago to wear what she liked. She'd decided not to ever listen to people again.

The dress turned out to be a simple yet elegant A-line maxi with cuff sleeves and a sweetheart neckline. Siyama's breath hitched as she slipped it on.

Who even designed this beauty? Of course, Bushra Amani freaking did. She turned to the mirror and drew back the curtains to let the light hit just right, and when she saw herself, her heart skipped a beat.

The red brought out her every feature, highlighting her smooth, warm-toned skin, and drawing attention to her pearl-white teeth with that charming little gap in her lower row. Her full lips seemed softer, while her dark, expressive eyes took on an alluring depth, like they held secrets meant only for him.

Why does she sound like a freaking poet? She shook her head and groaned.

She dabbed a little gloss on her lips and ran a touch of kohl under her eyes, making them pop even more. Tilting her head from side to side, she admired her reflection, then sat down on the plastic vanity chair. A slight frown creased her brows as she took it all in.

Why was she this happy to see him? Wasn't she the same girl who'd sworn off dating until she was ready for marriage, and even then, to love after marriage? Her heart thudded a little faster, and her palms felt clammy whenever she thought about him.

Shaking her head, she ignored the thought and pulled a black veil around her head, letting it drape loosely to downplay the effort she'd put in. She hadn't even taken a shower yet, she didn't have the patience for it right now. That could wait.

Just as she was about to settle in and wait, her phone buzzed loudly, the broken screen glitching just a bit. She frowned at the awful noise. She really needed to get it fixed before it completely gave up on her. But right now, she was just grateful it decided to turn on at all.

"Hello?" She greeted after she picked the call and didn't hear him say anything. Maybe the phone is really broken.

When he answered, his voice was muffled and it grated on Siyama's skin because the phone wouldn't work any more. She knew a time like this was coming but why after she has started looking forward to doing something on her phone?

"Are you outside? Just message me I think the phone is broken." With that she hung up the phone and almost threw it.

Mahmud: Don't be so hard on the phone. I'm outside.

Siyama rolled her eyes because she couldn't help it, then threw the phone on the bed and made her way outside. Her heart raced beneath her chest as she walked then confirmed the house was empty except for the old woman at the far end of the compound. She doesn't gossip. She barely sees.

Stepping outside, Siyama let her gaze wander, pausing when it landed on the sleek black BMW M8 parked by the house. Her breath caught as the driver's door opened, and there he was —Mahmud, stepping out with a smile that could have stopped time.

His eyes lit up as they took her in, admiration clear in his expression, and his voice barely above a whisper as he said, "Red has never looked more perfect."

Siyama's cheeks flushed under his gaze, warmth curling through her from head to toe, as if his smile alone could melt away everything else. How could someone be so flawless both mentally and physically?

As Mahmud closed the distance between them, Siyama couldn't help but let out a shy laugh, shifting from one foot to the other, feeling completely exposed under his gaze. She wasn't nervous at the thought of seeing but seeing him made her nerves flare.

"Hey, you," he said softly, his voice a mix of warmth and wonder. "You look... just, wow."

She laughed, looking away as if that could ease the butterflies his words had just unleashed. "I almost didn't recognize you. A car?"

He chuckled, sending a shiver up her spine. "Only the best for my favorite girl. I want to court you properly."

"Is that right?" she replied, feeling her cheeks burn with her smile.

Mahmud took her hand and lowered his eyes to them as if asking for permission which she gave nervously. He is standing there towering over her larger than life. But their hands fit almost too perfectly. She gets what they are talking about in books now. Hand do fit!

He gave her hand a gentle squeeze, his eyes twinkling with that playful, knowing look of his. "Do you believe I'm serious about us?"

Straight to the point huh.

Siyama was breathless so she nodded. Holding his hands felt every shade right and at the same time wrong. She knew this was okay in today's world, normalizing the haram but she won't be a haram police to herself right now. She will think about it later and ask for forgiveness.

"Do you believe we are going to work out no matter how tough it would be?" he questioned again, his eyes shining but Siyama felt the tremble in his hands.

He is nervous she might reject him!

That touched somewhere deep in her chest that she had no idea still existed. Maybe she has never stopped being a lover girl because... she gave him another small nod because it was the most natural thing to do.

Mahmud walked over to the back of the car, casting her a mysterious glance before carefully opening the door. Siyama leaned in, curious, and gasped as her eyes took in the thoughtful setup he'd crafted just for her.

There, in the backseat, sat a large, beautifully wrapped box —the kind of lavish package she'd only seen in TikTok by mistake.

It was filled with an array of high-end period essentials... soft organic cotton pads, a few neatly packed heat patches, a tiny box of luxurious foreign herbal teas, and even a calming essential oil blend. Hot bottle and other stuff she doesn't even know.

Clearly he asked someone to do it, or ordered it.

Everything was meticulously arranged, from plush wipes to silky comfort socks, each item seeming to whisper charm and cheese. Beside the package, a stunning bouquet of deep red roses spilled out from a velvet paper wrap, their rich color complementing her outfit.

How did he know she liked red? Has she mentioned it before?

Dotted between the roses and the essentials were little red trinkets, each one cuter than the last —a small candle shaped like a heart, a tiny teddy holding a red heart, and a mini bottle of red perfume with her freaking name written on it.

There is another box that is closed, nestled at the back and Siyama was so curious. But her eyes went back to the perfume again. Her name was written in Arabic, the golden writing shining as the sun glinted on it from the window.

And nestled in the center of it all was a soft, heart-shaped pillow with embroidered words: Be my girlfriend?

Siyama felt her heart swell as it thumped loudly in her chest, the warmth spreading through her like the first blush of dawn. She looked up at Mahmud, who was watching her, his smile deep and genuine, waiting for her reaction.

"Mahmud... this is..." Her voice faltered as she took it all in, feeling emotions dance beneath her skin and burned behind her lids.

Thank God he wasn't holding her hand anymore because they are sweaty and trembling with surprise and emotions. Is that how it's done? She has watched a similar movie years ago smiling at the couple and not even for a second wishing for something like that. Now here it is...

"So... what do you say?" Mahmud asked, literally jumping on the balls of his feet.

Siyama froze, her mind blank as she tried to respond, but words wouldn't come. Her eyes darted between the red roses, the perfume, the sweet little pillow, and his hopeful smile, and all she could manage was an awkward laugh. She has never been asked to become someone's girlfriend before.

Just then, the sound of footsteps made her heart jolt.

Her mother had returned, and the moment she saw the two of them, her eyes widened in surprise. She turned to Siyama, raising her eyebrows as if to say, "Care to explain?" or more like, "So this is what you have been hiding? Caught ya!"

Mahmud noticed, piecing together the situation quickly. He knew from her wallpaper that Siyama was the eldest of two sisters and had already guessed that the youthful woman before him was her mother. With a calm smile, he took a step forward, bowing slightly in a gesture of respect.

Siyama's mother gave him a soft smile, glancing back at Siyama with a glint in her eye. Clearly, she was intrigued. Siyama wasn't sure whether to think about that tightness in her chest at the sight of him with her mother or the answers she will have to give in minutes.

The woman normally spends at least two hours in the market. Why was she back so early today?

Siyama watched nervously as Mahmud greeted her mother with all the charm he could muster. She noticed how her mother's expression softened as she looked up at him, clearly impressed. The usually reserved woman seemed almost...smitten, smiling back at him as though she already approved.

Mahmud and Siyama's mother exchanged a few warm words, both smiling easily, and Siyama stood by, her heart racing. She could see her mother's interest as they discussed little things about the neighborhood, her mother's smile widening as Mahmud complimented her daughter.

After a few moments, her mother excused herself, giving Siyama a lingering glance filled with both surprise and approval before heading inside. Uh-oh. She knows her answer now. This was a sign.

As soon as the door closed behind her, Mahmud turned back to Siyama with a playful grin. "Your mom is absolutely beautiful," he teased, leaning just a little closer. "Now I see where you get it from."

She rolled her eyes, crossing her arms with a smirk. "Oh really? Already charming my mom? She barely met you five minutes ago."

He laughed, feigning innocence. "She is your mother, which makes her mine. Besides, I'm pretty sure she approves of me which means she is charmed by me too."

Siyama nudged his arm, unable to keep from smiling. "You're so full of it."

His expression softened, his voice lowering just a little. "Maybe. But I mean it. And I mean this, too," he said, his gaze serious now as he held her hand gently. "I asked you before, and I'll ask again... Will you be my girlfriend for now?"

Siyama's heart fluttered as she took a deep breath, her smile softening. "Yes," she whispered, feeling the answer ripple through her.

The way his face lit up was worth every single ounce of nervousness she'd felt, and she realized, in that moment, she'd never felt so certain. This was meant to be.

They spent the next thirty minutes talking inside his car because she wasn't sure her neighbors would stay indoors for long. Not when there is no light and the heat is excruciating.

"I promised not to take long but can we start with phone calls now? As much as I love how sassy you are with your chats, I'd like to hear your voice too." He whispered observing her face and she looked away.

She hasn't held his eyes for a good five seconds no matter how much he tried to get her to look into his eyes. Her eyes always flickered around his car, down his chest, to his neck and all but never his eyes. Mahmud is consoled though, her attention is always on him.

He has also noticed that she was intimidated by his wealth. That was the main reason he didn't want to show off to her. He knew how girls think but frankly, he has never met one like Siyama.

They said women that dont like money are basically at zero percent, it is a lie. Everyone likes the idea of having money but Siyama likes to have her own. She looks very independent, like she does and would like to keep doing things for herself. It is intriguing because he is a giver.

He would want to give her the moon.

She let out a sigh remembering the situation of her phone laying inside on her bed. "I don't think my phone would agree."

Mahmud gave a thoughtful nod as though he hadn't taken care of that. "True. We have to do something about that phone."

"I will." She replied with so much conviction.

See? So fiercely independent. He'd never wanted to give someone the world the way he wanted to give it to Siyama. And now that she'd said yes to being his, she was going to have every single thing her heart desired.

"Not so fast." Mahmud said as he stepped out of the car the same time she did.

Her heart raced for an entirely different reason now. Mahmud was undeniably handsome, and she wasn't exaggerating in the slightest. He was aware of his looks, but it never seemed to go to his head. He was also built like a basketball player... tall and massive.

Just by looking at his skin, she should have known he was stinking rich, it had that polished glow that came with wealth. Those muscles weren't just for show, they looked incredible, and she found herself unable to look away from his biceps as they flexed before her eyes.

"Why?" Siyama asked, looking confused. Is she not allowed to go home now? They have said goodbyes.

"Your stuff in the back of my car." he pointed at the backseat and she remembered her 'gifts.'

"Oh."

"Yes, oh." He grinned knowing he wont give her the chance to say no, "I can take them to do the door for you."

He has already started taking the boxes one after the other before she could answer. He wasn't asking anyway.

"Uh, thank you—" she started but he cut her off by shaking his head.

"I should be the one thanking you but we won't thank each other. Have some rest. We'll talk later hmm?" he tilted his head to the side watching her.

He couldn't get enough —talking to her, hearing her voice, just being around her. Damn, if this isn't what it feels like to be head over heels. He's absolutely captivated, and honestly, he loves every second of it. If he's already this smitten, he's almost afraid to see just how far she'll have him wrapped around her little finger.

As he watched her enter her house, he immediately typed messages for her so she would see as soon as she was done talking to her mother. Of course they were going to talk. He had seen it in their expression. And he is the main topic.

Mahmud: I know you have been through bad past relationship(s) but I am not gonna lie, I'm glad they didnt work out at the end of the day.

Mahmud: You are mine now as much as I'm yours.

Mahmud: And I'm going to spend the rest of my life making sure nothing bad ever happens to you as long as it is within my power. I'm going to make sure you have no reason to cry.

Mahmud: I'm going to make you believe in love again. I want to be your safest space. The person you can tell anything to. The good, the bad, the ugly, the pretty. I want it all, sweet cheese.

Mahmud: I didn't want to say this to your face because you were already overwhelmed.

Hmmmmmmmmmmm!
I thought I was never going to write this🤣I knew what I wanted to write o but couldn't bring myself to. Anyways I'm stuffed with tests this week sooooo I dunno about update.

Kuna ganin Mallam Mahmud kuwa. Ikon Allah. This single life lowkey makes me want to go gaga now. Even my characters dey oppress me. Harda period package! What and what do you think is in there apart from the package?🤭

QOTD: Would you rather be independent with supportive partner or be dependent but you have to ask for everything twice? Guyyyy independence is nice but the other option isn't😭 me that hate to think I'm disturbing someone.