MALIK'S POV:
The ballroom was packed, the air heavy with the blend of chatter, perfume, and the scent of jollof rice wafting from the buffet table. The music was upbeat, and the occasional bursts of laughter cut through the hum of conversations. I stepped into the hall, adjusting the lapels of my suit as my eyes scanned the room.
The crowd was what I expected: a mix of family, old friends, and the usual socialites who never missed a Lagos wedding. I moved through the sea of people, nodding to a few familiar faces and exchanging quick pleasantries. I wasn't here for long conversations.
"Malik, over here!" I heard someone call from across the room. It was Mr. Yusuf, a businessman whose son I had gone to school with. I made my way over, greeting him and his wife with a smile. Small talk ensued, as expected—how was work, how was the family, how was life? I'd been through it all before. It was just part of the game.
After a few minutes, I excused myself, making my way deeper into the ballroom to greet more people. As I passed by another group of people, I finally spotted her—my mom. She was seated at one of the more prominent tables, surrounded by a group of women I recognized as family friends and a few of her cousins. As always, she looked elegant. The deep green lace gown she wore complemented her regal demeanor, and her headwrap framed her face perfectly.
"Malik!" she called out, her face lighting up.
I smiled, making my way to her table.
"Assalamu alaikum," I greeted, bowing slightly as I kissed her cheek.
"Wa alaikum salam, my dear. Finally, you've arrived!" she said, smiling warmly as she adjusted the collar of my suit. "I was beginning to think you wouldn't show."
"You know I wouldn't miss it, Mom," I said, turning to greet the others at the table. "Aunties," I nodded respectfully, addressing each one with the proper warmth they'd expect.
"Ah, Malik," one of them said, her tone playful. "Your mother was just telling us you've been working too hard. You should take a break and settle down, no?"
The laughter that followed made me smile politely. I wasn't new to these subtle nudges.
Work never ends," I said lightly, dodging the comment as I took the seat beside my mom.
She leaned toward me once the laughter died down, her voice lower now. "So, have you met anyone yet?"
I groaned inwardly but kept my tone light. "Mom, I'm here for my cousin, not for matchmaking."
She wasn't letting me off that easily. "You promised me boy," she said, frowning her face. "Look around. This is the perfect place to meet someone. There are so many lovely girls here. And it's not just about beauty, Malik. You need a woman who can balance your world. Someone with substance."
I exhaled, leaning back slightly. "I hear you mother, but let me focus on enjoying the event and connecting with a few people."
She gave me a look, the kind only she could manage—half exasperated, half amused. "Fine," she said with a small smile. "But I'm not giving up on this conversation." The women at the table pulled her back into their chatter, and I let out a small breath of relief.
As the conversation at the table shifted to other topics, I allowed my gaze to wander.
That's when I noticed her.
She was seated a few tables away, her face partially obscured by a friend leaning in to say something. Her hijab, neatly draped, framed her face, and her outfit was simple yet elegant—understated in a way that made her stand out from the crowd of glitter and sequins.
What caught my attention, though, was the way she carried herself. She wasn't trying to be the center of attention like so many others here. Instead, she seemed content to sit back and observe, her gaze thoughtful, almost detached.
She turned slightly to say something to her friend, and that's when I noticed her glancing my way.
It wasn't obvious—not the bold, calculated glances I was used to. It was quick, almost shy, like she wasn'tallowed to look at men. Her eyes flickered away immediately, and she turned to her friend, pretending to listen intently—Interesting
A smile tugged at the corners of my lips. I leaned forward slightly, resting my arm on the table, watching her for a moment longer. I couldn't make out her features from this distance but I could see from the way she was sitting that she was not comfortable.
And then it happened. She looked again. This time, I didn't turn away. I kept my eyes on hers, just long enough for her to realize I had noticed. I gave her a slight nod, an acknowledgment, and then—without even thinking about it—I winked.
Her reaction was immediate. She stiffened, her cheeks flushing as she quickly looked away. I couldn't help but chuckle under my breath. It wasn't often that someone reacted to me like that, and it intrigued me.
"What's amusing you?" my mom asked, interrupting my thoughts.
"Nothing," I said, shaking my head slightly. "Just... enjoying the atmosphere." She raised an eyebrow but didn't press further.
I leaned back, still keeping her in my peripheral vision. Something about her was different. Most of the women here were polished and prepared, clearly looking to catch someone's attention. But she? She seemed... real. Grounded.
I watched as she reluctantly stood with her friend who was practically dragging her towards the couple.
This was my chance.
Turning to my mom, I said, "Let's go greet the couple. I don't want it to look like I'm a snub to my cousin. Maybe Hauwa will introduceme to a nice girl."
She beamed, pleased that I was making an effort. "Of course, let's go."
As we made our way across the room, I kept my focus casual, but inside, I was already strategizing. I wasn't leaving this wedding without at least finding out her name.
AMINAH'S POV:
It was as if there was a shift in the room's energy. A presence.
His dark skin had a warm, caramel undertone that seemed to glow under the chandeliers, and his face—oh, his face. Chiseled jawline, sharp cheekbones, full lips that curved into the faintest of smiles, and deep, intelligent eyes that held a quiet intensity.
Maryam, quite the social butterfly immediately greeted his mother. "Assalamu alaikum, ma! It's such an honor to meet you"
His mother's face lit up with a warm smile, and she returned the greeting graciously. Then Maryam gestured toward me. "This is my friend, Amina. She's very shy."
"His mother turned to me. "How are you doing, dear? You look lovely"
"I'm fine ma. Thank you very much," I said feeling very shy.
Malik, standing beside his mother, turned to us. My breath caught when his gaze flickered toward me.
Up close, he was even more striking than I'd realized. His deep brown eyes held an intensity that seemed out of place at a loud Lagos wedding. His dark skin was smooth and warm like polished onyx, his neatly trimmed beard framing a sharp jawline that could have been sculpted. But it wasn't just his looks. It was the way he carried himself—confident but not arrogant, like he didn't need to try too hard to be noticed.
And his voice.
"It's nice to meet you," I said softly, keeping my eyes on his mother, even though I could feel Malik's gaze like a weight.
"Masha Allah." his mother said, looking at me appreciatively.
I made the mistake of glancing at him then, and my breath caught again. He really is handsome.
"Nice to meet you too," he replied
Berating for looking at him again—especially after winking at me so boldly,I turned away.
"Excuse us," I said finally, my voice barely audible, tugging at Maryam's sleeve. "We should get going ma."
Of course," Malik's mother said, her eyes twinkling. "I like you though. Are you single? Because if you are, maybe Malik here can get to know you better."
He smiled faintly, a glint of amusement in his eyes. "Mom, please don't do this."
His mother laughed lightly, but her next words made my stomach drop. "I'm just saying, you two would make a great team—in more ways than one."
I wanted to melt into the floor. My voice was stuck somewhere in my throat. But i found my voice."I am not ready for marriage. We'll be on our way ma." I said all in one sentence, practically dragging Maryam back to our table. She was laughing so hard she could barely walk.
"I told you you'd meet someone!" she said between giggles, ignoring my glare.
"That's not meeting someone,I snapped, fidgeting with the edge of my abaya. That was your fault dragging me over there."
"Oh, come on," she argued.
Did you see the way he was looking at you sha?"
"Maryam, stop!" I hissed, glancing around nervously. "We need to leave. It's late anyway." I need to get out of here.
Maryam groaned, grabbing her purse. "Fine fine. I'm tired too. But don't say I didn't try to help you spice up your life o."
We made our way outside to the parking lot, the cool night air a welcome relief from the heat of the crowded ballroom. Maryam fumbled with her keys as I leaned against the car, exhaling slowly.
Then I heard his voice.
"Excuse me, Amina."
Was I dreaming? I looked up and there he was.
Subhanallah — the way he pronounces my name...
I'm in deep trouble. I have to run away from this guy. He is just too much for me.
"Leaving already?" Malik's voice, smooth and velvety, pulled me from my thoughts.
"Yes, we're just heading out," I said, trying to keep my composure.
Malik smiled, looking into my eye and I couldn't help but notice the color of his eyes which was a beautiful shade of brown. "I was hoping I could get your number before you go,"he said, still looking into my eye.
My heart skipped, and I felt my cheeks warm. And somebody tell me why my panties feel wet? Astagfirullah! Did I just say that
I can't believe this. He was asking for my number—just like that. My mind raced, my thoughts scrambled. Was I really going to give it to him? What was the point? Was I interested?
"No," I said, my voice more abrupt than I intended. "I don't give my number to just anyone." The words felt almost too harsh as they left my mouth, but I stood by them.
You want to give him... a mocking voice sounded in my head but I ignored it.
"If you'll excuse us," I said,turning to enter the car, relieved the conversation was over, but Maryam—of course—was not done. "Malik wait!," she called.
Almost panicking. "Why are—"
"None of your business. Just need to talk to him about something or are you jealous, " she added, teasing me.
"You like taking nonsense sha," I scoffed. But the problem was that I actually did not really like them talking together. Without me. I watched on from inside the car as they talked and exchange phones.
Oh my God. Are they exchanging numbers? I immediately felt restless.
Wow
Am I actually jealous? No no, this can't be. It's just the stress of the event,, i thought.
"Ready?" Maryam said suddenly appearing outside the car. I looked back at the window. He was already walking back into the event center.
"You shouldn't have been so quick to dismiss him, Amina," she said, settling in the car.
"Pleasee Maryam, you know he's not my type, I prefer a more reserved guy. He winked at me Maryam! Which kind of respectable muslim guy does that?"
Shaking her head, she said."Maybe you just need a little push. As a good muslim you don't just judge people like that "
"Pusher ni. Abeg let's go," I said, feeling a little guilty.
As Maryam drove out of the parking lot, my mind was in turmoil. What had just happened? Was I being too judgemental? And why did I have a strange feeling when he looks at me? Should I have just shared my number?
I never knew this was just the beginning of another life for me.