A taste to remember

Chapter fourteen

Munnira pov

As I unpacked my luggage, Umayma burst in, her arms laden with books. "Munnira!" she exclaimed, enveloping me in a warm hug. "What time did you arrive?"

"Around 10," I replied. "What time did you finish your tests?"

"I had two papers this morning and was done by 7," she said, emerging from the kitchen with a plate of rice. She settled in, savoring her food and sipping her tea. "How was your weekend?" she asked, her gaze fixed on her phone.

"It was good," I said, forcing a faint smile.

The visit was not what I had expected. Initially, I wasn't thrilled when I was told that Baba wanted me to come for the weekend. However, I knew how understanding he was from our last discussion. He had promised to put the engagement between me and Yusuf on hold and reconsider Ahmad, making some research on him since I insisted.

A day after I arrived, Baba summoned me to his parlor, where Mama and Ya Salim were present. He sat me down and spoke:

"Munnira, I've taken my time to ask around about Ahmad. It turns out I know his father; he's a good man. We worked together in Lagos, then got better-paying jobs and lost contact. He comes from a good home, but I've heard both good and bad news about him. He's kind, friendly, and has a good personality, but he's also into drugs, which I can't ignore. Even with all his good qualities, he's a drug addict. I can't give my daughter to a drug addict. So, I'm sorry, but you have to forget about him."

I couldn't shake off his words. I wasn't angry at Baba; I understood why he made that decision. I would do the same if I were in his shoes. But at the same time, I couldn't help the pain I felt.

"Have you seen Ahmad yet? How is he?" Umayma asked, breaking my train of thought.

"Not yet, but the last time I spoke to Yesmin, she said he woke up, so I'll be visiting him today," I replied.

Umayma laid on the bed after keeping her empty plate in the kitchen. "I'm highly disappointed in Ahmad. I can't believe he did this to himself, you, and all our friends. Has he thought about how his sister would feel if she knew what he did? So inconsiderate."

I nodded in agreement, as her words were the painful truth. She asked, "Do you remember my cousin, the one with the British accent, who moved back to Nigeria two years ago?" She asked.

"You mean Anty Khair?"

"No, I mean Anty Ummita, the one with two kids," she corrected.

"Oh yes, I remember her," I exclaimed.

She continued, "While she lost her husband, mother, and only brother all in the same week, she remained strong."

"May their souls rest in peace," I replied, as she added, "What's surprising is that on the day of the burial, she was the one consoling people as they came to console her. We were all shocked. Even though it was just a week after, she was hospitalized for a month."

She paused and continued, "Despite all that happened, she never thought of turning to drugs or committing suicide. One can say she has been through worse than depression, but she didn't succumb to it. And he is a man, for that matter." I felt disgusted by her words.

"What are you trying to say?" I asked, irritation creeping over my face.

"They all blame it on depression; they just don't have faith. I mean, he is a man, and men are naturally strong, not weak. By the way, I don't believe in all this depression stuff. It's either you have faith or don't."

I quickly cut in, "Men are naturally strong? So you mean since he is a man, he is not entitled to feel pain or be hurt? He has to be strong at all costs?"

She nodded her head. I paused and continued, "Why are you talking like an illiterate? Don't you know some women are stronger than some men? Don't you know we have physical strength and emotional strength? One can be physically stronger than the other, and one can be emotionally stronger than the other. You talk about faith, even the most religious person in this world are not prone to depression. Iman(faith) has never been depressed in their life because they are religious? You don't even know what depression is, and you sit there telling me trash."

I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself down. "I need some fresh air," I said, took my bath, and headed out.

=======

I stood by the door, my eyes closed, my palm on the solid wooden chair, inhaling and exhaling, taking my time before stepping in. After a few minutes, I got the courage to go inside. I tried as much as possible not to keep eye contact. I drew a chair and sat close to the window. Finally, our eyes met. He closed the book he was reading and kept it on his lap, giving me a sorry face like a guilty six-year-old.

"Hey," we both said simultaneously. "How are you?" I asked. He nodded his head and smiled back, "I'm feeling good now, how are you?" I replied, "I'm okay."

An awkward silence hung between us, punctuated by unspoken thoughts and unresolved emotions. We both had so much to say, but struggled to find the right words to begin.

"Munnira," he called out my name, his voice laced with remorse. I lifted my head, and our eyes met in a moment of raw vulnerability.

"I'm sorry," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

"For what?" I replied, my tone neutral, yet guarded.

He took a deep breath, as if gathering the courage to confront his past mistakes. "I'm sorry for everything, for all the pain I put you through. I'm sorry for what I said that I didn't mean. I just wanted to push you away. I'm sorry for pushing you away."

I turned my head to the side, reflecting on the tumultuous journey we had shared. What's going to change things now? I thought. He added, "I was stupid."

I turned back to him, raising both my eyebrows in a mix of surprise and skepticism. "Yeah, you were really stupid and selfish. You know we all understood what we were getting ourselves into, and we were willing to help. But you pushed each one of us away. You didn't even think about your sister, how she would have felt if you were gone. None of that came to your mind to stop you. You have such amazing friends, not everyone is blessed with that. When you were in a dark spot and offered help, you take it. That's how it's done."

We sat in silence for a moment, the weight of our words hanging in the air. Then, Yesmin emerged, and we talked for a while before exiting the room, seeking privacy in the hospital. None of them knew want what happened between me and Baba, now is time Yesmin knows.

"So, what happened? Did everything go well?" she asked, her eyes locked on mine.

I cleared my throat, collecting my thoughts as I watched the sunlight filter through the leaves outside. Then, I took a deep breath, wearing a faint smile. "He knows."

"Knows what?" she asked, her brow furrowed in concern.

"Knows all that happened. He knew his dad back then, so he knows their family. It was easy for him to find out about what happened to Ahmed. He knows everything and the drugs and he's not in support," I explained, my voice laced with a mix of sadness and resignation.

She nodded her head, folding her hands, looking at a small pond in front of us. "So, what are you going to do?"

"To be honest, I don't know," I replied, my voice barely above a whisper. "I'm not angry about Baba's decision. I mean, he has every right to do so, considering the circumstances we find ourselves in. If I were in his shoes, I would do the same. I just find it so difficult for me. I love Ahmed."

Tears ran down my cheeks as she found my hand in hers, offering comfort and solace. She understood my situation, and I felt a sense of gratitude towards her.

I know some might think it's simple to leave someone you love, but it's not as simple as that. I have known Ahmed for almost a year now, and it feels like I knew him for years.

Then she spoke, her voice laced with wisdom and empathy. "Munnira, I want you to be strong. I know it's not easy, but worrying won't solve things. Just pray over it. In the meantime, live in the moment and enjoy it while it lasts. Don't let this crush the few happy memories you can create."

She was right; all these won't change things. I mean, I might as well do what she says. That night, I prayed over it, asking God to make the right choice for me, to guide me through the turmoil and uncertainty that lay ahead.

=======

As I approached the entrance, I spotted a familiar car parked in the driveway. Curiosity got the better of me, and I followed the path to confirm my suspicion. The driver's side window was open, revealing a glimpse of his leg clad in sleek black Versace floods. I moved closer for a clearer look, and there he was - Ya Salim.

"Ya Salim!" I exclaimed, my voice laced with surprise.

He lifted his head, removing his eyes from his phone, and flashed a charming smile. "Munira, what brings you to the hospital?" he asked, stepping out of the car with an air of nonchalance. "Hope all is well. You don't look ill to me."

"I came to visit a friend," I replied, trying to sound casual.

"Ah, nice," he said. "And you, why are you here? I didn't know you were in town."

"Actually, I came to escort a friend," he explained.

"Yeah, lucky you," I responded, waving both my hands in a playful gesture.

He struggled to stand up, saying, "Mom said you're not done with exams. Final year is always the most challenging. Good luck."

"Yeah, I have three papers left. Thank you," I replied, looking at the entrance, then at him, before continuing, "Well, I should be going now."

I bid him goodbye and was heading to the door when he shouted, "Don't forget to greet Ahmed for me! I heard he's here too."

A shiver ran down my spine; he knew. He knew all along. I turned back and went where he stood, my heart racing with anticipation.

"So, you know?" I asked, folding my hands, trying to appear calm.

"How wouldn't I know?" he replied with a laugh, his mysterious smile sending shivers down my spine. "You thought I was joking when I told you I had eyes everywhere?"

He continued, his voice concealed with a hint of amusement, "I know everything and reason behind him being here. How do you think Baba found out about his drug addiction? I know how long you've been coming to visit him. I know you finished exams since last week Monday. I know you created this excuse so you can see him often."

He placed both hands on his lap after having a seat, then gave me a piercing look. "I know you think I hate you for doing all that, but I'm sure you would do the same. Don't worry, your secret is safe with me. By the way, you were the one who spilled the beans last time."

He continued pressing his phone, his eyes fixed on the screen. My legs felt weak as I slowly walked towards the hospital ward, my mind racing with thoughts.

So, it was Ya Salim who told Baba about his involvement in drugs. Typical of him.

"Munira, is this you?" a voice called out my name, breaking the spell.

It was a guy in a crisp white kaftan with intricate embroidery on it. His black designer watch gave him a perfect touch. It was the sparkle in his smile that I recognized worldwide.

"What's going on today?" I thought, my mind racing with questions.

He came to where I stood, and I wondered what would happen next, my heart pounding with anticipation.

"How have you been? It's been a while," he asked with a cheerful tone.

"I'm doing well, thank you Yusuf. And you?" I replied.

"I'm okay," he said, and we both fell into an awkward silence.

"Actually, we were planning to head to your place after I'm done here," he broke the silence.

"Yes, Ya Salim told me, but he didn't mention you were with him," I said.

"Yeah, you know how your brother can be - he loves surprising people," he replied with a chuckle.

"Indeed, he does," I said, and the silence resumed, making me feel uneasy.

"Actually, I wanted to talk to you when I get to your place, but since you're here, if you don't mind, we can talk," he said.

We headed to the hospital, and after a few minutes of silence, he began to speak.

"I know you must be curious to know why I'm here." he said.

It was as if he read my mind.

He added, "Ahmed wanted us to meet, and I was glad to hear that because I also had the same idea. I know about your relationship with him, and I just found out he knew about our arranged marriage.I don't know if you know, but Baba has fixed our wedding to happen in three weeks," he said, his voice laced with concern.

"What?" I exclaimed, feeling my heart thumping against my ribs. I was radiating with tension. "What wedding?" I asked, shocked. Why wasn't I told?

I put both my hands on my forehead, feeling the rigidity of the muscles beneath the surface. The muscles in my arm tightened to the next level.

"Calm down. I know you will feel this way. That's why I'm here. Munira, I know you are in love with Ahmed, and I don't want Baba to force you into this. I don't want you to do what you don't like. If you want to do this, it should be willingly. If you're not interested, you can talk to them, and I can also call off the wedding. If you somehow change your mind, I promise I will go to London and demand a transfer back to our office in Abuja. This time, I will fully have your time and try to make it work. I really want this, but I won't force you. I know I messed up, always being busy, but I promise all that would change. I'll give you my time; I'll give you time to think about it. Just let me know when you make up your mind."

When we were done, he escorted me to Ahmed's room, where I met Farah and Zaid before leaving. We spoke for a while with them before heading home. As I walked back, I couldn't help but think about what he said. What if I'm not with him? What does that mean? That doesn't change things between me and Ahmed. How can I fight for this and make it work? I've heard stories where people fight for their love, and it never comes easy. Why give up so easily? Can I make this work?