Architect and Mrs Dantata

08: ZAYD

The woman named Amal Muhammad is officially going to be the end of me. I'm not complaining. I'm not stupid enough to do so.

Baba has always said I take after him in regards to falling for someone easily until you're sure you want to be with them, or the opposite where they turn out to be the one thing you don't want. I've had my own share of women I've met and many of them, I nearly fell deep until I realized I was the only one staying for the long run. They never did.

None, however, compares to Amal. If I was superstitious, I would say she did something to me. Because there is no way this is normal. When we got home that night after the reception, I was forced to tell everyone in my house about her. Baba and Mama were the happiest and the only person who pretended to be mortified was Mas'ood. He said I'm sounding as whipped as Aliyah. I smacked the back of his head but his words stayed in my mind.

That night, I smiled like an idiot while chatting with her. I hardly stayed up late if it wasn't for something work related or something involving family yet Amal Muhammad was making me do so.

Throughout the Kai Amarya and Yini Biki in Yola, I vaguely paid attention to Halima and Idris. I thought of a lady named Amal who was as fair as her father with eyes as brown as her mother's. How a woman can be so beautiful and refreshing is beyond me. Everything she says is fascinating and when I think she couldn't be any more surprising, she proves me wrong.

When I asked where she wanted us to go for lunch on Thursday (Wednesday didn't work for her because her cousin – Sadiyah – wanted to hang out with her), I expected her to name one of the fancy restaurants Abuja has in abundance. Ms Muhammad wants nothing fancy. She wants Shawarma from Chicken Capitol with a large bottle of Coke or Fanta because that's what she's been craving since she arrived back in Abuja.

You can be rest assured I'm going to give it to her even though I plan to treat her to a proper dinner right after. If it upsets her, I'm going to apologize and I am never going to do it again. That's how much she has gotten to me. It's only been a few days. Oh Allah.

The meeting on Monday afternoon goes well and it's a miracle I don't think about her until it's over. It's almost too easy to go online and check if she's posted anything new. She's an Instagram and a Twitter fanatic and her follower figure is amazing. There are a few new Twitter posts which are quotes from books and then there's a new Instagram post which is a shot of the sky, taken from a moving vehicle. I wonder where she went.

I sigh and move to WhatsApp. There are messages from her. God, my heart does this little dance. Is this only going to get worse? Surely this won't be like those people who get so happy to know each other and then lose the spark along the way, right? Ya Allah, please no. That'll hurt. That'll hurt really badly, judging from the way I'm going right now.

The first unread message from her is a picture I download immediately. It's another shot of the sky but this time her hand is in the frame, two henna stained fingers holding up a peace sign. Even her henna is pretty and that is something I should have told her when I first took it in at the reception.

Amal: If you go to IG before coming here, I posted something similar. For such a dry weather, the sky's pretty. My hand's cute too so I'm sending this to you. I would have sent a shot with me making a goofy face but I actually took that for Mahmud.

I can't (and I refuse to believe) that I feel a pang of jealousy towards her brother. Mas'ood would laugh at me if I ever confessed this. At this point, I'm worse than Aliyah is who head over heels for Faisal. Thankfully, he's more in love with her and it's the most painful thing to be the third wheel when they're together. They're really cute.

Amal: You said you had a meeting this afternoon. Are you well rested for it? You did come back from Yola this morning and the last thing you want is to break down.