Clueless love

I can’t believe how much my life has changed in three months. It still feels like it was last week I graduated from University. I have been living with my sister and her family for the past three months. I am 21 years old; I work at a game company as an intern. I have been working there for the past two months. My life is pretty simple, but I can feel something new is going to happen soon. I don’t know if I should like the feeling or not but let’s see what my life has to hold.

I am brought back from my memory lane when I feel someone pulls down on my trousers.

“Aunt Aunt,” My cute niece says pulling my trouser to get my attention.

Eman is the female version of her father, except her skin tone. She has curly black hair, large grey eyes, a heart-shaped face, and beautiful light skin. She is six years old. She is my sister’s first child.

“Yes, cutie pie what can I help you with,” I say giving her my full attention.

“Aunt could you braid my hair like how you did yours. When I get back from school today,” She says giving me her best puppy eyes look.

“Of course, honey, once I get back from work, I will,” I say even though I know I am going to be exhausted from work, but I can’t say no to her.

After we are done with our conversation, she walks back to the dining table and finishes her breakfast so that she can be on her way to school.

After breakfast, I walk back upstairs to get ready for work. I change from my long gown into my work outfit. I wear a pair of plaid pants, a white shirt, a black coat, a black bag and zip ankle boots. I finish dressing and walk outside the house into my car to be on my way to work.

I arrive at work after driving for a few minutes. I walk straight inside to meet my supervisor. I get to her office after taking the elevator up. Once I get to her office, I don’t spend more than a minute, because, she already has the work she wants me to do ready.

I walk to my office to begin my work. I don’t have much to do today, Alhamdulillah (Praise be to Allah). Most times I usually get a lot of work to do but, because today we were given half of the day off. I have less to do at the office.

Today I was given the task to play new games and check if they have any glitches. It might sound simple, but it’s not. I have to play like more than ten games before I close from work today. The fact that sometimes I don’t know how to play them makes it a little hard. That’s not the only thing I do at work; sometimes I am given paperwork to do also. So my job is not all fun all the time.

I am driving back home from a good day at work when I get a call from a friend from work.

“Hello Emma”

“Hi, Umit. I was calling to remind you that the boss is back and will be coming to work tomorrow. He also said he wants to meet the intern’s tomorrow morning by 9:00 a.m.”

“Oh, I did not forget but thanks for calling anyways to remind me.”

“You are welcome. Bye,”

“Bye,” I say ending the call

I drive through our black cast iron gate. Our house is a two-story building; with beautiful flowers all around the front porch and water fountain in the middle. While parking my car, I notice a black Lykan hypersport is parked at our front porch, meaning we have a guest, I wonder who it is.

I walk into our entryway; there are two grand staircases with black bannister adoring it. There is a chandelier in the middle of the staircases and a black vintage table with a flower vase on it. It’s in the middle of the staircases.

I walk into the living room; the walls have ceramics all around painted with grey, there is a crystal chandelier, the couches are charcoal with white and grey throw pillows, a brown centre table and a fireplace.

I see the last person I ever want to see in my life, my worst enemy. The only person in my life I have ever hated, but not ‘hate’ per say, I dislike his character. I can never think of Hating someone, talk more of a fellow Muslim, Astaghfirullah (I seek the forgiveness of Allah). It is none other than my brother-in-law ISMAIL UTHMAN

Ismail is 6-foot-tall, has black hair, a solid build, and has fair skin. Ismail was born and raised in England; he moved to America when he was 18 for his university, and he is 25 now. He has a very thick British accent. His brother is married to my sister, making him my brother-in-law too.

“YOU!!!!!!” I say pointing my finger at him.

“What are you doing here?” I say

“If I remember correctly, this is my brother’s house,” He says with disgust.

“Oh, that’s true, but I doubt you came to see him, rather you came to find out if you have succeeded in making my life a living hell. But let me tell you, my life is great, and there is nothing you can do about it, so you can leave” I say with a deadly look.

“Oh honey, I wish you were the reason why I came but sorry sweetheart I came to see my brother,” He says with a smirk and also not meaning those sweet names.

“Okay, whatever you say MR,” I say walking past him

I am about to walk upstairs and get some rest before dinner when I hear my name called from the living room.

“Umit, Umit” I hear my sister’s voice calling my name.

“Yes, Waheeda,” I say walking to the living room to answer her.

Waheeda is different from me in features. I am dark skinned while she is light skinned. She is slightly taller than me. I am 5’6feet while she is 5’7 feet. Waheeda takes after my mother while I take after my father in skin tone. Waheeda and I were born and raised in Nigeria but moved to America after we finished university; she finished years before me though.

“Please take a seat we have something to discuss with you,” Waheeda says as soon as I walk into the living room. I take a seat opposite them.

“I know you and my brother have a rough past, but you both have to put that aside because you both are going to be sharing a roof. And truth be told you both know that it is not Islamic to hate one another,” My brother-in-law Aazim says. Aazim is 6-foot-tall, has black hair, and has broad shoulders and a fair skin tone. Aazim moved to America in his 20’s when he got a job offer.

“I don’t understand what you mean by t-th-i-i-ss whatever he calls himself, and I will be sharing a roof,” I say with a nasty look

“What he means is that I am moving in, whether you like it or not,” Ismail says with the same nasty look

“UHNNNN what did you sssssaaaaayyyyyyyyy? You are WWWW-HHHH--AAAAA—TTTTT? Moving into where? Please stop this funny joke” I say standing up while laughing in a sarcastic way

“I have never killed a human being, but if you wake up tomorrow and find your brother dead, don’t be surprised. We all know we can’t stand each other for a minute and you want us to live under the same roof. If I may ask why can’t he live in his own house, because I just saw a 2019 Lykan Hyersport parked outside. Which I am pretty sure belongs to him. So, I know he can afford an estate if he wants” I say really getting confused and also not meaning any word about killing him.

“You are not killing my brother; you and he have to learn to co-exist. Like I said before it’s not even Islamic that you guys fight a lot and why he is moving in, it’s not in my place to tell you that story. All that matters is that he is moving in and that’s final.” Aazim says

“Fine, I will try to coexist because I respect you as my brother-in-law and because of the sake of ALLAH. I will learn to co-exist with him and live under the same roof as him.” I say

“Thank you,” Aazim says walking out of the living room with Waheeda following behind.

“I am even surprised you have not said much since you came, maybe you are finally starting to learn some manners,” I say with a smug smile on my face.

“Because I am not giving you the pleasure of hearing my voice, does not mean you should be sad about it,” Ismail says smirking

“Who said I like the sound of your voice?”

“You don’t need to say it sweetheart, but I know you do, and the sooner you accept It, the better.”

“I think something is wrong with you. Because how can you think I would like your voice, when I don’t even like your presence in front of me now, then it’s your voice that I will like!” I say with disgust and annoyance because even though I dislike him, he does have a nice voice but I will never tell him that.

“Nothing is wrong with me, it’s you that something is wrong with because, who won’t love my voice, I have a British accent,” He says sounding like the proudest man I have ever seen

“This is why…....” Before I can finish my statement, Aazim walks back into the living room and stops our argument

“Both of you, what did I just say before I left here,” He says with a stern look.

“That we should learn to co-exist,” Ismail and I say in union

“And is that what both of you are doing?”

“No!” We both say

“If you both don’t want me to kick you guys out of my house. You both should better learn to co-exist before I throw you guys out. And I can’t believe you guys are adults fighting like children,” Aazim says shaking his head

“I can’t promise you anything Aazim, but I will try to co-exist,” I say

“Please do,” Aazim says

“Same goes for me,” Ismail says

“Good! And before I forget Umit please will you help Ismail with his things?”

“Do I have too?” I say dropping my shoulders, trying to look tired

“Not really but It will help with learning to co-exist.”

“Alright fine, I will,” I say knowing there is no way out

“Thank you.”

“You are welcome.”

I can’t believe I am going to be sharing the same house with Ismail. He is the last person I want to see every day.

I help Ismail take his things upstairs, and I can’t believe among all the rooms in the house, he had to choose the one right next to mine.

I am done helping Ismail; I pray Asr( mid-afternoon) Prayer before I walk downstairs to make something to eat.

I feel like preparing one of my Nigerian Dishes today, but I wonder which I should make. ‘Aha, I know just what to prepare’.

I walk to the kitchen; the kitchen walls are painted all white. There is a chandelier in the middle; the cupboards are painted white with silver handles, the gas cooker and the microwave are silver, and the worktop is ceramic with a black and white pattern.

I start preparing dinner which is, Pounded yam and egusi soup with chicken, but if I eat it and go to bed early, my stomach will hurt me the next morning, but Alhamdulillah (Praise be to Allah) it’s 3:00 p.m. I am lucky I closed from work early today. There is enough time for the food to digest before I go to bed.

2hours later; I am done making my egusi soup and pounded yam. I am about to dish out my food when I hear someone’s voice coming from the living room, walking to the kitchen.

“Hmmmm what’s cooking, I am so hungry I can’t wait to eat,” Ismail says walking into the kitchen

“See this one! Who said I added your mouth in this food. If you want to eat, cook for yourself” I say speaking with my Nigerian exclamations.

“Ewww what is that you are cooking,” He says taking a step back away from my food.

“What did you say?” I say raising my brows, looking at him with all those looks that say, try and repeat what you said, and you will see what will happen to you.

“I did not say anything, but please what is that you made. I have never seen it before,” He says moving a step farther away from me.

“Better for you, it’s called pounded Yam and egusi soup.”

“What is e-eg-gusi and where did you pound the yam.”

“You are not serious! Just because I called it pounded yam does not mean the yam must be pounded,” I say laughing my head off at him

“Will you stop laughing, You are laughing at me like I am a Nigerian and I am meant to know all things about the way you guys make your meals” He says frowning at me while I laugh at him.

“Sorry Mr. and since you don’t know, I did not pound any yam. I made it with yam floor” I say still giggling a little.

“Oh, you could have just said that instead of laughing at me,”

“Whatever, do you want to try some? And even though you are not my favourite person in the world, I will never poison you,” I say tasting my food to prove to him it’s not poisoned. Before he can reply, Aazim walks in.

“Aha Umit you made pounded yam and egusi soup today,” Aazim says smiling.

“Yes, I did, you guys own is on the dinner table,” I say turning back to Ismail waiting for his answer.

“Aazim you eat this thing she cooked,” He says giving my food a disgusting look. Does this guy want me to beat him? If he gives my cooking that look one more time, I won’t be responsible for my actions.

“Of course, why won’t I? I am sure you must be wondering why I will eat something I have never eaten before or ever seen in my life. I will tell you why, when she first made the dish I did not like it. I did not even want to look at it for even a second, but when I heard my son say that it was his best Nigerian food, then I knew this dish must be amazing because, Aayan is very selective when it comes to food, and for him to like it, I just knew that I had to try it. So, one day when she made it, I tried it and let me tell you something brother, it was amazing” Aazim says praising my cooking which makes me smile and forget I was planning to beat someone up, even though I was not going to anyways.

“Wow,” He says looking at his brother like he has two heads

“You should try it too,” Aazim says to Ismail

“No thank you, I will pass,” Ismail says walking out of the kitchen.

After dinner, I went back upstairs to make Eman’s hair before finishing some work I had to do. I also prayed Isha( night) after I finished working. I am walking to the Kitchen to get a bottle of water to drink when I hear noise coming from the kitchen. ‘I wonder who is in the kitchen by this time of the night’ I mentally ask myself

I walk into the kitchen to see the last person, doing the last thing I ever thought the person could do. Ismail is eating the last plate of dinner I made, and he is enjoying it so much that, he did not notice when I started taking pictures of him until I started laughing like there was no tomorrow.

“What are you laughing at?” He says dropping the plate in the sink like I did not just catch him eating the meal I made.

“Oh me, nothing serious just this funny picture I saw online,” I say flashing my phone in his face

“When did you take that?” He says trying to grab my phone from my hand

“I took it when you were busy eating the food like your life depended on it,” I say laughing at him again

“You have to delete it,” He says trying to grab my phone again

“No,” I say locking my phone, so even if he gets it, he won’t be able to open it, while I run to the edge of the counter in the middle of the kitchen. We run around the kitchen like little children until we both get tired and decide to stop.

“Fine I give up, what do you want me to do so you can delete the picture,” Ismail says with heavy breath, probably tired from all the running around in the kitchen

“Hmmmmm, you will have to be my slave for a whole month.”

“You’re what?” He says with a lot of disbelieve.

“My slave,” I say smiling knowing I have already won this battle

“You have to be kidding me. Pick something else, anything but that.”

“You either be my slave for a month or everyone on my snap chat, Instagram and other social media accounts will have a copy of your glorious picture,” I say laughing

“FINE, FINE, I will do it but don’t make me do things that are not reasonable.”

“I can’t promise you that,” I say smiling

“I am serious UMIT.”

“I have heard you and Goodnight. And also, after you have finished eating, do remember to wash the plates. So, no one will know you ate my cooking,” I say smirking while walking up the stairs making sure to be loud

“Will you keep it down!”

“Sorry sir,” I say in a whisper before disappearing upstairs