Fatima Umar Mujahid is the name.
I’m a typical Hausa- Fulani girl from the northern planes of Nigeria, Bauchi to be precise. Tall and light skinned with long thick black hair and a figure to die for, i was the envy of all and sundry. I was always in the spotlight.People longed to be near me, quivered when i spoke to them and shied away from ever incurring my wrath.Not that i was quick to anger- but the expressions on their faces when they assumed i was, was priceless, i lived for the attention.
I had all sorts of men at my beck and call, all of them vying for my attention. But who could blame them? I mean look at me, i was beauty personified, in all sense of the word. So it came as no surprise to me when they would ask for my hand in marriage. They ranged from the single to the married, rich and poor, old and young. They came bearing glad tidings, gifts, money- everything an ordinary girl could want and more. But you see, that’s where they were wrong. I was no ordinary girl, i was an extraordinary girl. There was nowhere in the world where they could find someone like me. I deserved better, better than them and their miserly gifts, i was a princess and i deserved to be treated as one. So i turned down their proposals and shooed them away, telling them that they were not good enough for me and that I was waiting for the one, my Prince charming who deserves me, as i, him.

It was on a bright and sunny day in the ancient city of zaria state.I sat on a stone carved bench in the botanical garden of my department, biological science, staring into space. My father, Alhaji Umar Mujahid, a strict and firm man, had forced me into school saying he would not have an illiterate child for a daughter. I,on the other hand had no interest whatsoever in pursuing an education or career. I mean, pretty girls like me don’t have to work to earn a living, that’s why the men were created, to cater to us, our every need. Sighing in defeat, i pulled out my smart phone and started flipping through photos on instagram as i waited for my best friend Hafsah to arrive. The only reason why i was attending this class today was because the lecturer was going to give us his C.A test andi couldn’t afford to miss it because it would temper with my result. My father would not take it lightly.I sat for about an hour, viewing photos when i inhaled a whiff of strong masculine cologne, the scent was so strong and powerful, i had to lift my head to see who was wearing it, but alas, i was met with the receding back of the supposed person. His back looked taut and masculine, stretching the rich material of his white kaftan. His head was full of afro-curly hair and the cap he wore sat on it perfectly.

” Wow” was all i could whisper.

Hafsah nudged me so hard i almost fell off the bench.Glaring at her, i growled

” What’s wrong with you?!”

Hafsah giggled, showcasing her pearly white teeth. ” Fatima! You of all people staring at a guy like that?! And you’ve not even seen his face yet?!”. She exclaimed, breaking into a fit of giggles.

” Shut up! I’ve not seen his face yet but i know he’s hot.” I muttered, defending myself.

She nodded meekly. ” You have a point. Let’s go, Mallam Mukhtar is on his way to class.”

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