Clueless Love

A few days have gone by since Ismail and I had that talk. Ismail might have seemed like he agreed with my decision of staying by his side, but he did not. I can tell he wishes I would stay far away from him as much as possible, but I can’t. The love I have for him won’t let me. It doesn’t help that Ismail has become more caring and protective of me during these past few days. He calls me every day after I leave the office, checking if I have gotten home safely. He also calls during the weekends checking if I am doing fine. These little acts make my heart flutter for him more and more every day.Content is © by NôvelDrama.Org.

“As salama alaykum, Eman, Aayan, your favorite uncle is here,” Ismail calls out walking through the front door.

Ismail came to the house today to pick up the kids to spend the day with him. They have been missing him and have been asking to see him for the past few weeks. Ismail decided to take them out today.

“Uncle Ismail!” Eman and Aayan yell, running downstairs in their pajamas into Ismail arms that are wide open for a hug.

“How are you guys doing?” Ismail asks releasing them from the hug.

“We are fine, did you come early so you could eat breakfast with us?” Eman asks.

“Yes, I did. Come let’s see what aunt Umit is cooking,” Ismail says walking towards the kitchen.

“As salamu alaykum,” Ismail greets entering the kitchen.

“Wa alaykumu salam. You are here quite early,” I respond.

“I wanted to surprise them and join you guys for breakfast.”

“You are very welcome to join us. Aayan and Eman go and wash your hands and say your prayers. When you are done, breakfast will almost be ready.”

“Alright, aunt,” they say walking upstairs to the bathroom.

“So, what are you cooking?” Ismail asks taking a seat on a stool in the kitchen.

“It’s a Nigerian breakfast, it is called Yam and egg sauce.”

“Hmm it sounds nice, so are you going to make the yam like you always do or in another way?”

“I am making it differently from the usual way you eat it with soup. I am frying the yam today.”

“Alright, I can already imagine it been tasty, I can’t wait to eat it,” he smiles.

I smile back and start preparing our breakfast. Firstly, I blend the tomatoes and red bell peppers with onions. I put a little oil in a pan. I let the oil heat up a bit before pouring in my blended puree. When the puree starts becoming a sauce, I let it fry a bit before adding a few eggs. I also add seasoning. When it’s become egg sauce, I set it aside and start preparing the fried yam. I peel the back of the yam, wash it, and slice it into small pieces. I wash it again with water after slicing it before sprinkling salt on it. I put the sliced yam in deep, hot oil to fry. Once it’s done frying, I serve it with the egg sauce.

“What do you think? Do you like it?” I ask Ismail while we are eating at the dining table.

“It’s nice. I wouldn’t mind having it again some time,” he says smiling.

“Thank you.”

“You are welcome. And Umit, I wanted to ask, are you busy later today?”

“No, why are you asking?”

“I forgot today that I have a package coming in later, could you please receive it for me.”

“Sure, what time?”

“2 PM. but please be there before 2 PM.”

“Sure, no problem.”

“Thank you.”

“You are welcome. And after breakfast, there is something I would like to talk to you about,” I say and as soon as the words leave my mouth, Aazim and Waheeda share a smile with a knowing look on their faces.

I wonder why they are smiling. What do they think I want to tell Ismail? I don’t even ask because I doubt they have a good reason as to why they are smiling. I am sure they probably think I want to tell Ismail about my feelings for him, but I don’t. I just have a question for him, that’s all.

“Sure, no problem,” Ismail replies.

We finished breakfast a few minutes ago. The kids are getting ready to leave for the amusement park with Ismail. I am washing the dishes in the kitchen when Ismail walks in.

“So, what did you want to speak to me about?” he says, walking into the kitchen while he takes a seat on the stool.

“Oh, I wanted to ask you something.”

“What did you want to ask me?”

“The other day, while you were talking you said you were only going to stay for a week. What made you stay longer?” I say while I take a seat in front of him.

Ever since Ismail and I spoke that day, my mind has been bugging me to ask him why he stayed for more than a week. I feel like there is a good reason as to why he stayed for months.

“You,” Ismail answers smiling.

“Me?” I reply totally confused about me being the reason he stayed.

“Yes, you Umit. You are the reason I stayed months longer than I planned to.”

“How did I make you stay longer?” I ask curious to know.

“When I first came to the house, I didn’t like the idea of us living together, but then I got to know the real you, and loved living in the same house as you. I did not want to leave because I loved living with you,” Ismail says smiling.

“Oh,” I say not knowing how to respond to what he said.

What does he mean by he loved living with me? Does that mean I mean far more to him than I give myself credit for? Ya Allah, what does it mean? I am so confused right now. Maybe I should ask him and stop wondering what it means. I am about to speak when Eman comes running into the kitchen, all dressed and ready to go.

“Uncle Ismail, Uncle Ismail, let’s get going,” Eman says pulling Ismail’s arm, dragging him out of the kitchen.

“I will see you later Umit, bye,” he says before walking out of the kitchen.

“Bye,” I say to myself because he already left the kitchen before I could reply. I also did not get to ask him what he meant by him loving living with me. I will have to find out another day.

The kids and Ismail already left for the amusement park, probably having the best day out. I am at home trying to finish up some work before driving to Ismail’s house to pick up delivery of that package of his. I pray Dhuhr (Afternoon) prayer before leaving for Ismail’s house.

I drive through his gate, but not before putting in the passcode. The house is nice with big glass windows giving you a lovely view of inside the house. It is a two-story building, but it’s not too big or too small. The front yard has these cute little flowers all around, giving the house a very welcoming feeling. I park the car and step out. I walk on a natural rock bed surrounded by stone pavers that lead to the front door.

I get to the front door and I use my fingerprint to open the door. Ismail added my fingerprint the last time I came and told me the passcode for the gate. The first time I came here I did not understand why Ismail had so much security, but now that I know everything, I understand fully well why he does. I am a little early, so I walk to the living room to watch some TV before it gets here.

By 2 p. m. on the dot, the package arrives. I open the gate for the car to drive in. I find it a bit unusual that they came in a car, not a delivery van. I walk to the door to collect the package, but I don’t move from my spot once I see who is standing in front of the door. I am probably not seeing well; I can’t believe who I am seeing? How is he standing in front of me right now?

“May I come in?” he says, smiling at my shocked expression.

“Y-Y—YY,” I say trying to form a word, but I can’t form any because I still can’t believe what I am seeing.

“Thank you,” he says, walking inside the house with a few others I don’t know.

“Ho-o-w-w are you here?” I stutter finally able to make words come out of my mouth.

“Good day too you, Miss Umit. I am Mr. Tony Ward…,” he says, but I don’t let him finish.

“I know who you are, but I am wondering what you are doing here,” I say still trying to process what Tony Ward is doing in Ismail’s house. Tony Ward is my favorite designer. I love every single design he has ever made in his life.

“Maybe if we sit down, I can explain everything to you,” he says walking us to the couch.

“I have been asked to design the dress you will wear for the award show coming up by the end of the month,” he says once we take our seats.

“You are doing what?” I say feeling very shocked by what I am hearing.

“I will be designing your dress for the award show.”

“I heard you fine and clear. I am just trying to process everything I am seeing and hearing because it’s not every day you see your fashion icon in front of you,” I say my words tumbling out in fast breath. I think I am dreaming, let me pinch myself to be sure. I pinch myself, and it hurts, I am definitely not dreaming.

“Miss Umit, you shouldn’t do that. I am real as I can be,” he says smiling, amused at my reaction.

“I know that now,” I say rubbing the area I pinched myself.

“Why don’t you call Mr. Uthman? Maybe he can explain everything to you better.”

“Yeah, I think I should. I will be back in a minute,” I say, walking towards the kitchen to call Ismail.

It rings a few times before he picks up.

“Ismail can you explain to me what I am seeing and hearing right now in your house,” I demand as soon as he picks up.

“I am sure by now you have received my ‘package’ for you,” Ismail says sounding happy.

“I am not sure what you are talking about, because a human being is here, not a package.”

“I know that of course, but are you happy that he is there?”

“Ismail, I don’t know if I can feel happy right now, because I am so confused, I can’t process anything else in my brain.”

“Umit, I know you must be very surprised to see Tony Ward in my house, which is totally understandable. I asked Tony Ward to design your dress for the award show because I know how much you love him. And I know you would be more than happy if he designed your dress. That is why he is in my house telling you what I just said,” Ismail says.

I finally understand why, and how Tony Ward got here. I can’t believe all those times I spoke to Ismail about how much I loved Tony Ward’s designs he actually listened to me. Ismail is such a darling; I don’t even know how to thank him.

“Ismail thank you so much. I don’t even know what words to use and describe how happy you have made me. Thank you so much,” I gush feeling myself tear up a bit due to how much joy I am feeling right now.

Ismail might seem like he does not listen to the little things I say to him, but he does, and that is just so amazing about him. He knows how to make my heart flutter for him in amazing ways.

“Umit, are you crying? If you don’t like Tony Ward, I could get you another designer?” Ismail asks sounding a bit worried.

“No, No, I am happy with him. I am just crying because I am filled with joy,” I say wiping the few drops of tears that fell.

“Oh, alright then, I will talk to you later. The kids want to take me on a ride. Bye.”

“Bye,” I say hanging up.

I walk back to the living room to see Tony Ward and a few others he came with patiently waiting for me.

“Do you understand what is going on now, Miss Umit?” Tony Ward asks.

“Yes, I do, and I still can’t believe it’s you right now. I love all your designs; there is no design you have ever made that I don’t love. You are really a great designer,” I enthuse feeling very excited that he is here, and he is going to be the one designing my dress for the award show.

“Thank you very much, Miss Umit.”

“You are welcome,” I say smiling so much I feel my cheeks hurt.

Tony Ward had his female assistant take my measurements for the dress he will be making for me. I am going to check in with him in a few weeks for a fitting of the dress. They left a few minutes ago, but I still can’t believe he will be the one making my dress for the award show. It feels like it’s a dream, but I know it’s not. Ismail never ceases to amaze me with his surprises.