WHATEVER, POLICE OFFICER

Fifty Four.

Fatima with the sauce and ginger💃🏿

ADAMAWA STATE, NIGERIA.

Fatima awoke the next morning all tired and fatigued but it didn't dampen her mood even a little knowing she's a few miles away from Ahmad and if she goes there this time around, he will be awake. Adda mama messaged her that he is awake and they can come any moment. She's prayed fajr earlier then read the message, it took heaviness and dizziness to get her back to bed because she wanted to go there before the sun rise. But now that she feels a little better, she can go there and harangue him for worrying her the whole of yesterday.

She yanked the duvet off of her and stalked to the bathroom with more sway to her steps that usual, maybe the excitement is finally getting the best of her? She shook her head and took a good shower scrubbing everywhere that needs to be scrubbed just in case something is going to happen with Ahmad. She blushed and bit her lower lip, she is one heck of a naughty abandoned wanton woman. How could she be thinking about such things when he is injured with a bullet she didn't shoot? She was supposed to shoot him.

She didn't bother going to his closet today because everything she has there is casual and she wants to dress up well today. She usually does that but today, there is just something about this Friday that she wants to make heads turn and mouths to whistle when all she wants is one man's attention. What could she wear that will take Ahmad by surprise and shock every single person that's ever encountered her? She questioned herself all the way to her room and into her walk-in closet. She couldn't come up with any answer, her head is blank.

Rummaging through the clothes Babagana ordered for her that she didn't bother checking, she started from head to bottom in search of something eye-catching and head-turning. Her brows came together when she touched something that feels ridiculously like Ankara, the whole set there is the same thing. She poke her head inside in search of the culprit and came face to face to rows of well pressed and ironed atamfah of different colors. Some of them have golden embroidery while the others have silver, her nose twisted in confusion. Did her father get her these?

She's never worn atamfah her whole life and Musa Babagana knows that, why did he buy many of them for her? Beside them are laces looking all posh and extravagant. She's never noticed that part of her closet and this is actually a very bag surprise. But a thought occurred to her, no one has ever seen her wearing it which means it is the perfect article she could wear that will make heads turn and mouths to whistle right? Ahmad will definitely be shocked and paralyzed at the sight of her looking all traditional and modern in a weird way.

It clicked, she is going to wear fine ass ankara today for the first time in her whole twenty three years. She started viewing them one after the other inside the closet, too lazy to think about bringing them out and returning them inside again as there is no Asabe to help her with it. Her eyes settled on a brown one, it's so beautiful and definitely the color that will make her skin look exquisite. That's the color then, tan. The pink ones she's seen don't look half as good as the combination of brown and navy blue, it promises a good image when done.

She yanked it off the others slowly afraid that the rest my fall of if she roughly remove it. Successfully bringing it out, she unfolded the nice pressing and surveyed it with great interest as she's never viewed ankara as something she'd wear. Had it not being for Ahmad, she wouldn't have thought about that outfit her whole life. The pattern is actually very pretty and lovely in a mature way, she'd despise seeing flower all over it for it makes them look absolutely ridiculous. There's a gentle touch of another color ranging from orange to fire, she's not sure what that is but for now, she will wear the damn clothes on.

It's sewn into a straight gown, the slits behind covered with more layers that it sweeps the floor as she walks. The upside down cape sleeves looks like it's meant for such outfit, reaching till her wrists. With the ankara, the tailor decided to drape it around her from waist to her ass, permitting a tail to reach down the floor from the sides of the drape. Just like yorubas wear something around their waist mostly during weddings so they can dance better, it looks more prettier with the drape. The way it tightened around her stomach and hips, a smile crawled it's way to her face.