@ Bellan Books, this is the first time we will be sharing our writing on this forum. We are working towards publishing some of our books, so we want to get feedback from the public before doing so.

A Bellan Fiction Books 2018. All rights reserved.

ONE

It was an hour after crepuscular, the moon was vibrantly radiating reflected light rays, blessing our murky Earth, blending with synthetic rays, and a kaleidoscopic patterns of lights is seen. Mother nature, breathed serene, pacific and cool air which splashed on Ameer, a sweet sensation crawling inside him. He was exhilarated; a cauldron of bliss, excitement, curiosity, as he alighted his new Range Rover which he was driving for the first time. A gift from his mother, presented to him today, his wedding day. A new day, a new car,a new house, a new wife, a new life.
Masha Allah

The gatekeeper ran to him, as he tried to carry the big bag stashed with assorted snacks, drinks and food. It was the first night. He asked him not to bother, gave him two notes of one thousand naira. A bright expression splashed on his broad face, his breathing increased in tempo.

What? This reaction for just two thousand naira?

He gave him a bundle: One hundred thousand naira.

He stopped thanking, looked at the money and then Ameer saw tears in his eyes.

Ameer left him speechless and walked to the front door of the mansion. The front yard was spacious, bedecked and endowed with a long parking space with posh cars juxtaposition. Three were for the bride.

He opened the front door and said the salam, heard no reply, then walked into the gargantuan living room, expensively furnished. He ascended the stairs, appreciating the architectural prowess and ambidexterity displayed, the enigmatic interpretation by building technologists and civil engineers.

He loved his new home....their new home.

He stopped before the bedroom door, prayed, then said,"Assalamu alaikum warahmatullah."
The mellifluous voice that replied sent a shiver through him, a voice that was smooth, natural, and honey sweet.

He opened the door and walked into the big room and found her sitting on the bed: his wife.
" You are the most beautiful woman on Earth." He said and he meant it.

She widened her lips into a ravishing smile, that shone so bright and obliterated the electric lights. A powerful smile that made him defy gravitational law, damn W= mg. He was floating, and breathing lilac and exhaling jasmine.

She sat at the edge of the bed, a small white teddy bear resting on her laps, while she placed her slim hands on it.
The golden bracelets ,adorned with diamond stones sparkled, synchronizing with the designs on her hands and legs.
This was Ameerah, his new wife.

She was a quintessence of unadulterated beauty. She was slim and broad at the middle, giving her a model like glitter. Her skin was as smooth as mirror, like a new product just out of its nylon pack. Her eyes were large, immaculate white with very dark iris. When she blinked, the long natural eyelashes looked like they were displaying in a circus. Her nose was slim and a bit long, perfectly placed above pink cattleya orchid full lips.

Her oval shaped face was set into soft spot which made him wonder if there was anything more attractive than her. Her hair was simply made into a pigtails, shiny, silky and long. Acuce maza? No!

He went and gently placed the items on a table, carried a bowl of ice cream then moved slowly, a smile planted on his face ,and sat on the floor before her.

" Your majesty, I am your humble servant here to serve you. The palace has outlined my duties: I am to love you unconditionally, make sure I protect your happiness and never let it go far. I am to provide your needs, both material, abstract and emotional. I have been ordered to make you smile and laugh, pamper you and feed you ice cream, massage you, bath you and carry you to bed when you feel too tired. I have also been appointed to assist in kitchen, and help you in morning exercise.

They said I double as a bodyguard and a company to beautiful places. When you need someone to lean on, I will be there. If you need a friend to talk to, I am there. I could be a pedagogue, or an apprentice, I could be anything but with much love and care. Allah has joined us together, I pray He gives us the strength to adhere to His rules. This is my small world. Welcome my queen. I hope you will not be disillusioned."
She said nothing, just looking at him then she closed her eyes.

He uncovered the ice cream.

Two thin streams of tears ran down her dimpled cheeks. Tears of joy? " Ameer, what I want to say is deep from my heart. Thank you for your sweet words. Words that every sane girl needs to hear from her husband. You are handsome and caring. You have all a woman dreams of and I consider any girl who marries you lucky.

But I hate you, Ameer. You brought nothing but doom into my life. I stopped living the day I met you.You took away my joy, you ruined my life. I was happy before you came, you will never get love from me....never Ameer. The more I see you, the more I hate you."
Inna lillahi wa'inna ilaihi raji'un (from Allah we come and to Him we will return).

Literary, he began to hear a ringing sound, not sure if it was from his head, ear or heart. Something in his head began to swirl, his heart ached but something kept saying it was all auditory hallucination.

" I don't get it. But I asked you if you were interested or not." He said, flummoxed.
" You did and I said I was. Mum is hypertensive. She did not force me to marry you but I knew she wanted it. If I had refused, she would not have forced me but I will hurt her. You asked me if I loved you or not, I said I did but actions speak louder than words, they say. You never saw that passion in me or any sign of love. I began to hate my name because of the similarity with yours."

She burst into tears, crying hysterically. What! He tried to calm her, then the subliminal messages began to inchoate but it was too late. He had thought she was just too shy. Her lackadaisical response was born out of hatred. How could he have been so blind?

He never wanted it at first too, but he fell in love with her. Their parents were friends. Her mother was his mother's childhood friend. He remembered the first day his mother told him about her. He rejected the idea. He hated fixed marriages. She asked him to meet her. He did and fell for her.

He asked her if she was okay with it, he did not want it to be a one sided love, he could not wish for any girl to get married to one she did not love. But he was wrong. Ya Rahman!

She was crying profusely. He tried to calm her, hold her hand but the touch was like igniting a raging fire which metamorphosed into a virulent inferno. She swayed her hands and hit him, collected the bowl of ice cream and slammed it on his face. If he had not quickly closed his eyes, It could have been more pernicious. She then sprang up, completely ballistic, went to the table and scattered the stuff he brought on the floor, crying and vituperating.

He was trying to wipe the ice cream off his face. Some of it slipped into his mouth but all he felt was a bitter taste.

"You brought all these rubbish because you want to have me. Over my dead body!"

He stood befuddled, not uttering a word as he tried to wake up from this nightmare. But the fact remained: this was for real.

She ran into the toilet, crying and slammed the door. The clicking sound told him that she locked it. She rather be in the toilet than be with him.
His phone rang and he picked it, still feeling the cold on his face. It was Amaar, his twin brother.

They got married at the same time. They were identical twins. Amaar got married to Ameena, a girl he had been dating for years. Ameer was not lucky to have a girl like Amaar so when mom suggested that he got married to Ameerah, he did not object.

" Guy, I know it's a faux pas to call now but I could not wait. Hope she can't hear me." He said, sounding excited.
" No. I'm alone." He said trying to sound perky.
" Maza, why didn't we get married since? Muna ta kona soyayya ( We are in a romantic mood). "
" Same here, bro." He lied, happy for him.
He paused."What is wrong with you,bro?"

Jeez!

This was one guy who was his lie detector. He could hardly lie to him successfully and vice versa. Telling him it was all hunky-dory was a cockamamie and he would detect. He could not let his travail thwart his first night.

Amaar had the right to be happy and he was going to make sure he did. 'Ya Allah, hide my troubles from him' he prayed. This was a secret he was ready to keep from everyone, including his twin brother. But it was not possible to tell him it was all well, so he had to give another reason.

" I just got lassitude from stress, bro, Inajin ciwon kai ( I got a headache)."
" Bro, this is not the night to fall sick. Get Panadol Extra and bounce. I have to go. She is coming."
“I am happy for you, bro. I pray you enjoy that for the rest of your life' he prayed in his heart and smiled, with hot tears flowing down his cheeks.

She spent the night there. This was his first wedding night.


The intensity of the rain was high, water drops heavily disgorging, accompanied by strong wind and ice pellets that ricocheted , and the lighting and rumbling of thunder that emerged within intervals was bogey.

Ameer was glad he finally made it home as he sat under the wheel before the front door of their mansion. He could not halt at the parking space as the intensity kept increasing. He had problems with been under the rain. Now as he sat, he knew he had to be as fast as possible to get to that door without getting soaked.

He finally summed up courage and swiftly opened the car door, alighted and ran to the front door and he quickly pushed his thumb on the bell button.

No answer.

He pressed again. The splashing water made him felt uncomfortable.

Then someone peeped through the spy hole. Thank God, he sighed.

Two minutes gone, no one opened the door. What was wrong? But Ameera saw him! He was half wet, and he began to shiver. He prayed it did not trigger his pneumonia.

He kept pushing the button, then started banging at the door. He had called her but she did not pick the call.
Ten minutes later, the door was opened. Her majesty had finally decided. He was all wet, and could feel the percutaneous penetration of cold as he shivered.

Assalamu alaikum. He said as he went in.

He saw her move her lips in what seemed to be a reply. He ran upstairs, not asking her why she had refused to open the door. He ran to the bedroom, pulled off his wet clothes, then wore a thick white sweat shirt. He went downstairs to meet her sitting comfortably on a sofa, a plate with chicken bones and crumbs of rice in front of her. It was her first day of cooking and he was glad she did because he had been in a board meeting since in the afternoon and they did not stop until after ishaa prayers (Around 8pm).

But you peeped and saw me, why did you not open the door? He asked her as she used a remote to change a channel. I never knew it was you. I only saw the silhouette of a pig and thought it was my imagination. She said without looking at him, but at the TV.

A pig? Do I look like a pig?

Mallam Jatau, I was staying in peace before you returned, and if you have come to stir trouble, I will leave and go to bed. Bana son tashin hankali(I do not want trouble) . She vituperated.

Mallam Jatau? When did he become that?

Ameer kept quiet, praying for refuge with Allah against Shaytan (satan). He did not feel an acrimony was pertinent. He turned and saw expensive and beautiful set of plates on the dining table. He was so famished he forgot her troubles at that moment. He could feel his intestines rumbling, and the shiver was now out of hunger. And it was the first time ,he would come back to find food on the table, like a normal married man.

He hurriedly moved to the dinning, drew a chair and sat comfortably, aware that he was shivering and the sight of the chicken bones and crumbs of fried rice made him salivate.

He turned the empty plates, set the cutleries , drew the big food flask closer, uncovered it then paused: It was empty!
The flask is empty. He cried out at once.

What?

The flask is empty. I cant find any food.

She smirked, turned back to her movie.

Please where is the food? I haven't eaten all day.

And when did I become a baby sitter? Tell me where it is made obligatory for me to provide food for you because you said you got married to me, Mallam Jatau. You are not even grateful, I was considerate enough to cook for myself, saving you the trouble. What kind of ingrate are you? You want to eat, you built this house and you know the ways around better than I who is only a visitor. But in case you have forgotten, that is the way to the kitchen and you can use my utensils, ba matsalla,me rayuwa( it's not a problem, what's life)? We are neighbors, aren't we? She turned back to her movie.

Inna lillahi wainna ilaihi rajiun!

Ameer felt his bile rise, a bitter taste in his mouth and found it hard to swallow, felt his head spinning and his hands clenched.
Audhu billahi minashaytani rajim(I seek refuge from Allah from the devil) He kept muttering, closed his eyes and allow a hiatus in his heart, trying to think of nothing, trying to imagine nothing existed in the world, just sand, water, air, light, and space and gradually he found that oasis.

He would not touch her, he would not act out of anger, only weak men beat up their wives. He had to be strong. This was a test from Allah and only Allah could make him pass this test. It was too much for him to bear. Thank you. He said and walked into the big kitchen. He stood still, then looked round, befuddled. It was still raining hard, and his wristwatch told him it was a few minutes after 11:00pm. Only if he had known, he could have bought some snacks. He stopped buying such things because she never accepted them from him.

He knew somewhere Amaar was having a nice time with his wife. That thought alone ameliorated his pains. At least, one of them was happy.
The truth was he did not know how to cook. He did not know where and how to start but he knew he had to do it. The hunger was intensive. This would make him get his provisions and teach him not to depend on her again.

He got a pot, poured some amount of water, put on the gas cooker and placed the pot on it. He rummaged round, got oil, salt, chilli, onions, seasoning, and beef then poured everything into the pot. He knew they were ingredients. He then poured three cups of rice inside, all at once, even though the water was yet to get hot.
Concoction!

Meanwhile, Ameera was lying on the king-sized bed, head on pillow and her teddy on her chest while she scrolled through her phone. She went back to the message for the umpteenth time, then she felt her heart skipped a bit.
He finally replied after a million years. It was a Whatsapp message:

Hey

With shaky hands, she quickly typed, Haba Khamil, I text you every day but you never reply

What do you want?

"You are breaking my heart"

Are you in your right state of mind? You have the effrontery to talk about heartbreak!

"You know it was not my fault"

Who's fault? You broke my heart! You shattered my world! Now, you are married, why on earth do you text me?

"How on earth do you think I can forget you?"

"You know I hate him! Khamil, it was you I wanted to marry".

But it is too late now. You are married.

Khamil, Please forgive me. I will leave this place, but not without a good plan. I can't leave on my own but I will make him do it. I hate him and I feel like killing him! I know he will soon get tired and send me away and Mom would not blame me.

And what makes you think I still want you?

Haba Khamil! Please don't make me faint here. You know it is bad for a Muslim to commit suicide ko? Dont make me think of it.
So you think I care, huh? You did not think of what state you left me.

Please stop saying that. You know it hurts when everything I do revolves around you and you don't even know it. You know I can do anything to prove that you mean a lot to me.

Are you sure?

I am.

Then come and see me.

What?

Come and see me and make love with me.

Khamil!

That is what will prove that you still love me.

But, it is not right, now.

This is the best time. When you get pregnant, nobody will scold you. We will lay it on that dummy who agreed to marry a girl who loves him not.

That is the problem.

What is the problem?

We have not consummated the connubial knot.

Ke dan Allah(tell me the truth for the sake of Allah) !

Wallah! I cant let him touch me. Khamil, you don't know how much I hate him.

You mean he has not plugged my fruit? The one I was nursing before the idiot came.

I am still keeping it for you.

# Smiling# I love you bae! You are still my baby and I have forgiven you, bring your head let me bless you.

Hehehe. Oh God! I havent laughed for a while.

Then we have to think of a way out. You must leave that house. I will think. When I get result, I will call you.
If you call, and he is around, I will say Hannat and just keep quiet. I saved your number as Hannat.

Now I am jealous!

Please don't be. Just plan and do it ,pronto!

Is the guy as rich as they say?

He is the richest in the house, richer than his twin brother. But I don't give a damn about his wealth.

I will start thinking, please keep my fruit for me. Amana na baki( I am entrusting it to you).

Angama yallabai( done Sir).

Where is he right now?

Cooking #giggling#

What? Don't you give him food?

His name is not Khamil. I am not a babysitter.

Brutal. Haba! At least you should give him food.

So ,you are not jealous, ko? You want me to be nice to him.

I am jealous and its okay once you don't give him my fruit. You will start giving him food. Good food, it is part of the escape plan.

What if he decides that I am changing and hopes things will be better.

His decision is a complete balderdash ! I have started the inchoation of a plan as we speak. I am the king here and only my decision matters.

I trust you.

I love you.

Hmmm

You should say it back!

Khalid, I am still married now no matter how I hate him. Let us leave love out of it until I am free. I cannot say that to you now, we are not dating now but as soon as I am free..

I understand. It makes me trust you the more. When a woman cheats on her husband with you, then she can do it to you if you marry her.

Okay, officially, we are just partners in progress.

Yes# Giggling# Partners in progress.

Good night.

Good night.

Meanwhile, Ameer was serving his food. It was steaming hot. He could not wait, he fanned it then took a spoon.

Wao! It was too salty, the rice looked bad, the ingredients were in total riot, he did not know if it should be called tuwon shinkafan jollof or what.

He could not eat it. He picked out the meat, washed them with water, ate then went upstairs to lie precariously at the edge of the bed.

tbc

I perceive dis will be an interesting writeup, its already captivating from d start.....
Doh am not a Muslim, but am already loving d story... Thumbs up

gennysq:
I perceive dis will be an interesting writeup, its already captivating from d start.....
Doh am not a Muslim, but am already loving d story... Thumbs up

Hello. Thank you for the complement. Though it is not a Muslim Novel, the main characters are however are. Reason why their Muslim personality was expressed.

Thanks once again.

What a wife!!! I pray she doesn't succeed. Ameera is the perfect definition of wicked.

excelmerry:
What a wife!!! I pray she doesn't succeed. Ameera is the perfect definition of wicked.

Lol. More updates coming. You never can tell.....

Continuation....


Where else would I be if not home?" Ameer said and forced a chuckle as he pressed the phone to his ear absentmindedly. " Ango akace fa(talking about a bridegroom)"

Someone laughed from the other end.

" Ango ne ko angogu?"
" You are crazy Ibrahim." Ameer said and chuckled. " Gerrat of hia! How is Salamatu?"
" I will knock your head. My wife is Salamat."
" Salamatu?"
" You are lucky I am not close by." Ibrahim said and laughed.
" How are you doing buddy ?"
" It's all cool sai dai aiki(but work) . Salamat has been reproaching me that we have not come to visit you guys. Things are just tight.

Sometimes I come back after Isha, and I will be fagged-out and crash. I mean crash and when I crash, I skip duty."
" Kai yaronnan(this boy)! Which one be duty again?"
" You just got employed yourself nah. Welcome to the club. Be diligent, and be sure to gain enough lada(reward). What a wonderful way of acquiring lada."
" Ibrahim go and sleep. You are corrupting me."
" Am I the imam that knot the tie?"
" Go and sleep or crash as you put it."
" Dude, it's just after eight. I will not crash today fa. I gallant die! Amaar has not even called me for a while, dan banzanyaro(naughty boy) . I saw him and his wife the other day at the polo field. That guy and polo! They say he carries her about everywhere he goes."
" Gossip! She is his wife and who does not want to be tripping with his wife?" That sentence pierced through his heart with a painful sensation. He loved that too. Hanging with his wife, going to eateries, resorts, amusement parks, and just anywhere lovely.
" Okay, dude. I know you are eager for me to drop the call but just know that it is too early. And Ramadan is approaching. No afternoon ....."
" Goodbye Ibrahim."
Ibrahim laughed before the call was ended.

Ameer heaved a sigh, aware that the side of his head ached and his chest felt so heavy like his air tracks were blocked and loaded with heavy metals. He took a sip of water. Ibrahim thought he was at home. Naturally, a married man ought to be at home after work, and being newly married made that more pertinent. But he was not as usual. He closed from work before five o'clock, then he would go to Stadium and watch football or polo, then move to Peekay Garden.

It was a big serene garden bedecked with flowers, trees, set in a very romantic setting. They had restaurants and snack bars. He would pray Maghrib (evening prayers), have dinner in the restaurant then sit down with a bottle of soft drink or water until he prayed Isha, spend another one hour, sitting or going through his phone, then go home.

This was his normal routine, his secret that he could not share with the closest person to him: Amaar.
He sat there alone as usual, going through his phone when he heard a conversation between a man and a lady. They were both young and she seemed to be pregnant. They were having meat-pie and soft drinks and Ladies motorcycle popularly called Wayo-Kudina or Roba-roba in Hausa was parked close to them. They must have just stopped-by to have snacks.

" Guess what?" she said.
" What?"
" I can take three more of this pie, Wallahi (I swear). Damn! It's delicious."
The man seemed to grimace, a kind of pain going through him.
" Have mine, I can't even finish it.'
She laughed.
" Boy....'
" Who is your boy?" he retorted playfully.
" You are still a boy, my dear."
" And see what a boy did to you," his eyes peeked at her protruding tommy.
She chuckled and hit his chest lightly.
" I will deal with you, I am only giving you a chance because you were given to me as amana,and I promised to take care of you, not to let you feel homesick or miss mama, or her delicious cuisines."
" I swear you have been doing that. I don't know what to do with you, Sahiba (My companion). Why are you too sweet?"
" I was fed with honey when I was little."
They chuckled.
" Now have the pie." He pleaded.
" Don't tell me you can't finish it. You have not eating since morning."
" Did we not eat at Kabeer's house?"
" I saw what you did. You were very slow and made me eat most of it because I have become so voracious, a gargantuan glutton."
" Please eat."
" Wallahi, I will not and stop that face. I know insha Allah (God's willing) everything will be alright." She sounded pacifying now, a note of care in her voice. It seemed they were oblivious of Ameer's presence and the place was only illuminated with dim lights as bright lights would not suit the purpose.

" The situation is getting worse. I have a pregnant wife I can't feed properly. You are in your second semester and I haven't bought a pin."
She burst into laughter.
" A'an. It is not two hundred level not second semester. It is trimester yaro."
" Na bugo(I goofed) !" he laughed.
"Now, let us get serious. I don't like it when you get yourself perturbed over our plight of affairs. You were relatively okay when we got married. At least we could feed with no fuse. I knew you were not rich when I married you, but I knew I loved you and my happiness lied with you.
I am happy with you and you always wake up for tahajjud, kiyamul laili (Voluntary mid night prayers) and I know Allah will see us out of this insha Allah. There are lot's of rich people hoping their wives should be in first semester...."
" ke ko! (You ba)"
They both laughed.
" But they can't have that. All I will say is Alhamdulillah.(Praise be toAllah)"
She touched his face, kissed his forehead, then held his hands, " now smile for me, that smile you used to trick me out of my home."
He smiled.
" That is my boy."
" You are a dream, Sahiba. I find it hard to believe you are real because you are too good to be real. A man who finds a wife like you has found a goldmine, and I will guard this for the rest of my life."
" I am lucky to have you."
" Shut up, the luck is mine."
" Now eat your pie."
" You know, I can't. Please share it with me,please."
" No."
" Then let me get one for you."
" Kai. Five hundred naira. You know I will go for check -up on Tuesday and we may not have money."
" Assalamu alai'kum (peace be unto you)." Ameer's voice interrupted them.
" Ameen wa alaikum salam (peace be unto you too)." The man replied.
" I am sorry for interrupting you and more sorry for ....eavesdropping. It is very wrong but I could not help but listen. I was sitting over there."
" It's okay." The man said wondering who Ameer was.
" Please permit me to tell your wife something right here."
The man seemed to be astonished .
" Go on." He said. After all he was there.
" May Allah reward you with Al-jannah firdaus (paradise). If you go on like this, and never change, and fear Allah, insha Allah you will make it."
" Ameen." The couples said in unison.
" And my friend," he said to the man, " I know you value your wife and appreciate her. But I swear you don't know the magnitude of the gift Allah has given to you. Both of you are among the luckiest people on earth. You joke in midst of pain, you are both willing to sacrifice for each other, and she was right when she said some rich people don't have what you have. Happiness does not lie in riches alone.

I don't usually go about with money, but it seems your prayer has been answered cause I have something little on me to get you more meat-pie. Are you working?"
" I was working but the recession made the firm let go many workers and I was unfortunate to be among those sacked."
" I will put a call to someone. Have you heard of Al-hisan Textile industries?"
" Who does not know such a company in Kaduna?"
"Good, there is something I can put up for you. It's not much though but it is consistent and that is important. You will supply them diesel every month and that means all the branches around the nation .Don't bother about logistics. Like I said ,it's not much because the profit is about just five hundred monthly..."
" Five hundred what?"
" Not million, bro but thousands."
The man felt a bang in his heart, absentmindedly squeezing the meat-pie he was holding.
" And you say, it is not much? I was earning seventy thousand before. Okay, how much do I need to start?"
" Do not bother about that. This is just a means to help you and the best help is by making someone earn. We will fix that. They pay upfront and logistics is taken cared of. All you need to do is go to the headquarters tomorrow and ask for the GM. He will be expecting you."
" Ya Rahman(O Lord)! Five a month, We will be out of rented house!"
" How can you build a house with such a meager earning?"
The man chuckled.
" Yallabai kenen. The first month, I will buy a full plot of land."

Ameer giggled.

"A plot of land is about twenty million naira."
"That is for you, yallabai (Sir). I will go to Tudun illu, or Tsaunin kura and buy a full plot of land for three hundred thousand naira. Six months later I would be a landlord."
" Insha Allah." Said the wife happily.

Ameer marveled. They were so happy and found joy in living in a house which to his standard was not worthy of living in. Yet, he had a mansion, worth millions of naira but he had no happiness there. He preferred to hang here, hoping it got late so he could go home and sleep, praying for morning to come so he could leave.

" His name is Bashir Turunku. What is your name?"
" I am Sani Hamza, my wife is....."
" Don't bother to tell me your wife's name. I will give him a call when I leave here. The former supplier messed up and I was about sending someone there but thank God, I did not make any promise to the person I intended to send, besides, he has other sources of income."
" Allah ya saka da al-khairi(May Allah reward you). I don't know how to start thanking you." The wife was also thanking him.
" Take these numbers." Ameer gave him two phone numbers.
" The first one is for Bashir. The second is for Mustapha."
" Mustapha?"
" You will call him. I will tell him to expect you. I have two blocks of two bedroom flats at Kinkino. I bought it from a friend and have not decided on what to do with it. I give one to you free and the second, I will rent it out."

The man and his wife were now shocked and speechless. They just gaped at him, somewhat beginning to disbelieve him. Was it a hoax? A hocus-pocus or just a case of fraud or what. How could all these be real?
" I promised you something to buy meat-pie, you can have this." He gave him one hundred thousand naira then another wad of money. It was dollars and when the man counted it, it was fifty thousand.
" I think Allah just answered your prayers because I usually don't go about with cash. My cashier has closed when this money came in. Have a nice day." And he turned to leave.

"Please wait." There was a sharp note in the man's voice. " Mutum ko aljan ( Man or spirit)?"
" Ai da al-jan da dan adam duk na Allah ne ai ( both man and spirit belongs to Allah)" Replied the wife and Ameer laughed. She was not ready to let go this gift.
" Please who are you?" the man asked.
" Do not bother about my identity. The people I am asking you to meet will not divulge that. I am just someone who sees a happy couple, and see them happy even when they have nothing. I see a wife who loves her husband and consoles him when he feels bad about not being able to provide. If you can be happy, and be in love at such condition, then how happy will you be now that you have a steady business, a house, and money to buy her things, eat whatever she wants?

I am a man who wants to see couples happy, in love and if there is any little way I can help, I will do it because money can't buy that. I pray Allah should keep you together, in love and bliss forever and make her your wife both in this life and in the next. Good night."
He turned and walked away. He knew the dim light would not let them see his face clearly but the man did not miss the pain in his eyes as he spoke. He must be a very rich man, the rich man looking for happiness, the rich man who had a mansion but chose to stay in the garden alone. He was not with any mistress.

Ameer got into his Car, then saw them embracing each other in celebration, bliss in the air around them and they walked to the snack bar. Only God knew how much worth of meat-pie they were going to buy.

There was joy in making people happy. He started the car engine, then saw them come out with a big bag containing only-God-knows-what. They held each other , talking and laughing, and Ameer saw his dream life, a life that seemed elusive. Thank God there were people who were happy. He felt a stream of tears flow down his cheeks as he moved the car.

He was going home. If he could call it a home or....a place where he slept.
He was unaware of a tall thin man who had been watching him. The man picked his phone and began to make a call.

tbc

Do men like Ameer truly exist? Your description of him is too perfect! No wonder the man asked "man or spirit".

Lorrrrrrrrrrrd, this is one fantastic story.

Sokodobo, pls don't abandon this story o.

Well done

wow!

tijehi:
Lorrrrrrrrrrrd, this is one fantastic story.
Sokodobo, pls don't abandon this story o.
Well done

Thank you for the encouragement ma'am. More updates coming soon.

TWO

Ameer climbed the bed, the edge where he usually perched precariously, while Her Majesty took the other part. He had arrived to meet her on the bed. He did not change into his pyjamas, but simply pulled off his clothes, and lay clad only in boxers.

He closed his eyes, and thought about the next day. It was inexorable and the idea got him jittery, but he had obliged, faute de mieux because he had no reason to object. If it was all hunky-dory, the idea would have been a humdinger, something of a real fun but with his gut-wrenching wife, he feared it was going to be a debacle, fiasco and embarrassing outing.

Why couldn't he divorce her? It was obvious she despised him, and she was proud to show it, then why let it go on?It was a month and few days after the wedding and he felt like one who had been in a connubial abyss of despair for two decades. He began to fear the word marriage but when he met people like those slap-happy couple, he felt hope.

Why did he have to fall in love with her? He had been very angry with himself for having those feelings, he felt he was hen-pecked, a doofus but he did not plan it. He remembered vowing not to fall in love again, staying away from women, and got his mom perturbed.

Amaar was in love with Ameena, and they had no reason to remain single. They were twenty-nine years old, done with school and all into business. But Ameer had no fiancée and that was holding Amaar back.

Hajiya Maria was their mothers childhood friend even though they lost contact for many years. When they met and hooked up again, they became closer. And it all started from the names. Hajiya Maria was also known as Ummul Ameerah ,and Hajiya Saadat( Ameers mother) said she had a son called Ameer. They had laughed. When Hajiya Saadat saw ravishing Ameerah, she felt she would be a nice match for her son who had refused to bring any girl in.

Both parents did not force their children. It was not an arranged marriage, but recommended was a better word. And they sought the consent of both parties. They both gave positive responses. Ameer was sure he also sought the consent of Ameerah, asking her if she was sure she did not feel bad about it, and she said she was happy over it.

Now he was living in hell. The untold, condescending, uncouth treatments she meted on him were things he could hardly imagine. She hardly greeted him and responded to his greetings with taciturnity.
What should he do? Was it not better to remain single and have peace of mind? He was just thirty years old and she was twenty three. Was he not too young to get marriage induced hypertension?

I kept food on the table for you. She said and brought him out of his thoughts. So she was awake! And she never even greeted him. Thank you. He said softly without looking at her.
Ten minutes later, she said, did you not hear what I told you? I said I cooked food and kept yours on the dining table.
I heard you and thanked you.

Then why are you still lying here like a sack of dusa(offal)?
Because I was not expecting you to keep food for me so I had my dinner before coming back home as usual. I also have provisions because I cant cook and would not take such a risk. I have an ulcer.
What do you take me for? I used my hands to cook and you yap at me? You cannot waste my food,Mallam Jatau!

Urggg! He hated it when she called him Mallam Jatau. He had no problem with the name but the way she made it sound so insulting and infuriating got him on edge.
If its about your gara(food brought by the bride) , tell me how much you spent and I will pay you but the food will not waste. There a lot of people out there that will devour of tomorrow insha Allah.

She now sat up, pugnaciously panting, like a grim lioness, her youthful firm bosom heaving.
That your stupid preconceived mind-set. You think money is everything. You want to pay me, how wretched you are. You think your money means anything to me. I hate you and your money. You cannot buy me, you cannot buy my love, I am not for sale. You think I am not nice, its because I hate you. If I had married a man I love, a man that my heart yells for, I would have shown him the love of this world. But see what you got me into.

Just married and I know no marital bliss. This was not my dream, my anticipations. Cursed is the day you were born. And she started crying.
Ameer took in a deep breath. This was what he was avoiding. All he wanted was peace. He got off the bed, and went downstairs. He came back with a tray of food and sat on the floor.

If eating the food will bring peace, I will eat it. Wata rana sai labara(it will all be history someday) . Life is nothing. I may go out tomorrow and never come back. You don't have to hate me so much. Let us pretend to be friends until Allahs plans for us prevail. I may leave the world for you, to have all the space you want, and you will get that carte blanche. Just be patient, Ameera.

Dont you dare touch my food. Your slots have fed you and you will not force my food on yourself. Mallam Jatau!
Naam Matan Mallam Jatau (Yes Mallam Jatau's wife). Ameer said and smirked. Yar gaban goshin Mallam Jatau(Mallam Jatau's darling )
I forbid you to say that! She got off the bed ,forgetting she was only clad in lingerie.
I am sorry. If you dont want me to eat the food, then let me return it.
Leave my plates. Just go and sleep, I dont want to see you.
Ameer got up and walked slowly towards her.

Why cant you fear Allah and give me what rightly belongs to me? Do you know the consequences of your actions. At least we are married for now and should act as husband and wife.
I wish you know how repulsive that sounds. Husband and wife! Can you do me a favour of not mentioning that again?
I have a better idea.

He held her hand. What? She tried to free herself cursing him. But he was adamant, he pulled her closer to him, his strong arms wound round her and she felt trapped, not just by the strength but the powerful radiation from his sapphire eyes, the cologne, and his breath.
Now she was angry at herself. She was trying to get away but something was holding her back. Now she hated him more, he was intimidating her. He was cute, she could not deny that, but why was he using it to pin her down ?
She stopped fighting, capitulated and let him cuddle her. He was filled with libido, like an effect of over dosed aphrodisiac. He lay her on the bed and after a few minutes, he was almost there. Very close and the marriage is consummated when she grimaced and hissed.

What is wrong? he asked after a pause.
Just do and leave me alone! You said I will be cursed if I refuse. Is that not what you want. That is my body, have it but you can never have my heart.

Ameer felt the urge drift out of him at once, his adrenaline deadened and the zeal to have her left. He did not want it this way. She would just lie like a log of wood, cursing and grimacing. He wanted someone who was willing, who wanted him.
It was not rape but he felt like it was. He got off her, disheartened and dejected.

You dont have to be scared of been cursed. You did not stop me, I stopped myself because you dont want me. Good night, Ameerah.
She did not reply, she lay there, angry at herself for contemplating letting him have her. Why did she feel something at a point? Okay, maybe it was lust. She was human after all but definitely not love. Never!

Then her phone beeped. It was a message alert. She quickly checked and her heart skipped a beat as she saw the message from Hannat. Khamil! Her heart skipped a beat. She had promised him to keep herself until she was out of here and she nearly let him have her. What would she have told him? That was the man she wanted to spend the rest of her life with.

He was the only man that made her feel love and happiness. Why did she have to end with Ameer when all her life was centred around Khamil? Why? But it was good she was out of the zugzwang situation. She now knew Ameers weak point. His pride. He would not have her if she does not want him to and that means she did not need to say no. All she would do is hiss and grimace.

She glanced and saw Ameer asleep or pretending to be asleep. He lay at the far end on his side, backing her. She opened the message. What was wrong? Why sending a message this late?
We must see tomorrow, he texted.
See? How?
I dont know how but you just have to see me.
But we talked about it.
It is not about sex! Have you decided to remain there for life? Have you fallen in love with him?
You know me better and this should be the last time you mention anything about love between me and him.
I am sorry. We need to talk. It is about you leaving. The die is cast. I have developed a perfect blueprint but we cant talk over phone.
This is going to be difficult.
You are a woman and you should know a way out.
Where do you want us to meet?
Rabzzy Hotel
Hotel? What if someone sees me going into a hotel?
Nobody will see you.
I cant. Think of my reputation, Khamil. Think of what is at stake.
What do you suggest?
If all we have to do is talk, then I suggest Unguwan Agwagwa. There is a field there close to LEA Primary school.
I know that place.
What time?
What time do you think you will be free?

Its not about my free time but he does not have to know. Let us make it around eleven oclock in the morning.
Good. I miss you. Hope my fruit is still safe.
Its not yours yet. I am still married fa.
Why do you keep reminding me about that? Do you think I dont know? If you want to stay there let me know!
I am sorry yallabai. I just dont want us to cross the line. When this is over, then the line is obliterated.
That is why you must see me tomorrow.
Yes, sir. And for the record, nothing has happened and nothing will happen.
Oh, I love you bae
Na you get your mouth.
Say thank you at least even if you cant say it back.
Good night Khamil.

Keep it coming.

Well done.

interesting, continue pls. . .

Wow..l' m loving this story like mad

Sani sat comfortably on the new sofa in his new living room. He was still finding it to believe it was for real. The next day he met Ameer, he went to the company and met Turunku. The arrangement was begun and it was obvious he was going to make a supply that month. They told him how it was done, gave him contacts and he realized that this was just to help him.

Then later that day, he met Mustapha who took him to the house along with his wife, Zarah. They could not believe their eyes. It was a portable two bedroom flat with two toilets, a store ,kitchenette, courtyard, and backyard. The ceiling was made with Plaster of Paris, the walls painted with Stucco and Satin. The floor was tiled and the kitchen cabinet was superb.

He was living in a rented house, just a living room and a bedroom, and they sheared toilets and kitchen. And all the numerous quarrels and the gossips of the house got him mad. They called it civilian barracks or face-me-I-face-you.

As the documents were being signed with three witnesses, he felt a tear drop in his eyes. Alhamdulillah (Praise be to Allah)!

They moved in two days later. Yes, there had always been this idea that it took time to relocate because of arrangements and all that but what did they have to arrange. They sold most of their belongings to feed.
All they did was to go shopping the next day. They bought new sofa, furniture and electronic gadgets, and the next day they announced that they were parking and seek forgiveness for whatever wrong they may have done.

The co-tenants were shocked. One of the women said but it was not time for the expiry date of their quit notice since they failed to pay their rent. She did not say it because she cared. It was mockery. So, Zarah, being a lady lied.
She told them her husband had bought a house at Kinkino. This was because of their retrospective condescending comments. She did not do it out of ingratitude. Then curiosity made the women begin to seek permission from their husbands to accompany their neighbour to their new house. They wanted to see if it was true and the kind of house it was.
They were shocked to see the house and the modern setting. Trust such women. They began to whisper, how did he get the money overnight? Zarah was quick-witted.

Sani asked one of the women, to ask her husband to meet him. The husband was a truck driver who was also out of job. Sani said he would give him one of the trucks allocated to him. That was not just to help the man but to let them know that he is doing something legal.
They had a lot of food, and life was good now. They had started shopping for the unborn child. What more could he ask for.
Zarah dropped a plate of pepper soup on a stool in front of him but she noticed that he did not move.
What is wrong with you? she asked him.
Nothing.
I know there is something on your mind but if you are not willing to share with me she shrugged.
I have not been able to identify the man who did all these for us.
Why is that a problem? He does not want us to know who he is. And he made sure he sealed all the chances. His men are so loyal they wont tell you. Why is that a problem?
I saw something in his eyes, Sahiba. That man is troubled. I feel he is very unhappy. I have not seen him in that garden since then.
Please do not create trouble when there is none. Such a person can take care of all his problems. He just solved ours with just a flick of hand, in one single night.
Yes, but..not all problems can be solved with money.
Now you are ruining the joy.
Who said I am perturbed? Just curious. He smiled but deep inside, intuition, instinct told him the man needed help.
He was right. Ameer needed help!

Thanks for the update. much appreciated.

He was a hunk of a beef, standing almost seven feet tall, with rippling muscles, broad herculean shoulders, athletic sturdy body which he carried with puma-like grace. His hair was cut low, but cherished his goatee and swaggering moustache that set his facade into an appealing visage. He had eyes that pronounced authority and cajole, yet they sent shivers into many girls.

With slightly hooked nose sitting above firm ,aggressive lips, square masculine jaw that twitched when he was emotional or infuriated, he looked what he was: a shit-hot basket baller. His swarthy skin was smooth and but soft hair sprouting on his legs and hands.
He wore a neat well cut denim pants, Calvin Klein cotton top and brown Timberland boots.

Alighting from his Mercedes Benz coupe, he took long strides, with his swagger, to a parked Range Rover Sport, with tinted glasses and white coloured. He walked to the passengers side door, opened the door and slid in, resting his heavy bulk on the sit. He puffed air, gave her a searching look then said, You said eleven oclock. This is eight oclock. Why make it so early?
Cant you say hello first, Khamil?
You sounded like there would not be time for pleasantries, besides, I am playing by the rule. You said nothing personal now, we just partners in progress.
She chuckled.
It has been a while Khamil. She said, feeling the extra effort she was putting on to suppress the excitement of seeing him again after all these while.
Yeah. I can see you look cool and this car, yours?
Yeah. I dont know what he was trying to prove. Got me this, a Toyota Landcruiser and Mercedes C-class.
But you dont sound like you are complaining. Are you trying to oppress me?
She laughed.
I was not complaining. I just felt he was stupid to think this will make me his.
You are his.
I am his wife but not his. He does not have my heart and that is his greatest pain. He would take nothing from me if I dont give it along with my heart.
He would take nothing from you if......., how did you know this? Did you offer it to him? And he refused because it did not come with your heart?
Oh! She had forgotten that he never missed any detail and would scrutinize every sentence made.
Nothing happened. She said.
I know but it almost happened, huh?
He- he tried to force me and I could not fight him, but when I was cursing and wriggling, he left me. He said he would not take it until I wanted to and I would never want it.
Hmm.I dont like the sound of this. His jaw twitched. But from what you have said, I think my fruit is safe.

She did not reply. She knew there was a line between them.
He told me that we would be going out today.
Interesting. A kind of couple date.
Dont be ridiculous. We are going together with his twin brother and his wife.
Hmm. Amaar.
So, I told him that I had to get one or two things before we leave. That explains the change of time.
I missed you, Meemee. He said calmly. Life has not been the same since you left. I tried to move on but failed. You left me in shambles, the air I breath is like carbon monoxide, water taste like bitter leaf, and I am shattered.
I reminisce , all those time you would come wait for me on the court, and I finish and you pass me the towel and we cross over for a drink, and when I take you home, we wish home was where you and me live.
The talks about colour choices, living-room decoration, and my joke about having just a mattress on the floor and no bed. Remember how we planned to spend our first night ? I said I was..
She covered her face with her palms and blushed, feeling uncomfortable.
Please stop, Khamil! I cant take it anymore.
What?
You know we cant talk about such things. Even if Ameer was dead, I would have to finish the taqaba before we can talk about this.
His jaw twitched.
Yeah. I could not help it myself. His said ,his eyes frisking her waist as her veil clung on her body.
Then we should concentrate of a way out. I guess that is why you sent for me.
Yes. I have been planning. He said and as he saw her now, the urge to have her proliferated. He was glad she was still keeping herself for him.
Are you really sure you want to leave him?
Why on Earth should you be asking me that? Why would I come here if I wanted to stay?
I am sorry its just that there are some problems.
Problems? she raised her eyebrows and he felt like grabbing her and kiss her. No! He got to do this. She had to leave that son-of-a-bitch!
You know all those while it was Jonah boy running things. He said softly, now looking at the dashboard. things were flowing, money everywhere and things clicked. Remember how I used to change cars like I was changing clothes? And all those trips. I could not take you abroad because we were not married but I never spent two months without travelling out.
Then this old man, came with his integrity stuff, and everything came to a stand still.
Which old man?
Your Baba Buhari mana! He is not my Baba! He came and everything went wrong. My mom used to be a director at Federal Education Intervention board. A lot was happening but this man came and enforced TSA. In the past, payments were made to the board, and they generated like sixty billion a year then pay five billion to the Federal government and the rest went to those who worked hard.
Mom was in money. But now, every payment is made directly to the single account. Imagine! So, things are not that rosy. He did not stop there, EFCC bounced on dad. I know you are aware of that. They seized our properties, freezed accounts and even arrested him. That man is wicked! What is wrong in making money from where you work?

Does he want everybody to be like him? Buhari was a governor at the age of thirty-one, a minister of petroleum who built the refineries, a Head-of-State at the age of forty-two but all he has is cow and a few millions. Can you imagine that? No single oil well! Does he want everyone to end like him?
If he did not help himself, why must he disturb the smart ones who helped themselves? Damn!
Calm down, Khamil. Ameerah said, What is the problem? We have limited time.

He sighed, his jaw twitched and his hands rested on his knees.
We are bankrupt. He dropped the nickel. We only live on past glory.
So? Did I say you must be rich before I marry you?
It is not a movie, Meemee. This is reality. We need money. Love cannot bring money.Look at you, driving a Range-Rover, and living large. You should not step down but step up.
I dont care. Cant you see that I am still not happy?
What I am saying is that we cannot do this if we dont have money. I want us to relocate to United States. I want to pursue my career. B-ball is my calling and that is where the prospect is. I cannot do this without some substantial amount.
What do you suggest? You called me because you said you had a plan.
I have a plan but not without your help and consent.
Can you stop prevarication?
I got all paraphernalia, but the desideratum is your consent.

Please talk. You know I will do whatever it takes to leave that beast and have my freedom.
Okay. I worked on him. I mean I dug into his life and that includes his families. they lost their father at a very tender age. He was a wealthy man but after his death, things went sour. Ameer and Amaar are the eldest children which you know. In the global rating, Ameer is not a billionaire but in Nigerian rating ,he is.
I dont understand you.
To be recognized as a billionaire globally you must worth one billion dollars. Ameer is no where close to that. Leave that to the Dangotes, Adenugas and Khamils-in-the-future, he chuckled, but he is worth about eighteen billion dollars..oops! I meant naira. That is cool though and he has just one major source of income but he has dived into real estates. He buys houses and rent them out and he has got quite a number of houses in this country.

And his major source of income is Gawasa Entrprises. He is the major distributor of Macdoe products and it is said that he the founder left a will that Ameer should be the only licenced distributor covering West Africa. The bastard got that monopoly, so all he does is go to office, do little organization and he makes millions and he buys houses, estates and make money without sweating.

He has a lot of assets and with his assets put together, he could be getting close to fifty billion naira. Are you with me?
He set up his brother who made a lot of money and now owns Al-hisan Textile company. And also set up his mother, Hajiya who is one of the biggest importers of fabrics in Kaduna. I heard she got them Range-Rover each as wedding gifts.

From what you have been telling me about him, and the way you treat him, and his unusual perseverance, he will not let you go. The decision would not be his. I will be the catalyst. I will accelerate the reaction.
He has to let you go and we can get the money to live how we want.
How?
I love Islam and I am proud to be a Muslim. In Islam, you do not need a will though there is space for wasiya. The beneficiaries are clearly stated and the proportion defined. Ameer has only two beneficiaries..his mother and you.
I dont get you.
He turned and looked directly at her.
Ameer will have to die, and you will inherit billions of Naira. You would be free and we would be rich. I got the blueprint ready.

Nice story Op......... Highly interesting

I had a feeling it was gonna get to dis..... I just hope Ameer's good works/seeds will save him at his tym of need.

Demonic khamil. Ameer will live on.


Well done

Masterpiece

THREE

Ameerah sat debilitated and zonked. She was befuddled and flustered. It has been one month since Khamil dropped the nickel. This was murder. She had never contemplated slaughtering a fowl but he was talking about killing a human being.
She had been so shocked she told him she could not do it. The idea had resonated with her all through the day and she time she looked at Ameer, she felt he could read her mind. They had gone out with his twin brother that day.

She had put up her best act, acted as if Ameer was the love of her life, but not without some flops. Ameena had talked passionately about her husband's likes, hobbies and things that showed how close they were. She realised Amaar was kind of been too observant or suspicious, so she decided to play arraviste. She realised she knew nothing about Ameer. Absolutely nothing apart from the fact that he was very reserved and cool. That was the one way she used to differentiate him from his twin brother. Amaar was more of talker.

They were both of moderate height, slim with a very light skin and dark curly hair. They both wore side burns, low cut moustache and bushy eyebrow. They had sapphire eyes which gave them that unique look.
She had said Ameer loved his sauce spiced with garlic and the brother had been surprised. Ameer had quickly said he started liking it when he used it for rheumatism. She had flopped like two more times and Ameer tried a cover-up.

She was surprised as she was able to act that day. She said sweet things to him, they shared jokes and somehow, Ameer flowed with her but she could still read the hidden astonishment in him because he had not expected her to act that way.
The day was fun packed. They had visited their family house and other friends. But deep down her, the idea of killing Ameer kept resonating. When they had gone home and the show ended, the hatred for Ameer was back. She did not love him, but that did not mean she wanted him dead.

She had told Khamil there could other ways but he insisted that was the only way out and if she did not like the idea, then he was done with her. And that was the last thing she wanted. She met him the next day and said she was game.
To her, anything was better than parting ways with Khamil. He knew this, and knew she would come back.
" Do not be scared, "he had told her, "I am no fool. It won't get back to us. No one would suspect you. The blueprint is perfect. I cannot go into details now but let me give you an idea of how the extrication callisthenics will go.

You will find a way of reaching his phone. I suggest we drug him, A bashi Rohypnol (lets give Rohypnol), he will sleep like a fool, then you get his phone. I will send some messages to you, then you type it into his phone and send it to a number I will give you. This will be done through Whatsapp then you delete the message. It will be on record that he sent the messages but he would not know.

This is to establish a contact with a fake business partner. The business partner will reply and you will delete the message but you will back them up in a laptop which he should not see or have access to. Do not bother about the content of the messages for now. But the fact remains that he into a secret deal with someone. The other phone will be with me and we will create a fictitious personality.

When he dies, there will be investigation. You will leave the laptop for them, and the phone with me will get into the hands of the police. How, leave that to me. the details of how he will die, leave that to me. this will go well because your husband has a past. Don't ask me what now but his past will help us a deal.

His killers would have escaped and we will leave the police in a wild goose chase. We will leave trails of fake evidences for them, they will go after them but will never find it's head. And the sweet Mallams will sit down and share the billions between you and the mother.Hope you know how to cry. Cry the unislamic way so they will caution you to stop yowling, wailing that it is not good for the dead person then you will chill and sob. Please cry, Meemee, refuse to eat, and always be on your praying mat. If you see any one that reminds you of him, cry, cry ,cry my Meemee."

Gradually, he cajoled her until she stopped seeing the evil in it. Instead, she began to think of the bright sides,like having the chance to be with Khamil, her dream man, and somehow,the idea of becoming a billionaire was not too bad.

But now that she found an i-pad which he used for his Whatsapp, she felt zonked. She had discovered some messages that shocked her. Was this guy the person he claimed he was? How could he be doing this? She checked the dates, they were current messages.
How could he? And now she saw just a little of him. Why? The incident! Oh no! Why did it happen? That incident nearly ruined her life.
It was a cold night and he had gone into the bathroom. He came out and was just having a towel round his waist. What got into her head? She had gawked at him and the idiot got ideas. He came for her, and started a dalliance which got more serious.
He got close again and she grimaced. He left her and got up and the word slipped from her mouth. She whispered, "coward."
Then he paused. Did she just call him a coward? He came back for her and it happened. She had cried her life out that day. It happened, she was no more a virgo intacta and she had promised Khmail. The fruit had been plugged.
She had rushed into the restroom to wash her body, hoping she could wash everything that happened away, crying and cursing. She hated him the more. She saw him as one who just destroyed her life.

The next day, after a long hesitation, she decided to tell Khamil. There was no point hiding it from him. He would always find out and it was better she told him herself.
When she told him, she thought he ended the call until she heard him sobbing. This broke her and they both began to cry. But he said he still loved her and he knew it was not her fault. She could not believe he forgave her. Now,the zeal to kill Khamil increased.
She had been using his phone to send the messages before she discovered the i-pad. But the messages she just discovered got her shocked. How dare he?

She rested her head on the headrest and began to read the remaining messages. This guy really deserved to die!




Sani kept looking at the fair bearded man, listening to his voice. The man was introduced as the owner if the company. He was so young but he could not forget that face and voice. The lights may have been dim, but the silhouette was clear enough for recognition. He had found him. In the event of trying to find him, he saw some strange things in the garden. Things he had kept only to himself. But he could not go directly and talk to him. He had to find a way out. This was the man who lifted him out of despair. The man who was so big hearted to make others happy even when he seemed to be sad. Such people were elusive. He owed him. And from what he had been seeing, he could be in danger. Unknown to him, this was Amaar and not Ameer.

Khamil wore his face cap in a manner that it almost covered his eyes. His skinny T-shirt accentuating his brawny body . His black Jeans looked nice on black sneakers with red designs. He walked into a flat and into a living room where three young men sat. The room reeked of reefers and cancer sticks.
" Maza!" One of the men, wearing a flat top hair-cut said.
" Guyz, which levels?" Khamil said.
" Niggaz are roasting 'men." Said the flat top guy. " We ain't got shit so what? We just hang up and do what?"
Another one, looking like a mulatto said, " We pop weed, sip ethanol and get high till we loose our fucki**ng minds, ya know wha I'm saying."
"Word niggaz!" Khamil said, " I got job for the boys. Like making real cheda."
" Maza!"Hailed flat top guy, " you bouncing back on the street like the old days. Hey, Drollz, roll me some pot, this dude got something cool for the niggaz."

These three guys were all deported from abroad. The guy with the flat top cut was called Dazz, but his real name was shehu. His father was a millionaire and had done all he could to make him do positive things. But Dazz had a record of hideous crimes. The mulatto was Kaybee,his real name was Kabeer. His father was From Kano while the mother was American. The father had given up on him. He was what they called a real bad boy.

The third guy was Flash. His real name was Jabir but was named Flash because of his speed at doing things and stealing was one of them. He was expelled from Harvard. Their parents had sent them to school but the thug life got over them. Now they were back home and did nothing except get high, women, and now into kidnapping racket. Khamil had something good for them.


He sat on the usual pew, sequestered from the mirth, persiflage, and hubbub of the young men and women catching fun in the garden. They were in their vintage, cloud cuckoo land where they had less vicissitudes to be perturbed about.
Most of them drove their parents cars, spent their money, demanded for whatever they needed and sometimes resorted to purloin, chicanery and rapaciously obtaining money for the inexcusable desideratum like trips like this.
You could not look into your fathers eyes and tell him you needed money to buy an i-phone7 for your girl, and you were just a student yet found it imperative to play bigboy. This was the stage the young couples he saw were.

Ameer took a sip of soft drink then looked at his wristwatch. He still had about an hour before leaving. Could it be called rape? He had not forced her, he had left her but she called him a coward, pushing his manhood to a goad, and challenging his amour propre.
And he used no force. She had been cooperative but why the sudden anger and regret? She was his wife and that was no debauchery. That incidence exacerbated their groggy relationship and it was becoming obvious that she may never change . She did not love him and it was high time he moved on.

It seemed love could never be his and why not go back to his retrospective preconceived mind-set? Just get that resistance to love and have peace. The Hausa man says in an adage that what you cant have, say you don't want. That happens when a blind man says eyes stink.

What are you doing here?
Ameer looked up at once, absentmindedly scared of been in a hypochondria state, as he felt the figure standing in front of him was a result of hallucination or sick state of mind. He did not reply, but trying to confirm the reality of the event.
What are you doing here Mallam Ameer?
Just having a drink. He replied, still gawking at Ameerah. What are you doing here?
Looking for you?
What is the problem?
You are perspicacious. You know I would never look for you if there is not one. You see me, you see problem.
I would have appreciated it if you had waited for me to come back home. That would have been the best place for problems.
I know. The house is a seething avenue and that is because you married the wrong person.
Cant we go home? This place is for happy people.
She sat next to him.
I want to stay here. I could not wait. I want to know what is going on.
What do you mean?
Are you still in touch with her?
What are you talking about?
You know better. I am talking about this.
She opened her bag and removed an i-pad.

That is mine, why do you invade my privacy?
Saboda tsaro (for security purposes). Now that I did, I found this. She turned it on and opened the messages. Who is Maryam?
The mention of the name sent Ameer quivering. It was not that he forgot her, but mentioning the name did something to his nervous system.
She is someone I used to know.
Used to? That sounds like past tense and I don't think I am so dumb. You are still in touch with her even though I don't know how you do it.
How?
These messages are current, look..this was sent yesterday: "I hope you arrived home safely. I cant wait to be with you permanently. I know you are lonely right now just like I am. She smirked, and you replied: I just got back home and everywhere seems so empty, yet cramped. Only you can bring this balance but don't worry, my love, we will soon be together insha Allah."

This was two days ago: "I am sorry we cant be in the garden today, I got a case to scrutinize my love. Can we hook up tomorrow?" You replied : "Okay dear, let me go into Masjid to pray for the fortitude to survive without seeing you for a day." There are hundreds of messages here to substantiate my claim.

I must remind you that I have not committed any crime or sin here. I am entitled to four wives.
He saw a flash of galling reaction on her face for split second. Why was she feeling this way? What did she care? Why had she been left in a fit of pique since she discovered this messages? She did not love him and it would soon be over so what the heck was wrong with her?

Could it be megalomania? Feeling it was disgruntling, condescending, and revolting to have a man doing this just two months after wedding. How could he say the house was empty when she was there? How would the so-called slot of a Maryam feel when she met her? She will be like, this is the empty woman who cant illuminate a home.
I know that but you should have respect for me..
Why wouldn't I have respect for you when you are the most respectful wife in the milky way?
You said you don't want any trouble here and I am trying to be of my best behaviour. I am too prim for sarcasms.
I don't want to talk about it. Thank god you are knowledgeable enough to know that I have not committed any sin or crime.
She was silent for a while .
Please tell me about her. I am not forcing you.
He had never seen her sound so cool and there was something pacific and imploring about her eyes.

Ameer would not fall for her guiles. He could not believe the expression she showed. If he told her anything, it was because he wanted to.
You are way more quiet than your brother. That was how I used to recognize you before we got married. The phrase got married sounded heavy for her. If he was the one I married, the matter could have been settled long ago. I don't think he accommodates craps.
I have not always been like this. When we were kids, I used to be the troublesome one, He chuckled as he could see himself hiding behind the curtains as Mrs Bamanga came into their compound apoplectically panting and gasping, with her twelve year old daughter, Fateemah. Fateemah was slim and beautiful with small features.
Assalamu alaikum (Peace be uponyou) Mrs Bamanga had greeted in anger, Please Hajiya, warn this boy to leave my daughter alone! she was pointing at Amaar who was with his mother. He caught her and beat her up. This is not the first time he is doing this.
Are you sure? I don't think this boy did it.
Subahanallah! I don't mean to sound uncouth but parents like you who support their children or refuse to admit their faults always end up regretting it. Teemah, who beat you up?
She pointed at Amaar.
Hajiya grinned.
He cannot do that and I understand your point madam but I am not that kind of mother. Just give me a moment. Ameer! Ameeeeeer!
Ameer reluctantly came out .
This is the boy that beat you up. I know my children and their characters.
The anger in Mrs Bamangas face vanished and astonishment and to some extent amusement splashed on her face. They were too identical. Even Fateemah never knew Ameer had a twin.
Matso nan dan ubanka! Hajiya vituperated, What did you do to her?
Ameer was wearing his innocent expression, the one the mom had come to recognise as prove for his guilt.
I was riding my bicycle, then-then- this girl- her name is Fateemah, then- then- I said Fateemah, this is my bicycle and it is called Chopper, then-then she said, she she she now said the gears are not good, then-then-she said the front tyre is smaller than the back tyre, then-then- I said.
He was cut by a slap on his cheek.
I know you Ameer. I hope you wont kill me, dannan (thisboy).
Haba Hajiya, you dont have to slap him like that. Mrs Bamanga said quickly, her anger had deadened and Ameers blabber made her want to laugh. He was just prevaricating.
This boy has become a nuisance, so pesky I don't know what to do with him.
Sai adua da tarbiya(he just needs prayers and admonition)
I treat them the same way, same admonishment but his brother is not like that.
Ameer could see himself buying fireworks on credit and say his name was Amaar. He would avoid the way and poor Amaar would be stopped and asked to pay up.

Okay, Ameerah, I would tell you about Mariyam. He said after a while. And the reason for still keeping in touch with her. Yes, I still see her and we still meet in this garden. I do come here for her sake, to get healed, to feel loved and blissful. This is how it all began.....

Nice update..

Omg... this is just too fascinating.. pls more updates, please

FOUR

2008 ( Seven years before)

Barrister Bello Kankiya led the team of Bastion of Justice, a non-governmental organization, made up of lawyers, with the sole aim of advocating for the voiceless, pro bono. It was no secret that some souls were rotting in jail, over meagre offences, simply because they had no one to represent them or could not afford a solicitor.

He was fifty five years old and had been a SAN for seven years. The team comprised of five lawyers, going round the prison cells, accompanied by prison officials, checking on inmates, taking records of their questions, then it will reported back to the association, and decision is made, lawyers chose the cases to take up.

Among the five lawyers was an odd one. Most of the lawyers who took up such cases were those who had made it in terms of money and could afford doing this. But the odd one was very young, twenty- four years old and had just been called to bar.

She was of moderate height, statuesque and firmly built. Her colour was light brown, glittering and appealing. Her large eyes was pure white, like she was wearing it for the first time since it was saved from birth. Her lips were endowed with captivating power. When she smiled, they formed a shape that made men quiver, when she spoke, the wadding made you lose control, missing her words and concentrating on the intriguing mouth part.

Her sharp featured oval face was like a mass with a strong force of field, attracting every attention that fell in place, over powering resistance potentials, and making the word beauty prominent.
There was this air of calmness around her, but with eyes that seemed not to miss details, yet maintained an expressionless face. She followed them with little or no words, doing more of listening, observation than talking.

They were about rounding up for the day, her first day of coming with them. This was a promise she had made in her first year in college, that if she was ever called to bar, she would advocate for some people pro bono.

They came to a halt before a cell. She noticed how overcrowded the cell was. There were about twelve inmates in the insalubrious cell, and the repulsive smell of urine hit her nose. But when she realised that the inmates were condemned criminals, her heart sunk. They called it CC. She saw lugubrious faces, desperate and dejected, while some never gave a hoot, laughing and talking. What she saw were living-dead men.

The inmates saw them and all rushed up, like famished bees that found nectars. They all began to appeal, imploring, claiming innocence. There was one very huge man, a look at him was enough to terrorize someone. He made a short wild roar and all other inmates went hush. He wanted to speak and they must not interrupt.

Mr lawyers, my name Chukwemeka Obodozie Okorafor from Aba. I am also call The friend ofu Jezuz cry. Because I am love Jezuz andi I am bornu again. They say I am army robber because I was coming back fromu church wheni I am arrested and mistake for a army robber. It is the worku of devil who is angry thati I am winning souls for thy lord.
Pilis Mr lawyers, helep me comot for here. They wantu to killi me, biko, helep me. I am innocenti. Ezieku!

When he was done, and hoped he had convinced them of his innocence, unaware that his appearance alone was a bugaboo, the rest of the inmates began to talk, except one man or boy. He was around twenty-three years old wearing bushy hair and beards. He was sitting on the bare floor, with his back against the wall, his hands wound round his legs while his chin rested on his knees.

He had not moved since the lawyers got there. He did not even look at their direction, nor acted as if he saw or heard what was going on. His eyes seemed blank, staring at nothing. He seemed to be the youngest there and looked out of place.
The lawyers got their attention on him. Barrister Bello called out to him but he just sat like a statue, not responding to their calls.
That one na zombie. One of the inmates said, him no dey yan with anybody.

He was condemned last month, said an official, he is very dangerous. He wiped out a whole family, and he was a university cult member. He was a final year student, Chemical engineering, University of Jos.
What a waste. Barrister Bello said.
He did not move an inch or give them a glance up till the time they left there. The young lawyer gave him a last glance as they walked away.

Una papa! the huge man, Chukwuemeka cursed after them, So na looku una come looku, we be animal for zoo? Idiots, I think say na helep una wantu helep. Ewu! Una lucky say I dey inside cage, I swear one squeeze, I don break neck! No be today.
Presido!
An inmate hailed him.
Na craze they worry them. Make them do kill us make we rest sef. Who dey shake? No shaking! How many blanket I don tear? Babane, I don scatter! I don kpai souls. I don jolly, I kill many lives and me na one I get, they no fit kill pass one, who cheat them?
Na you nah!
Who dey rule?
Don Bosko!
Oya, National anthem.
They began to sing their anthem except the mysterious young man.


tbc

The young lawyer could hardly sleep that night. She could not understand why the image of the young condemned inmate kept torturing her. It refused to go like a deep scar. She could still picture those eyes, full of life yet dead. There was something about him she could not understand. Her instinct was not a result of aposteriori, she had no data for inference, but intuitively, she felt something with him.

The next morning after getting ready for work, she made up her mind to find out more about him. Her father was also a senior advocate just like her mother. She worked in her fathers chambers. She revisited the case.
She read through the court sessions, then began to gather information. Something nudged her brain as she went through the file, then she went to the police. With the help of a commissioner of Police, she was allowed access to the case file.

She spent the whole day going through it. Then she began to study the man behind the case. This took her days. She checked his schools, made contacts in Ibadan, not satisfied, she flew to Ibadan herself and made her inquiries.

Getting approval from her father was very difficult. He thought it was quixotic, and felt she was just a rookie, too inexperienced to handle such a case. Besides, he said he made some enquiries with the judge who sentenced him and was told that the boy made a confession.
She said she knew about that. Her father was Barrister Bello but he was so strict and professional he never treated her like his daughter when it came to work. You have always been pertinacious. I give you my support. We will let the House know that you are taking it up.

She saw him being led into the visiting room. He still looked maverick and lost. This was the third time she was coming to see him but he had never responded to her questions or talked to her. He would just sit, staring vacuously at the wall, and when she was done, he would be led back.

Why did she have to keep doing this? What was wrong with him? Had he being mentally affected?
He sat as usual without a word.

I hope you are good. She said softly. You were not a first class student but 4.4 for a final year student is good. You cant let yourself die. You have to fight it. She kept talking with no response from him.
Then he turned and looked at her for the first time. The eyes, even though vacuous had some power in them, they made her intestines crumble for unknown reason.

What do you want? He said in a deep voice, steady and calm.
I want to re-open your case. There is still time for appeal and we are running out of time. I am glad you talk.
What is the point? I did it and I told them.
I know what you told them.
Then why do you want to waste your time?
Because you did not do it.

He then gave her a sharp glance, and within that short time she saw a glitter and life in those eyes which did not last.
I did it.
You did not. There is something you are hiding, and you are willing to die with it. Have you thought of those you would leave behind? The pain you will put them through?
They came to terms with it. I think I am dead to them already. Just let it be.
I saw the pictures of the dead bodies. It did not add up. I need you to tell me what happened, the truth, please. Think about your family, think about leaving with the reputation of a deadly cultist and killer.

He starred vacuously at the wall for a minute, and she wondered what was going on in his mind. Then he turned at her as if seeing her for the first time.

Who are you?
I am Barrister Maryam Bello Kankiya.

I know you know but I am Ameer Adam.

At last, she felt her heart pulsating in excitement.

It all began one fateful Saturday morning
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tbc

You are doing a good job.

ride on sir.,.

This here is a confirmed masterpiece.