© Sanusi Z.O

This work is solely the property of Sanusi Z.O (zeinymira) and must not be copied, paste or published on any social media platforms and hard copy without the authorization of the writer(which is me).
Doing so is tantamount to being sued

Her prayer;


O Allah! I feel this is wrong but I have fallen in love with Musa.
He's so religious and listen to your calling
Never seen him fall into Zina, theft, alcohol and gambling which are the common falling of some Muslim men of today
He's so knowledgeable, virtuous and he is of good character
I love him beyond reasons known and unknown
Ya Allah, I want to marry him
I want to marry Musa!
He calls to prayer with his sonorous voice and I fell in love with his Qira'at of Quran
O Allah! Amir Musa do not know me but I know few things about him
I know his circumstances are difficult
Ya Allah make it simple for him
Make him independent of means by Your grace and bounty.
I try to forget Amir Musa, I really do ignore him atimes
And lower my gaze and ignore his shining beards during Quran memorization.
But he is the first thing that comes to mind even when I wake up for tahjuud.

And this love I have for Musa let it diminish if it's not written for us to be together
Ease my pain and guide me to Your good pleasure.
But Ya Allah, I really do love Amir Musa and I want to marry him.

----Taofeeqah Fayokemi Agbaje

His prayer:

Praise to you Allah, Who creates heaven and Earth and make the darkness and light
Please grant me rizq (sufficient sustenance) and free me from debt and poverty

Grant me spouse and children that will be the coolness of my eyes and in the thereafter please say what I have always long to hear:

"Enter paradise, you and your wives in happiness"
(Q43:70)



-----Musa Adefemi

ONE

Once again, my name is Taofeeqah Agbaje, my life came to a screeching halt in the blink of an eye.
Ever heard the saying "I woke up in a new Bugatti?" I swear it's damn possible. If I Taofeeqah aka TQ could literally blink and my whole life was gone.
It took only one accident, it was raining and I was speeding excessively. There was this inconvenient overpass, I hit the edge and my car appeared to rise into the air and in the next minute the car appeared from above and slammed into the ground in a cloud of chaff and it finally came to a halt, with only a single wheel rolling off.
When other occupants of other vehicles rushed towards me opening the vehicle, I stepped out unhurt, no bruises----nothing. But I was in shock. I kept on rambling "Are you sure I am alive?"
"I'm alive" I repeated this just to convince my brain that was rejecting the truth.
And people kept congratulating me and told me to thank my maker.
A road side vulcanizer fixed the erring wheel but I couldn't bring myself to drive the car. So I had to pay the vulcanizer extra to drive me home. I needed to go back to my apartment, I wanted a confirmation from familiar faces that I was still living.
I got into my apartment to find my boyfriend and best friend in bed together. I really do not need to go into details of what happened next, but here I am in solitude far away from their betrayal.
It has been eight weeks since my world came crashing and since then everything kept crashing, I quit my job and moved back to my parents house I left since I graduated from the University five years ago.
In a nutshell, meet Taofeeqah she's boyfriend-less, friendless, jobless and lifeless. And since I have sworn to tell the whole truth I think I think TQ is depressed too. If she isn't why had she not taken her bath since the past four days?

"Taofeeqah" My mom yelled
This woman with her drama again. My mother has always been a thorn in my flesh since I was twelve and we were never close. She criticized everything I do, even the air I breathe. You can only imagine how relieved I was when I didn't move back home after NYSC and here I am back to zero starting point.

"Taofeeqah" she screamed again. I can see her at my doorway
"Yes mommy" I groaned.
I'm almost 27 and I am sounding like a teenager.
"Come downstairs, I need you to take this cord lace to your Aunty Tola. Tell her I want the previous style with matching hijab" she threw the material at me.
"And I am not comfortable with you hiding inside your room all day. You don't come down for salat(prayer), you don't attend lectures or go to sister's circle. Your father and I have decided that you must observe your five daily salat in the mosque if you still want to continue staying in this house"

The threat again!
"When did we start observing salat in this house? Is it not only Jumuah(Friday prayer) service we attend?" I grumbled

What I forgot to tell you guys; everything at home as taken on a new face that I began to wonder if this was really Mr and Mrs Agbqje's house. My parents were only Muslims by name, they pray fajr(morning prayer) and cancelled out the rest. But Jumuah was a must, we went every Friday showing off our wears. The only one who we termed Alfa was my elder brother, Lukman. He had beards and masjid (mosque) was his home. He was so different from the other young men of his age. You will never find my brother at a football viewing centre or a gambling shops. He was either on the field playing football or at the mosque reading his Quran.
His deep love for Islam put a dent on our brother-sister relationship. He was too religious for my liking and was always insisting I cover my hair. But my younger sister, Hanifah was just Hanifah only in name.

"Since we realized we are Muslims and we want the company of our Lord and a better relationship with Him" was my mother's reply.

I was quite for many seconds. A whole lot have changed. It's been a while I saw either of my siblings. I was too immersed in my old life and I didn't care to reach out to them. My ex best friend and boyfriend were my family. No, I made them my world. And here I was thinking the only problem I had in life was my best friend snatching my boyfriend and my mother was bitching about prayers.

"It's been 2 months and you haven't told us beyond how you quit your job because you do not want to be in the same town with your ex boyfriend, which to me is unislamical. How could you have a boyfriend?" She said

"Oh please mommy! You and Dad dated for 4 years before you got married. How else will I get married if I don't date?"

"That was then. We didn't know better. It's not permissible......."

"THANK YOU MOM! I need to be out of this room so I can go to Aunty's place. So that she will sew your clothe on time" I said which luckily for me got her out of my room.

Seriously, I was tired of being lectured by my parents almost everyday. They don't even feel my pain of being betrayed by my ex boyfriend and best friend. They kept saying it was wrong for me to have a boyfriend. Was it also wrong to have a best friend whom you trust with everything? Was it a sin for people to behave responsibly? Why did he cheat on me? Why didn't he end the four year old relationship if it wasn't what he wanted?
The what ifs brought me closer to tears but I had sworn to myself not to cry over it again. I have done my share of crying.
I was tired. I wanted out.
The feeling of running of running away from home came rushing back like it did when I was seventeen which made me chose a far away University and accepted the course I was given even I had no idea what it was about.
I studied Transport Management Technology at Federal University of Technology Owerri and graduated with a 4.0 GPA.
Luckily for me my good grades got me a job during NYSC. My primary place of assignment was a secondary school and I got a part time job at a private firm that deals with transportation. I felt fulfilled. I was topping Abraham Marslow hierarchy of needs. It was during NYSC I met Neemah aka man stealer, Neemah the homewrecker or relationship-wrecker. She was serving at the local government and was hardly there, she was into NYSC program for the certificate.
Neemah had come from a wealthy family. She was the only female and last child of her aged parents. And the only one in Nigeria. Her five elder brothers were living in the UK and Canada. She had her University education at Instabul where she studied tourism and hospital management. We had met at the private firm where I work and we hit it off immediately. We talked for hours and we discorvered we shared the same urge to flee from our parents house. According to her, she wanted to stay back in Nigeria and flex her life. She was tired of her overbearing family.
Together, we found a two bedroom flat at Ikoyi. Neemah brought in expensive appliances, furnitures and electronics that I could never afford except I use my two years salary or sold my organs. But Neemah was Neemah who always got the best. Her parents cater for her whims and desires. The apartment was turned into something I only saw on music videos and magazines. She brought expensive kitchenwares and made what I had look so 1814. She convinced me to give them out, which I did.
She invited an interior decorator who designed our homes with gray and red curtains, paintings and duvets; a color she was obsessed with. It took two months to achieve her dream apartment.
It was dreamlike. I was almost 23 and finally on my own. It felt like breathing the freshest air. Living in one of the best city in Africa? Great.
Well, it wasn't convenient for me to accept the financial differences between us. I was not raised from money. Having an accountant as a father and a caterer for a mother with only two siblings, we were living comfortably and it was instilled in us not to blow money like water. Father taught us to choose alternatives. For example, we take three crown milk because it's cheaper when you compare it with peak milk. And it was still the same protein at the end of the day.
Living with Neemah, it was a bit startling to see her blow money like it was air which isn't so free anymore. People pay for oxygen at the hospital. Neemah loved spending and sharing.

Bit by bit everything in my life started to change. I exchanged my okrika wears for Fendi shoes and Gucci bags.
Looking back, it's sad how I allowed myself to be changed into someone else. No one would have ever guessed where I came from( Isara Remo, a town in Ogun State), who I once was by the way I was fashioned into the person I had slowly become.

Kindly drop your comments

I'm so following this. Fire on ukhtiy

ride on oo

***peeping behind the curtain**** zeinymura in love

Zeinymira please don't abandon this beautiful story.

Zeinymira:
Kindly drop your comments

Your writing is good.

I don't know about the plot, a little bit scruff and towing a predictable path but you have a sensible way of capturing angst

I love writing prowess dearie, but just give us more update

why won't I love your story.... following back to back...

Two

I took a whiff of myself and didn't like how I smell, I decide to take a quick shower which took me four minutes. So today, TQ achieved something. She bathed! I mentally clap for myself. I pick an old gown that surprisingly still remain my size after all these years. I haven't bothered unpacking my fancy clothings, shoes and bags that came along with being Neemah's best friend. I saw no point unpacking. Why bother? I don't plan on going anywhere anytime soon. And wearing a Gucci dress in this town? Who will appreciate it? The truth is I lacked the energy to keep moving through minutes of everyday. I was just not ready to snap out of the "poor me" charade. Really, what's the point? It wouldn't change the fact that I am nothing. No, no, no I'm not putting myself down, I'm at the bottom already. If I was really something then why should I feel this empty when my best friend and boyfriend was subtracted from my life? There's nothing at the end of a tunnel like I read on social media when I googled "How to get over a betrayal from your bestie and boyfriend". The advices didn't work, they kept talking about a future I couldn't envisage. I'm heartbroken and I just want an end. Before the end comes, let me enjoy this loser I have become. I enjoy my solitude, it gave me enough time to cry my eyes out and the shaking of my head over my pitiful life. I took the courage to look into the mirror. I am staring into a stranger eyes. No false eyelashes. No drawn brows and I lost a great weight. No wonder the gown fitted.

I wasn't really someone special or someone who had the prettiest face. I was just TQ standing at an unimpressive height of 5.4", light skinned, short hair (that never really grow even after spending huge on hair products) and with no weight issue.
With Neemah's being the famous beauty, tall and slim, I'm sure no one who really look at me twice if not for my impressive chest. Well, the chest didn't keep him.

Walking into the dining room, I spot my parents eating. The dining room felt empty even with the two of them there. I wondered how they cope with their children not being around. My elder brother now resides in Abuja with his wife while my younger sister was still at the University. But the two had always needed each other ano no one else. Whenever dad was back from work, he would be with mom all day. They hardly create space for anyone. Not even their children.

"Finally. Are you hungry? I have written out a list of things you should get in the market for the preparation of Ramadan" my mother recites.
But my mind had wandered to the last time I fasted; I was 17 and still living with them.

Bash, why did you do this to me?

Why haven't I found out earlier that you were sleeping with my friend?

Why didn't you decently ask for a break up?

I would have plan my life and not foolishly resigned and move back home only to be bossed around and told Ramadan is nearby.
"Taofeeqah" my dad yelled bringing my attention back to the present.
"No thanks. I had something" I reply, regarding my mom's breakfast invitation, thinking the extra toothpaste I indulged in earlier in the bathroom. I went through the lists and saw set of provisions, rice, semo, wheat, millet e.t.c. The list made me dizzy even the sight of food does.
"Take the car and drive safely" my father chimes in.
"Speaking of which" mom continues "What happened to your car?"
"I sold it" I lied. I had left the car behind. It was a gift from Bash (TQ ex).
"Ok. So when are you going to start looking for a job? You had a good one and left it because of a man. That is irresponsible and we raised you better than that"
"Take it easy on her" mom said and my eyes grew like saucers. First time in history mom will defend me.
"No, she has to think of permanence. She's 26 for crying out loud" he made it sound like I was fourty year old.
"I am already searching". Lie.
"For what?" Dad asks
"Both. Job and a husband". Lies. Big lies. Fat lies.
They both stared at me like I was nut, which I believe I am. How does one get a job or husband by sitting at home for two months?
*************
This was my first time in two months of venturing out of the house and I already knew it will be a disaster. Apparently, the gown I wore was so 90s and it earned me a gobsmacked look from the town people. I was at the garage when mom called me on phone. She told me to return home for the car and change my clothes but I refused.
As I said before I haven't really done much unpacking. I guess it's because I am still in denial about my present situation. I kind of still believe that this is all a nightmare and I'm going to wake up soon and why should I unpack in a nightmare? I have lived in only three clothings for the weeks I've been home and I only peel them off to shower when the mood strike which is not often. My mother do pick them to wash so I could put them back on. There were days I was moving around my room naked. I guess taking my pathetic self into the world requires appropriate clothing. Well, maybe next time.
I knew I wasn't going with the car because I still have some hang-ups with the accident I had few months back. I don't ever want to go behind a wheel. So I got into a taxi heading to Shagamu. What I didn't expect was traffic. Ugh. Whio is even on the street at this time? It's past ten, are they not supposed to be at work? This is a town for crying out loud, why should there be a traffic!
Staring at the trucks and trailers beside us I start to sweat and become uncomfortable, I hated being cram in a way. I don't understand what was happening to me. Add this to the woes that befell me;
TQ is scared of the road. The only place she feels comfortable was the sanctuary of her room.
I know the feeling was abnormal. But I can't help it. I'm loosing it and it's all their faults. I wish I could get them out of my mind. I want to. But I was sure I had said that to myself a million times.

kudos to u on dis, keep it flowing

Three

I got to Aunt Tola's place in one piece and I was amazed with the changes that happened in five years. She was still as beautiful as ever with no signs of the years taking its toll on her. But the aunt I remembered was a trouser loving woman and here she was in front of me in a long gown and hijab. What was happening to everyone? Was there a revolution or something? Almost everyone I know from the past now covers her hair. I was lost in thought until I heard "Honey, is that you? How are you?"

My reply was lost in the tight embrace I was enveloped in. It brought back memories of how she stood by me and trusted me in my JSS3 when everyone was judging me. I was unfortunate to be picked by the school driver who was a predator that assault teenage girls. I had forgotten my school essentials in the bus before I went in search of him. There was nothing that warned me of the impeding danger that was about to befall me. I met him at the cafeteria and pleaded with him that I need to get my textbook before the next period. He made me wait till he was done eating and led me to a lone shabby space he used as his office in the guise of getting his keys (the key was in his pocket). Things happened that I really don't want to bore you with (or maybe I am scared if I talk about it all, I will feel it all over again).

I told my male class teacher who didn't take any action and I was stupid enough to tell one of my friends who spread the whole gist to everyone in class. I was mocked everywhere, they laughed at me behind my back and right in my face. It got so bad that my anger grew daily and I got into a fight with one of them who called me driver's wife. I remembered pummelling her with all the anger in me thereby knocking her tooth off. It didn't stop there. The anger in me was so enormous that if any of my classmates looked at me more than once I do give them a resounding slap. It was when I attacked my class teacher who I felt it was his responsibility to protect me that I was reported to the school and made to face the disciplinary committee who suspended me for a whole term. No one believed me when I told them about the driver except Aunt Tola. Not even my parents believed me. I was sent to another school and my parents preatended like nothing happened. It was never mentioned at home. They even felt relieved when I requested to live in the boarding school. I was falling to pieces and they didn't suspect a thing. No one knew what I went through for three years and months.

They didn’t know that I barely slept all through my senior secondary school. They didn’t know that I have trouble walking alone or being around males. They didn’t know that when I scream in the middle of the night that it’s not just a random nightmare it’s that event. They didn’t know that when I have flashbacks, it was so vivid and real that I could feel, smell and hear everything that happened that day. Sometimes I'm so caught up in my flasback that I didn’t know the difference between reality and the past. They didn't know I become easily irritable when same gender hit me on my bum or try to touch my breasts. But this nightmare ended on its own. I forced myself never to remember that day by repressing the memories.
"You look......" She paused, giving me a searching look

"You look exactly like what your mom said"
We were now at her sitting room

"Mom told you?" I was surprised. Well, my parents seems to pass their responsibilities to her.

"She told me everything" she said

We were lost in the awkward moment. I really do not know what to say to her. I gave her the cloth wordlessly and she tossed it aside.

"I'm sorry it happened to you" she softly said.

The word "sorry" did it. And tears came even though I was forcing them back with my palms.
Here was someone who understand it all, unlike my parents who made me feel it was all my fault because I had a boyfriend.

"I know exactly how you feel Taofeeqah. I know what it is like. Do you remember my friend Toyin? She did the exact thing to me with my late husband. I never suspected them for once. Each time I traveled I leave my things in her care. If I had clothes on the clothing line, I would tell her to take them to my room. My husband and hers were close friends, and I have settled a whole lot of issues she had with her husband or husband's family"

I was enthralled by her story.

"How did you find out?"

"It was our family doctor who told me my late husband and Toyin came to treat STI but I didn't believe him or I didn't get the whole thing.
So one day someone informed me my husband beat Toyin up at Aiyegbami street. I was stupefied. He has never hit me, so why would he do that to my friend? Irrespective of what happened he had no right to hit a married woman.
I confronted him. His excuse was he caught Toyin with another man"

I couldn't hold it in. I laughed so hard.

"This is a sickening story. He slept with his friend's wife and he was mad because she cheated. Even hit her for that" I knew my eyes must have grown like saucers at this point.

"He did. It wasn't funny, I cried and fought back. I stopped Toyin from coming to my house after my husband confessed and sought for my forgiveness. But I was deeply hurt. I left my marriage. Six months after, Toyin lost her home and access to her two children because her husband caught her cheating. He died in a car accident"

I could remember attending his funeral with my parents. But I had no idea what went down in the marriage that lasted five years without children. Aunt Tola has since married and has two children of her own.

She held my hands smiling sadly and she said "I understand the pains you're going through, but do not let it consume you. Each day you lock yourself up, they win"

"But mom and dad made it seem like it was my fault. They said that I was wrong to have a boyfriend. If I don't have one, how would I possibly get married?"

"TQ, you should know by now that your parents are not good with communication, they can't communicate effectively. The truth is, they are right. But the meaning of it would be lost to you since you don't have a sound knowledge about Islam. How long did you date your ex?"

"Five years" I answered

"Frankly, that's too long. I will advise you to spend this lone time to get to know your creator personally. Trust me it will take time getting over the heartbreak, but I believe you are strong to pull through, you can lean on me as your support system. I was on antidepressants for two years and weeks. Being childless and discovering one of the two kids my friend has belonged to my late husband really destroyed me. Two years I was doing nothing but taking medications. There were many times I contemplated suicide. I even attempted suicide once. I felt I was old at thirty two, who was going to marry me?

Allah came to my aid and I met sister Maryam. She was the one who taught me counting tasbih with my finger tips. Whenever my mind was troubled with thoughts, I will start counting tasbih with my finger tips. From there, I sleep easily without the help of medication. Gradually I started having energy to carry out my daily activities. The troublesome thoughts decreased. Your mom bought me a sewing machine, I cried the day I sold a gown. It felt like the first meaningful thing I acheived in two years. I started going to the mosque and I learned the things I don't know about Islam. I was able to genuinely forgive my ex husband and friend and I got answers to my own life. I got married again and happily.
Whenever your mood is low and you are about to start thinking, recite the name of Allah using your finger tips. It will ease the sense of regret, loneliness and sadness you feel in your heart before you know it you'll become peaceful inside yourself. You will be overwhelmed with tranquility and serenity. May Allah ease your affairs......."



*Tasbīḥ is a form of dhikr that involves the repetitive utterances of short sentences in the praise and glorification of Allah in Islam.*
**********
I decided to lay low for the rest of the week in my bed. What was I even saying? I was always laying low. I brought out my phone and wrote some notes to self. I felt I need to get back on track. Just like Aunt Tola advised this morning, I let them win by sitting and wallowing all day. Honestly, I hope they thought about me.
To be as straight as a die, if I had a magic I would use it to get into both their inner minds until they were sick to death with guilt and come crawling to apologise to me. I realize I have been sitting around waiting for them to contact me with guilt and absolute remorse. Point is, it's two months and days and seems the ship has sailed without me. Time to move and march on. Yeah, my precious note:

1. Get over depression by counting by finger tips and making effort to leave my room. Maybe meditate in a mosque?
2. Keep fighting depression
3. Put on your big girl pant and fight depression
4. Stop pitying TQ
5. Eat
6. Exercise
7. Well, I don't know
8. Maybe a job?
9. Sleep
10. I just want to be fine!

I went through the list and chose the most appealing option which is sleep. But then sleep didn't come. I just can't get over how these two important individuals in my life sideswiped me. They thought only about their selfish selves. I want to so deal with them but I didn't know how and they keep winning each minute I think and shed tears about them. So I added to my notes:

11. NO MORE TEARS

12. I want to start winning.

And slowly I started reciting Al-salaam. If I was correct or not I didn't know.

thumbs up bro, nice update

Remite011:
thumbs up bro, nice update

Sis, thank you!

********Four******
Musa

I was about sleeping after asri when one of my students I teach Qur'an memorization informed me that Imam Hussein wants to see me.
The last time I saw Imam Hussein was exactly two years ago when I newly came into the town of Isara Remo full despair and anguish but it was him and his family who sheltered me for weeks without knowing who I am or where my family were. I moved to the central mosque and made it my home. I was a man who needed answers, a man who feels he did not deserved the trials Allah threw in his path.
Orphaned as early as eleven years old.
Was that not bad enough?
Stuck with my uncle whose wives and children maltreated me for seven years.
Was that not bad enough?
At eighteen I felt I was man enough to toil for my physiological needs and I left the cruel world created by my uncle's wives. It wasn't rosy, the menial jobs, the lost dreams and finally a ray of hope after two years of roaming the streets of Lagos and sleeping in any open masjid and praying fervently (you see I have always love and believe in Allah despite the difficulties I faced every day).
Oh that's ray of hope was this rich Alhaji that was committed to assisting teenagers from poor homes. He paid their school fees, clothe and fed them.
Since I became orphaned at eleven, no one had approached me to tell them my story like it happened in the many Nollywood movies where a rich man would be overwhelmed with pity for a child hawking on the street. He would swing into action and end the child misfortune. But it never happened to me, everyone in my uncle's neighborhood minded their business even though my suffering was glaring. Still, I wasn't deterred because I have never had any help from fellow humans. I felt I had nothing to loose by approaching the rich Alhaji. I had nothing in the first place, what can I possibly loose? It was after Jumuah service that I ran after him.
"As salaam alaykum sir. My name is Musa. I need your help sir"
He replied my greetings and told me in haste to come to the masjid with my CV
"I only have ssce sir, I want to go the university but there's no one to assist me" I replied hastily as well
"Write JAMB and please choose a lucrative course. If you score high in your JAMB then you've won yourself a scholarship from me. A 250 score will do" he said this while giving me a sum of ten thousand naira. By now we were already at his car. His family were inside waiting for him.
"In shaa Allah" he added.
I thanked him profusely.
As child my dream was to become a medical doctor but the hardship over the years made my dream to fade away. I saw the seven years of studying medicine as something I couldn't bear. Spending my twenties in a block study is not something I desired and with ASUU strike I was very sure the seven years course could turn to eleven years.
I switched to engineering------mechanical engineering and I struck gold. For the first time since my parents death, I had no worry about my next meal or abode. I was in money. I was happy. Until things went awry. Enough about me and my difficult circumstances, let's see what Imam Hussein has to say.

As a non-committed Muslim, I can really relate to this. I pray Allah has mercy on me and guide me to the right path. Your story is very inspiring.

Thank you so much! Jazakillahu khayran

Nice story and write up. You doing a good job zeiny. Keep it up. And fast too.

I saw Imam Hussein seated in the spacious mosque with his head bent over his phone. He is a beautiful man, lean and graceful, his hair was a shade of grey and balck revealing his sixty-one years on earth. And while he is a grandfather of six he was still different from his peers who were always fat in the middle and battling with one eldetly disease or the other. Time seems to have treated him kindly and always would. I cleared my throat and greeted him in Teslim which he responded to with his warm smile.

"Ma shaa Allah. Musa you look great" he smiled.

I have noticed that am back to looking the healthy male I was before the trouble began.
I sat down facing him.

"You look peaceful" he said again.

"I feel less strained. I feel my troubles are buried away but still i am scared to venture into the world" i told him.

We were silent for what seems like the two years we've seen each other. Imam Hussein had traveled with his wife to United Kingdom to visit their only son who just gave birth and he gave me the usage of the boy's quarter freely but i refused.
I was bitter and immersed in my troubles to appreciate his offer.

"But you can't stay in the mosque forever. Although your presence has bern really helpful. Everyone talks about the Amir who is eloquent with his sermon and teaches them Qu'ran menorization. You have become very popular Musa. Who made you Amir?"

"No one did. It was the Muslim community members that started calling me Amir and since then its been my title. Imam Hussein I am contented staying here" I said

"For how long?" he asked

I shrugged and said nothing
The look he gave me made me feel uncomfortable. I wondered how this man had so much influence on me even though we aren't related or anything of such but his manners towards me has always been fatherly.

"See, you need to start living" he said and I raised my eyebrow at him.

Really it is my life and I believe I alone knows what is best for me. But Imam Hussein obviously do not agree that a thirty year old man can make a decision for himself.

"Fine, I know am being intrusive but it comes with the age. I can't be this old and keep quite when things are wrong. I'm old enough to be your father, in fact I am sure you're the same age with my second child, Fatima. Since your own father is not around to give you some advice, I'm glad to step in. You're a very responsible young man and you don't deserve to live like a virtual recluse. Fine you've had a bad past and I know the story. Oh you don't need to look so shocked, I dug informations about you" Imam Hussein said waving his hand at me.

I was beyond shock. How could this man know such abhorrent details about me and still choose to be here with me.

"Do you believe them? " I asked depressingly

"What?" he asked

I cleared my throat and repeated "Do you believe the stories?"

"That you killed Nisa, your late wife?"

I nodded

"No, I do not believe the story"

"It took me about six months to realize that Nisa had no intention of even trying to love me. She was only in the marriage to hide herself. I know its silly to say, but I didn't want her to leave. I didn't want anyone to leave me. I have been alone for years, I had no siblings and parents. I had no one to love me and I thought my wife would. I loved her and I didn't want to get divorced. I had entered into the marriage believing it would last. That for the first time in my life, I will have a permanence. I will have someone who would stay. As months rolled by Nisa became lost to her drug lifestyle. There wasn't a known substance on this earth she didn't abuse. And I was funding it. Astaghafirullah. I knew it was wrong but I was helpless. I didn't want to loose her to men who were ready to finance her extravagant lifestyle. You've seen Nisa's pictures? She was extraordinary. She was gorgeous and had never seen herself beyond her physical beauty. She literally worshipped her beauty, she believed it could get her anything she desired which was the truth. I have watched men who were friends to her family gift her exotic cars. Even though she wore her niqab, it did not stopped her.
It grew worse, the partying, the smoking, the alcohols and everything. Her family knew nothing about it. No one knows. She wore niqab during the day and at night she's at a party smoking. I decided we needed a therapist but it's difficult because am well known by most in Lagos state.

I didn't want the world to know about Nisa's double life and drug problems. I talked anonymously to a therapist online and I forced Nisa to attend the therapy sessions with me. It wasn't easy I had to threaten her by cutting of her allowances, withholding her cocaine and house arrest too. Sometimes I give in when I couldn't stand to watch her deal with the withdrawal syndromes.

As the marriage progressed, I thought that something might change, something might click, something might make her stop abusing substances.
But it never happened.
I knew how much she loved her father and never wanted to dissapoint him. I threatened that I was going to tell her father everything. And with this I achieved some peace. She became sober and even agreed to go for drug addiction treatment albeit low key. But honestly, I was tired of the marriage. And I knew she knew I was fed up and one day I would leave the marriage. Nisa went back to taking drugs, I wasn't suspicious because she was not demanding for money but as the scheduled date for her drug treatment drew nearer, she became wilder than I have ever seen. She destroyed most of the properties in our house. I called our lawyer right in her presence that we wanted a divorce. And Nisa threatened that I would regret it, that she would ruin my name and everything I stood for. She died achieving it"

OluwabuqqyYOLO:
As a non-committed Muslim, I can really relate to this. I pray Allah has mercy on me and guide me to the right path. Your story is very inspiring.

Thank you

Barakallah feekum
Your style of writing is ✅✅
But pls update
Jazakumullah khayran

Finally I said out my truth, the truth no one believed. Not my father in law whom I had taken as my own father, my friend, my helper. My role model. But in the end, our relationship had meant nothing even though the autopsy revealed the cause of Nisa's death, my father in law had rejected the evidences before him, he ignored the Uztazz who spoke on my behalf and even the psychologist words fell on deaf ears. Even though I had sworn by Allah's name--------something I rarely do, Nisa's father still did not believe I am innocent. He made it cleared he wanted me hung for his daughter's death, he used all his powerful influence and he would have gotten his wish but Allah did not allowed that.I bore all the ills with nil complaints because of the guilt I carried. I had used my money to fund Nisa's unending pleasure. If only Allah could forgive me. And Nisa. I knew he contributed to her ruins. I should never have been too needy of my wife, too clingy to a false marriage which her father had initiated but Nisa resented greatly. There had been nothing left for me in Lagos as my pictures has been circulated on social media and newspaper clippings as the suspect in my wife's death. I sold my properties and moved out of the city.
I had never had much close friends but the few I made over the years deserted me.
I was tired of saying "I didn't kill her" to anyone who has much as looked at me or even dared to ask the question. Ironically, the only one who believed I was innocent was the judge who gave his judgement based on the evidences before him. By the time the court case was over, my image had been shredded before the public eyes. Everyone compared me to Maryam Sanda and most were hoping I would receive the same judgment.
Nay, there's nothing else for me in the world, there's nothing I cared for in the world. Nothing. I am content to wait for the appointed time he did leave the earth.
"Still, it's not the end of the world Musa. It shouldn't be the end. It was only a trial from your Lord, you shouldn't give up" Imam Hussein broke into my thought after we have both observed a long silence.
"I have not given up on life, I am here in my Lord's house worshipping him. Imam Hussein, I understand and appreciate your good wishes for me but what can be out there in the world that is greater than my devotion to Allah?" he demanded
"Nothing out there is greater but why should you deny yourself halal and permissible pleasure from your Lord? Musa, you are not an Angel. You can not become one by living in the mosque. Your status could be higher than that. Leave the Masjid young man, get halal source of income, get married and fulfil half of your deen, have children that will be the coolness of your eyes, give charity, continue to enjoin good and forbid evil. I can go on and on about the pleasures of the world you can enjoy Musa. Most importantly, have you experienced children being the coolness of your eyes? Your wife being the coolness of your eyes? Have you? By Allah, it is one of the most beautiful feelings you ought to experience at least once in your life. You deserve to experience it Musa, fulfil half of your seen young man" he paused seeing the effect of his words on him.
"Musa, you are doing good deeds, worshipping your Lord and praying to be in Jannah. Do you wish to be lonely in jannah? Tell me, how can jannah be jannah if your loved ones are not there?"
If you don't have a wife to say "Sweetheart, we made it to Jannah"
At this Imam Hussein chuckled while cleaning his misty eyes. He had always prayed to Allah for a good end for himself and his loved ones. He never ceased from thanking Allah for making him a believer.
I bowed my head and I could feel my eyes burning with tears. I had dreamt of my own family as an orphan, a wife and children that would love me wholly but I never got my wish. Except my Lord who loves me there was no one else who did. And I longed for that genuine love, that sense of belonging.
And really it would be nice to be in Jannah with loved ones.
I distinctly heard my phone call for prayer, I and imam Hussein rose to prepare for the Maghreb prayer.

Taofeeqah




It's been 2 weeks I talked to my Aunt Tola and followed her advice. It wasn't easy finding my energy back, getting over my obsessional thoughts of Neemah and my ex, doing daily things like bathing, eating, brushing my teeth, finding and holding on to a purpose. Yeah, doing tasbih helped(at least I sleep peacefully for hours while doing it), but I took it a step further by performing ablution and praying solat five times daily, reciting the names of Allah and I try to memorize the Quranic verses which is very difficult for me because while growing up I never learned to recite the Qur'an. I only knew short surahs like Fathia, Ikhlas, and Al-Kawthar offhand and its boring repeating them every solah. When I'm not obsessing over the prepared speech I planned to say to my ex and Neemah whenever our path cross which could be 5 years, 10 years or maybe in hell, whenever I see them I will ask;
"Why were you so selfish?"

"When did you stop caring about my feelings?"

"When did you stop respecting me?"

Truth is, I think I will never get them off my mind, so I have accepted to live with it. If time truly heals all wound, maybe mine too would heal. Yeah, I was saying when I'm not obsessing over my ex and Neemah, I always listen to the adhan of a close by mosque.

The reciter voice is so beautiful that I found myself repeating the adhan after him. And once I'm done with solat, I mimick him smiling to myself in bed, sometimes while eating or doing anything. Listening to him became an obsession so much so that I went to the mosque one evening to see who the reciter was.

I got to the mosque, it was almost time for Maghreb, I entered the female side, performed ablution before I went to the male side watching out for the reciter. Was it an old man? What would he look like? His voice was full of life, filled with love for his creator, would he be a young man. What if he's just a boy? This thoughts were chasing themselves in my mind.

Then I saw him. He wore a black jalamiah with a leather slippers. He was tall, broad chested, chocolate. He was so fine. I couldn't see his face clearly but his physique was so beautiful and I watched openmouthed, drooling. I didn't know I spoke out loud my thought "He's so cute".

And I heard the laughter right behind me. The sound was so familiar I didn't want to believe it was the she devil I knew way back in secondary school. The one I thought was a friend. The one who spread rumors about me.

I turned around and it was Kawthar with that annoying smirk. If you think time change cruel people, then you thought wrong. Fine, time had added to her beauty but she is still one insensitive stupid cruel fool.
" Hello" I hear her say

I ignore her and continuing walking towards the female side. But she wouldn't let me, I hear her footsteps behind me.

"What do you want?" I ask

"From you? I saw you as I was about to enter the mosque. I wanted to see if it was really you in a mosque. It's shocking considering I know your history, you don't let a man be. You're always over them, that was why you got expelled. And to think you are about to start that with the Amir, really? Time hasn't change you. I have to warn the ladies about you" then she begins to laugh hysterically.

That. Is. It.

With my old instinct kicking in, I raise my hand and smack her twice on her face. The sound echoes throughout the mosque. The Amir turn and people came out of the ablution center towards us. She grabs her face while staring at me in complete silence.

I watch her steps towards me "You slut! How dare you! You....." she begins, and I raise my hand again for round three.

That's when the Amir stands between us and the other people grab me. I fight against their hold to get her because I really want to claw her eyes out. While trying to maneuver my restless body out of their hold, an elderly woman drags her towards the ablution center.

My anger climbs to a 100° recognizing the faces of the people holding me. Three out of them were my secondary school mates who knew my story.

"Are you OK?" The Amir asks

I nodded.

"Can we talk about this after we are done praying?" An elderly man said

I nodded again.

We all went back to the mosque, someone advise me to perform ablution again which I did. Slowly, I could feel the anger ebbed away. I did all my best to focus on the prayer. I slipped many times replaying the scenes in my mind but eventually I focused.

Afterwards, I felt stupid and awkward with the glances thrown at me. I wondered what my explanation would be. This is so messed up. I'm embarrassed to say the least. I thought about leaving the mosque and heading home but that will be so disrespectful, it will only confirm whatever they are thinking about me. I was still in thought when one of the sisters informed me that Imam Hussein is waiting for me outside. I got there, I saw the elderly man (I presumed him to be the Imam Hussein), the Amir, another sister and Kawthar who was crying like a newborn.

"As salaam alaykum sister" the Amir says

"Wa alaykum salaam" I answer

"Kawthar hasn't said much about whatever happened. But whatever it is please forgive each other. Bottling things up inside is very unhealthy for you psychologically and spiritually. Islam teaches us about forgiveness and it is a good quality we should hold onto. And fighting in the mosque isn't nice. Its bad. This is the house of Allah, please respect it and do not do it again" the Imam Hussein pleaded

I was about to apologize when a man came shouting at me "What gave you the right to slap my wife!"

This is so messed up.

Kawthar cried louder seeing her hero.

"Brother Jamaldeen, we are trying to settle this amicably. Please calm down" the Amir pleaded

"Who's she by the way? How can you come here and slap my own wife?"

"We heard your wife call her a slut" the silent sister said.

This is so messed up.

Kawthar does what she does best and chimes in "I'm really sorry I said that. I happened to know her and her reputation back in secondary school and so I caught her ogling and saying dirty words about how the Amir looks. That was during the adhan, can you imagine"

Because earning a death sentence for strangling the idiot is not an option, I pray a bomb goes off in this specific mosque killing us all.

I just turn around sucking in air into my empty lungs. I am not looking forward to a breakdown in front of this people. Especially not in the presence of Kawthar. But with my luck lately, it seems inevitable so I kept on moving.

"Are you fine?" The Amr asks

"Yes" I say while speed-walking towards home.

We reach the T-junction and I stop. I feel its best to have it out here rather than at home with me enduring my parents disapproval looks.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asks

I'm not sure what there is to talk about. Somehow it all pours out anyway.

"Kawthar spilled my beans anyway. Girl was young and abused in school but no one believed her. The story was turned against her. Girl reputation was ruined, she got expelled because she was always fighting her mean colleagues. Now, girl met the one person that started the rumour about her in school and she threatened to do that again. Girl was mad and slapped her. Did you get all of that?"

He is quiet for a moment and then he says "I'm sorry"

"Uh, please I do not need the sympathy. It was a long time ago" but the tears streaming down my face says otherwise.

"It's OK. Stop crying. It's just life trials. Trust me, this things only happens here on Earth" he says

"Thank you"

Probably feeling the awkwardness in the air, he changes the subject.

"My name is Musa Adefemi. People here call me the Amir" he says

"I thought Amir is your name" I say smiling

"It's not. Amir means a leader" he says grinning

"I actually came to the mosque to see the man who calls the adhan. Also, to ask for assistance with reading the Qur'an"

"Why do you want to see the man who cals for prayer?" Musa asks

"I was just curious, his voice is beautiful and it has a calming effects on me. I saw you and I said you are cute, that is the dirty thing Kawthar said I said about you".

At this point he is laughing like crazy.

I wondered what was funny.

"I think your first lesson in Islam will be to learn to lower your gaze. It's not wrong to admire the quality that another human possess but you have to becareful of envy and lust. Admiring a quality an opposite sex possess is good but you have to be cautious. Just say Ma sha Allah when you hear me call for prayer. Concerning learning Qur'an recitation, we do that in the masjid after asr except on Frifays. You're welcome to join. Please do not stay away from the masjid. I will talk to brother Jamaldeen and his wife.
As salaam alaykum"

"Wa alaykum salaam. Thank you very much" I give him the goodbye head nod and turn to trek to my house.

I'm totally fine, I'm a big girl. No sadness in my heart, I can handle this. So I don't understand why I got into my room crying like a five year old who lost her toy.

Nice story, but you are not consistent.

Nice story. First time reading a Muslim story. Please keep it up and try to complete the story

very good story ..plzzz help us with link now..

Ina Son wannan Story. You did well dear. Keep improving and growing. You are goot to go. #Welovestories #novels #literature

Zeinymira:
********Four******
Musa

I was about sleeping after asri when one of my students I teach Qur'an memorization informed me that Imam Hussein wants to see me.
The last time I saw Imam Hussein was exactly two years ago when I newly came into the town of Isara Remo full despair and anguish but it was him and his family who sheltered me for weeks without knowing who I am or where my family were. I moved to the central mosque and made it my home. I was a man who needed answers, a man who feels he did not deserved the trials Allah threw in his path.
Orphaned as early as eleven years old.
Was that not bad enough?
Stuck with my uncle whose wives and children maltreated me for seven years.
Was that not bad enough?
At eighteen I felt I was man enough to toil for my physiological needs and I left the cruel world created by my uncle's wives. It wasn't rosy, the menial jobs, the lost dreams and finally a ray of hope after two years of roaming the streets of Lagos and sleeping in any open masjid and praying fervently (you see I have always love and believe in Allah despite the difficulties I faced every day).
Oh that's ray of hope was this rich Alhaji that was committed to assisting teenagers from poor homes. He paid their school fees, clothe and fed them.
Since I became orphaned at eleven, no one had approached me to tell them my story like it happened in the many Nollywood movies where a rich man would be overwhelmed with pity for a child hawking on the street. He would swing into action and end the child misfortune. But it never happened to me, everyone in my uncle's neighborhood minded their business even though my suffering was glaring. Still, I wasn't deterred because I have never had any help from fellow humans. I felt I had nothing to loose by approaching the rich Alhaji. I had nothing in the first place, what can I possibly loose? It was after Jumuah service that I ran after him.
"As salaam alaykum sir. My name is Musa. I need your help sir"
He replied my greetings and told me in haste to come to the masjid with my CV
"I only have ssce sir, I want to go the university but there's no one to assist me" I replied hastily as well
"Write JAMB and please choose a lucrative course. If you score high in your JAMB then you've won yourself a scholarship from me. A 250 score will do" he said this while giving me a sum of ten thousand naira. By now we were already at his car. His family were inside waiting for him.
"In shaa Allah" he added.
I thanked him profusely.
As child my dream was to become a medical doctor but the hardship over the years made my dream to fade away. I saw the seven years of studying medicine as something I couldn't bear. Spending my twenties in a block study is not something I desired and with ASUU strike I was very sure the seven years course could turn to eleven years.
I switched to engineering------mechanical engineering and I struck gold. For the first time since my parents death, I had no worry about my next meal or abode. I was in money. I was happy. Until things went awry. Enough about me and my difficult circumstances, let's see what Imam Hussein has to say.

KevUnique:
Ina Son wannan Story. You did well dear. Keep improving and growing. You are goot to go. #Welovestories #novels #literature

It's so captivating. I'm so curious to read the next episode of the story

Zeinymira:
Taofeeqah




It's been 2 weeks I talked to my Aunt Tola and followed her advice. It wasn't easy finding my energy back, getting over my obsessional thoughts of Neemah and my ex, doing daily things like bathing, eating, brushing my teeth, finding and holding on to a purpose. Yeah, doing tasbih helped(at least I sleep peacefully for hours while doing it), but I took it a step further by performing ablution and praying solat five times daily, reciting the names of Allah and I try to memorize the Quranic verses which is very difficult for me because while growing up I never learned to recite the Qur'an. I only knew short surahs like Fathia, Ikhlas, and Al-Kawthar offhand and its boring repeating them every solah. When I'm not obsessing over the prepared speech I planned to say to my ex and Neemah whenever our path cross which could be 5 years, 10 years or maybe in hell, whenever I see them I will ask;
"Why were you so selfish?"

"When did you stop caring about my feelings?"

"When did you stop respecting me?"

Truth is, I think I will never get them off my mind, so I have accepted to live with it. If time truly heals all wound, maybe mine too would heal. Yeah, I was saying when I'm not obsessing over my ex and Neemah, I always listen to the adhan of a close by mosque.

The reciter voice is so beautiful that I found myself repeating the adhan after him. And once I'm done with solat, I mimick him smiling to myself in bed, sometimes while eating or doing anything. Listening to him became an obsession so much so that I went to the mosque one evening to see who the reciter was.

I got to the mosque, it was almost time for Maghreb, I entered the female side, performed ablution before I went to the male side watching out for the reciter. Was it an old man? What would he look like? His voice was full of life, filled with love for his creator, would he be a young man. What if he's just a boy? This thoughts were chasing themselves in my mind.

Then I saw him. He wore a black jalamiah with a leather slippers. He was tall, broad chested, chocolate. He was so fine. I couldn't see his face clearly but his physique was so beautiful and I watched openmouthed, drooling. I didn't know I spoke out loud my thought "He's so cute".

And I heard the laughter right behind me. The sound was so familiar I didn't want to believe it was the she devil I knew way back in secondary school. The one I thought was a friend. The one who spread rumors about me.

I turned around and it was Kawthar with that annoying smirk. If you think time change cruel people, then you thought wrong. Fine, time had added to her beauty but she is still one insensitive stupid cruel fool.
" Hello" I hear her say

I ignore her and continuing walking towards the female side. But she wouldn't let me, I hear her footsteps behind me.

"What do you want?" I ask

"From you? I saw you as I was about to enter the mosque. I wanted to see if it was really you in a mosque. It's shocking considering I know your history, you don't let a man be. You're always over them, that was why you got expelled. And to think you are about to start that with the Amir, really? Time hasn't change you. I have to warn the ladies about you" then she begins to laugh hysterically.

That. Is. It.

With my old instinct kicking in, I raise my hand and smack her twice on her face. The sound echoes throughout the mosque. The Amir turn and people came out of the ablution center towards us. She grabs her face while staring at me in complete silence.

I watch her steps towards me "You slut! How dare you! You....." she begins, and I raise my hand again for round three.

That's when the Amir stands between us and the other people grab me. I fight against their hold to get her because I really want to claw her eyes out. While trying to maneuver my restless body out of their hold, an elderly woman drags her towards the ablution center.

My anger climbs to a 100° recognizing the faces of the people holding me. Three out of them were my secondary school mates who knew my story.

"Are you OK?" The Amir asks

I nodded.

"Can we talk about this after we are done praying?" An elderly man said

I nodded again.

We all went back to the mosque, someone advise me to perform ablution again which I did. Slowly, I could feel the anger ebbed away. I did all my best to focus on the prayer. I slipped many times replaying the scenes in my mind but eventually I focused.

Afterwards, I felt stupid and awkward with the glances thrown at me. I wondered what my explanation would be. This is so messed up. I'm embarrassed to say the least. I thought about leaving the mosque and heading home but that will be so disrespectful, it will only confirm whatever they are thinking about me. I was still in thought when one of the sisters informed me that Imam Hussein is waiting for me outside. I got there, I saw the elderly man (I presumed him to be the Imam Hussein), the Amir, another sister and Kawthar who was crying like a newborn.

"As salaam alaykum sister" the Amir says

"Wa alaykum salaam" I answer

"Kawthar hasn't said much about whatever happened. But whatever it is please forgive each other. Bottling things up inside is very unhealthy for you psychologically and spiritually. Islam teaches us about forgiveness and it is a good quality we should hold onto. And fighting in the mosque isn't nice. Its bad. This is the house of Allah, please respect it and do not do it again" the Imam Hussein pleaded

I was about to apologize when a man came shouting at me "What gave you the right to slap my wife!"

This is so messed up.

Kawthar cried louder seeing her hero.

"Brother Jamaldeen, we are trying to settle this amicably. Please calm down" the Amir pleaded

"Who's she by the way? How can you come here and slap my own wife?"

"We heard your wife call her a slut" the silent sister said.

This is so messed up.

Kawthar does what she does best and chimes in "I'm really sorry I said that. I happened to know her and her reputation back in secondary school and so I caught her ogling and saying dirty words about how the Amir looks. That was during the adhan, can you imagine"

Because earning a death sentence for strangling the idiot is not an option, I pray a bomb goes off in this specific mosque killing us all.

I just turn around sucking in air into my empty lungs. I am not looking forward to a breakdown in front of this people. Especially not in the presence of Kawthar. But with my luck lately, it seems inevitable so I kept on moving.

"Are you fine?" The Amr asks

"Yes" I say while speed-walking towards home.

We reach the T-junction and I stop. I feel its best to have it out here rather than at home with me enduring my parents disapproval looks.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asks

I'm not sure what there is to talk about. Somehow it all pours out anyway.

"Kawthar spilled my beans anyway. Girl was young and abused in school but no one believed her. The story was turned against her. Girl reputation was ruined, she got expelled because she was always fighting her mean colleagues. Now, girl met the one person that started the rumour about her in school and she threatened to do that again. Girl was mad and slapped her. Did you get all of that?"

He is quiet for a moment and then he says "I'm sorry"

"Uh, please I do not need the sympathy. It was a long time ago" but the tears streaming down my face says otherwise.

"It's OK. Stop crying. It's just life trials. Trust me, this things only happens here on Earth" he says

"Thank you"

Probably feeling the awkwardness in the air, he changes the subject.

"My name is Musa Adefemi. People here call me the Amir" he says

"I thought Amir is your name" I say smiling

"It's not. Amir means a leader" he says grinning

"I actually came to the mosque to see the man who calls the adhan. Also, to ask for assistance with reading the Qur'an"

"Why do you want to see the man who cals for prayer?" Musa asks

"I was just curious, his voice is beautiful and it has a calming effects on me. I saw you and I said you are cute, that is the dirty thing Kawthar said I said about you".

At this point he is laughing like crazy.

I wondered what was funny.

"I think your first lesson in Islam will be to learn to lower your gaze. It's not wrong to admire the quality that another human possess but you have to becareful of envy and lust. Admiring a quality an opposite sex possess is good but you have to be cautious. Just say Ma sha Allah when you hear me call for prayer. Concerning learning Qur'an recitation, we do that in the masjid after asr except on Frifays. You're welcome to join. Please do not stay away from the masjid. I will talk to brother Jamaldeen and his wife.
As salaam alaykum"

"Wa alaykum salaam. Thank you very much" I give him the goodbye head nod and turn to trek to my house.

I'm totally fine, I'm a big girl. No sadness in my heart, I can handle this. So I don't understand why I got into my room crying like a five year old who lost her toy.

It's so captivating. I'm so curious to read the next episode of the
story