Maimuna! Maimuna, for the sake of Allah, what is this you're wearing? Where are you even coming from?!

Her eyes flew open, the scream still ringing in her ears. She bolted upright, her breath shallow and quick, beads of sweat clinging to her forehead. For a moment, she was certain it had been real-her father's deep, booming voice shaking the walls around her.

But as she glanced around the spacious hotel room, with its crisp white linens and light brown accents, reality settled in. It was just another dream.

Her shoulders sagged as she flopped back onto the bed, clutching the sheets tightly in her fists. The frustration in her chest burned like a smoldering fire.

"Not again, baban mu. Even in my dreams? Haba baban mu!" she muttered, her voice tinged with both anger and exhaustion.

"What's wrong with you, Maimoon? Are you awake?"

Aisha's voice pulled Maimuna out of her haze as her friend rushed out of the bathroom, worry etched on her face.

"I just died," Maimuna muttered, squeezing her eyes shut as if to block out the memory. She sat up abruptly, her frown deepening. "Malam didn't miss his chance to show up in my dreams. Wallahi, I can't live a normal life anymore!"

Aisha chuckled softly, shaking her head. "Maybe he's just keeping a mad girl like you in check. Anyway, it's almost time for the event. Get ready, so we don't embarrass ourselves."

"Sure," Maimuna said distractedly, already rising from the bed. Her gaze fell to her hands-plain, bare, and missing the intricate henna designs she had planned. She sighed, heading for the vanity, her shoulders heavy with unspoken thoughts.

Her phone sat on the vanity, its screen lighting up as she picked it up. A harmless check, she thought. Just a glance. But the sight of over fifty missed calls made her breath hitch. Her younger sister's name dominated the screen, along with one unread message:

"Wherever you are, get home now. Malam is returning today."

The words hit her like a slap. Two hours ago? Panic gripped her chest, tightening like a vice. Her fingers trembled as she reread the message, hoping she'd misunderstood. How did I put my phone on silent?

The memory of her father's cold, piercing gaze flashed through her mind. His voice-deep, authoritative, and unforgiving-echoed in her ears.

"Aisha!" she screamed, spinning around.

Her friend flinched, startled. "What is it now?"

Maimuna's words tumbled out, frantic and breathless. "Could my dream be a reflection of my reality? Ya Subhanallah, I'm finished! I have to leave-now!"

She reached for her abaya, fumbling as she threw it around her shoulders. The fabric bunched awkwardly, but she didn't care. Her hands shook as she grabbed her bag, shoving things inside with no thought.

"Maimoon, what happened? What about the event?" Aisha called after her, wide-eyed.

"Baban mu is returning today Aisha. Pray I get there before him or else the next few hours won't be mine to see" Maimuna shot back, her voice cracking as she darted for the door.

She didn't wait for Aisha's response. The door slammed halfway shut behind her as she bolted into the hallway. Her hurried footsteps echoed against the walls, drawing the curious stares of hotel staff and guests.

But she didn't care. Her mind raced with worst-case scenarios.

If I don't make it home before him... The thought alone made her stomach churn.

Her father's voice thundered in her imagination. She could already picture his expression-the heavy silence that came before his anger, the weight of his disappointment suffocating.

"Ya Rabbi," she whispered under her breath as she rushed toward the exit. "Please let me make it in time."

******

"Just tell me this, Haruna: did we spend all our life savings to educate you for nothing? Wasn't it so you'd take care of us and your younger one's in our old age? Wake up! Be the eldest son you are-the man of the house after me!"

His father's booming voice echoed through the small house, cutting through Haroon like a blade. He ran a hand over his low-cut hair and stepped toward the door, lifting the tattered sack curtain that served as their entrance.

"Leave him, Rabu dashi," his mother said, her tone softer but no less cutting. "We know you're trying, Haruna, but you can do better. Your brother still needs to pay for his WAEC!"

Haroon froze, gripping the curtain tightly. Enough. This was too much. He shut his eyes briefly, blocking out the voices that always seemed to follow him. With a deep breath, he stepped out into the street, the dust and noise of Dan Daura's weekly market greeting him like an old enemy.

---

The streets were packed. Traders shouted prices, children ran between stalls, and animals bleated in the distance. The chaos usually distracted Haroon, but not today. His father's words clung to him like a heavy coat.

Walking through the crowd, he spotted a girl selling fura and called out, "Keep mine! I'll get it later." He didn't stop, his eyes locking onto his friend Sale standing at the far end of the market. Sale was deep in conversation with two other men, but Haroon didn't care.

He approached quickly, tapping Sale on the shoulder. "Take me out of here."

Sale turned, his dark eyes narrowing as he took in Haroon's face. "To where?"

"Anywhere," Haroon said, his voice low.

Sale frowned. "Abokina, what happened? You look like you've seen a ghost. Come with me."

Pulling Haroon aside, Sale stopped in front of his bike. "Are you okay?"

"Just get me out of here before I faint," Haroon said, clutching the edge of his friend's bike.

"But why?"

Haroon exhaled sharply, the weight of his family's words pressing down on him. His throat tightened as he spoke. "These people-my parents-they're trying to kill me and bury me alive. Sometimes, I doubt if they're even my real parents. Tell me the truth, Sale. Have you heard any rumors?"

Sale's brow furrowed. "Rumors about what?"

"That they aren't my parents," Haroon said sharply, stepping closer to his friend.

Sale burst into laughter. "Ni banji wani gulma ba! I've heard no such thing."

Haroon glared at him, unimpressed. "Then you must have missed something."

Turning back to the bike, Haroon muttered, "Take me to her."

Sale raised an eyebrow. "That girl again? What does she do for you? Does she give you money?"

"No," Haroon said, shaking his head with a faint laugh. "She gives me peace."

Sale smirked but didn't press further. As they climbed onto the bike, he said, "I've told you before, Haruna, I can get you a real job-a good one. But no, you'd rather embarrass yourself forever!"

Haroon didn't respond, keeping his gaze fixed on Sale as they rode away from the area.

Sale looked every bit the part of a local thug. His lean frame was draped in a slightly oversized, tattered kaftan that had seen better days, the faded fabric doing little to conceal the talismans-laya-tied around his neck and wrists. His dark, weathered skin bore the signs of countless street brawls, and a thin scar ran across his left cheek, giving him a perpetually menacing appearance.

Haroon sighed wondering what kind of job a man like sale will get him. his thoughts drifting to the friendship they had shared since childhood. Despite Sale's reputation for criminal activities and misdeeds, Haroon had always stayed close. Their bond was unshakable-years of growing up together in Daura had forged a connection that neither Haroon's education nor Sale's lack of it could break.

𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐮𝐩? 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐢𝐭 𝐜𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠! 𝐈 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬🤭❤️

𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐚 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐞 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐞𝐛𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐞, 𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐖𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐩𝐚𝐝 𝐛𝐢𝐨 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐚 𝐜𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐚𝐥𝐬𝐨 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐢𝐭'𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐲 𝐮𝐩 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 💃🥳

𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐞 𝐧𝐚 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐝𝐫𝐨𝐩 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐰 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐥𝐬𝐨 𝐝𝐫𝐨𝐩 𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩 𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨𝐩 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐭, 𝐚𝐦 𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐨𝐧𝐞🥺♥️