At the side of the road, just past a long bank where there weren’t many people—especially at that early hour—a car belonging to Hajiya Kilishi and Awwalu was parked. Its windows were covered with a very dark tint, specially applied for this outing on Hajiya Kilishi’s instruction to Awwalu.
Inside the car, Kilishi exhaled sharply, glancing at the clock on the dashboard, then said:
“These people are starting to waste our time, Awwalu. You know well that Baffa doesn’t know I’m out.”
Awwalu, sitting in the driver’s seat, nodded while looking at the road.
“Just leave it, I myself have an appointment at eight, and I swear it’s important.”
“An appointment?” she asked in surprise.
He turned to look at her.
“Oh, I forgot to tell you. I’ve returned to school—Bayero University. I’m doing English, and there’s just one year left.”
Kilishi felt her mood darken. She was about to open her mouth to complain about him being at university for two years without her knowledge, but then she paused—what business was it of hers? His life, and she had no right to interfere. Besides, she always knew Awwalu loved learning. From a young age, his parents had enrolled him in school with his own money, supporting his education through primary school. Later, his grandmother assisted him, and two years after she finished, he also left secondary school. His studies should not trouble her.
She turned to watch a man at a tea table in the distance trying to light a fire in his stove. The wood resisted, despite the cold air blowing. Without realizing, she smiled. Her heart was filled with satisfaction at seeing the old man struggle to make the fire. She enjoyed such things—watching someone work hard for their needs until their heart was content. That’s why she didn’t look too intently, because she saw no point in observing how people craft their lives, thinking the “good” person always prevails.
She sighed as the fire finally caught. Returning her gaze to the car, she tried to find her phone—but then remembered she had turned it off so no one could reach her. At that moment, a large Jeep Prado drove past them and stopped a short distance away.
“Here they are, Hajiya,” Awwalu said, glancing at the car.
“Shall I get out?” she asked.
He nodded.
“I don’t think he will step out anyway.”
She exhaled sharply.
“These people are taking too much advantage of her, Awwalu. It’s not because Jamal is leaving this world on their path; nothing will stop me from choosing their destiny as I see fit.”
Awwalu turned to look at her.
“Be patient, Hajiya. It’s only five minutes—they won’t have another chance to see your face forever. Hijacking a car while fleeing isn’t everyone’s job; only those who know all the tactics can handle it…”
Without waiting for him to finish, she lowered the niqab covering her face, grabbed a small handbag beside her, and with a white piece of paper, opened the car door and stepped out.
Head held high, she reached the car and stood beside the rear door. From where Awwalu was seated, he saw her lift her niqab again.
Inside was a man, dressed in pristine white robes, his face nearly flawless, save for some dark spots from a past illness. His eyes were hidden behind large black glasses. He smiled, revealing a row of teeth—some of which were capped with gold—shining in the morning light.
“Welcome, Hajiya. Please forgive our work. I don’t usually deal with ambassadors, so you see me alone.”
Hajiya Kilishi did not smile. Looking him directly in the eyes, she said,
“Since you’ve seen me here, you know this conversation has gone too far.”
He raised an eyebrow in worldly curiosity, then gestured to her handbag.
“Are these it?”
She studied him for a second, suppressing the irritation rising in her chest, then handed him the bag. He took it into the car and opened it, inspecting the money inside.
“You said it will leave at nine o’clock, and it’s only him in the car, right?”
She nodded once, handing him the white paper as well.
“Here’s the vehicle number; even the text is on it.”
He took the paper, looked at it, then back at her.
“Hajiya, I hope there’s no double talk in this matter. We’ll count the money; if it’s complete, you’ll see the job done. If there’s an issue, there will be a real problem.”
She turned her gaze aside, irritated at his tone, and asked,
“And if there is no problem, how can I be sure you will act?”
He looked at her again, smiling.
“Seeking assurance?”
She said nothing. He didn’t wait either, just raised a finger in the air, still smiling.
Before she could even guess what might happen, a sudden loud sound of a gunshot pierced the air. The force of it startled her; her feet stepped back as she covered her ears with both hands. She saw men running after someone who had fired the shot. Nearby, the tea man had dropped to the ground, covering his head. The sound was indeed a gunshot, nothing else.
“This is your assurance, Hajiya. My men do not play with their work. I only raised my hand; everything I say will happen, no matter who it concerns.”
At that moment, the car in front of them screeched to the side. Awwalu tried to open his door to avoid being hit.
“You are safe,” the man’s voice called. Even before she turned to look, the driver accelerated rapidly.
Kilishi smiled for the first time that morning. It was Awwalu’s doing. These people were skilled; it was only their audacity that was striking. Her smile reached her heart, knowing nothing could go wrong today. Jamal would leave this world; she had told him. She had told him when he turned away that he would go.
“I wanted to make all my plans to leave you without touching any of Baffa’s family. I built many walls around you, Jamal. I tried to shield you from my mischief, but you ignored me and arrived… I carry the sorrow of leaving the world with your youth, and I pity your leaving at a time when you should begin to enjoy life. From now on, you and I are among those who cannot coexist fully in this world.”
She smiled, biting her lip, wishing he would remember her words as he followed his soul to the heavens. Awwalu approached her, smiling as well. His expression conveyed what he did not speak.
“What did I tell you? These people know their work.”
She turned to watch their car as the crowd began gathering around it.
“Will you call to get another car?” he asked.
She shook her head.
“You don’t understand, Awwalu. How would my danger coincide with Jamal in one day? I am always precise; I never do anything that would cast even a shadow of suspicion.”
Awwalu nodded, still smiling.
“I trust you, Hajiya.”
“Go buy another tire; tie it and then we’ll go.”
These words became the foundation for events that remain unresolved even today, as Awwalu took a long time to get a replacement tire and the person to install it, because it was still morning. By the time they returned home, the travelers had already gone.
---
Present Day
“Halima,” Alhaji Sulaiman called to his wife as she prepared to step out after setting down the hot water flask she had brought from their morning errands.
She held a broom, using it to clean the living room where Aminu had been laid. She had wanted Maryam to come yesterday and clean before returning, but she had been unable to contact the household. She was considerate of her children; everyone knew that. What they didn’t know was that she could set aside this kindness if anyone threatened them.
At the doorway, she paused, sensing from her father-in-law’s tone that he would speak seriously. She found a seat beside him, her eyes wide like Amina’s, alert and waiting for instruction.
“Yesterday I saw you on the phone with your daughter,” he said.
She nodded once, realizing he meant Amina.
“Is there a problem she is facing in the house?”
The question surprised her. In all her years with him, she had never told him about a problem—her own or anyone else’s—and he never asked unless absolutely necessary. What was never done before would not start now.
Amina was his daughter; he had a right over her. But in her mind, he had already done his part. He had guided her life without her challenging him. He had said he could not remember the day she caused him trouble, yet he never looked at her kindness over the years. Being a man, he had closed his eyes, turned away, and left her in a position where she had to follow his commands.
Now that this had been done, everything had passed without incident, and they were already facing challenges she had avoided. So why would he ask her again?
She realized that Sulaiman still had not fully understood Halima. If he knew who Halima was, he would not even have asked. She acted diligently to prevent problems from reaching her, and if she failed, she had a plan to manage them. This was what maintained peace in her household. He himself, remembering his youth, knew the weight of the past—but with her, she had changed him without him realizing.
She adjusted herself quietly and shook her head.
“It’s nothing, just a small issue with our daughter.”
He stared at her for several minutes, then called her name again.
“I hope now you no longer see me at fault, Halima. Everyone can see that the girl is calm.”
A smile appeared on Amma’s lips. Men! She never thought there would come a time when every man’s mind would open to women’s affairs, claiming to know everything, yet so much remains hidden—one of the reasons the world turns.
From the moment she had glanced at Aminu’s packages, she understood something she only realized now. Kilishi had spent a fortune buying expensive skincare products to perfect Amina’s skin, ensuring that outside, everyone would perceive her as calm and composed. Even her father fell for it, believing the outward tranquility rather than sensing her internal concern. Kilishi was indeed formidable!
She smiled softly and nodded.
“Yes, that’s right.”
He nodded too.
“Let’s follow with a prayer for lasting peace.”
“Indeed.”
She spoke, feeling a warmth in her heart, acknowledging that women ruled the world. Allah had given them the power to influence men, no matter their age or status—they just often did not use it wisely.
“We spoke to Kawu Mallam now; he said Maryam will be brought later. Since you were watching me on the road, I know what you want, so I asked on your behalf.”
She shook her head.
“I didn’t send you; even if they stay another day, I won’t mind.”
“Can you sleep without Hafsatu in the house?” he asked.
“Before I even see her?”
“You have Amina.”
She rose laughing, took her broom, and left. Alhaji Sulaiman watched her, sensing the strength of her spirit, recognizing his wife as different from other women.
Two hours later, he left the house to attend to his work. At that moment, Awwalu, sitting in his car at the roadside, also started driving, following behind him.
---
That Morning
Ma’aruf entered the house quietly, one hand in gray shadda trousers, the other holding a phone to his ear, listening to Faruk’s report.
“This guy is crazy, B. He called me at two in the morning claiming he was away, and I thought robbers had entered.”
He smiled faintly.
“You’re not thinking clearly, Faruk. How would robbers call you first to tell you they were coming? Just tell me how you handled him.”
“Yes, he took it. But we had to give him something first. You know he only accepts cash, and the guy is problematic. He said he needed the money today, so from the start, I didn’t trust letting him into this matter.”
Ma’aruf shook his head.
“Don’t worry; I’ll get the money later and tell us where to meet him.”
“That’s fine; I’ll talk to him this afternoon. I’ll let you know.”
They ended the call just as Ma’aruf headed toward the kitchen, the sound of a dog inside confirming her presence.
He realized what he had said yesterday—that she was changing his world. Even though she had not yet completely let go of her caution around him, he sensed that her entrance into his life had brought an unexpected calm. Since the day he first saw her, she had dominated his thoughts.
Between yesterday and today, he felt a new connection he had not experienced with Ruqayya in a short time. He had shown her that he was serious about improving their relationship, and she was easy to understand. Her intellect and insight were clear from all their conversations yesterday, allowing him to grasp nearly her entire life in summary.
At that moment, she turned to him while holding a plate she was washing. Her smile reached his heart. It was proof that he had sincerely tried to break the barriers between them. He had asked a question yesterday hoping for an answer that would finally remove all obstacles between them.
“Welcome,” she said softly.
After dawn, he went out again at seven, heading to attend the funeral of a friend of Baffa who had passed the previous night. Baffa had called the day before, asking him to represent them along with Baba Usman since they were away, returning the next day from Kaduna.
After delivering the deceased, he returned home without entering the house, knowing the woman he would meet. In the past, before marrying Ruqayya, he had been involved in trying to match her with a girl named Nafisa. He had liked the girl at the time but, because of Ruqayya, he had ignored the other match.
Now, he saw the girl, sitting beside her mother with a child resembling her, confirming that she had married and started her family. He felt joy seeing his daughter, not fully understanding the emotion, but he recognized the happiness in her face, much as he had seen Amina’s joy the day before when appreciating the meal she had prepared.
He arrived just as she poured the last cup of milk.
“Was the funeral held?” she asked, lowering her head.
“Yes, at a cemetery not far from his house,” he replied.
He saw her swallow hard before saying,
“May Allah grant him peace.”
“Ameen,” he responded, continuing to observe her. The grief lingered on her face, as if the death had touched her, even though she did not know the deceased.
She wore a long green atampa dress, and its color brought out something in him, like a flame igniting in his heart since she entered the kitchen.
“Have you had breakfast?” he asked, his tone cool, interrupting her plans.
She shook her head slightly.
“No, I just used it.”
He checked his phone. It was quarter past ten.
“You don’t usually eat early?”
She shook her head.
“No, it depends.”
He smiled, then leaned closer, his face near hers.
“Depends on the time I spent outside waiting for you before returning?”
A shiver ran through her from head to toe. She looked up at him, meeting his eyes as she knew.
“Tell me the truth, please. I won’t tell anyone… I just want to thank you.”
She smiled faintly, lifting her head to continue looking at him. Something felt like chemicals pouring into his heart.
“Now I feel like posting it on my Facebook wall,” he muttered quietly.
She smiled broadly, turned, and placed the cups down, then picked up some containers with milk and Milo. He leaned against the sink, still watching her, as if wanting to say something.
“The rest of the breakfast is in the living room,” she said, indicating the remaining items, and began to pass by him.
Ten Years Ago
8:00 in the morning.
At the side of the road, just past a long bank where there weren’t many people—especially at that early hour—a car belonging to Hajiya Kilishi and Awwalu was parked. Its windows were covered with a very dark tint, specially applied for this outing on Hajiya Kilishi’s instruction to Awwalu.
Inside the car, Kilishi exhaled sharply, glancing at the clock on the dashboard, then said:
“These people are starting to waste our time, Awwalu. You know well that Baffa doesn’t know I’m out.”
Awwalu, sitting in the driver’s seat, nodded while looking at the road.
“Just leave it, I myself have an appointment at eight, and I swear it’s important.”
“An appointment?” she asked in surprise.
He turned to look at her.
“Oh, I forgot to tell you. I’ve returned to school—Bayero University. I’m doing English, and there’s just one year left.”
Kilishi felt her mood darken. She was about to open her mouth to complain about him being at university for two years without her knowledge, but then she paused—what business was it of hers? His life, and she had no right to interfere. Besides, she always knew Awwalu loved learning. From a young age, his parents had enrolled him in school with his own money, supporting his education through primary school. Later, his grandmother assisted him, and two years after she finished, he also left secondary school. His studies should not trouble her.
She turned to watch a man at a tea table in the distance trying to light a fire in his stove. The wood resisted, despite the cold air blowing. Without realizing, she smiled. Her heart was filled with satisfaction at seeing the old man struggle to make the fire. She enjoyed such things—watching someone work hard for their needs until their heart was content. That’s why she didn’t look too intently, because she saw no point in observing how people craft their lives, thinking the “good” person always prevails.
She sighed as the fire finally caught. Returning her gaze to the car, she tried to find her phone—but then remembered she had turned it off so no one could reach her. At that moment, a large Jeep Prado drove past them and stopped a short distance away.
“Here they are, Hajiya,” Awwalu said, glancing at the car.
“Shall I get out?” she asked.
He nodded.
“I don’t think he will step out anyway.”
She exhaled sharply.
“These people are taking too much advantage of her, Awwalu. It’s not because Jamal is leaving this world on their path; nothing will stop me from choosing their destiny as I see fit.”
Awwalu turned to look at her.
“Be patient, Hajiya. It’s only five minutes—they won’t have another chance to see your face forever. Hijacking a car while fleeing isn’t everyone’s job; only those who know all the tactics can handle it…”
Without waiting for him to finish, she lowered the niqab covering her face, grabbed a small handbag beside her, and with a white piece of paper, opened the car door and stepped out.
Head held high, she reached the car and stood beside the rear door. From where Awwalu was seated, he saw her lift her niqab again.
Inside was a man, dressed in pristine white robes, his face nearly flawless, save for some dark spots from a past illness. His eyes were hidden behind large black glasses. He smiled, revealing a row of teeth—some of which were capped with gold—shining in the morning light.
“Welcome, Hajiya. Please forgive our work. I don’t usually deal with ambassadors, so you see me alone.”
Hajiya Kilishi did not smile. Looking him directly in the eyes, she said,
“Since you’ve seen me here, you know this conversation has gone too far.”
He raised an eyebrow in worldly curiosity, then gestured to her handbag.
“Are these it?”
She studied him for a second, suppressing the irritation rising in her chest, then handed him the bag. He took it into the car and opened it, inspecting the money inside.
“You said it will leave at nine o’clock, and it’s only him in the car, right?”
She nodded once, handing him the white paper as well.
“Here’s the vehicle number; even the text is on it.”
He took the paper, looked at it, then back at her.
“Hajiya, I hope there’s no double talk in this matter. We’ll count the money; if it’s complete, you’ll see the job done. If there’s an issue, there will be a real problem.”
She turned her gaze aside, irritated at his tone, and asked,
“And if there is no problem, how can I be sure you will act?”
He looked at her again, smiling.
“Seeking assurance?”
She said nothing. He didn’t wait either, just raised a finger in the air, still smiling.
Before she could even guess what might happen, a sudden loud sound of a gunshot pierced the air. The force of it startled her; her feet stepped back as she covered her ears with both hands. She saw men running after someone who had fired the shot. Nearby, the tea man had dropped to the ground, covering his head. The sound was indeed a gunshot, nothing else.
“This is your assurance, Hajiya. My men do not play with their work. I only raised my hand; everything I say will happen, no matter who it concerns.”
At that moment, the car in front of them screeched to the side. Awwalu tried to open his door to avoid being hit.
“You are safe,” the man’s voice called. Even before she turned to look, the driver accelerated rapidly.
Kilishi smiled for the first time that morning. It was Awwalu’s doing. These people were skilled; it was only their audacity that was striking. Her smile reached her heart, knowing nothing could go wrong today. Jamal would leave this world; she had told him. She had told him when he turned away that he would go.
“I wanted to make all my plans to leave you without touching any of Baffa’s family. I built many walls around you, Jamal. I tried to shield you from my mischief, but you ignored me and arrived… I carry the sorrow of leaving the world with your youth, and I pity your leaving at a time when you should begin to enjoy life. From now on, you and I are among those who cannot coexist fully in this world.”
She smiled, biting her lip, wishing he would remember her words as he followed his soul to the heavens. Awwalu approached her, smiling as well. His expression conveyed what he did not speak.
“What did I tell you? These people know their work.”
She turned to watch their car as the crowd began gathering around it.
“Will you call to get another car?” he asked.
She shook her head.
“You don’t understand, Awwalu. How would my danger coincide with Jamal in one day? I am always precise; I never do anything that would cast even a shadow of suspicion.”
Awwalu nodded, still smiling.
“I trust you, Hajiya.”
“Go buy another tire; tie it and then we’ll go.”
These words became the foundation for events that remain unresolved even today, as Awwalu took a long time to get a replacement tire and the person to install it, because it was still morning. By the time they returned home, the travelers had already gone.
---
Present Day
“Halima,” Alhaji Sulaiman called to his wife as she prepared to step out after setting down the hot water flask she had brought from their morning errands.
She held a broom, using it to clean the living room where Aminu had been laid. She had wanted Maryam to come yesterday and clean before returning, but she had been unable to contact the household. She was considerate of her children; everyone knew that. What they didn’t know was that she could set aside this kindness if anyone threatened them.
At the doorway, she paused, sensing from her father-in-law’s tone that he would speak seriously. She found a seat beside him, her eyes wide like Amina’s, alert and waiting for instruction.
“Yesterday I saw you on the phone with your daughter,” he said.
She nodded once, realizing he meant Amina.
“Is there a problem she is facing in the house?”
The question surprised her. In all her years with him, she had never told him about a problem—her own or anyone else’s—and he never asked unless absolutely necessary. What was never done before would not start now.
Amina was his daughter; he had a right over her. But in her mind, he had already done his part. He had guided her life without her challenging him. He had said he could not remember the day she caused him trouble, yet he never looked at her kindness over the years. Being a man, he had closed his eyes, turned away, and left her in a position where she had to follow his commands.
Now that this had been done, everything had passed without incident, and they were already facing challenges she had avoided. So why would he ask her again?
She realized that Sulaiman still had not fully understood Halima. If he knew who Halima was, he would not even have asked. She acted diligently to prevent problems from reaching her, and if she failed, she had a plan to manage them. This was what maintained peace in her household. He himself, remembering his youth, knew the weight of the past—but with her, she had changed him without him realizing.
She adjusted herself quietly and shook her head.
“It’s nothing, just a small issue with our daughter.”
He stared at her for several minutes, then called her name again.
“I hope now you no longer see me at fault, Halima. Everyone can see that the girl is calm.”
A smile appeared on Amma’s lips. Men! She never thought there would come a time when every man’s mind would open to women’s affairs, claiming to know everything, yet so much remains hidden—one of the reasons the world turns.
From the moment she had glanced at Aminu’s packages, she understood something she only realized now. Kilishi had spent a fortune buying expensive skincare products to perfect Amina’s skin, ensuring that outside, everyone would perceive her as calm and composed. Even her father fell for it, believing the outward tranquility rather than sensing her internal concern. Kilishi was indeed formidable!
She smiled softly and nodded.
“Yes, that’s right.”
He nodded too.
“Let’s follow with a prayer for lasting peace.”
“Indeed.”
She spoke, feeling a warmth in her heart, acknowledging that women ruled the world. Allah had given them the power to influence men, no matter their age or status—they just often did not use it wisely.
“We spoke to Kawu Mallam now; he said Maryam will be brought later. Since you were watching me on the road, I know what you want, so I asked on your behalf.”
She shook her head.
“I didn’t send you; even if they stay another day, I won’t mind.”
“Can you sleep without Hafsatu in the house?” he asked.
“Before I even see her?”
“You have Amina.”
She rose laughing, took her broom, and left. Alhaji Sulaiman watched her, sensing the strength of her spirit, recognizing his wife as different from other women.
Two hours later, he left the house to attend to his work. At that moment, Awwalu, sitting in his car at the roadside, also started driving, following behind him.
---
That Morning
Ma’aruf entered the house quietly, one hand in gray shadda trousers, the other holding a phone to his ear, listening to Faruk’s report.
“This guy is crazy, B. He called me at two in the morning claiming he was away, and I thought robbers had entered.”
He smiled faintly.
“You’re not thinking clearly, Faruk. How would robbers call you first to tell you they were coming? Just tell me how you handled him.”
“Yes, he took it. But we had to give him something first. You know he only accepts cash, and the guy is problematic. He said he needed the money today, so from the start, I didn’t trust letting him into this matter.”
Ma’aruf shook his head.
“Don’t worry; I’ll get the money later and tell us where to meet him.”
“That’s fine; I’ll talk to him this afternoon. I’ll let you know.”
They ended the call just as Ma’aruf headed toward the kitchen, the sound of a dog inside confirming her presence.
He realized what he had said yesterday—that she was changing his world. Even though she had not yet completely let go of her caution around him, he sensed that her entrance into his life had brought an unexpected calm. Since the day he first saw her, she had dominated his thoughts.
Between yesterday and today, he felt a new connection he had not experienced with Ruqayya in a short time. He had shown her that he was serious about improving their relationship, and she was easy to understand. Her intellect and insight were clear from all their conversations yesterday, allowing him to grasp nearly her entire life in summary.
At that moment, she turned to him while holding a plate she was washing. Her smile reached his heart. It was proof that he had sincerely tried to break the barriers between them. He had asked a question yesterday hoping for an answer that would finally remove all obstacles between them.
“Welcome,” she said softly.
After dawn, he went out again at seven, heading to attend the funeral of a friend of Baffa who had passed the previous night. Baffa had called the day before, asking him to represent them along with Baba Usman since they were away, returning the next day from Kaduna.
After delivering the deceased, he returned home without entering the house, knowing the woman he would meet. In the past, before marrying Ruqayya, he had been involved in trying to match her with a girl named Nafisa. He had liked the girl at the time but, because of Ruqayya, he had ignored the other match.
Now, he saw the girl, sitting beside her mother with a child resembling her, confirming that she had married and started her family. He felt joy seeing his daughter, not fully understanding the emotion, but he recognized the happiness in her face, much as he had seen Amina’s joy the day before when appreciating the meal she had prepared.
He arrived just as she poured the last cup of milk.
“Was the funeral held?” she asked, lowering her head.
“Yes, at a cemetery not far from his house,” he replied.
He saw her swallow hard before saying,
“May Allah grant him peace.”
“Ameen,” he responded, continuing to observe her. The grief lingered on her face, as if the death had touched her, even though she did not know the deceased.
She wore a long green atampa dress, and its color brought out something in him, like a flame igniting in his heart since she entered the kitchen.
“Have you had breakfast?” he asked, his tone cool, interrupting her plans.
She shook her head slightly.
“No, I just used it.”
He checked his phone. It was quarter past ten.
“You don’t usually eat early?”
She shook her head.
“No, it depends.”
He smiled, then leaned closer, his face near hers.
“Depends on the time I spent outside waiting for you before returning?”
A shiver ran through her from head to toe. She looked up at him, meeting his eyes as she knew.
“Tell me the truth, please. I won’t tell anyone… I just want to thank you.”
She smiled faintly, lifting her head to continue looking at him. Something felt like chemicals pouring into his heart.
“Now I feel like posting it on my Facebook wall,” he muttered quietly.
She smiled broadly, turned, and placed the cups down, then picked up some containers with milk and Milo. He leaned against the sink, still watching her, as if wanting to say something.
“The rest of the breakfast is in the living room,” she said, indicating the remaining items, and began to pass by him.
As her heart predicted, he stopped her.