A WANI COMPANY 

Page 2

The next day, he woke up early to prepare. He dressed in a highly elegant and polished black outfit (cuz Black). Holding a small hand luggage/bag, he walked out with an air of absolute authority and absolute pride. The grace and arrogance in his stride were so natural that one would think it was an effortless, structural part of him.
Three security vehicles formed a tight convoy behind him, driving in a synchronized line until they arrived at a massive, breathtakingly beautiful, and grand corporate headquarters. Upon arrival, he opened his car door, stepped out, and took the elevator up to the fifth floor where his executive office was located. He gently turned the door handle and walked in.
Wow! The office itself was an absolute masterpiece to behold—incredibly beautiful. He sat down and began removing the outer jacket of his outfit.
As he sat inside his office, he pulled the telephone console on his desk toward him and dialed a number consisting of no more than five digits. "Send Suhail to me," he commanded before hanging up. He lifted his head. Masha Allah, he was an imposing, distinguished elder, looking to be at least sixty (60) years old. He was fair-skinned and had his hair tied back with a small ribbon.
A knock sounded at the door. He looked toward it and immediately stood up, warmly embracing the person who entered the office. He personally escorted him to a seat and sat down as well. He looked at Suhail, whose eyes were half-closed in a dreamy, calm manner. This was a signature trait of Suhail’s; his eyes always appeared half-closed as if he were fighting off sleep.
Suhail was naturally strikingly handsome and a very fashionable young man—the exact type of person people refer to as a classic "bourgeois/spoiled kid" (ice-cream/butter boy). He had naturally pink lips, sharp brown eyes, and smooth hair that cascaded down to his back.
The elder handed over a document to Suhail, even though he knew it might be futile, as he was certain that if Suhail had already stated he wasn't going anywhere, he wouldn't budge. Suhail took the document and smiled, reading it through carefully from top to bottom before lifting his eyes to look at the distinguished gentleman, who was his father.
"Now, Dad, is it really true that I have to travel to that city? You're sending me out completely alone to a place where I know absolutely no one, and a place I have never even visited before. Why, Dad? Why?"
His father fell silent, looking at him, feeling at a loss for words. The elder stood up from his seat, walked right up to his son, and placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "Please understand and have patience, my son. This trip is an absolute necessity. You are the one who needs to go and take charge of managing our company over there in Nigeria. I do not want what happened in the past to ever repeat itself."
"Very well, Dad. I hear you, and I accept. I will go, as long as it will bring you happiness."
A wide, joyful smile spread across his father's face as he hugged him tightly once more. "Thank you, my son. Thank you."
"Never mind, Dad," Suhail replied, stepping out of the office. In truth, by Allah, he had absolutely no desire to travel anywhere. He only accepted the assignment to ensure the happiness of his father, who was his ultimate source of support and luxury.
"Ayrah! Ayrah!"
Mama called out continuously, standing right by the bedroom door. Ayrah walked out, pouting her lips as if she were being deliberately annoyed. She was dressed in a beautiful maroon atamfa fabric decorated with sharp green leaf patterns.
"I am going out, and I won't be long, alright?" Mama said.
"Alright, Mama. May Allah protect you for me," Ayrah replied, stepping back into the room. Mama smiled and left. She walked quite a distance before arriving at Alhaji Hadi's house, which was located far away from their immediate neighborhood.
Upon entering, she went straight to the Hajia’s private apartment. The Hajia received her with immense warmth, respect, and hospitality. They exchanged pleasantries. Hajia was a remarkably kind, generous, and down-to-earth woman whose high social status never blinded her humility; she felt deep empathy for Ayrah’s family, and in fact, it was from her household that they obtained most of their daily meals.
"The reason I asked for you to be called, Ayrah’s mother, is that I heard of an excellent opportunity, and I thought I should share it with you. Perhaps Allah will make it a source of success for us," Hajia Sarai said with a smile, looking at Mama.
"By Allah, you see, just a while ago, Alhaji was telling me that the company they work with is currently looking to hire new employees. I was incredibly happy to hear this, and I told him that, by Allah's grace, I would call you to let you know. Once we conclude the final details, we can secure a position for Ayrah. What do you think?"
An indescribable wave of pure joy washed over Mama. She was completely at a loss for words, simply smiling from ear to ear. This was an undeniable blessing for them. "Thank you so much. You are truly unique, and you have always wished the absolute best for us. Thank you so much," Mama said, tears of gratitude welling up in her eyes.
"Oh, come on, Aminatu! What is there to cry about? Just because I did something for Ayrah, you feel the need to shower me with such intense gratitude? Do not forget that Ayrah is just like a daughter to me as well."
"That is very true, Hajia. Ayrah is indeed your daughter."
Slowly and gracefully, he waved his hand to the crowd of people who had accompanied him to the airport. He walked forward a few steps, then suddenly turned around, ran back, and threw his arms around his father. He knew with absolute certainty that he would miss him terribly—he would deeply miss his Daddy. "I'll really miss you, Dad."
"Miss you too, son. Take good care of yourself, okay?" his father replied, wiping away the tears that were starting to stream down his own face.
From Australia to Nigeria... we can only pray: May Allah grant you a safe and peaceful arrival, Suhail...

Page 1 (Chronological Beginning of Chapter One)

Disclaimer: This story belongs solely to its rightful author. I do not permit anyone, male or female, to alter, plagiarize, or adapt this story in any form or shape. If this occurs, I will not let it slide.
In the name of Allah, the Most Gracious, the Most Merciful. All praise and gratitude belong exclusively to Allah, the Lord of the heavens and the earth. May His peace, blessings, and salvation be upon our leader, the Prophet Muhammad (S.A.W.), his family, his companions, and all those who follow his righteous path until the Day of Judgment.

Today was Sunday, a day when virtually all workers were resting in the comfort of their homes. A massive, threatening storm was gathering in the sky. The entire town had turned pitch black as a powerful, violent wind blew across the land, lifting plastic bags and filling the air with heavy dust that blinded passersby.
The clouds were an ominous, deep black, and ferocious thunderclaps shook the ground, accompanied by blinding flashes of lightning. The sheer darkness suffocating the sky was proof enough that a torrential downpour could burst open at any literal second.
She was crouching right against the trunk of a large tree, her head buried deeply between her knees. Despite the terrifying storm raging around her, she showed absolutely no signs of fear.
A gentleman happened to pass by the area. He rushed over to her immediately and asked, "Are you alright? Is everything okay?"
She lifted her head and looked up at him. Here eyes were intensely bloodshot and heavily swollen—one look was enough to tell anyone that she had been weeping uncontrollably.
Wow! Masha Allah. Absolute glory be to Allah, the Almighty, who created such a perfect being. She was flawlessly fair-skinned, with silky smooth hair that cascaded all the way down to her upper back. A soft, elegant fringe of hair delicately framed the sides of her face. She had a perfectly small mouth and a long, sharply pointed nose. Masha Allah, this young girl was stunningly beautiful. She was quite tall and possessed an incredibly striking, well-defined figure.
She stood up abruptly, without uttering a single word to the man, and began walking away. The man simply shook his head in astonishment and continued on his way, wondering why a young girl of her matchless beauty would be out in the middle of the street crying, especially under such a catastrophic storm when a downpour was imminent.
She walked slowly, as she was naturally not someone who ever hurried. A sudden, earth-shattering thunderclap made her violently snap her eyes shut and cover her ears. She began reciting the names of Allah in a tiny, fragile whisper—a voice so soft that unless you were standing directly next to her, you would never hear a word she said. She remained frozen like that for about five minutes before slowly opening her eyes, looking around as if terrified of some unseen force.
The rain suddenly began to pour heavily, like water being emptied from a massive bucket, accompanied by crashing thunder. She forced herself to keep walking slowly. Even though she stepped sharply on a painful object on the ground, she refused to stop until she finally made it inside their tiny, modest house located in the Lokogoma neighborhood.
She rushed into the room, panting heavily, and collapsed onto a small, worn-out straw mat spread across the center of the floor. Slowly, her entire body began to shake and shudder violently as she struggled to catch her breath, gasping painfully.
She was completely losing consciousness, and the only words escaping her lips were: "Mama... Mama... Oh Allah, the pain... I think I'm dying..." That was the only agonizing phrase she could utter.
Mama had just stepped out of the small bathroom. Pushing aside the worn-out curtain hanging over the doorway, her heart skipped a violent beat. Instantly, cold sweat broke out across her skin despite the cool rain pouring outside. She rushed into the room, swept Ayrah into her arms, and held her in a tight embrace. Hot, bitter tears streamed down Mama's face.
Suddenly, as if stung by a sharp needle, Mama sprang up and hurried to the corner of the room. She picked up a small plastic bag containing medication, then rushed to the small clay water pot (randa) in the room to scoop some water. She paused for a moment, her mind racing with painful realization: How can I administer this medication to her on an empty stomach, when neither of us has consumed anything but water since morning? Fresh tears rolled down her cheeks. She raised her hands toward the heavens, completely unable to utter a single word, as silent tears flooded her face.
She walked back to her daughter, gently lifted her up, and administered the medicine. She then laid Ayrah’s head tenderly on her lap, gently stroking her soft hair until deep sleep finally overtook them both.
The next morning, Ayrah slowly opened her heavy eyes. She found herself lying comfortably on the lap of her Mama, who was sitting upright, leaning her back against the hard wall. Her mother had remained in that exact position throughout the entire night without sleeping.
An overwhelming wave of deep empathy and sorrow washed over Ayrah for her mother. She quickly sat up and wrapped her arms tightly around her. Mama smiled warmly; she had actually been awake for a long time but purposely refused to move a muscle so she wouldn't disturb her daughter's sleep.
"Mama, did you seriously sleep like this the whole night? Why didn't you wake me up and move?" Ayrah asked, her eyes welling with tears.
"Well, even though I didn't wake you up, you are awake now, aren't you? Hurry up, go perform your ablution so we can pray." Ayrah stood up slowly, her body still aching all over from the previous night's physical crisis.

Australia

He was speaking in a roaring, furious rage—anyone looking at him could instantly see he was deeply upset. Suddenly, as if stung, he jumped up from his seat and adjusted his incredibly stylish, high-end outfit (cuz). He walked out in a massive hurry.
The security team stationed outside immediately fell into step behind him, but he sharply waved his hand, signaling them to back off; he wanted absolutely no one near him right now. He entered a brilliantly designed, luxurious bedroom. Stripping off his outer jacket, he threw himself onto the massive royal bed spread across the room. His head was pounding with intense stress, and his mind was completely blank on what step to take next.
If things turn out this way, what will become of my future? Will I actually agree to be sent away to another location? No! he thought, shaking his head violently. Pure confusion, panic, and distress were written all over his face.
He quickly stood up and headed straight for the bathroom. Upon entering, he turned on the cold shower, letting the freezing water pour over his head. Instantly, a wave of profound calmness began to wash over him. He slowly closed his eyes and let out a deep, heavy sigh of relief.

Page 4

"Ayrah! Ayrah, what on earth are you still doing inside? Why haven't you come out yet? You know very well that no one is going to sit around waiting for you, right?"
Ayrah rushed out of the room, adjusting her oversized, flowing hijab that draped all the way down to the floor. She looked exceptionally beautiful.
"Hurry up and head over to Alhaji Hadi’s house. He has been out there waiting for you for a while now."
Ayrah quickly set off down the path. After walking a few paces, she suddenly turned around, ran back, and planted a sweet kiss on her mother's cheek. Mama smiled warmly, waving her hand. "May Allah protect you for me, dear."
"Amen, my Mama!"
She walked as fast as she could, though she wasn't naturally capable of walking very quickly. She covered a considerable distance before finally reaching the grand house. As she walked in, she saw Habib, who looked like he was about to head out himself. He quickly walked over to her with a bright smile.
"Wow, is that Ayrah visiting our house today?"
"Yes, by Allah, Brother Habib. It's been a couple of days."
"You've completely abandoned us!" he joked, laughing. Ayrah smiled shyly, lowering her head.
"Hurry up and go inside. Dad is in there waiting for you."
She hurried into the main living room. Upon entering, she found them sitting comfortably on the plush living room sofas. She knelt all the way down to the floor out of deep respect and greeted them. They responded with warm, cheerful smiles.
"Shall we head out then, so we don't run late? The new Managing Director (Mdee) they brought in is incredibly strict and not easygoing at all."
They walked out toward the parking space. Alhaji Hadi got into the car, and Hajia personally opened the door for Ayrah to step inside. Upon arriving at the magnificent facility, Ayrah stood still, carefully reading the giant corporate name plastered on the building:
JULIUS BERGER NIGERIA PLC

The headquarters of Julius Berger Nigeria Plc is located in Abuja, the capital city of Nigeria. The company is a premier construction giant operating across various engineering sectors, specializing significantly in major road construction and civil infrastructure.
There are several high-profile companies in Nigeria with strong international affiliations, and Julius Berger Nigeria Plc is one of them. The company collaborates closely with various global corporations, including entities in Australia, to execute complex construction projects and procure world-class materials.

They walked a long distance through the stunning facility until they reached the elevator (left). Ayrah’s eyes widened in sheer shock and wonder as she stared at it. Since the day her mother gave birth to her, she had never seen such a piece of technology. Alhaji Hadi smiled, gently pointing toward the entrance.
"Step inside, let's go, my daughter. There is absolutely nothing to be afraid of; it won't harm you." She stepped inside, terrified. The moment she felt the elevator lift them upward, she tightly closed her eyes, frantically reciting the names of Allah.
They arrived precisely at the fifth floor. Alhaji Hadi stepped out, and she followed closely behind. He knocked on the door of an incredibly beautiful executive office. Plastered across the top of the entrance was a sign that read: General Mdee Suhail.
The Personal Assistant (P.A.) seated in the outer reception office granted them permission to enter. They walked in, offering peaceful Islamic greetings (Salama). Alhaji Hadi took a seat on a chair, and the P.A. quickly stood up to greet him with deep respect. He responded warmly with a relaxed, friendly face.
However, the P.A. shot a cold, deeply contemptuous glare at Ayrah. Even though she had never met her before, from the very first glance, she instantly detested the girl. Ayrah quickly lowered her gaze to the floor, nervously fidgeting with her fingers.
Alhaji Hadi stood up, took Ayrah by the hand, and led her into the grand inner executive office. A blast of freezing, powerful air-conditioning struck her, causing her to instantly shiver and wrap her arms tightly around herself. As they walked deeper into the room, Alhaji Hadi pointed her toward a seating area located further away. He then walked over to Suhail’s desk with a bright, cheerful smile and extended his hand.
Suhail, despite his notorious coldness and arrogance, maintained a deep respect for elders; he extended his hand with matching respect, and they shared a warm handshake. After exchanging greetings, Alhaji Hadi introduced the young girl he had promised to bring. Suhail smiled, shifting his gaze toward Ayrah. Instantly, his heart skipped a violent beat. He quickly averted his eyes away from her.
"Very well, it's no problem at all. You may return to your duties, Alhaji. I will conduct her interview now." Alhaji Hadi thanked him and headed toward the exit. Ayrah quickly stood up to follow him out.
"Go sit over on that chair, daughter. He is going to conduct your interview," Alhaji Hadi reassured her gently.
"Alright, Daddy," she replied, walking toward the designated seat.
Suhail did not look up at her immediately. He focused on finishing the paperwork in front of him before finally asking, in his smooth, calm voice: "What is your name?"
"Fatima Mahir," she answered softly and briefly.
"What is your educational qualification?"
"Secondary school."
"It's also an opportunity for job seekers, we are hiring young people here," he suddenly said in a sharp, harsh, booming tone.
Ayrah instantly dropped her head, and within seconds, hot tears began flooding down her face.
He extended his hand, took her documents, and began flipping through them. A sudden smile spread across his face—a sudden shift that completely shocked her. She couldn't comprehend how a man who had just screamed at her harshly could seamlessly transition into a pleasant smile.
"Very well, I will hire you. But do you actually know what your specific job description is?"
She shook her head sideways, indicating no.
"Coffee. Your sole responsibility will be to prepare and bring me my coffee at all times. And I strictly forbid you from ever serving coffee to any other person within this entire company except me. Do you understand me?"
She nodded her head in agreement. As long as she could earn enough money to buy food for her household and ensure her mother could finally stop doing exhausting manual laundry for people, she was willing to accept any task.
Suhail picked up a sheet of paper and wrote on it. "Take this. Report here tomorrow morning to officially begin your work. Also, when you step out, tell the P.A. sitting in the front office to escort you back to Alhaji Hadi so you can hand this document over to him."
She bowed her head, whispering her gratitude, and quickly hurried out of the office.
The moment she stepped out, the P.A. shot her another vicious glare. Ayrah kept her head lowered and spoke timidly: "Um... he said you should please escort me back to the person I came with earlier."
The P.A. sneered at her with utter contempt. "Listen to me, don't you dare bring your nonsense to my desk! Did I walk into this building with you for you to boldly tell me to escort you? You absolute fool!"
Ayrah kept quiet, refusing to lift her head or look back at her. Little did the P.A. know, Suhail was monitoring everything they were doing from inside. Suddenly, the telephone on the P.A.'s desk rang loudly. She grabbed it quickly.
"Hello, Sir?"
Suhail’s deep, booming, authoritative voice echoed through the line, delivering a fierce reprimand and strict instructions. The P.A. went completely pale and panicked, having never heard him speak with such absolute rage. "I am so sorry, Sir! By Allah, this will never happen again!"
Inside the inner office, Suhail hung up the phone, leaned his head back against the executive chair, and slowly closed his half-shut eyes, letting out a heavy breath.
The P.A. stood up and walked out without saying another word to Ayrah. Ayrah quickly followed behind her. They stepped into the elevator, which took them down to the third floor where Alhaji Hadi’s office was located—the central office where all company transactions were processed.
"There is the office. You can go right in," the P.A. snapped, turning around and walking away. Ayrah gently turned the door handle and walked inside.

Page 3 (Flashback to Ayrah's Origins)

Slowly and deliberately, he stepped down from the aircraft's passenger stairs, dressed in an exceptionally stylish maroon outfit (cuz). The security team on the tarmac rushed toward him immediately, saluting him in unison. He merely waved a dismissive hand at them, handing over his hand luggage. He walked ahead while they followed closely behind until they reached a lineup of top-tier, ultra-luxurious vehicles—the kind of elite cars reserved exclusively for billionaires and high-ranking dignitaries. The moment he stepped inside, the convoy pulled out, driving smoothly toward the high-end Sarah Estate in Abuja.
It was a brilliantly designed, breathtakingly massive gated estate. The convoy pulled up right in front of a spectacular mansion that stood out as an architectural masterpiece—there wasn't a single house in the entire estate that could match its scale. The security guard quickly flung open the massive gates, and they drove in. Ya Salam! This mansion was an absolute marvel to behold—the kind of home people refer to as a literal paradise on earth, exceptionally grand and vast.
The moment they parked, he didn't even wait for the security details to open his door; he opened it himself and walked inside. A security guard rushed alongside him to guide him through the mansion's layout. Stepping into the main living room—which was so massive it could comfortably engulf an entire average wealthy person's house—he turned to the guard and uttered a single, brief question: "Where is my private apartment?"
The guard pointed toward a specific wing of the mansion. He headed there, unlocked the door, and walked into a stunning, multi-level private living area, heading straight upstairs toward the upper lounge.
Meanwhile, Mama was walking home with a bright, beautiful smile on her face. She felt an overwhelming sense of relief, as if a mountain of sorrow had been lifted off her shoulders. She knew with absolute certainty that if her daughter Ayrah secured this job, their lives would finally experience comfort, peace, and stability.
She walked into their modest compound and found Ayrah sitting right in the center of the yard, resting her chin on her hand, tears flowing silently from her eyes. She was experiencing such a severe, agonizing wave of hunger that she could no longer endure it. Mama rushed to her side, frantically asking what was wrong.
Ayrah’s tears flowed faster. Mama set down the items she was carrying, sat on the straw mat, pulled Ayrah into her arms, and held her close. "What is happening, Ayrah? Did someone hurt you? Tell me!"
Ayrah pouted her lips, her tears falling freely. When it came to crying and being a pampered, dramatic baby, Ayrah was easily number one. "But Mama... I'm so hungry! My stomach has been burning painfully since morning."
"And that is why you are crying? Oh, come on, Ayrah! Why don't you offer praises to the Prophet (S.A.W.) instead? You must learn that you don't break down in tears over everything. Besides, you need to realize that you are a grown young woman now," Mama scolded gently, playfully pinching her nose.
Ayrah smiled through her tears, hiding her face against Mama's chest. "Hurry up and stand up. Look, I brought us some delicious food from Hajia Sarai’s house. Eat up, and then I will share a wonderful piece of news that will make you incredibly happy."
Ayrah sprang up, pulled the food container toward her, and opened it. It was beautifully prepared, highly appetizing Jollof rice. She ate heartily until she was thoroughly full before pushing the container aside.
"Mama, aren't you going to eat too?"
"Of course I will eat, but I wanted to make sure you were full first."
"I am completely full now!"
"That's my girl. Now, Mama, tell me the news!" she urged, sitting up properly, eager to hear the good news. Mama smiled and detailed everything Hajia Sarai had told her.
A wave of pure, ecstatic joy filled Ayrah’s heart. She immediately dropped her forehead to the ground, performing a prostration of gratitude (Sujjud) to Allah, knowing with absolute certainty that He had finally answered their silent prayers and opened this door for them. "So, does this mean we will never have to sit around starving again? And it means you can finally stop doing manual laundry for people, right?" she asked, on the verge of crying tears of joy.
"What is this behavior again? Didn't I just say you are a grown woman?" Mama teased. Ayrah quickly wiped her tears, laughing, and leaned her head lovingly against her mother's body.

Who is Ayrah? (The Backstory)

Her real name is Fatima Mahir. Her biological father belonged to the Shuwa Arab tribe, while her mother is a pure, nomadic Fulani woman.
The story flashes back to Rugar Hardo (Hardo’s Fulani Settlement), an exceptionally vast rural settlement. A young girl, barely fourteen years old, came running out of the settlement, laughing beautifully. It was Innaji (her grandmother figure) chasing after her, holding a traditional head-scarf (ɗan kwali).
"Dannijo! Stop right there and let me tie this scarf properly!" Innaji called out in her distinct Fulani-accented Hausa. The young girl smiled beautifully at Innaji before running back and hugging her tightly. Innaji tied the scarf around her head with a warm smile. "There! Now hurry up and lift the calabash before Hansai and the others arrive. They are already out there waiting for you, okay?"
The girl nodded, heading toward where the large decorative calabash (ƙwarya) was placed. Innaji helped her balance it safely on her head, and she set off, humming traditional Fulani songs along the path. She caught up with Hansai and her peers, and they walked in a neat line toward the market.
Upon arriving at the local market, just like every other day, she spotted a specific man waiting exactly where she usually sat to sell her goods. Hansai nudged her playfully. "Hey, Dannijo! By Allah, that handsome Arab man is standing by your spot again today!"
The girl didn't offer a reply, as her entire attention was completely locked onto the man. With a bright smile, the fair-skinned, remarkably handsome man walked toward her and helped her lower the heavy calabash from her head. He had perfectly silky hair, smooth lips, and beautifully thick, well-groomed eyebrows—he was exceptionally attractive. He gestured with his hand, showing her where to sit. She sat down, completely unable to stop staring at him. He remained by her side until she completely finished selling her Fura da Nono (local milk and millet blend).
When it was time for them to walk home, he quickly took her calabash. "Let me walk you back, alright?" She didn't say a word, simply walking ahead. When they reached the crossroads leading into her Fulani settlement, she extended her hand to take her calabash back. He smiled, looking into her eyes. "Please don't stop me from walking you all the way in..."

2. Comprehensive Story Summary

The narrative centers around two distinct characters from opposite ends of the social spectrum whose paths intersect at a corporate empire in Abuja:

• Suhail (The Arrogant Heir): A highly fashionable, wealthy, and aloof young billionaire living in Australia. Despite his extreme reluctance to leave his luxury abroad, he accepts a deployment to Nigeria solely to please his aging father, a high-ranking corporate tycoon. Upon arriving in Abuja, he takes over as the strict General Managing Director of Julius Berger Nigeria Plc.
• Ayrah / Fatima Mahir (The Impoverished Beauty): Born to a Shuwa Arab father and a nomadic Fulani mother, Ayrah lives in severe poverty in the Lokogoma neighborhood of Abuja with her self-sacrificing mother, Aminatu. They face extreme hunger, and Mama performs exhausting manual laundry to survive. Ayrah struggles with sudden, severe health crises (characterized by full-body tremors and respiratory distress). Through the intervention of a wealthy, kind neighbor (Hajiya Sarai and Alhaji Hadi), Ayrah is brought to Julius Berger for a job interview.

The Intersection: During the interview on the 5th floor, Suhail is instantly captivated and internally shaken by Ayrah's striking, natural beauty, despite her simple attire and lack of higher education. He hires her under a hyper-specific condition: she is to be his personal coffee assistant and is strictly forbidden from serving anyone else in the company. The story sets up an immediate workplace dynamic involving a hostile corporate P.A. who despises Ayrah, and an overarching mystery regarding Ayrah's biological paternal background (Shuwa Arab heritage).

3. Character & Setting Descriptions

Primary Characters

• Suhail (General Mdee): A strikingly handsome young man with brown eyes, long smooth hair, and naturally pink lips. He is characterized by a sleepy, half-closed gaze (idanunsa a lumshe). He is highly elitist, arrogant, and authoritative, yet holds deep respect for traditional elders.
• Ayrah (Fatima Mahir / Dannijo): A biracial (Shuwa Arab/Fulani) girl of matchless beauty. She features a flawlessly fair complexion, long silky hair down to her back, a sharply pointed nose, and a striking physical figure. She is emotionally sensitive, prone to throwing dramatic tantrums with her mother, and fiercely protective of her mother's well-being.
• Mama (Aminatu): Ayrah's mother. A pure, traditional Fulani woman who endures hard labor (laundry) and starvation to protect her daughter.
• Suhail’s Father (Dad): A 60-year-old, fair-skinned billionaire tycoon who ties his long hair back with a ribbon. He loves his son deeply but firmly forces him to take over the Nigerian branch to protect their legacy from past corporate sabotage.

• Hajiya Sarai & Alhaji Hadi: Wealthy, deeply compassionate upper-class neighbors who act as guardians to Ayrah's family, using their corporate influence at Julius Berger to pull them out of poverty.

  Primary Settings

• The Julius Berger Nigeria Plc Headquarters (Abuja): A massive, state-of-the-art corporate complex. The 5th floor represents absolute executive power, featuring high-end tech, freezing centralized air conditioning, and elite office suites.
• The Lokogoma Residence: A tiny, impoverished, single-room home containing nothing but a worn-out straw mat and a clay water pot (randa), highlighting the stark economic inequality of the city.
• The Luxury Mansion (Sarah Estate, Abuja): An architectural paradise where Suhail resides, featuring multi-level private apartments and vast structural dimensions.

• Rugar Hardo (Flashback Setting): A vast, traditional pastoral Fulani settlement defined by calabashes, herding lifestyle, and local markets.

  4. Analytical Literary Breakdown

  Key Themes & Literary Tropes

1. The "Enemies-to-Lovers" Workplace Dynamic: The author establishes an immediate power imbalance. Suhail hides his sudden attraction behind a mask of harsh authority, creating a restrictive job scope ("only serve me coffee") designed to keep Ayrah in his immediate vicinity.
2. Class Contrast and Elite Insularity: The text heavily focuses on high-end lifestyle markers (cuz suits, private convoys, elevators, exclusive estates) versus the raw reality of poverty (sharing a single container of Jollof rice, drinking water to fight off starvation pangs).

3. The Tribal-Social Intersection: By highlighting Ayrah's background as half-Shuwa Arab and half-Fulani (Balarabe / Bafulatani), the author deliberately gives her distinct aesthetic features that bridge the gap between rural pastoral life and high-society elite standards, foreshadowing a revelation regarding her father's true lineage.

   Linguistic Style

• Contemporary Hausa Urban Fiction (Littattafan Soyayya): The prose fluidly integrates anglicized corporate jargon (Mdee for Managing Director, P.A. for Personal Assistant, inter biyu for interview, left for lift/elevator, combai for convoy, back for bag) into standard Hausa syntax. This style mirrors modern urban life in Nigeria's capital city, Abuja.