Episode 1

Heavy rain was pouring down, falling cats and dogs. Azman Road was completely dead—not a single car was passing by, let alone a tricycle. She was walking so fast she practically flew, and despite the rain beating heavily against her, she pushed forward, hoping to God she would find a ride. As she walked, what hadn't scared her before suddenly began to terrify her. She started reciting her protective prayers and azkar (supplications) consecutively under her breath, using them to distract her mind as she kept moving.
Screeech!
Suddenly, a car bore down directly on her. It was speeding so fast that I highly doubt the driver was even stepping on the brakes. It was a brand-new, pristine Hummer Jeep. A heavy silence fell over the area. For nearly five minutes, no one stepped out of the vehicle to check on the person who had just been hit. Finally, the door opened. A tall young man stepped out. He was dressed in a black hoodie, black trousers, and a black peaked cap, paired with bright white sneakers. He wore a massive pair of dark sunglasses that completely dominated his face.
He walked over to where she lay. He looked east, west, south, and north—not a single soul was passing through the area, only the torrential downpour drenching them both. He lifted her up in his arms and placed her in the back seat of his car. She was completely unconscious, though fortunately, there was no blood visible on her body. He then started the engine and sped away from the scene.
He drove straight to Bayero Clinic. Seeing the critical condition she was in, the staff rushed to receive her immediately.
At that moment, all eyes turned to him. The way he walked into the clinic made him look like a dark force; he was completely wrapped in black clothing from head to toe. Realizing that everyone was staring at him, he pulled out a face mask and put it on—it, too, was black. The doctor who was set to examine her approached and asked him what had happened. The young man stood quietly for a brief moment, looking around, before answering in a husky, raspy voice, sounding like someone who hadn't spoken in an entire year.
"I found her by the roadside. It looks like a car hit her," he said in English.
The doctor immediately grew suspicious. Ever since the man walked in, the doctor hadn't trusted him. Just looking at him, he seemed unstable and didn't look like someone you could easily trust. The doctor bluntly told him, "To be honest, if you want us to treat her, you need to provide a police report, or you can take her to the General Hospital where she can get full attention and where specialized doctors are available."
Suddenly, a nurse burst into the office, panting heavily. "Doctor! The patient he brought in is convulsing! She needs emergency attention!"
The doctor went rushing out immediately. Within a short time, they managed to stop the convulsions and put her on an intravenous drip. The doctor then instructed the nurses on the diagnostic tests and X-rays required, and walked back to his office.
The young man was still sitting exactly where the doctor had left him. A thought crossed the doctor's mind: I need to focus on saving this poor girl's life first before dealing with this strange man.
Just as the doctor ignored him, the man ignored the doctor right back. Soon, the nurses brought in the test results. The doctor looked them over and muttered, "Alhamdulillah (Praise be to God)." Hearing this, the man quickly raised his head to look at the doctor.
"The results are normal," the doctor explained. "It was just the shock and force of the impact that caused a cerebral contusion (brain bruising). We have administered medications and put her on fluids. She could regain consciousness at any moment from now. Here is the bill, go and settle it."
Deep down in his heart, he felt a wave of relief knowing that nothing catastrophic had happened to her. He simply said, "Thank you, Doctor," took the paperwork, and walked out. After paying the medical bills, he returned to the ward where she had been admitted.
Only then did he finally look at her face—because even when he picked her up earlier, he hadn't actually looked at her features. She was incredibly fair-skinned; if you were counting the fairest people anywhere, she would easily be on that list. Because her head was uncovered, her hair had fallen across her face and neck, partially obscuring her. Noticing that her legs were bare and exposed, he pulled her wrapper down to cover them properly.
As he moved his hand to adjust the cloth, a charm bracelet with tiny bells on his wrist jingled softly. At the sound, she slowly opened her eyes, looking around for the source of the noise. The first thing her eyes landed on was his hand sporting the jingling bracelet. She raised her gaze to see his face, but it was completely covered in black like a kidnapper. Terrified, she quickly shut her eyes tightly and began reciting prayers of protection one after the other.
She felt him pick up her phone, which had been placed on the bedside table. He opened the composition screen for a text message and scrolled through her contacts, searching for "Mama" or "Mommy," but found neither. Eventually, his eyes caught the name "Yaya Ado." Recognizing the word Yaya (older brother) and what it meant, he sent a message to Yaya Ado, placed the phone right next to her head, and walked out.
She opened her eyes slowly and watched his retreating figure. Is this man mentally sound? What is the meaning of all this? Is he even a Muslim? She kept raining these questions upon herself until she heard her family members entering the room.
Her mother (Umma) and Yaya Ado entered the room alongside the doctor. The doctor narrated the entire sequence of events from the moment they arrived at the clinic until that very second. He then held up a stack of cash—a clean hundred thousand Naira—and said, "This is the money he left behind before he departed."
What could they even say? Should they offer prayers of gratitude, or what exactly should they do for this mysterious servant of God?

Episode 2

Abdulbaseet

Salama is a twenty-year-old girl. She is stunningly fair-skinned, beloved by everyone who sees her, and embodies calmness, dignity, intelligence, and modesty. She is well-versed in both Western and Islamic education; wherever virtuous women are listed, Salama tops the chart. In her school and among her neighbors, everyone uses her as a shining example. Many people even say she truly earned her name, Salama (Peace), because of her immense patience and peaceful nature.
She is one of two children born to her parents, alongside her older brother, Yaya Ado. Their mother has been raising them alone since Salama was just five years old, when God took the life of their father, Mallam Muhammadu. Their mother accepted her destiny and focused entirely on raising her children as they grew up, choosing never to remarry.
Salama’s family originally hails from Adamawa State, where she and Yaya Ado were born. They are pure Fulani, so much so that their Hausa is still not entirely fluent to this day. Since their father passed away leaving nothing behind, their mother vowed that she would work tirelessly to ensure the two children God blessed her with would thrive in this world. After her husband’s death, Bodado (their mother) packed up her children and moved from Adamawa to the city of Kano in search of a livelihood and a quality education for them.
They struggled through life—today there was abundance, tomorrow there was none. She took up every decent trade imaginable, from packaging soup ingredients to selling provisions from home, until God finally blessed her efforts. She managed to buy a house of her own, complete with a living room, a bedroom, a kitchen, and a bathroom. She pushed hard to keep her children in school. Many suitors came seeking Bodado's hand in marriage, but because nothing in life mattered more to her than her two children, she turned them all away.
Time flew by, and things changed for the better. God opened doors of wealth for Bodado. Now, she sells expensive wrappers, laces, materials, and various women's luxury goods, causing women to flock to her house constantly.
Yaya Ado and Salama have both completed their core education. Yaya Ado studied Economics and has finished his National Service (NYSC); he is currently awaiting employment. Salama, on the other hand, just finished secondary school and gained admission into BUK (Bayero University Kano) to study Agriculture. She is currently in her first year.
When he left the hospital, he headed straight home. The rain had subsided, but even though he had hit Salama, it hadn't brought any calmness to his demeanor. No way! He drove the car at a breakneck speed as if he wanted to fly, while blasted music boomed dum-dum-dum inside the vehicle, loud enough to burst the speakers.
He honked the horn outside a massive mansion. The security guard rushed to swing the gates open, bowing his head respectfully to greet him. The young man didn't even acknowledge him because the car windows were heavily tinted. He sped into the parking lot, parked the car, stepped out, and headed straight into a separate apartment off to the side. He placed his thumb on the scanner—the door to his section opened exclusively via his fingerprint—and walked in as the door shut automatically behind him.
He went into the bathroom, took a shower, and came out. He was about to climb into bed but changed his mind. He walked over to the fridge, grabbed a bottle of red wine, poured it into a glass, and sat down after turning on some ear-splitting music.
He just sat there aimlessly, doing absolutely nothing except nodding his head to the heavy beat of the music. He remained like that until the call to Maghrib (evening) prayer began. Because he was intoxicated and couldn't get up, he drifted off into a deep sleep right there. He didn't wake up until 9:30 PM, aroused by his phone ringing continuously. The caller ID showed "Boss." He cleared his throat and answered.
"Okay," was the only word he uttered. He got up, threw a shirt on, and walked out.
He entered a massive, lavishly furnished living room packed with luxury items, high-end electronics, and opulent couches. It looked like stepping into the palace of a Saudi king. He found a spot and sat on the floor close to two young girls, while an Alhaji and his wife sat comfortably, leaning back on the grand sofa above.
Alhaji cleared his throat, looked at one of the young girls, and said, "Naima, when did you say you are returning to school?"
She looked up and replied, "Daddy, this coming Saturday, InshaAllah."
"Have you confirmed the flight and everything else?"
"Yes, Daddy, I did. It's Emirates Airline, departing at 12:00 midnight, so I'll head to the airport around 10:00 PM."
"Alright, may God protect you and grant you success."
"Ameen, Daddy," she replied.
Alhaji then turned his gaze toward his wife. "Hajiya, I am thinking of sending Hajar along with Naima since Hajar is about to finish her WAEC exams. If it works out, I can send her to France so she can study Law as well."
They continued discussing Naima and Hajar's education for a while. Once they wrapped up that conversation, their attention finally shifted to him.
Alhaji’s face hardened, devoid of any smile—completely different from how he had warmly spoken to Naima and Hajar. "You, Abdulbaseet," he said coldly. He pulled out two ATM cards and handed them over.
Abdulbaseet reached out with both hands to accept them, saying, "Thank you, Daddy."
Alhaji didn't give him a second look, let alone a shred of respect. He simply barked, "Get up and get out. Leave us."
Submissively, he got up and walked out. Behind him, Alhaji immediately turned back to Naima, Hajar, and their mother, resuming their lively conversation, filled with laughter.

Episode 3

It had been two days since Salama was discharged from the hospital, having been sent home the very next morning.
Salama bolted upright from her sleep, gasping for air. The distinct jingling sound of Abdulbaseet’s charm bracelet had echoed vividly in her dream, causing her to wake up in a panic. Reciting phrases of praise to God, she immediately performed her ablutions and observed voluntary prayers (nafila). Afterward, she leaned back against the wall and began analyzing the strange guy she had seen at the hospital. Ever since she returned home, he had become an unanswered puzzle in her mind; she couldn't stop wondering how he had found her, how he had brought her to the clinic, and who he actually was. Lost in these swirling thoughts, sleep eventually claimed her again.
She woke up at 6:00 AM, performed her Fajr (dawn) prayers, and tidied up the room she shared with her mother. She prepared breakfast for the household and then headed to the shower because she had lectures scheduled for 8:00 AM.
As she prepared to leave, she informed her mother, "Umma, when I close from school today, I plan to stop by Sabeeha’s house to check on her because she isn't feeling well either." Her mother agreed and handed her a piece of atamfa cloth that Sabeeha’s mother had asked to be kept for her. Without any complaint, Salama neatly packed it into her bag, slipped on her shoes, and headed out, running right into Yaya Ado.
"Are you ready to leave already?" he asked.
"Yes, Yaya. Good morning," she replied.
"Good morning," he answered, digging into his pocket to pull out his motorcycle keys. "Let's go, let me drop you off. I can see you're running a bit late." Overjoyed at saving some transport money, she happily agreed.
After her classes ended, Salama stopped by Sabeeha’s house. As she walked in, she found Sabeeha standing by the outdoor tap, performing ablutions.
"Aha! So your illness isn't even that serious since you're out here playing with water by the tap!" Salama teased.
Sabeeha smiled and replied, "Oh, come on, Salama, I'm just performing ablutions." Salama set her bag down, removed her veil, and joined her at the tap to perform her own ablutions for the Asr (late afternoon) prayer.
Once they finished praying, Salama asked, "Where is your mom?"
"She went out, but she’ll be back shortly; she won't be long," Sabeeha replied, folding up the prayer mats.
"Sabeeha, do you even know what happened to me during the two days you missed school?" Salama asked, her eyes widening.
Sabeeha gasped, "What happened?!"
"Hmm, honestly, you could have easily been told that I was dead."
"What kind of talk is that, Salama? What do you mean 'dead' out of nowhere?"
"Remember Monday, the day you didn't come to school, when that massive downpour wrecked several houses?"
"Yes," Sabeeha nodded.
"Well, that day, I left school and was walking, trying to find a ride, moving as fast as I could. You know how quiet and deserted Azman Road gets. Wallahi, Sabeeha, the next thing I knew, I woke up directly in a hospital bed!"
Sabeeha stared at her blankly. "How on earth did that happen?!"
"Apparently, someone hit me with a car, and then another person found me and rushed me to the hospital."
Immediately, Sabeeha began touching Salama, turning her around to inspect her body. "But you aren't injured at all! Salama, where exactly did you get hurt?"
Salama laughed. "Wallahi, nothing happened to me. It was just the force of the impact and the shock that made me faint, but I am perfectly fine now." She then related the entire story of the mysterious benefactor, including the large sum of money he had left for them.
"You know what, Salama? Wallahi, I don't trust that guy at all," Sabeeha countered. "As if he’s the only compassionate person left on earth, just looking at you he decides to carry you to a hospital because he's better than everyone else? And then you mentioned he was wrapped in black clothing like a demon? Is he a mafia member or a armed robber? Why would he wear all-black, cover his face, and wear dark glasses if he wasn't hiding something dishonest? And a jingling bracelet on his wrist like a pastor? Come on, Salama, I don't buy it at all! You need to keep praying. Who knows, maybe he hit you on purpose, or someone hired him to do it!"
Salama laughed it off. "Oh, stop it, Sabeeha! What could I have possibly done to anyone for them to want to run me over? Whatever the case, Sabeeha, I don't see any fault in what he did. At least he didn't leave me stranded on the asphalt to get run over by other cars until I died. At least, Alhamdulillah."
"Ugh, that's just typical of you, Salama! This extreme patience of yours will be the end of you."
"Anyway, look, give this cloth to your mom. I have to head out now because I can see it's getting dark. Don't worry, you know I pray constantly, and InshaAllah, I am protected against whatever or whoever he is." She smiled, stood up, adjusted her veil, and Sabeeha escorted her to the front door before turning back inside.
Salama hailed a commercial tricycle (Keke) and gave the driver her neighborhood's name. But then she suddenly remembered that her mother had given her a grocery list the previous week which she hadn't bought yet. She instructed the driver to take her to Sahad Store on Zooro Road instead, and they agreed on a fare. He dropped her off right at the entrance of Sahad.
While doing her shopping, she reached out to grab a pack of pasta. Because she wasn't quite tall enough, she had to stand on her tiptoes, which caused the entire display of pasta to begin collapsing directly toward her head. She let out a quick gasp, instinctively covering her head.
In a flash, a hand shot out to hold the tumbling pasta back—and as it moved, the bells on the stranger’s wrist jingled loudly.
Clink!
Her heart skipped a beat. It was the exact sound she kept hearing in her dreams—the sound she had been praying to God to help her trace back to its owner. She spun around quickly to look at him. And indeed, it was happening again: he was dressed in black clothes today as well, though his face wasn't covered this time. However, he wore a massive pair of dark sunglasses that seemed larger than his face itself, and he wasn't wearing his peaked cap today; his head was bare.
She couldn't see much except his sharp, pointed nose perfectly framed by the glasses, his lips, his fair complexion, and a neatly trimmed beard that suited him immensely. Before she could even process what she was seeing or look down at his hand, some of the store attendants rushed over to assist him, and Abdulbaseet swiftly turned and vanished from the aisle.

Episode 4

Abdulbaseet

Without a shadow of a doubt, this was the exact person Salama had been looking for. Her body went completely numb as she adjusted her posture. Losing all interest in finishing her shopping, she grabbed the few items she had collected and walked straight to the checkout counter to pay.
"6,700 Naira," the cashier announced the total.
Salama reached into her bag, digging around for her money, but her hands found nothing. Instantly, a cold sweat broke out across her forehead, which she quickly wiped away. She opened her wallet and completely emptied her bag—but there was absolutely nothing inside except a lone 10 Naira note that a tricycle driver had given her as change earlier.
"Inna lillahi wa inna ilayhi raji'un (To God we belong and to Him we shall return)," she muttered aloud.
Suddenly, she became the center of attention at the counter, and she wished the ground would open up and swallow her. She had gathered all these items but hadn't even brought enough money; how was she going to survive this intense embarrassment?
Seeing the crowd staring at her drew the attention of Abdulbaseet. He felt an unusual urge to find out what was happening, even though he was someone who absolutely never meddled in other people's business, let alone got involved.
Only now did he truly look at her face—because earlier, when he caught the falling groceries for her, he hadn't actually looked at her features. With just one glance, he understood the predicament she was in. Suddenly, he felt his legs moving, carrying him toward her against his own conscious will. He thrust his hand into his pocket, pulled out an ATM card, handed it to the cashier, and muttered in his signature raspy, husky voice—sounding like someone who hadn't spoken in a year:
"Charge it," he said in English. Deep down, he felt like he hadn't even planned to do it; his hands and feet had just acted on their own!
Salama could only stare at him in utter silence; she didn't even know what to say. He stood right beside her, and she kept stealing glances at him, while he paid her absolutely no attention. Her tongue felt incredibly heavy, as if it had been stitched shut; she couldn't utter a single word, not even a simple thank you.
They stood there in silence until the cashier finished processing the payment, handed him back his card, which he slid into his pocket, and walked out without picking up any of the items he had originally entered the store to buy.
When Salama walked outside, she began pacing down the street, trying to figure out how she would get home. She brainstormed a plan and decided she would just hail a tricycle, and once they reached her house, she would run inside, grab the fare, and bring it out to the driver.
Suddenly, a sharp car horn blasted right behind her, startling her completely. She froze in her tracks. The car that had hit her before—yes, it was definitely this one. A jet-black Hummer Jeep. Her heart began to beat erratically. She stood frozen, debating whether to run away or scream for help; she was utterly terrified. The driver flashed his high beams at her, blinding her further. She closed her eyes tightly, preparing to scream for help at the top of her lungs, when she heard a voice say:
"Do you have money for a taxi? I thought you lost your card and money."
Hearing a completely different, clear tone, she quickly opened her eyes to see who was speaking. To her utter amazement, it was the very same guy. He had leaned his head out of the window and was looking at her.
Well, well, well! Look at that!
Her heart rate skyrocketed even further. She quickly shook her head, completely lost for words. So he isn't even a native Hausa speaker, she thought to herself.
Finally, she stammered, "I... have," her voice trembling so hard that anyone looking at her could tell she was terrified of him.
Without waiting to hear anything else she had to say, he stepped on the gas and sped away, leaving her standing there in total shock. She just watched the back of his car disappear.
"Oh my, Salama, today I have truly seen the wonders of God," she whispered aloud to herself.
This was actually the very first time Abdulbaseet had ever spoken to a female since he returned to Nigeria. He had never harbored any desire to interact with women, let alone associate with them; in fact, he viewed all women as untidy. From the day God created Abdulbaseet, he had never pursued a woman as a girlfriend or even a platonic friend, let alone engaged in any form of immorality or indecency. No one in the world really understood him, from his parents to his peers—though he didn't even have friends to begin with. There was only one person on earth Abdulbaseet could let his guard down around and speak to for more than five minutes: his younger sister, Hajar. He didn't even get along with Naima. To him, speaking itself felt like a chore, which is why he preferred to remain silent. And whenever he did speak, it usually came out forced and muted, as if against his will. Yet, whenever he actually felt like it, he could talk normally like anyone else, unleashing a very pleasant, resonant voice.
But there is one virtue we must highly praise Abdulbaseet for: his urge to help. Wherever he sees a person in need—especially someone less fortunate than him—Abdulbaseet will never hesitate to offer his assistance. Whether he does it intentionally or instinctively, he will always help because he simply cannot stand by and watch someone suffer.