AL'AJABI (The Mystery / The Wonder), covering Parts 1, 2, and 3.

Part 1: An Unconventional Interview

He stood leaning over the table in front of him, bowing his head as he stared down at the surface. With just one look, anyone could tell he was deeply troubled. He raised his head, moved forward, and began pacing back and forth across his spacious office. He spent a long time walking to and fro, completely lost as to what could bring him comfort.
Still standing, he reached into his pocket, pulled out his phone, and searched for the number of the person he wanted to call. Placing it to his ear, he walked slowly toward his chair and sat down. One hand held the phone while the other rested flat on the desk before him.
"Hello!!" he said the moment the call was answered. He then continued, "Sir, that girl still hasn't arrived. In fact, I don't think she's coming at all. Honestly, I'm exhausted, evening is fast approaching, and as I told you, I have other urgent engagements."
In a soothing, pleading voice, the person on the other end replied, "Ahmad, please have patience. She got caught up in traffic, but she will be there any moment now."
Ahmad frowned even deeper. He pulled the phone away from his ear, tossed it onto the desk, leaned his head back against his chair, and fixed his eyes on the office entrance. He waited for another twenty minutes with no sign of anyone. Out of sheer frustration, he closed his eyes as if he were asleep, though his mind was busy calculating the furious tongue-lashing he was going to unleash on her.
"As-salamu alaykum."
A sweet, melodious voice offered the greeting, causing Ahmad to quickly open his eyes and sit up straight. He stared at her intently until she took a seat, announcing, "I have arrived."
The angry speech he had been preparing instantly vanished from his mind. One glance at her was enough to know that she was far above being humiliated or insulted. She possessed an immense, striking presence and absolute, pure beauty beyond words. Truly, God had perfected her creation.
“Subhanallah (Glory be to God),” he whispered to himself.
"You do realize you’ve wasted my time, right?" he said, looking at her.
Without a single trace of regret, she replied plainly, "Yes, I know."
"Then why? Even though I was told you were held up by traffic?" he asked, looking away from her this time.
She quickly shook her head. "To be honest, that’s a lie. In fact, I have never seen the roads as completely clear as they are today. It was simply me—I just didn't feel like leaving early."
For the second time, he snapped his gaze back to her in surprise. He fell silent for a brief moment, took a deep breath, adjusted his posture, and said, "I was instructed to wait for you, conduct a brief interview for a few minutes, and give you this office job directly. Even though I don't know you, I know for a fact that whoever pulled strings for you must be someone very powerful, because I have never seen anything like this happen before. Others struggle desperately to find employment without success. Perhaps that's why you are so arrogant, acting as though this job doesn't matter to you at all."
She pouted her lips as he finished speaking and said, "Honestly, it doesn't matter to me. I could even tell you that I was forced to take it, because they know that I am the one who will be helping your organization, not the other way around. As for the person who backed me, even if he had sought a job for me at the Presidential Villa, no one would dare block it, let alone here." She gestured toward the office dismissively.
Ahmad stared at her again, thinking to himself, “This one is a bigger disaster than I am.”
He adjusted his position, pulled his laptop closer, and focused his attention on her. After a short pause, he looked up and asked, "What is your name?"
Fixing her gaze on the desk in front of her, she replied, "HUMAIRA."
He waited for a moment, expecting her to add something else. Sensing her silence, he pushed the laptop aside, looked directly at her, and said, "You need to be fair to me. You wasted my time by arriving late, and now answering a simple question is going to take up more of my time?"
"Oh, you mean my full name? Fine, my name is HUMAIRA ISMAIL," she said, looking right back at him.
Ahmad pulled his laptop back, letting out a quiet, frustrated hiss. "What is your level of education?"
She answered, "A Master's degree."
He looked up swiftly in shock, mentally repeating to himself: (A Master's?) Wow!
"Which university?" he asked, his eyes returning to the laptop screen.
She turned her head slightly aside and said, "Oxford University, England."
Before he knew it, he was staring at her again in absolute amazement. “With a background like that, little girl, you have every right to be arrogant!” he thought. He quickly masked his expression so she wouldn't notice his awe and asked, "Did you bring your credentials?"
"There was no need to bring them. Since I am not here begging for a job, I don't need to go around carrying school certificates."
What a disaster! This girl is pure trouble, Ahmad thought. After a long silence, he said, "Last question! Relationship status?"
She remained completely silent, acting as though she hadn't heard him. He repeated the question in Hausa: "Single, divorced, or married? This is something that must be known for any woman working anywhere in the world."
Humaira’s expression instantly twisted into one of deep distress. "Please, just write UNKNOWN," she said.
Ahmad knit his brows in sheer irritation, rubbing his head. "What kind of person are you, for God’s sake? Are you trying to give me a headache? You don’t even know if you are single, divorced, or married?"
She quickly nodded. "Yes. I have no certainty of being any of them."
Ahmad stood up abruptly, raising his voice. "I swear that's a lie! That is completely impossible. You must fall into one of those categories!"
She fired right back at him, saying, "There is absolutely no reason for me to lie to you. It's not like you are granting me admission into Paradise. So, do not call me a liar regarding a matter you know nothing about!" She looked at him as tears rapidly spilled from her eyes, and she continued:
"I swear by Allah, if I tell you I am a virgin/single, I am lying! If I tell you I am a divorcee, I am lying! Likewise, if I tell you I am a married woman, I am lying! I myself do not know what name to call myself!"
Ahmad, whose anger had forced him to his feet, quickly sank back into his chair. His eyes widened in absolute shock. A profound sense of AL'AJABI (Mystery) gripped his heart as his mind began to race with endless questions: How on earth could such a thing be possible?

Part 2: The Silent Mystery

Ahmad just kept staring at her, the shock still fully written across his face. The thoughts swirling in his mind were clear: There is no sign of playfulness in her. In fact, tears are streaming from her eyes right now, and she even swore an oath. This definitely proves that what she is saying comes from the depth of her heart. It was the greatest mystery his ears had ever heard.
One thought crossed his mind, dispelling his previous assumptions: Could it be because I am a man that I don't understand what she means? Yes, that must be it.
He answered his own question just as he looked at her, pulled out some files from the pile before him, and placed them in front of her. "Alright, it's fine. Please forgive me, stop crying. Here is the portfolio of documents you need for your job. I will have the messenger guide you to your office. From today, you are the Chief Data and Information Officer of this ministry. May Allah assist you in your duties."
He finished speaking just as he turned around and called out for the office messenger: "BALA! BALA!"
Bala quickly rushed in, bowing respectfully, and said, "Yes, sir!"
Ahmad leaned his head back against his chair. "Take her to Office No. 11 and introduce her to the secretary. I will give her a call."
Bala the messenger quickly replied, "Understood, sir," and led the way out.
Humaira stood up, picked up her handbag—which she had placed on the wide desk earlier—and packed the documents Ahmad had given her inside. She adjusted her wide, dark sunglasses, which completely covered her eyes and added immensely to her commanding aura. She cast a brief look at Ahmad, then turned and headed toward the exit.
Before she could step out, he quickly said, "Even if it's not right now, I hope to one day learn your life story. Perhaps it will resolve the confusion I am currently in."
She stopped dead in her tracks, turned around slowly, and said, "Unless you are doing this to find a way to break my heart, I beg you to drop it. Just look at me as Humaira. Do not stress yourself trying to investigate who I am, because it is not something you will ever uncover." Raising her voice slightly, she added, "My mouth can never utter the story of what happened to me in the past, just as my brain cannot tolerate remembering it. If you want us to live in peace with each other, never bring up this topic to me again!"
She delivered the final words in a sharp, commanding tone, shifting her demeanor entirely until she looked like a completely different person. She stepped back and quickly exited the room.
Ahmad watched her leave, then immediately walked over to the office window. Through the glass, he watched her head straight toward a sleek Toyota Prado. She opened the door and climbed inside, her vehicle following closely behind the old Honda Civic that Bala the messenger was driving to escort her.
Ahmad turned away from the window and began to pace slowly around his office. “This girl wasn't lying, and she has every right to be proud,” he mused. One look at her car confirmed she came from a wealthy background. But what terrible thing had happened in her life to put her in such a state? What was the root cause?
“A mystery has presented itself, and by Allah, I must uncover it, no matter what it takes,” he muttered aloud.
He turned back, shut his laptop, packed it into his black briefcase, and walked out of the office. He headed straight to his car and hit the highway heading south. He decided to cancel his previous evening plans since it was already getting late. Even though a soft, slow song by Justin Bieber was playing quietly inside his car, it couldn’t distract his mind from his thoughts.
Twenty minutes later, he drove down into his upscale neighborhood, a gated community called Newclax Quarters—a beautifully designed estate meant for the elite. He honked once at the massive green gate, which opened slowly under the guidance of a slender young security guard who quickly greeted him, "Welcome back, sir."
Ahmad nodded, replying, "Thank you."
He drove inside, parked in the courtyard, and walked into the house. The moment he stepped into the living room, he heard a *click!*—the sound of a camera taking a photo. A beautiful young girl burst into laughter and said, "Wow, big brother, this picture came out great! Let me take one more."
He glared at her slightly. "Don't you have anything better to do than taking photos of people on your phone?" He walked over to one of the sofas arranged around the massive living room.
His mother, who was sitting down watching the TV mounted on the wall, turned to him and said, "Ahmad, you're back?"
"Yes, Mom, just now," he replied respectfully.
Right at that moment, Saudat set down the juice platter she was holding, poured some juice into a small cup, and handed it to him. He accepted it, saying, "Thank you, my blood sister. You're actually being nice today."
She turned around and said, "Only today?"
He nodded. "Yes, only today."
She turned to their mother just as she walked over to a sofa and sat down. "Mom, did you hear him?"
Their mother stood up, saying, "Are you two about to start your usual bickering? Don't involve me. I'm heading inside; it’s almost time for prayer."
The moment she retreated to her section of the house, Ahmad moved over to the sofa where Saudat was sitting. "Listen, I have a question. Maybe you know the answer, because I've thought about it until my brain hurts and I still can't figure it out. But honestly, you have to tell me the truth, please."
She smiled. "Ask away, let's hear it. If I know it, I'll tell you."
He adjusted his seat. "How can a woman be neither a virgin/single, nor a divorcee, nor a married woman? And what title would she be called by?"
Saudat fell silent for a moment, then asked, "Who asked you this question?"
He shook his head. "That's none of your business. Just answer me if you know."
Saudat burst into a hearty laugh. "Oh, big brother! Someone managed to twist your brain so easily that you can't even solve a simple riddle like this? A woman can be neither a divorcee, nor a virgin, nor a married woman IF..........!?"
Good morning....

Part 3: The Broken Mind

"...That can only happen if she was raped," Saudat said. "Think about it: she is no longer a virgin, yet she isn't a divorcee, and she isn't a married woman either."
Ahmad fell silent, processing the answer deeply. After a short while, he shook his head and said, "Honestly, you're wrong. A woman who has been raped is technically classified under the status of a non-virgin/divorcee (in traditional terms of classification), right?"
Saudat went quiet and just stared at her brother. He was right; her answer didn't fit the strict logic of the riddle. Ahmad gave her a slight glare, stood up, and walked back to his sofa. "Aside from pressing your phone all day, what do you actually know?"
Saudat defended herself, "Well, at least I tried! I actually used my brain to think of something, which is more than you did."
Ahmad looked away. "You thought, but it was useless."
She stared at him. "Do you know what we should do?"
He shook his head, indicating no.
She said, "Let's ask Mom. Since she is an elder with a wealth of life experience, she might know and tell us." She made a move to call out for their mother, but Ahmad quickly stopped her. "HEY! Keep this a secret, leave it alone for God's sake!"
She leaned back against the sofa and burst into laughter. "But seriously, big brother, whenever you find the answer, please share it with me because I really want to know how such a thing could happen. To me, it seems highly improbable..."
Ahmad stood up, holding his briefcase. "Don't be so quick to dismiss what you don't understand. The call to prayer is sounding; let me go inside and perform my ablutions."
She just watched him until he disappeared into his room, then turned over on the long sofa and went back to typing on her phone.
*** One Week Later ***
She sat all alone inside her spacious office. There wasn't a single sign of another person's presence; the office was dead silent, save for the faint beep of the automated messaging device going off from time to time. A laptop sat on the desk in front of her, flanked on one side by a mountain of papers and files—an amount she couldn't even count.
However, her entire focus and thoughts were miles away from the work before her. She sat with both hands propped deeply under her chin. The glasses she usually wore to cover her face were resting to the side, completely exposing the tears that were visibly streaming down her face. One hundred percent of her mind was trapped in a vacant, painful daze. Even though the air conditioning units were blowing cool air from every corner of the office, it didn't stop a thick, hot sweat from breaking out across her body. The sweat on her face mingled with the heavy tears flowing from her eyes, thoroughly drenching the documents lying on the desk in front of her.
Because she was so deeply lost in her thoughts, she didn't hear him enter, despite the loud greetings he had been calling out. Ahmad stopped dead in his tracks right in front of her, just watching her. The smile that had been on his face instantly vanished. He sat down in the chair facing her, but even then, she hadn't snapped back to reality or realized someone had entered her space. It was as if she didn't even know where she was.
After staring at her in absolute wonder, he finally called out her name. "HUMAIRA!" he shouted, slamming his hand down hard on the desk.
With a violent start, she gasped as if waking from a nightmare, staring wildly around the room like someone who had just found herself in a strange place. She immediately tried to wipe the tears from her eyes, forcing a fake smile to replace her sadness. "Ah... Ahmad, when did you come in?"
He studied her closely for a moment. "Humaira, what are you crying about?"
She quickly shook her head. "Crying? Me? I'm... I'm not crying."
Ahmad let out a short, sad smile. "Humaira, in this life, pain can never be completely hidden. Sorrow doesn't just stay locked up in the heart; it writes itself in giant capital letters across a person's face for the whole world to see. And even if it could be hidden, it seems the magnitude of your grief is far too massive to be concealed. If it could be hidden, you would have hidden it by now."
He leaned across the desk closer to her. "Why won't you give me a chance to know what is happening in your life? Perhaps there is a way I can help you, even if it's just through prayers."
"If you have any fear of God, stop bringing this up to me! There is absolutely no reason for you to worry yourself over my life story. Only work connects us, so keep it strictly at that, if only to protect your own respect in my eyes."
Ahmad shrugged his shoulders slightly. "Fine, since you won't tell me, so be it. I actually just came by to let you know that your core operational equipment will arrive tomorrow, so be prepared." He stood up, adding, "See you next time."
"Ahmad!!" she called out his name just as he was on the verge of walking out the door. He stopped completely, then slowly turned around and walked back to face her.
She raised her head, her eyes pleading. "Please, for God's sake, have patience and make allowances for me. My brain simply cannot handle remembering everything that happened to me in the past. But perhaps... one day you will know."
Ahmad sat back down in the chair. "Humaira, sometimes bottling things up inside is a sickness, and speaking out is the cure. I just need to hold onto at least one single piece of context so I can understand and give you grace whenever I see you in a state like the one you are in today."
Tears spilled over her eyes once more, and she glared at him intensely. "Since the day my mother gave birth to me, I have never met a man as relentless and unyielding as you! Can't you ever give someone space? Must everything always go exactly the way you want it in your head? Well, I will not tell you! Since this isn't part of the mandatory conditions required to work with you, if you ever ask me this question again, you will never see my face again. Permanently! For what reason anyway?!" she yelled fiercely, before continuing:
"I chose to take this job not because I need the money or because I'm looking for material gain—I am far above that. I did it because I thought it would help relieve a fraction of my sorrow. But if you insist on suffocating me and pushing me into another trauma, it is very easy for me to walk away." She finished her long outburst with a heavy, ragged sigh.
Ahmad countered, "Look at me. I am a man who thrives on uncovering stories, especially deep mysteries. Among all the stories I have ever encountered, I believe yours will be the absolute greatest wonder. You have no choice—I must know your story today." He delivered the final sentence, raising his voice to match hers.
Instantly, her demeanor shifted again. Her face contorted with pure fury and rage as she reached her absolute breaking point. “What on earth does this man pride himself on to think he can force my hand?” she thought.
She slammed her laptop shut, snatched her office keys, and threw them violently at him. Grabbing her large handbag and slinging it over her shoulder, she barked at him in a raging scream: "Just because I work with you does not give you the right to abuse my mind! If I hadn't humbled myself, I am far above you ever forcing me to do anything, by Allah! Keep your keys. Leaving this place is the easiest escape from your relentless harassment!"
She violently kicked her chair aside and turned swiftly toward the door. Ahmad quickly snatched up the keys, holding them tight in his hand, and yelled after her before she could cross the threshold: "Go ahead and leave! It doesn't matter. Your running away only confirms the terrible suspicions I have about you!"
Even though she hadn't intended to give him the satisfaction of a reaction, she stopped dead in her tracks right at the exit and whipped around. Ahmad turned to face her fully and drove his point home:
"I am convinced that you are an EVIL WOMAN. You are definitely not a good person. Your past is undoubtedly filled with nothing but atrocities and wickedness. I am absolutely certain you committed some horrific crime, and now it is haunting you, stripping away your peace of mind..." He cut his speech short, staring blankly at her.
Her eyes widened so drastically it looked as though they would pop out of their sockets. "Aaaagh!!!" a choked gasp escaped her throat as she slapped her hands over her mouth. Her mind instantly began to echo with the most horrific accusations she had ever been subjected to. All at once, her brain completely shut down under the weight of his cruel words. Her head grew unimaginably heavy, and she clutched it in agony. Her eyes began to roll back just as her legs gave out beneath her weight. In a terrifying flash, her subconscious replayed his words over and over...
“I am convinced that you are an evil woman... You are definitely not a good person... I am certain you committed some horrific crime that is stripping away your peace of mind...”
Right at that exact second, she collapsed heavily onto the floor, completely unconscious.

Part 4: The Emergency Room

He paced frantically back and forth in front of the hospital's Emergency and Intensive Care Unit. It had been thirty minutes since he rushed her in and the doctors immediately went to work, but no updates had been given to him yet.
His mind was a chaotic mess of guilt and regret: Why did I do that? Why on earth did I push so hard regarding a matter that was none of my business? God forbid I have just caused the death of someone’s daughter, or triggered a permanent mental breakdown...
The sudden sight of the doctor stepping out of the room cut his internal panic short. He rushed toward him desperately. "Doctor, how is she? What's the situation? Is she going to be okay?!" he asked, his voice trembling with sheer panic.
The doctor turned to the nurses standing by his side and ordered sharply, "Hurry up and get that medical equipment right now!"
"Yes, Doctor," they replied, rushing off down the hall.
The doctor then turned back to Ahmad. "Don't stress yourself too much. She will be stable shortly, by God's grace. We have managed to bring the crisis under control, but she hasn't regained consciousness yet. The moment her father or mother arrives, I want to see them in my office immediately." With that, the doctor walked away in a hurry.
Ahmad didn't hesitate for a second. He slipped into the room and walked straight up to her bedside, staring down at her still form with a heavy, sinking heart. “May God help you, Humaira,” his soul whispered. He pulled a chair over and sat down by the edge of the bed where she lay, his eyes completely glued to her face.
The first problem that struck him was: How on earth am I going to contact her parents or any of her relatives to let them know her condition? He had no alternative; they had to be informed.
Remembering her phone, which was still clutched tightly in his hand, he quickly lifted it and opened her contacts. To his surprise, there were very few numbers saved inside. His thumb stopped on a contact labeled MY MUM. He paused for a brief moment, a wave of dread washing over him, but out of absolute necessity, he hit dial and placed the phone to his ear.
He froze, his throat tight, unable to utter a single word until the woman on the other end answered.
"Humaira, is everything okay? Why the silence until now?"
Swallowing hard, Ahmad finally forced the words out. "It... it's not her. My name is Ahmad. I am hoping I am speaking to her mother?"
"Yes... I am her mother. Is everything alright?" she asked, her voice instantly sharpening with worry.
"Humaira collapsed suddenly... right now, we are at the hospital..."
"Subhanallahi (Glory be to God)!"