The Crying Bride and the Heavy Hand of Destiny

I spotted a massive, deeply luxurious mansion. Women were streaming in and out in large numbers, a sight that instantly made it clear a grand wedding festival was underway inside. The sheer scale of it made me quickly push my way through the crowd so I wouldn’t be left out of the excitement. However, the moment I pushed the front gate open, the sheer display of unimaginable wealth made my jaw drop. It was an exceptionally opulent residence—not because it was cluttered with unnecessary luxury items, but because the raw amount of money spent on the architectural structure alone was staggering.
Realizing I could easily spend the entire day just admiring the exterior, I forced myself to walk inside. I immediately ran into high-class, proud, elite women—the kind who exude absolute elegance and societal power. The air was thick with the rich, intoxicating aroma of expensive designer perfumes and high-grade traditional Humrah.
I pushed further into the compound and entered the living room that was the most crowded. Everyone was in high spirits, laughing, chatting, and enjoying the lively atmosphere. I kept scanning the room, burning with curiosity to see the face of the exceptionally lucky bride who commanded such an elite gathering. Despite my intense searching, I couldn't catch a glimpse of her.
Just as I turned around to leave the room, I spotted someone lying face down on a bed in the corner. I couldn't see her face, but her body was shaking violently; she was weeping so hysterically it felt as though her very soul was about to leave her body. As I stood there watching her in complete astonishment, I overheard some guests speaking nearby.
"Look at the bride over there, she has been crying non-stop," one woman whispered. "We’ve been trying to get her to look up and greet us since morning, but it’s a complete waste of time. She refuses to acknowledge a single soul and does nothing but sob." After saying their piece, they exited the room.
Only then did I turn my gaze back to her fully. She was dressed in an incredibly expensive, high-end lace outfit. Her skin was spotlessly fair and radiant, but her clothes were completely wrinkled and disheveled from the sheer intensity of her crying. To my utter shock, out of all the wedding guests present, not a single person seemed to care about her deep distress. Everyone went about their own business, completely indifferent to her pain.
A mature woman, who looked to be no older than forty-five and was elegantly dressed in a highly expensive red and black patterned material, stepped forward. She walked gracefully right up to the edge of the bed where the young girl lay weeping. Lowering her voice into a soft, comforting tone that radiated genuine maternal care and worry, she began to speak.
"For heaven's sake, Nanah, aren't you going to put an end to this continuous crying? There are only a few hours left before your marriage to Salkhan is officially solemnized. It is time for you to embrace your destiny, find peace in your heart, and accept your husband so you can build a life together. Your father—Abban Samha—and I are a perfect example for you. I wasn't the one who gave birth to you, but I am certain you know the history of our own marriage. Back then, I fiercely insisted I didn't want him, but today, because I chose the path of obedience and married him, by Allah, he cannot stand to see me in the slightest distress. In fact, if you dare remind me today that I once claimed I didn't love him, we will end up in a serious fight! You are an orphan, and he is an orphan as well. Besides, Salkhan is your first cousin; even if it is solely because of his character, why do you harbor such deep hatred for him? You have no idea what immense spiritual rewards await a woman who obeys her family and honors her marriage. Who knows? Perhaps through your patience and good conduct, Allah will cause him to completely abandon his wayward habits..."
Throughout the woman's entire speech, Nanah refused to lift her head or utter a single word in response. The woman's words felt like burning, white-hot coals being mercilessly heaped upon her heart. Summoning every ounce of strength despite the severe dizziness clouding her mind, she forced herself to sit up, intending to leave the room. However, her extreme physical weakness betrayed her, and she collapsed heavily back onto the mattress.
The aunt's tone immediately sharpened into frustration. "You see what you are doing to yourself? You have brought all this severe physical distress upon your own head to the point where you can't even stand on your own two feet! Are you trying to kill yourself over nothing? Let it be known to you right now that this wedding will take place without a single delay!"
Her eyes swollen and severely narrowed from the endless hours of weeping, Nanah finally spoke through her tears. "For God's sake, Anty Nusaiba, what kind of profound injustice is this?! I have been happily together with Mainah for so many years, only for everyone to suddenly—completely without my knowledge or consent—declare that I am being given away to Salkhan! May Allah have mercy on my late father's soul... if he were alive today, this tragedy would never have been allowed to happen!"
The moment the words left her mouth, she forced herself up, battling the intense dizziness spinning through her head, and ran straight into the bathroom.
She marched directly to the washbasin, twisted the tap wide open, and cupped the rushing cold water in her hands, splashing it repeatedly onto her beautiful face. The freezing water brought a sudden, much-needed wave of relief to her skin. She looked up, staring intently into the large mirror mounted on the wall, as if looking at a bitter rival. Watching her own reflection, a hollow, tragic smile crept onto her face, accompanied by hot, fresh tears streaming down her cheeks.
"By Allah," she whispered fiercely to her reflection, "By Allah, I, Khadija, will never, ever submit to a life with Salkhan! This is a sacred vow I am making to my own soul—I will never live with him as his wife. Since my own mother and her siblings have allowed their intense love for worldly vanity and wealth to completely blind their eyes, we will wait and see who wins this battle!"

Dedication:
This book is dedicated to my dearies, my Dost and my Behty. I can't love you less, you guys mean a lot to me. 💖

BISMILLAHIR RAHMANIR RAHEEM
She remained locked inside the bathroom for a very long time, her heart locked in a fierce battle of conflicting thoughts and wild schemes before she finally emerged. To her immense relief, Anty Nusaiba was no longer in the room. Refusing to lift her eyes or utter a single word to any of the remaining guests, she walked straight back to her spot and lay face down on the bed. Every single eye in the room turned to stare at her, but out of fear or awkwardness, no one dared to say a word to her.
This story unfolds within the ancient, bustling city of Kano—the giant elephant that accommodates all comers, no matter their background.
Leaving the bride's house behind, I quickly hailed a commercial tricycle (Adaidaita Sahu) to speed across town to investigate the groom whom she so openly and fiercely despised, desperate to uncover exactly what kind of man he was. The driver sped through the city, heading straight toward the Sharada Phase 2 industrial estate.
We pulled up in front of an absolutely massive, high-end estate. The raw architectural elegance, sprawling size, and sheer beauty of the mansion were so breathtaking that I almost tripped over my own feet as I approached the entrance. Upon stepping into the compound, I was struck with pure awe. The entire design and structural layout closely mirrored high-end European elite architecture. Over on one side of the vast yard, there was a dedicated sanctuary for exotic peacocks and white rabbits. On the other side lay a massive, glittering swimming pool, flanked by a professional basketball court and an extensive parking lot filled with luxury cars.
I spotted a magnificent, mirror-like glass door that clearly served as the grand entrance to the main villa where guests were being received. I paused briefly to adjust my appearance in the reflection of the glass before pushing against it, but the door refused to budge. Just as I was about to turn around in confusion, I noticed a sleek digital sensor button on the side. The moment I pressed it, the heavy glass door slid open smoothly. I walked inside, completely unable to find any words except, "Masha Allah." The interior styling was immaculate; everything was pristine white, closely resembling the palatial homes of wealthy Arab billionaires.
As I prepared to head toward the grand staircase leading to the upper floors, I ran into three exceptionally handsome young men sitting together in the lounge. Each of them was completely absorbed in his smartphone, maintaining a tense, absolute silence.
One look at the trio was enough to tell you they were the pampered offspring of the nation's ultimate elite. However, one specific youth instantly commanded attention; a single glance at his striking features made it glaringly obvious that he possessed mixed foreign blood.
One of the friends finally lifted his head from his screen, breaking the silence. "Mr. Khan, it's almost time, man. You know how terrible the traffic hold-up gets in Nigeria on wedding days. We need to move."
Even if one was completely unfamiliar with them, it was obvious that this fair-skinned, striking youth was the mysterious Mr. Khan. Yet, despite being addressed directly, he didn't even bother to lift his eyes from his phone, let alone offer a verbal response. His friend, seemingly completely accustomed to his cold, arrogant demeanor, didn't bother pressing further and simply went back to scrolling through his phone.

Part 3: The Cold Heart of Salkhan Ahmed

Seeing that the groom had absolutely no intention of speaking, Zaid turned his gaze toward the third friend, D-Boy. "Look, guy, if this man has no intention of attending his own wedding solemnization, we might as well just leave him behind and head out. And listen, don't you dare call his line or ours today; consider us completely done with this drama. At the very least, Nanah is your first cousin, and you know perfectly well that she harbors the exact same intense hatred for you! She has her own lover whom she cherishes, but she was brutally forced into this arrangement and had to accept her fate. So you have no choice but to deal with it too. In just a few minutes, she will officially become Mrs. Salkhan, and that's the end of it." Zaid finished his speech with a mocking laugh.
The two friends stood up, declaring, "As for us, we are heading out right now."
Only then did the fair-skinned youth finally lift his strikingly beautiful blue eyes to look at them. He knew his friends were fully capable of walking out on him, as it was a game they had played many times before. When he spoke, his voice carried a heavily accented, elite blend of languages; his Hausa was spoken in a manner that made it glaringly obvious he was fluent in a foreign tongue.
"You know I absolutely hate it when you guys talk about this wedding as if I had a choice, or as if I care whether she loves me or not! Who on earth wants her love anyway? Let me tell you something: ever since this entire marriage nonsense was initiated by our families, I have never once placed a phone call to her. When they were discussing the wedding events and expenditures, her mother called me, and I simply transferred a massive, astronomical amount of money to her account just to shut them up, because I have never—not for a single microsecond—viewed Nanah as a desirable woman. In fact, I would choose my cocaine over Nanah any day of the week! But since you guys insist I have to show up, give me a minute to change my clothes."
Zaid and D-Boy exchanged amused glances. "Whatever you say, man. Let's just go."
In less than twenty minutes, Salkhan emerged from the upper quarters dressed in an incredibly expensive, high-end milk-colored Shadda outfit, heavily adorned with intricate brown and black dotted embroidery. He looked breathtakingly handsome, and the air around him was thick with the scent of a luxury designer cologne. He scooped up his car keys and personal items, brushed past his friends, and muttered, "Let's go."
They followed him outside, completely unbothered by his sharp attitude since they were entirely used to his temperament. However, instead of heading straight to the cars, Salkhan marched directly toward the security post at the main gate to confront the elderly gateman.
"Mallam Musa," Salkhan commanded coldly. "In exactly two hours from now, I want you to clear absolutely every single piece of furniture and item out of this mansion. Pack everything up and give it all away to anyone you want. I am giving it all to you."
Mallam Musa stood frozen in absolute bewilderment, wondering to himself if his young boss had completely lost his sanity. If this was true, it meant his days of working as a mere security guard were officially over. Unable to find his words, he remained silent, prompting Salkhan to snap, "Unless, of course, you don't want it?"
The elderly guard quickly scratched his head in excitement. "May Allah reward your immense generosity, Boss! I am incredibly grateful, thank you so much!"
Salkhan cut him off sharply. "I have told you countless times that I despise that title 'Boss.' My name is Salkhan Ahmad Muhammad, so call me Salkhan!"
"Understood, your wish is my command, sir! But... if I may ask, I don't possess the funds required to hire a heavy-duty moving truck to transport an entire mansion's worth of furniture in two hours."
Salkhan drew a sharp hiss. "I'll transfer the money to you. Just make absolutely sure this house is completely bare in two hours."
D-Boy hurried over, interrupting them. "Mr. Khan, time is seriously running out, man!"
Without offering a single word in response, Salkhan turned on his heel, marched over to where his luxury sports car was parked, and unlocked it. As his friends moved to open his car doors to climb inside with him, Salkhan blocked them with an air of immense arrogance.
"No way. You are absolutely not riding in my car. I am not returning to this area after the ceremony, so everyone needs to drive their own vehicle."
The friends didn't take offense; they were thoroughly used to his erratic, high-handed behavior. They knew that despite his constant arrogance, if he went a day without seeing them, he was the one who plunged into the deepest loneliness. Zaid and D-Boy climbed into Zaid's car and started the engine. Salkhan slowly pulled his car up to the main gate, rolled down his window, and tossed a thick, wrapped bundle of one-thousand-naira notes to the gateman.
"Two hours. Make sure it's done," he reiterated coldly before slamming his foot on the accelerator and speeding off.

Part 4: The Forced Union and a Shocking Crisis

The moment they arrived at the grand mosque, the wedding solemnization ceremony was already underway. The marriage vows were exchanged swiftly without a single delay. The moment the ceremony concluded, Salkhan turned to his friends and coldly announced that he was leaving immediately and would see them later.
D-Boy barked back in frustration, "See who later?! Who on earth are you meeting up with? Aren't you supposed to stay and arrange how your new bride will be transported to her matrimonial home?"
Salkhan fixed them with a hollow, mocking smile. "I am leaving all of that entirely in your hands. I know you guys can handle everything perfectly." Without waiting for their response, he hopped into his car and sped away, completely abandoning the venue.
Left with absolutely no alternative, the friends reluctantly began coordinating the bridal transportation logistics solely out of deep pity and affection for him, knowing he was an orphan who had no close family to handle his affairs.
Meanwhile, back at the bride’s residence, the moment the traditional praise singers and greeters barged into the house shouting at the top of their lungs that the marriage had officially been solemnized, Nanah felt her entire stomach violently twist in agony. She bolted into the bathroom and threw up before emerging, coinciding exactly with her mother, Ammih, walking into the room.
Ammih was holding an incredibly luxurious, glittering designer paper bag. She handed it over to Nanah, saying, "Put this on immediately and go get your makeup done. The wedding reception lecture is about to begin."
Nanah accepted the bag silently, walked over to the edge of the bed, tossed it aside carelessly, and lay back down. Ammih turned around and exited the room to continue coordinating the wedding reception arrangements.
Nearly an hour passed, and there was still no sign of Nanah. Growing thoroughly exhausted from sending messengers, Ammih marched back into the room herself, only to find the girl fast asleep, having not even unzipped the designer bag.
Ammih erupted in a furious rage. "The entire gathering has been waiting for you for an hour, and time is fast running out! Yet here you are, you haven't even changed into your outfit! Stand up right this instant before I completely lose my temper with you!"
Seething with internal bitterness, Nanah forced herself up and tore open the paper bag. Inside lay an exquisitely tailored, milk-colored Abaya gown, heavily adorned with glittering rhinestones. Despite her anger, she couldn't deny that the gown was breathtakingly beautiful. She checked the label inside the bag to see where it had been ordered from, and saw the tag: Passion Paradise Boutique—the exclusive shop owned by Moon Heroine. She had to admit her mother had excellent taste; the dress was stunning.
With a heavy, reluctant heart, she put on the outfit and walked over to the makeup station as her mother had ordered. The makeup artist gave her a flawless, subtle light makeup look that enhanced her natural beauty perfectly. Nanah was exceptionally beautiful—neither too fair nor dark-skinned, with a single, deep dimple that flashed when she moved, a perfectly proportioned nose, striking eyes, and full, two-toned lips that were dark on top and a natural pink on the bottom. She possessed a petite but perfectly curved figure, with striking hips and a full bust.
She looked stunningly beautiful. Just as she finished, the Islamic woman scholar arrived to deliver the wedding sermon. Ammih sent Anty Nusaiba to fetch her, and they went out to join the gathering. The lecture proceeded smoothly and concluded at around 5:00 PM, which coincided exactly with the arrival of D-Boy, Zaid, and a group of their elite friends who had come to officially transport the bride.
Anty Nusaiba approached Ammih, inquiring about the bridal house decorations and arrangements (Jere).
Ammih smiled warmly. "Everything is fully taken care of by her eldest aunt. She called me a short while ago to confirm that she went over with a team of professional decorators and arranged the entire villa. She is being taken straight to the mansion at Sharada Phase 2."
Without any further delay, the time came to officially send the bride off. Ammih showered her with maternal blessings, but Nanah began to weep so hysterically it felt as though her chest would burst. She sobbed so violently that she began to gasp for air, suffocating under the sheer weight of her trauma. As they escorted her out to the waiting bridal car, her body suddenly went completely limp, and she lost consciousness, collapsing heavily onto the ground.
The crowd erupted in a panic, rushing toward her. Within a microsecond, Ammih pushed her way through the panicked guests. To the absolute horror and bewilderment of everyone present, Ammih looked down at her unconscious daughter and coldly commanded:
"Pick her up immediately and shove her into that car! Even if she turns into a lifeless corpse today, she will be washed and prepared for burial inside Salkhan's house, not here!"
Some guests stared at her in utter disbelief at her cruelty, while others wept out of pure pity for the poor girl. Left with no choice, the groomsmen carefully lifted her limp body, placed her into the back seat, and drove off in a long convoy toward Sharada Phase 2.

Part 5: The Silent Matrimonial Home

A MARRIAGE OF HATE
(A short story)
FROM THE PEN OF NANAHKHADII
ELEGANT ONLINE WRITERS
PAGES 4–5
By Allah's grace, she finally regained consciousness just before the convoy pulled up to the estate. She let out a series of heavy, ragged sighs. Her tears had completely dried up, replaced by a searing, burning agony inside her chest. Her heart felt so tightly constricted that every single bump and vibration of the car sent a wave of physical pain straight through her soul.
They finally entered the compound. Anty Nusaiba held her firmly by the hand, guiding her weak steps all the way to her newly decorated bridal bedroom. The mansion was jaw-droppingly beautiful, fully furnished with elite luxury decor that looked as though it had been imported straight from Dubai. One could never guess that just a few hours prior, Salkhan and his friends had completely emptied the house.
As the evening (Maghrib) hour approached, the wedding guests began to disperse. Since Nanah didn't have any close female friends present, only her family members remained, and Anty Nusaiba decided to spend the night with her. Nanah was hit with a severe, burning fever that racked her entire body, but she stubbornly refused to mention her sickness to a single soul, silently enduring the agonizing aches in her joints. The following morning, Ammih sent a driver to deliver a large supply of food to the house.
Meanwhile, on Salkhan’s side of the mansion, he had spent the entire night heavily consuming intoxicating substances in a dark room, driven by pure, unadulterated rage over the marriage. Out of all their family properties, this specific villa was his absolute favorite because he cherished the absolute privacy of the neighborhood where neighbors minded their own business. Trapped in his deep, bitter resentment, he slept right through the dawn prayer, only waking up at around 10:00 AM.
His entire body felt heavy and drained of strength. He dragged himself out of bed, rushed into his bathroom to take a hot shower, performed his ablutions, and emerged to quickly pray. Afterward, he snatched his car keys and stepped out of his quarters to look for something to eat.
Back in the bridal wing, everyone had eaten their fill except Nanah. Anty Nusaiba sat right in front of her, desperately trying to force her to drink even a single cup of tea, but Nanah firmly refused. Following a long session of stern scolding and pleading, Nanah finally managed to force down a few pieces of fried potato chips and a little tea.
Anty Nusaiba spent the remainder of the day offering her deep marital advice, lecturing her on the traditional duties of a wife, how to maintain peace in a household, and the exact strategies she needed to employ to eventually win over Salkhan's difficult heart.
Nanah listened in absolute silence, her heart weeping bitterly even though her eyes remained dry. By the evening hour, the remaining family members officially packed their bags and departed. The moment she was left entirely alone, Nanah broke down into uncontrollable, hysterical weeping, crying until her eyes burned. Eventually, sheer exhaustion claimed her, and she fell into a deep sleep.
She woke up at around 2:00 AM, walked into the bathroom to perform her ablutions, and observed late-night prayers. She then changed out of her heavy clothes into a comfortable nightgown, flipped on the dim nightlight, and returned to bed, falling into a peaceful slumber.
She finally woke up at 10:00 AM. She quickly prayed, her face twisted in deep frustration because she absolutely despised missing the early prayer hours. She walked into the bathroom, took a long, refreshing shower, and dressed herself in a stunning maroon lace gown that fit her beautifully. She applied a layer of lip gloss to her lips, sprayed her body with a collection of highly aromatic designer perfumes, and applied traditional Humrah.
Just as she prepared to step out of her room to search for breakfast, the loud chime of the front doorbell rang through the quiet house. Her eyes widened in sudden panic, and her heart raced as she thought to herself, "Dear God, please don't let it be that devil of a man."
She hurried back into her room, snatched a matching shawl, wrapped it around herself, and cautiously walked toward the front door, her steps radiating pure fear. However, the moment she peered out and saw Ammih’s personal driver standing there, she let out a massive sigh of relief.
She greeted him warmly, and he smilingly handed over a large, filled food basket before taking his leave. She accepted the basket, walked over to the dining table, and began unpacking it. An incredibly rich, mouth-watering aroma instantly hit her nose. It was freshly steamed bean pudding (Alalen Ganye), heavily stuffed with boiled eggs and spiced liver, accompanied by a rich flask of peanut pudding (Kunun Gyaɗa).
She walked into the kitchen, grabbed a clean plate and a cup, and served herself a portion. She sat down at the table and managed to eat about half of the food. Just as she stood up to take her dirty dishes to the kitchen to clean up the area, she caught the distinct sound of heavy, rapid footsteps descending the grand staircase from the upper floor. Panicking, she bolted straight into the kitchen to hide.

Part 6: A Clash of Mutual Hatred

Salkhan had only just woken up and stepped out of his quarters. The rich, savory aroma of the fresh food wafting through the house instantly broke his groggy state, drawing him straight toward the dining area. Just as he was about to turn into the kitchen to fetch a clean plate, his smartphone rang loudly. Seeing Zaid’s name flashing on the screen, he quickly swiped to answer.
"Hello? Where on earth are you, man?" Zaid’s voice boomed.
Salkhan paused before responding coldly, "I'm at home."
Zaid let out a knowing smirk over the line. "Which of your houses, exactly?"
Salkhan drew a sharp hiss. "Sharada."
Zaid burst into a hearty laugh. "Ah! We are actually on our way over to your place right now. Make sure the new bride is fully prepared to receive us!"
Salkhan let out a loud, aggressive hiss. "By Allah, let me tell you something: I only returned to this house at midnight last night, and I don't even know if that girl is physically inside this building or not! I happened to see some food left on the dining table, which is the only reason I assume she's here. But let me make one thing crystal clear to you: even if women completely go extinct on this earth, I will still utterly loathe and despise Nanah!" The moment the words left his mouth, he violently slammed the end-call button, hissed in frustration, and turned around to march straight back upstairs to his quarters.
Nanah heard every single word of his loud tirade from her hiding spot in the kitchen. She let out a loud, mocking hiss of her own, muttering fiercely, "Hmph! Let it be known to you that I utterly loathe and despise you too! What on earth would I ever do with a miserable junk like you? Good riddance!" She marched out of the kitchen and headed up to her own bedroom.
The moment she closed her door, she dialed her absolute closest childhood friend—one of the only two friends she possessed in the entire world, Maimuna and Fateemah (Dost and Behty).
Fateemah picked up the call, instantly teasing, "Well, hello there, Mrs. Salkhan!"
Nanah let out an irritated hiss. "Listen to me, Teemah, if your sole intention today is to ruin my mood, I will hang up this phone right now! My mind is already completely frustrated as it is. I am just offering my deepest gratitude to Allah that you and Moon didn't show up for the wedding events; otherwise, I would have completely lost my mind."
Fateemah burst into a fit of laughter. "Oh, come on! You should be thanking Allah instead that my boss strictly refused to grant me leave to travel; otherwise, I would have been front and center at your wedding!" She laughed heartily before softening her tone. "But jokes aside, how is Sofia's health doing?"
"She is feeling much better now," Nanah replied. "She has even started attending her school lectures regularly again."
They fell into a long, comfortable conversation, drifting through various topics. Throughout the chat, Teemah continuously teased her about her new married life, with Nanah playfully firing back or ignoring her comments. They talked for a very long time before finally bidding each other farewell. Nanah collapsed back onto her bed, a heavy drowsiness washing over her body due to the lingering physical exhaustion and the fever still buzzing in her system.
Meanwhile, when Zaid, D-Boy, and a few of their invited friends finally arrived at the villa, Salkhan treated them with an air of immense coldness and arrogance. The friends, however, ignored his foul mood and relentlessly teased him, jokingly declaring that they were going to head upstairs to check on the bride since her husband's sour face suggested something interesting had kept her from coming downstairs.
Salkhan’s rage reached its boiling point. Realizing their relentless teasing wasn't going to end anytime soon, he abruptly stood up, coldly informed them that he had an urgent place to be, and told them to get out of his house. The friends laughingly told him to go ahead with his errand, claiming they would lounge around and wait for his return just so they could greet the bride. Thoroughly disgusted by their stubbornness, Salkhan simply stormed out of the villa, jumped into his car, and abandoned the house, leaving his friends to eventually lock up and depart on their own.

Part 7: The Double Life and a Dangerous Confrontation

Two full weeks passed by in this exact manner. One looking at the household would never guess that two human beings shared the roof of that mansion. They lived like absolute strangers; neither saw the other, and neither interfered in the other’s daily affairs.
The only reason the situation hadn't completely broken Nanah’s spirit was because she spent her entire day chatting with Teemah and Moon, and she was in constant, daily communication with her true love, Maina, via long phone calls and text messages. This allowed her to keep her spirits high and maintain a cheerful disposition.
Today officially marked exactly two weeks since the wedding, and she had a mandatory university lecture scheduled for 8:00 AM the following morning. Realizing she had no other alternative, she reluctantly dialed her mother’s number.
"Hello, Ammih, good morning," Nanah greeted softly.
"Morning, Nanah. How are you? So, you finally remembered you have a mother, and decided to call me today, huh?" Ammih chided.
"No, Ammih, I've been meaning to call you sooner, I am so sorry..."
Ammih smiled gently over the line. "It's fine, dear. How is everything? Is everything going normally over there?"
"Yes," Nanah lied smoothly, maintaining a brief silence before gathering her courage to speak. "Ammih... please, could you instruct the driver to bring my car over to the house today? I have an important morning lecture tomorrow."
Ammih’s tone instantly shifted into sharp anger. "Have you completely lost your mind?! Are you telling me you want to start driving yourself around town just two weeks after your wedding? Where on earth is Salkhan? Why can't he drive you to school himself?!"
Hearing her mother's angry response, Nanah marveled at her absolute delusion. It was shocking that Ammih actually believed she and Salkhan could ever coexist peacefully under one roof, let alone reach a stage where he would personally chauffeur her to school. God forbid! Hearing Ammih threaten, "Let me call that boy Salkhan right now and find out what his problem is," Nanah quickly panicked and interjected with a smooth lie.
"Oh! No, Ammih, please don't call him! Salkhan is actually traveling to Abuja very early tomorrow morning. You know his line of work; they were suddenly called in for their mandatory promotional examinations, and the notice arrived just yesterday."
Ammih let out a heavy sigh of relief. "Oh, I see. Now that makes sense. If it's for his career advancement, then it's fine. But the moment he returns, he must take over the responsibility of driving you. Has he left you entirely alone then?"
"Yes," Nanah murmured simply. They exchanged final pleasantries and ended the call. Nanah put her phone down, completely shaking her head at her mother's stubborn nature.
The following morning, the moment the dawn prayer concluded, Nanah refused to go back to sleep. She threw open her wardrobe, trying on one outfit after another and discarding them, desperate to look absolute perfection because she had agreed to meet up with the love of her life, Maina, after classes.
She finally settled on an exquisitely tailored Atampa skirt and blouse outfit, adorned with heavy, high-end traditional embroidery that fit her stunningly. She applied a full, flawless face of makeup, looking like a living, breathing porcelain doll. Surveying her reflection, she knew she looked absolutely radiant.
By 7:30 AM, she stepped out of the villa, drove down to the university campus, and arrived just as the lecture was about to commence. The moment she walked into the hall, Maina’s eyes locked onto her, staring in absolute awe at her enhanced beauty. He conducted the class, but from time to time, his gaze would instinctively drift back to her, and whenever their eyes met, she would flash him a warm, loving smile.
The two-hour lecture concluded swiftly. Nanah walked out to the campus gates and placed a call to him. The moment he emerged, they shared a warm, joyful smile. They climbed into her car, and she pulled out of the campus, driving a short distance down the road before parking along the curb.
They sat together for a long time, laughing, sharing deep conversations, and enjoying each other's presence. Surrounded by his love, every single trace of her marital distress completely evaporated; she felt incredibly happy, as if she didn't have a single care in the world. Maina was a tall, remarkably handsome young man with a well-built physique and a perfect complexion—the exact type of man that any young lady would instantly fall for, which explained why women constantly flocked around him.
After spending hours caught up in their romance, she finally drove him back to the campus, turned her car around, and headed home.
By the time she walked through the front doors of the villa, she was completely starving. She rushed into her room, took a quick shower, and stepped back out into the hallway without even bothering to apply body lotion or change into proper clothes. Driven by the intense hunger pangs in her stomach, she emerged wearing nothing but a short towel wrapped tightly around her chest, stopping right at her knees—a reckless habit she had developed since she was practically naked, for if she dared to bend down, her entire form would be completely exposed.
She quickly cooked a plate of instant noodles (Indomie) with eggs, served it, and turned to head back upstairs to her room to eat. Just as she reached the base of the staircase, she collided directly with Salkhan, who was descending from the upper floor. She quickly stepped aside to give him space to pass.
However, the moment he brushed past her, he stopped dead in his tracks. He turned around, his face contorted in pure, unadulterated disgust, and barked from above:
"You absolute illiterate! Do you lack even the basic, primitive manners to offer a greeting to a human being?!"
Nanah completely ignored his outburst, pretending she hadn't heard a single word, and continued marching up the stairs toward her room. Seething with explosive, blind rage at her blatant disrespect, Salkhan spun around and aggressively followed her straight toward her bedroom quarters...

Behind the Veil of Status: Salkhan's Roots

Alhaji Muhammad Kabeer—that was his full, official birth name. He was a purebred, aristocratic Fulani man hailing from the Adamawa lineage. However, their entire extended family tree was composed strictly of highly educated, westernized intellectuals and elite scholars, though some—