CHAPTER 

She ducked into a secluded alleyway, panting heavily, her chest heaving violently from the sheer tension of the encounter. Sliding down against the wall to the floor, she burst into a fit of tears. His harsh words echoed with cruel clarity in her ears. Nothing had wounded her soul more deeply than him branding her a prostitute who trailed men all the way to their homes.
Through her tears, she wept, "Oh Allah, You are my witness that I am not such a person! I swear to God I am not a loose girl. You see my heart, and You know exactly what lies within it. You know my true intentions. I did not undertake this mission to gain proximity to Malik, let alone to him! In fact, there is nothing on this earth I detest more than him. Allah, You know I absolutely despise him, and his cruel words have only intensified my hatred. I loathe even the mention of the word 'prostitute,' let alone having it attached to my name. I swear by God, Nasser, Allah will avenge me. I will never forgive you for this."
She cried with every ounce of strength left in her body, looking down at her knees, which were entirely scraped and bruised. They throbbed with a sharp, stinging pain. Suddenly, a pungent, sharp odor struck her nostrils, reminding her of the alcohol he had violently splashed in her face. She closed her eyes tightly, feeling the bitter sting of the humiliation burn through her very soul.
Fresh tears broke free. "A worthless, wicked wretch. I swear, Allah will judge between us!"
Struggling to her feet, she gingerly nursed her aching legs and limped out toward the main street. Spotting a small shop, she made her way down to it and purchased a bottle of water. She washed her face thoroughly, but the phantom stench of the alcohol seemed to cling to her nose, making her stomach churn with deep nausea.
With great difficulty, and with the kind assistance of the shop owner who recognized how desperately she needed help, she managed to hail a commercial vehicle to take her home.
The moment she stepped out of the vehicle, she tried her best to walk normally, but the pain from her raw wounds was too intense. She had to gather the hem of her skirt upward to prevent it from rubbing against her injuries. Dalha tried to call out to speak with her, but she ignored him entirely, rushing straight into the house while sobbing bitterly.
The entire family instantly rushed toward her, throwing a barrage of panicked questions. The moment Yesmin saw the state her sister was in, she burst into tears, crying out, "Mama! Adda is badly hurt! Come and look, I swear her legs are completely scraped!"
Mama, who was in the kitchen preparing Baba’s dinner, rushed out immediately. Jalal, who was in the middle of putting on his football boots, frowned deeply. "How on earth did this happen, Fiyah?"
Fiyah wept openly, desperately wishing she could tell him the absolute truth, but she knew the severe consequences if anyone in her family found out what she had actually been up to.
"Yaya, our commercial bus overturned," she lied, her voice trembling. "A reckless motorcyclist abruptly swerved into our lane. Most of the other passengers were taken straight to the hospital, but since I realized I wasn't completely broken, I insisted on being brought straight home."
Exclamations of pity and prayers filled the courtyard as they commiserated over the fake accident she had just invented. Jalal said with concern, "I'm so sorry. You really should have gone to the hospital for a proper checkup to ensure none of your bones are fractured."
Shaking her head, she replied, "No, Yaya, I didn't suffer any internal injury. It's just these superficial scrapes."
They showered her with continuous words of sympathy as she weakly responded. She limped into her bedroom, changed out of her soiled clothes, and wrapped a towel around herself. Yesmin immediately plugged in the water heater inside the room to prepare a hot bath for her, murmuring words of comfort with deep sisterly affection.
Only then did Fiyah ask, "Yesmin, where is Baba? I haven't seen him."
Yesmin replied, "Addana, Baba went out. Fortunately, the authorities didn't harm him. As soon as he finished eating his lunch, he headed straight back out to look after his business."
Fiyah shook her head, a sigh escaping her lips. "Baba doesn't even give himself a moment to rest among his family. It's been two whole days since we last saw each other, and the moment he's free, he rushes straight back to work. Those heartless, ungrateful people didn't even bother to look for him or check on his welfare during those two days! Ugh, what horrible, toxic people."
Once the water was hot, Yesmin poured it into a basin and mixed it to the right temperature. "Addana, the water is ready. Take your bath, and I will help you apply the healing ointment afterward."
Fiyah looked at her with deep affection. "Thank you so much, Yesmin. I truly appreciate you."
Yesmin smiled warmly and stepped out of the room.
That was simply how God had fashioned their household; they shared a profound, fierce love for one another. If misfortune befell one sibling, the others felt the pain as if it were their own—a beautiful testament to the excellent upbringing and moral training given to them by Mama.

Meanwhile, at the Mansion...

The moment Alfah watched Fiyah vanish from his sight, a wave of uncontrollable fury washed over him. He balled his hand into a tight fist and punched the concrete wall with brutal force. His knuckles shattered instantly, and deep crimson blood began to pour from the wound. Yet, because of the searing agony tearing through his heart, he didn't feel a single thing.
Malik rushed out of the house in an absolute panic, staring at him. He didn't even notice Alfah's bleeding hand at first. Driven by a rare, explosive rage that Alfah had never witnessed in him before, Malik barked:
"Abdoulnasser! I swear to God, if you ever cause a single scratch to that innocent girl again, you will taste a side of me you will deeply regret! I swear by the Almighty, I will completely strip away our years of friendship and treat you with a level of ruthlessness you can't even begin to imagine! You never handle anything with patience! Everything with you has to be escalated to extreme violence! Even if she were a loose girl, what the hell does that have to do with you? Is she coming to your quarters? You are the one who frequents your dark nightclubs—has anyone ever laid a hand on you there or branded you a profligate to your face?!"
Malik continued to vent, his voice echoing through the driveway. "That poor girl is doing everything within her power entirely for your sake! She is risking her safety just to help you regain your sanity, to help you discern right from wrong. Yet, all I see is a monster determined to permanently maim an innocent human being!"
Alfah stood entirely frozen, staring at Malik as if he were watching a surreal television broadcast. He was trapped in a state of absolute shock and bewilderment.
In the nine long years since God had brought their paths together, Malik had never raised his voice or yelled at Alfah with such deafening fury.
Seeing the stunned, unblinking stare Alfah was giving him, Malik exhaled heavily and averted his gaze. Softening his voice slightly, he warned, "If you truly don't want us to have a permanent fallout, you better learn to control that volatile temper of yours. Stop subjecting that poor girl to your physical cruelty before a terrible tragedy occurs and you end up permanently disabling her."
Alfah found himself entirely unable to utter a single syllable in response. He simply followed Malik with his eyes, standing as still and lifeless as a statue.
As Malik turned around to walk back inside the house, his eyes finally caught sight of the dark blood dripping continuously from Alfah's shattered hand.
Overcome with sudden panic and terror, Malik rushed back toward him, reaching out desperately to grab his injured hand. In a flash of raw hostility, Abdoulnasser violently swerved away, dodged his grip, and marched straight past him into the house. Malik pursued him anxiously, shouting his name over and over, but Alfah never once looked back.
Alfah slammed his bedroom door shut, locking himself inside. He was completely overwhelmed, his mind a chaotic mess. The internal agony in his heart had now tripled: there was the raw pain of his past trauma, the stinging words the village girl had hurled at him, and now, the brutal scolding Malik had just delivered—all because of that unsophisticated girl.
He dragged himself over to pull out the first-aid box. For the first time in years, he sat down to personally treat his own wounds. For as long as he could remember, he had never made an effort to heal himself whenever he got hurt; in fact, he actively sought out self-destruction, longing for anything that would make him bleed. Yet today, he found himself gently caring for his own injury.
Despite the medical treatment, the raging fire in his chest refused to die down. Once he finished wrapping his hand securely in a clean white bandage, he stripped out of his blood-stained clothes and changed into a fresh outfit. He glanced at the wall clock; his flight to Australia was scheduled to depart in exactly forty minutes.
Finishing his preparations, he pulled out a pair of dark sunglasses and a matching baseball cap, pulling it down low over his face. Even without a trace of a smile on his face, the sheer, striking sharpness of his handsome features was undeniable.
From outside the door, he heard Malik’s raw, remorseful voice, heavy with regret over the harsh words he had spoken earlier.
"For the sake of Almighty God, Abdoul, please open this door! I swear I just want to properly dress your wound for you. I know my words deeply hurt you, and I am truly sorry. Please forgive me, let me finish dressing your hand, and then we can talk this through..."
Before Malik could even finish his sentence, the door swung open. Alfah stepped out, a travel bag slung over his shoulder and his free hand dragging a sleek rolling trolley. He completely ignored Malik's presence, walking right past him. In a cold, detached tone, he muttered, "If you are ready to drive me to the airport, then move. If not, I will gladly step outside and hail a taxi."
Without waiting for a response, he marched out toward the driveway.
Malik stood rooted to the spot, utterly paralyzed by shock. This was a completely new, unprecedented side of Abdoulnasser. He stood frozen for a long moment before a brilliant, triumphant smile broke across his face. Jumping up in sheer delight, he whispered to himself, "Yes! Oh my God, the breakthrough has finally begun! Thank you so much, Sofiyyah. Wow, your impact is already working miracles!"
He rushed out of the house and quickly got into the driver's seat of the car beside Alfah.
Throughout the entire drive to the international airport, Malik chatted continuously, his heart overflowing with joy. Remarkably, today was the very first time Alfah did not snap at him or command him to shut up. On any ordinary day, Alfah would have aggressively barked, "Will you shut your mouth or do you want me to kick you out of my car?!"
Even as they reached the departure gate and his flight was called, Alfah did not utter a single harsh word to Malik. Instead, he left him with a single phrase that sent Malik’s happiness soaring into the heavens.
He looked at him and said:

"Take care of yourself."

The Flight to Australia

Once Alfah was safely seated in the airplane, his mind refused to give him peace. The village girl's burning accusations kept echoing like a powerful, deafening echo inside his ears. Every single time her words flashed through his mind, he felt a sharp, physical stab straight through his heart.

"You cruel, tyrannical, wicked oppressor! You know absolutely nothing except destruction, malice, and drug addiction! How could a heart like yours ever feel a shred of human empathy? I wouldn't doubt it for a second if you committed murder, because severe drug addicts like you are capable of any vile atrocity! That accursed alcohol completely strips a person of their humanity. Some monsters even violate their own biological mothers because of it!"

He squeezed his eyes shut, his hand gripping the glass armrest so violently it felt as though it would shatter beneath his knuckles.

"That accursed alcohol completely strips a person of their humanity. Some monsters even violate their own biological mothers because of it!"

The words assaulted his mind over and over again. Doubling over in his seat, he tightly pressed his hands against his ears, trying to block out the internal noise. A female passenger seated right behind him noticed his intense physical distress and gently tapped his shoulder to check on him.
Startled, he snapped his head back, his large, piercing eyes widening wildly like a man who had completely lost his sanity. Terrified by the raw intensity of his gaze, the woman quickly recoiled and retreated deep into her seat.
Alfah slumped back down, burying his face in his hands. He felt a desperate urge to let out a loud, blood-curdling scream, hoping it might bring some relief to the agonizing torment plaguing his soul.

CHAPTER 20

Back home, Malik was entirely unable to settle down due to the overwhelming joy bubbling inside him. He desperately needed someone to share his ecstatic feelings with, and Fiyah's beautiful face immediately flashed across his mind. He closed his eyes, a radiant smile spreading across his face.
As he sat there smiling, a wave of profound sympathy for her filled his heart. He knew she was currently nursing her painful injuries at home. Reaching into his top pocket, he pulled out his phone and dialed her number. It rang for a long time without an answer, so he decided to give her some space and try again after the night (Isha) prayers.
He stood up and headed to the mosque. He refused to miss the congregational prayer, wishing to fervently thank Allah and beg Him to continue granting them success over Abdoulnasser. Today’s breakthrough had made him incredibly happy. He wished more than anything that he could call Mami and give her an update on the progress of her most beloved son, but Abbi’s strict, terrifying warning echoed in his mind. He didn't want to be the reason Mami was permanently thrown out of her matrimonial home after everything they had already suffered.

At Fiyah’s House

That evening, a beautiful atmosphere of joy filled Fiyah's household. The entire family sat gathered together on a large straw mat in the middle of the courtyard, sharing lighthearted conversations and catching up on the family bonding they had missed during the two days Baba was unjustly detained.
Every face was bright with laughter and pure happiness. However, Fiyah's smile was strained. Every time she moved, the memory of Abdoulnasser's cruel, venomous insults flashed through her mind. She constantly found excuses to turn her face away from her family to secretly wipe away her tears.
Her father, who was remarkably observant, quickly noticed her shifted demeanor. "Sofiyyah, has your stubborn nature acted up again? What is bothering you? I notice your mind is entirely elsewhere."
Suppressing her tears, she forced a brave smile and said, "No, Baba. My wounds are just stinging quite badly, and I feel a strong urge to go to sleep."
With deep fatherly compassion, he replied, "Oh, I'm so sorry, my dear. Go to your mother, collect some paracetamol to ease the pain, and head straight to bed since you've already eaten your dinner."
As if waiting for that exact permission, she immediately stood up, went into her mother’s room, took the medication, and wished them a good night before retreating to her bedroom.
When she checked her phone and saw Malik's missed call, she deliberately chose not to return it. She felt a lingering sense of resentment toward him. After all, if it hadn't been for his constant pleading, she would never have been subjected to such severe physical trauma. Malik had no business dragging her into the life of that merciless monster who had come so close to killing her.
Wiping away a stray tear, she listened to a small voice inside her head advising her to completely abandon this dangerous endeavor. What was the point of trying to save someone who wanted nothing more than to break your neck and cause you physical harm?
With great difficulty due to her sore legs, she stood up, performed her ablutions, and observed her late-night prayers. She read a few portions of the Holy Qur'an, a sudden wave of nostalgia washing over her as she realized how much she missed her Islamic evening school (Islamiyya). Her current university afternoon lectures were the sole reason she could no longer attend.
The moment she lay down to sleep, Malik’s number flashed on her screen again. She let out a loud, frustrated hiss and buried the phone deep beneath her pillow, trying to ignore it. However, her conscience pricked her; a part of her wanted to answer the call just to give him a piece of her mind.
Yielding to her curiosity, she pulled the phone back out from under the pillow just as it began to ring for the third time. She pressed the receiver to her ear, her tears flowing freely once more.
Through heavy, broken sobs, she cried, "Yaya Malik, I swear I am completely exhausted! I can't take this nightmare anymore! Allah is my witness that I am not a loose girl. I don't even know what that vile lifestyle means! Yet he continuously humiliates me, claiming that I walk around completely naked!"
She broke down into an uncontrollable fit of weeping.
Panicked and entirely thrown off guard by her intense emotional breakdown, Malik felt his heart wrench. In a trembling, deeply apologetic voice, he pleaded, "Please, Fiyah, I beg of you in the name of God, please forgive us! I swear Abdoul was completely out of line. I confronted him fiercely over his actions, and I promise you he will never dare attempt such cruelty against you again. But please, do not talk about giving up now! You know that anyone striving to perform a righteous deed for the sake of divine reward must face severe trials. Please be patient, your immense reward lies with Allah. Do not let your heart waver, and please do not abandon your noble intention."
Wiping her eyes, she whispered in a vulnerable, broken voice, "Yaya Malik, you didn't see the horrible state he left my legs in. They are completely ruined... I don't even know if I'll ever be able to walk normally again!" She burst into another wave of tears.
Pressing a hand against his forehead, Malik couldn't help but smile tenderly to himself. She is incredibly spoiled and dramatic, he thought warmly. Suppressing a chuckle, he said in a deeply soothing tone:
"Oh, my dear little sister, how can you say such a thing? Please stop crying. I promise you by the grace of God, absolutely nothing bad will happen to your legs. You've taken your pain medication, right?"
Through quiet sniffling, she murmured, "Uhm."
Letting out a massive sigh of relief, Malik said, "You truly threw me into a complete panic! I actually called you tonight overflowing with absolute excitement, desperate to share an incredible piece of news, only to find you weeping like this."
Fiyah instantly wiped her remaining tears, her natural curiosity piqued. "Tell me, what is it?"
Pulling the phone away from his ear, Malik chuckled silently before placing it back. "It's about your man."
She hissed loudly. "Ugh! Please, I don't even want to hear his name mentioned!"
Malik laughed. "I am so sorry, my dear Sofiyyah. Please find it in your heart to forgive him. Mark my words, a day will come when he will personally kneel and beg for your forgiveness."
Fiyah’s eyes widened in utter disbelief, as if he could see her through the line. "That arrogant, hot-tempered giant? Absolutely impossible! Yaya Malik, you are definitely saying that just to tease me."
"I am completely serious," Malik reassured her, his voice brimming with sincerity. "Keep him in your prayers and you will be absolutely amazed. I swear, what he did today completely blew my mind."
He then went on to narrate the entire chain of events that had transpired after she left—how Alfah had quietly dressed his own wound, refrained from his usual aggressive outbursts in the car, and departed for his flight without a single insult.
Fiyah listened in absolute shock and wonder. A sudden surge of renewed determination flooded her heart. She felt a profound sense of pride realizing that her dangerous efforts were actually beginning to pierce through his hardened exterior.
With immense joy, she asked, "So it's true, Yaya Malik? The things I said actually had the power to change him this much?"
"Absolutely, my dear sister!" Malik confirmed enthusiastically. "You must double your efforts! The moment he returns from his trip, you need to pick up right from where you left off. In fact, if possible, you should introduce a completely new strategy!"
Fiyah burst out laughing. "Oh, Yaya Malik! What do you mean by a new strategy? Well, I will certainly do my absolute best, but you must strictly guarantee that he will never put his hands around my neck to strangle me again!"
Malik burst into a hearty laugh. "He won't ever do it again! I gave him a severe scolding today—one I’ve never dared give him in our entire lives—and remarkably, he didn't even get angry at me. If he had been his usual self, he would have completely cut me off by now."
"Insha Allah, I will try my absolute best," she promised.
They stayed on the line for a long time, Malik keeping her entertained with cheerful stories until she heard Yesmin’s footsteps approaching the bedroom. She quickly wrapped up the call, recited her bedtime supplications, and drifted off to sleep.

CHAPTER 21

Australia

Throughout his stay in Australia, Alfah felt like an entirely different person. His long-standing habits and toxic coping mechanisms seemed to be undergoing a strange, unsettling transformation. Since his arrival, he had only reached for his usual alcoholic escape once. Even then, he couldn't enjoy it; due to his severe lack of rest and exhaustion, the drink triggered a violent reaction, leaving him bedridden and throwing up continuously all night as if his body had been brutally beaten.
From that agonizing night onward, he didn't dare touch a drop of alcohol again. Whenever the intense urge to drink crept up on him and he brought a glass close to his lips, the vivid, piercing words of the village girl—whose name he didn't even know—would echo with crystal clarity in his mind, as if she were standing right beside him delivering the warning in real-time.

Back in Nigeria

Fiyah spent three full days confined to her bed, nursing her raw injuries and staying indoors. Fortunately, the incident had occurred on a Friday, meaning she didn't have to miss university lectures as the weekend immediately followed.
Meanwhile, her father, Malam Kabir, had fully recovered his spirits and returned to his daily routine. He completely erased Alhaji Mu'azzam from his mind, realizing that his personal peace, dignity, and the safety of his family were worth far more than anything else. He had come to the bitter realization that in this flawed, modern world, if you lack material wealth, you are deemed worthless by society—no matter how many nights you spend in the mosque praying. The world had truly lost its moral compass, leaving one with nothing to say except, "Inna lillahi wa inna ilaihi raji'un" (To Allah we belong and to Him we shall return).
As for her friend Feea, she remained deeply consumed by her silent, agonizing crush on Alfah. At the same time, her household was chaotic with intense preparations for her father's upcoming wedding. The grand scale of the planning made it seem as though her father had never been married before; every corner of their mansion was being completely renovated and remodeled. Throughout all of this, their mother had still not returned to the house.
On the front of Fiyah and Malik, their bond had grown remarkably strong. They spoke constantly over the phone; Malik would call her every single morning without fail, spending nearly thirty minutes chatting, followed by afternoon check-ins and late-night calls. A deep, beautiful friendship had blossomed between them. Fiyah felt completely at ease around him, to the point where if he ever delayed in calling her, she would take the initiative to call him first.
On the day before Abdoulnasser was scheduled to return to the country, their aunt, Anty Jamila, went into labor and safely delivered a beautiful baby girl.
Fiyah immediately began packing her bags, assigned to be the traditional family helper who stays with a nursing mother for the first seven days (Yar zaman bakwai). This triggered a comical argument between her and Yesmin, who desperately wanted to go instead.
Fiyah snapped playfully, "With your legendary laziness, what could you possibly do to help her? Please, step aside and let me handle this!"
Mama intervened with a warm smile. "Alright, that's enough. I certainly cannot send both of you down there together as if you lack basic common sense. Besides, Safiyyah, you have your university lectures to attend, so you must exercise patience since your sister has already concluded her exams..."
Please accept my apologies for the delayed posting today. We experienced a prolonged power outage, which severely disrupted my schedule. Please bear with the length of this update as my time was highly limited today.