It was a large bedroom, furnished with luxury items of comfort and pleasure. Anyone who looked around would be convinced that the owner of this room had been greatly blessed with wealth, for it glittered with every material possession imaginable. At a single glance, you could tell the room belonged to a woman: the dressing mirror was crowded with makeup and skincare products, and a glass showcase displayed shoes and handbags like a boutique. Just by seeing them, one could tell they were not the belongings of a poor person.
On the huge bed lay a beautiful young lady, her hair spread loosely as she slept peacefully. The rays of morning sunlight, filtering through the window, touched her face and made her stir. Slowly she opened her eyes, frowned a little, then sat up. She glanced at the wall clock—half past nine in the morning. Carefully, she swung her feet to the floor, stood, and walked into the bathroom attached to her room.
Indeed, this was a paradise on earth.
After bathing, the young lady came out wrapped in a towel. To her surprise, the bed had already been made. She sat at the dressing mirror, applying lotion, makeup, and taking her time in quiet composure. She put on a blouse and skirt with a short scarf, styled her hair, wore pointed high heels with a matching handbag, and checked her wristwatch—exactly half past ten. Then she opened the door and stepped out.
Her walk carried an air of pride, her heels striking the floor sharply—kwas, kwas. She entered a large living room and sat. Soon, a maid brought fruits and placed them before her, but she didn’t even look at them, her eyes fixed instead on her golden bracelet and wristwatch.
---
Meanwhile, at the gate, Isa and Sani, the gatekeeper and his friend, were chatting as they cracked groundnuts.
Isa said, “Life in the village has both sweetness and hardship.”
Sani laughed. “Sweetness? My brother, have you ever seen a city man return to the village? There’s nothing there but suffering.”
Isa replied, “But village life is more peaceful. No noise, no fear. Unlike the city where honesty is gone.”
Sani shook his head. “Well, since I came to the city and found this security job, the village is just for visits. I couldn’t settle back there.”
Their conversation drifted on about the differences between rural and city life.
---
The young lady checked her watch again: fifteen minutes to twelve. She rose gracefully and walked outside to the courtyard, then straight to the gate where Isa and Sani were still talking. Isa quickly stood up trembling, “Peace be upon you, welcome.”
She ignored his greeting and asked, “Hasn’t Sabo, the driver, arrived yet?”
Isa bowed respectfully. “Not yet, my lady.”
She frowned, shook her head, and went back inside.
Sani teased Isa, “Who is this girl that makes you shake like a leaf whenever she appears?”
Isa sighed. “She’s the daughter of the house, the spoiled only child of Alhaji. She just returned from Europe three months ago. She behaves entirely like a foreigner. Sabo’s luck is finished today, I swear.”
Moments later, loud banging came on the gate. Isa rushed to open it—there stood a man in his forties, breathing heavily, looking chased.
Isa smirked, “Ah, Sabo! Your end has come. She’s been asking for you.”
Sabo muttered desperately, “Oh God, what do I do? My child was sick, I had to take him to the chemist.”
Before Isa could respond, the lady herself appeared, her face hard.
“What time did I tell you we would leave?”
Trembling, Sabo answered, “Eleven o’clock, my lady.”
“And what time is it now?”
“Twelve-ten.”
“Good. Now, give me my car keys.”
He pleaded, “Please forgive me, my lady. My child was ill, I had to—”
She cut him off sharply. “Shut up! Did I ask for excuses? Are the cars yours or mine?”
“Yours, Hajiya.”
“Then give me the keys. You are dismissed. The gatekeeper will settle your pay. From today you are no longer my driver. A promise is sacred—it reflects trust. When I hire you, your time belongs to me because I pay you. Without my permission, you do nothing, no matter the reason—except for worship. Do you understand?”
Without waiting for his reply, she turned and went back inside.
Sabo sank onto the ground, holding his head in despair. Isa tried to console him, “Be patient, my friend. May God grant you a better job.”
Sabo murmured thanks and left the compound, his heart heavy.
---
Sani shook his head, asking Isa, “Does this girl have no compassion? No sense of pardon or forgiveness?”
Isa replied, “Not at all. She grew up with a twisted mindset. After living abroad, her beliefs are foreign, not Islamic. She hardly even sees people as human. Even her stepmother and half-siblings in this house live like servants under her. She only smiles for her father or a few close friends. She has already dismissed four drivers in three months. No one can stand her arrogance and cruelty.”
Sani sighed deeply. “But where is her mother? How did she grow up like this?”
Isa lowered his voice. “Her mother died long ago. Her father worships her—anything she does is right in his eyes. He says upsetting her is like setting fire in his chest.”
Sani left in thought, pushing his wheelbarrow of mangoes, his mind troubled.
---
Elsewhere, a young man in his late twenties sat in his office, focused on his computer screen. Someone knocked. “Yes, come in,” he said.
A young lady in a black suit and veil entered, graceful in her steps. “Good morning, sir,” she greeted sweetly.
He answered without expression, “Welcome, how are you?”
With a touch of charm, she said, “The boss asked to see you in his office.”
He nodded. “Alright, I’ll go.”
She lingered playfully, “Can I get you something to eat? It seems you haven’t eaten.”
He refused politely, “No, thank you.”
She left, muttering under her breath about how difficult it was to impress him.
The man, whose name was Abbas, later met his superior. They discussed a sensitive assignment involving Alhaji Nasir Daula and his only daughter—the same spoiled girl from earlier. Their mission was not only to investigate but to protect her from enemies targeting her father.
Abbas later visited his partner Yusuf, showing him pictures of the girl. Yusuf was reluctant when Abbas suggested he become her driver, given her arrogance and history with workers. Yusuf initially resisted, but Abbas persuaded him—reminding him of patience, wisdom, and the greater mission. Yusuf finally, though hesitantly, agreed.
That night, Yusuf reflected on the task, staring at the girl’s innocent yet arrogant face in the photos. “If she truly is this cruel, can I endure it? Or is there more danger here than Abbas admits?” he thought, before turning to his humble life with his mother, preferring simplicity and dignity over worldly glamour
