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Translation in English
Chapter 1–2
ABUJA
Slowly, luxury cars moved down the street, their sirens cutting through the line that leads to Gwarinpa within the city of Abuja. From the look of the vehicles, you would know that no ordinary person was being escorted back to his residence. One after another, they began turning into a particular estate. At the first gate, four of the cars stopped, while the lead vehicle—a Benz E-Class carrying him—continued through to the second gate and parked in the parking lot.
A soldier stepped out, opened the back door, and took about 10 minutes before the man finally emerged, putting out a foot clad in military boots, followed by his tall frame. His eyes looked half-closed due to his exceptionally long eyelashes. Instantly, the soldier saluted him while trying to take the briefcase from his hand. Slowly, the man raised a hand with long, slender fingers, murmuring, "Just leave it." Even if you were not close by, you would barely notice he spoke, yet as soon as Ahmad walked away, the soldier still snapped a direct salute.
He walked down the private lintel leading to his part of the house and was surprised to find the door locked, as he didn't expect Lubna to be there. He rang the bell repeatedly while pulling a short hiss that brought out his dimples, turning slightly as he waited for the door to be opened.
Slowly, the door opened. Seeing his back, her body immediately began to tremble. Realizing she might be in trouble, she stuttered, "S...i...r," her voice cracking.
Slowly, he turned around, cast one look at her, and looked away. She was dressed in a long-sleeved top and a short skirt—it was Precious. Forcing her composure, she said, "Welcome, sir..."
Without answering her, he said, "Give me the way." Quickly, she stepped aside and handed him the briefcase from his hand, as that was part of her duties.
As he stepped his foot into the parlor, a soothing coolness washed over him, causing him to close his eyes for a few seconds before opening them to survey the parlor, which was neatly arranged with light green and orange decor. He walked straight to the fridge, opened it, poured a bottle of water into a cup, pressed it against his pink lips, and drank it all down without stopping before setting the cup aside. He ran his hand through his head, messing up the smooth hair lying flat on his scalp, and exhaled a hot breath through his mouth.
Right at that moment, Precious stepped out timidly and said, "Can I help?" He gave her a brief, disdainful look and said, "Get lost." As she hurried to leave, he asked, "Where is Lubna?" "She is in her bedroom. She told me that nobody should wake her up until she wakes up by herself, that is..." "Shut up!" he barked at her. Seeing this, she bolted out of the room because she was terrified of him.
He bit his lower lip, feeling the sense of pride typical of Lubna—that she could issue orders even when she knew he was returning today, and yet managed to find time to sleep. He hissed lightly and left the area. Sitting on the sofa, he removed his shoes and clothes, walked into the toilet, and let the shower run over his body. He spent nearly 30 minutes bathing before coming out wrapped in a towel, holding another one to dry his head and neck, his body sprayed with fine perfume. Without wearing clothes, wrapped only in a towel, he walked out of the room toward the section where Nabla (Lubna) was.
Wow, I whispered upon seeing the beauty of the parlor—everything in the room was ash and black, and a pleasant fragrance filled the air. He walked straight into the bedroom. She was lying down soundly, breathing softly, dressed in a tiny short top with no sleeves that allowed her breasts to be visible, along with a pair of short shorts.
Instantly, his blue eyes turned oily, and he bit his lower lip. (General has gone hunting for trouble!) With quick strides, he approached, climbed onto the bed, and without any hesitation, pulled her against his body. Since Lubna was deep in sleep, he went ahead and removed her clothes without her even realizing what was happening. He uncovered her medium-sized breasts—neither too big nor too small, perfectly proportioned. He pressed his pink lips against her nipple, rolling them gently before taking the nipple into his mouth and sucking softly, while using his hand to stroke the other one gently. In her sleep, she felt a strange sensation visiting her; she adjusted her posture and thrust herself forward, thinking she was dreaming.
Realizing the situation was getting the better of her, she opened her eyes and, seeing a man lying beside her, opened her mouth to speak. He quickly rolled over and joined their lips together. She had to surrender because she knew that if she fought back, she would get no peace today. He took a long time doing the same thing until Lubna, who started off enjoying it, began to cry, utterly confused by the kind of husband God had paired her with—one who never tired of the same routine.
Only when he felt fully satisfied did he move to the side, catching his breath. She burst into tears, even kicking her legs, knowing that if she didn't react this way, she would have wasted her effort, and besides, she was going to deal with Precious for failing to come and inform her that her oga had returned.
He closed his blue eyes—which had returned to normal now that he was satisfied—feeling her crying echo inside his brain. Slowly, he pulled her up onto his chest and said, "Please stop this crying. Tell me what you want me to do so you'll stop."
Without shame or fear of God, and wearing a smile, she stroked the hair lying flat on his chest and said, "Uhm, check my account, give me money, my soldier." Knowing this would happen—that there was no escaping the payment for his rights—he said softly, "Okay."
Together, they took a bath, dressed, and went downstairs. They headed straight to the dining table where she served him herself. He ate only a little, stood up, and said, "I'm going to sleep. I don't want any distractions." With that, he left the area.
She curled her lip because she knew his ways. She walked over to the landline, dialed, and someone picked up. In a soft voice, she said, "Meet me in my parlor." "Okay, ma'am," the person replied and hung up.
She returned to the parlor, sat down, and started her second business: (Sleep is first, now we've got entertainment 😅).
Trembling, Precious walked into the room, turned on her feet slowly, and said, "Ma'am, I'm here!" Lubna spent almost two minutes before saying, "What came over you that made you refuse to come and wake me up when you knew my man was back?" "But, ma'am, you're the one who said I shouldn't wake you up..." "Because you mad crazy monkey, did I say with him?" "But, ma'am, if I'm right, right here! You said that everybody, even oga is..." Before she could finish what she was saying, she received a resounding slap across the face that almost sent her crashing down.
Furious, Lubna said, "I'm your mate? You're talking back when I'm speaking?" Pointing at herself, she demanded, "Between me and you, who is the boss?" With trembling hands, Precious said, "You're the boss, ma'am." Lubna didn't stop there. "Please, ma'am, I'm sorry, I won't do it again for the sake of Allah, forgive me," she mocked. Sitting back down while huffing, Lubna continued, "As from today, even Teema talks to you and you talk to her anyhow—uhm?" Precious shook her head. "It's me and you, clear?" Lubna said, holding her own ears mockingly. "Yes, ma'am." "Oya, get lost!" Precious hurried out of the parlor because she was terrified of Lubna, knowing she was capable of doing much worse.
If I don't get more than 1,000 followers and comments, I won't finish the story of me and Ya Ahmad. It is not guaranteed 🤨
Chapter 3–6
ZARIA
Gwaggo had barely stepped out when I walked Ameena to her friend's house nearby, thinking I would be right back. "Safe journey back," Gwaggo said as she continued with her chores.
Hearing that, I set off and left. Instead of going to Ameena's house, I took the path that led out of our neighborhood lane, heading straight to a car parked off to the side with no people around except some small children playing.
Before I even reached it, the person inside the car opened the door, having spotted my approach in the rearview mirror. Slowly, I got into the car, silently praying to God that no one who knew me would see us. His eyes locked onto me, mentally rehearsing the day he would fulfill his desires concerning me.
"This staring, Najib—I keep telling you that staring is not good in religion, but even now when we're together, you have no job except staring at me. Let me ask you: what on earth are you looking at on my body?" I spoke without caring about my question, because frankly, I spoke the truth—I didn't understand what he found so fascinating about my body.
He smiled, shaking his head at my foolishness and ignorance. Although he knew I went to school, he often called me illiterate, yet insisted he would succeed over me since I knew nothing about life. He made a move to hold me, and quickly I jerked my hand away, flashing him a glare.
"Apologies, my baby, I forgot—you also said that is haram. Anyway, let's go now, you'll change your clothes and we'll proceed from there, right?" I pulled the car door shut, slightly tossing my head.
He parked outside a shopping mall. There, I picked out a top and trousers—the top reached just above my waist, and the clothes were undeniably stunning. I changed inside the mall, and applied a light makeup on my beautiful face that could steal a man's sanity in a split second, even though I was just a young girl of 15 at the time.
After he paid, we walked out, and he started biting his lower lip so much that I couldn't remain silent. "Ya Najib, are you okay? I notice from time to time you bite your lip like someone in pain, or are you sick?" In his heart, he thought, You're the one causing me this pain, but out loud he said, "Nothing, let's move."
We got into the car and drove to the hotel where his friend's birthday party was taking place. Inside the car before we stepped out, he looked at my face and said, "Baby, you know I'm going to hold your hand, right?" "No way, Yaya Najib, I told you Gwaggo said it's bad, so I'm not doing it." "Okay, then let's turn back and I'll drop you home," he said, pretending to start the car.
Hurriedly, I turned to him and flashed him my oily eyes that scrambled his senses. "Oh, fine, but when we get inside, you'll let go." He held my hand, and anyone who saw us would think each of us was the other's whole world, because Najib was undeniably a top-tier guy. Even on the dance floor, Najib tried to hold my waist—though I didn't really want it, I had to endure it because dancing was the only reason I came—until the party ended.
By then, it was almost 7:00 PM, and my body began shaking with the realization that Ya Abubakar had returned home. Even inside the car on the way back, I couldn't speak; I sat there rolling my eyes in panic.
We stopped at a spot so I could change back into my regular clothes, and then he dropped me off at the entrance of our lane. I walked as fast as I could, even though rushing wasn't my strongest skill. Right at the front gate, I spotted Ya Abubakar's motorcycle, and my stomach instantly churned. Before I even realized it, urine slipped down into my trousers, even before I saw him.
With a limp body, I pushed the door open and entered. Bang! We collided. I felt a sharp pain strike my forehead, making me let out an orphan's cry. Before I could regain my balance, I felt two consecutive knuckle-taps land on my head.
"Wuyyo, my God!" I cried out, holding my head. I didn't realize when I blurted out, "Ya, please forgive me, wallahi I was just at Ameena's house, please don't beat me!"
"Shhh!" he commanded, letting out a roar that brought my senses back instantly. "Listen to me, I swear by Allah, if I go to this house tomorrow and they tell me you went out, wallahi, wallahi, wallahi, you will wish you never knew me in your life!"
With that warning, he left me standing there nodding my head like a lizard. "Alhamdulillah," I whispered, releasing a hot sigh of relief. "Cruel man, may God deliver justice for the torment you put me through."
I left the spot as everyone was away from the courtyard and went straight to our room. Right at the door, I stripped off my clothes, remaining in just my top and panties. I grabbed a towel, wrapped it around myself, stripped off the top, and went into the bathroom to take a bath and perform ablution.
By the time I finished, Ummita had walked in carrying a food flask. "When did you get back?" she asked, but I didn't even look at her. I put on a shirt and hijab and stood up to pray. I performed the Asr and Maghrib prayers, made my supplications, and started reading the Quran—when it came to missing religious duties, I never played with that.
I didn't leave the spot until after Isha prayer. Then I stood up, removed the hijab and long gown, and put on my sleepwear.
We started eating our food. Ummita said, "What happened? Oh, sorry sis, earlier when you saw me leave you behind, it was because I went to meet my hero, so forgive me." I curled my lip. Since I wanted to ask her something, I said, "When I went out, did anyone come looking for me?" "No. But Baffa came looking for you up to three times and didn't find you. Your only saving grace was that when he asked Mama, she said you went to Ameena's house."
Alhamdulillah! Hearing that made my chest pound with fear. "You better watch it, because the day Baffa shows you his true colors, you'll regret the day. I won't even help you cry, I'll just watch," she said as she packed away the food dishes and walked out, leaving me with my bowl of tuwo shinkafa and raw okra soup mixed with palm oil. I wondered about the words she spoke, asking myself what made her talk like that—only God knows.
I stood up, washed my hands after finishing the morsel in my hand, brushed my teeth, and went back to lie down on the bed.
Slowly, he walked down wearing a soft, light green tailored yadi outfit with a shimmering undershirt, allowing his white vest to show. He wasn't wearing a cap, exposing his smooth, flat hair, and a pleasant fragrance drifted from his body. His footwear matched his outfit, and he carried his phone and keys in his hand.
Hearing his perfume, she raised her head to look at him as he approached and settled comfortably into one of the cushions. "Ya Ahmad, good morning." "Morning," he replied coldly, looking away from her. He let out a short hiss—how could someone be so lazy that even at 12:00 PM, they hadn't done any chores and were still lounging in their sleepwear?
Unable to keep quiet seeing her insolence, he called her name in a slow voice. "Na'am," she answered, calling him "my man" while still glued to her iPhone. (Here we go again), he thought to himself. "What stopped you from changing out of your sleeping dress before coming out to the general parlor?"
She set her phone aside, stood up, and walked closer to him. "My man, something was sent to my office for tomorrow at 10:00 AM, I have a meeting, that's why I haven't dressed up yet. But wait for me, I'll be right back so we can have breakfast," she said, standing up.
He also stood up and said, "No, I'm not staying for breakfast. I want to go home. If I don't go now, I won't catch him. Just take care of yourself," and he walked away. She went back to her room too.
He got into the lift and went downstairs. The soldier standing nearby hurried over, saluted, took the keys from his hand, and followed him straight to where the cars were parked. In one of the cars labeled Bugatti, the soldier opened the back door for him, got into the front seat, and drove out of the second gate and through the first gate. I could see security officers saluting from the hood of the car all the way until the vehicle exited the estate.
Chapter 5–6
The driver-soldier gave an order at a magnificent mansion, and the gateman opened the gates, driving the nose of the car straight into the courtyard filled with flowers. He parked in the compound, stepped out, and opened the door for him. Without wasting time, he stepped out because he wanted to meet Abbu.
The front door was open, and he walked straight into the parlor with a swagger. Ammy was sitting on a sofa wearing medical glasses and reading a newspaper. He offered a brief greeting that revealed his dimples. Joyfully, she laid the newspaper aside, stood up, and opened her arms. He fell into her embrace, letting out a small sigh of relief.
In a soft voice, he said, "I miss you so much, my Ammy." Smiling, she pushed him back gently and said, "Even us too, we miss you." Teasingly, she added, "Are you really working, Baba? Just look at how you've turned out—so healthy and well-fed!"
"Ah, Ammy, you're teasing me again. Everyone grows up differently, that's why you're saying this." She smiled. "Who, me? Tease Baba? Not me." "Ah, Ammy, you'll say that when I leave, Ramlah has taught you this style. Let's drop the matter," he said, stamping his feet on the floor like a baby boy. "Ammy, give me food to eat before I see Abbu, I want to brief him on what we discussed."
She put on a mock frown. "Where is that lazy wife of yours who doesn't even know how to set a pot on the fire? What stopped her from giving you your own food?" "Ah, Ammy, my wife is lazy? My wife wasn't made to step into the kitchen for just anything—" Hearing what he said made him pause and cover his mouth.
"Well, well, my boy defending his goal-getter wife!" She laughed softly and said, "So what kind of special thing was she made for? I want to know, unless Ramlah taught you that too," she said, trying to suppress her laughter at the way he closed his eyes.
Knowing full well that Ammy could embarrass him, he stood up and stumbled toward the dining table. "Impudent boy, and you're talking back to me!"
He had some wheat gruel (kunun alkama) and bean cakes (kosai), eating only a little because he never ate heavily—except for his favorite routine that had become second nature to him; if he didn't have it, he couldn't sleep.
He walked back into the parlor to wait for his parents to come down. Scarcely 5 minutes passed before his parents walked down, both smiling, though Ammy's smile was different. As soon as Ahmad saw her expression, he knew she was thinking about him, and he looked away with a smile.
He knelt all the way down to greet Abbu before taking a seat on a cushion. Ammy and Abbu sat on the two-seater sofa. After exchanging warm father-son greetings, he stated the purpose of his visit: "Actually, I wanted to ask—within this week, I want to visit Zaria before heading to Russia, since I'll be away for about 5 months."
Abbu sighed, glanced at Ammy—who had turned her head away as if unconcerned with their discussion—and said, "That is a very good idea. But haste makes waste. You see, Aunt Larai came about 2 months ago while you were in India. She said you don't like her, and you don't even check on her daughter, Zeenat. When you went into Zaria town, you visited Ammy's side of the family, but you refused to visit her place. That was the message she left for me, asking me as your father to tell you. The only reason I'm telling you this is so that when you go to Zaria, you should visit her first."
He sighed, feeling displeased with his father's sister. Slowly, he said, "Insha Allah, I will go there first." "Good, my boy."
Ya Ahmad rolled his eyes and pouted like a little boy. "Ah, Abba, I am not a boy, if even..." He trailed off, remembering a slip of the tongue he was about to make.
Try as she might to hold it in, Ammy burst out laughing. "Boy, finish what you were about to say!" "Ah, Ammy, you've turned me into your puppet. We're all right here and you're calling me 'boy' to embarrass me—God forbid!"
Both of them smiled at how he talked like a little child. They spent some time together before Abbu left for his office. Ahmad walked back to the chair where Ammy sat, looked at her with a troubled face, and said, "Ammy, did you hear what Abbu said? That I should go see that woman who dislikes you openly, even claiming that I never visit her place while visiting Baffa's side—Baffa whom I haven't even seen in person once!"
"Shhh," Ammy interrupted, placing her hand gently on his smooth hair and stroking it softly. "I don't ever want to hear you utter words like that again, even when you're not with me. No matter how Larai behaves, she is still your mother, whether you accept it or reject it. I just want you, wherever you are or find yourself, to be God-fearing. Therefore, obey your parents."
With that, she walked out of the parlor. Unable to dwell further on Aunt Larai, he stood up and left.
As he sat in the car, a call came through to his phone. He offered a brief smile before picking up. On the other end, a voice said, "You don't want to make money and become a General like me and Ammar, even when you visit Abuja you don't even call." "Hey," he said softly, knowing Ammar's rambling wasn't serious, "things just got a bit overwhelming, but sorry, I'll make out a day for us. How is Amnah?"
Glancing briefly at his wife who was resting her head on his chest and gently stroking him, he said, "Uhm, she's well." "Why does your voice sound changed, like you've been working hard?" "Yeah, something happened," the scoundrel Ahmad said teasingly. "Uhm, you guys and your habits, but the good thing is I don't pay for it!" Ammar said with a loud laugh, and quickly Ya Ahmad hung up the call with a faint smile, biting his lower lip gently. Right now, only he knew the state of his mind.
In the morning, I took another round of knocks to the head because Ummita had gotten dressed while I was still sleeping soundly, and she woke Gwaggo up to come knock some sense into my head. I endured it, took a bath, got dressed, and we set off for school. Usually, we walked on foot.
At the school gate, I parted ways with Ummita since she was in the science class while I was in arts.
"NJ! NJ!" someone kept shouting my name, but I ignored it as if I hadn't heard. Suddenly, my hijab was yanked from behind. Furiously, I turned around and snapped, "What?"
Even though the Christian girl was about five times shorter than me, and since quarreling was my second nature, I lashed out: "Shege, pagan, dirty beggar who smells of stale urine! What happened that you pulled my hijab? Are you trying to give me ritual defilement, you little idiot?" I even grabbed my own waist to get ready for a proper street fight.
In her broken Hausa that didn't come out right, she said, "Uncle Sabi'u called you, he said you should come see him in 4 minutes." With that, she bolted away quickly because she held her nose, signaling that I smelled bad.
I'm not going anywhere, wallahi! A man like a wizard—whenever you go to his office, he has no job except staring at people, talking, and spitting saliva on them. I hissed loudly and walked away.
As I sat inside... (The excerpt ends here)
Summary
The story revolves around the complex, dramatic lives of Ya Ahmad (a high-ranking military officer based in Abuja) and NJ (Najibah), a young 15-year-old girl navigating strict home rules, forbidden romance, and harsh discipline.
- Abuja Segment: Ya Ahmad returns to his luxury estate in Abuja, where his demanding and proud wife, Lubna (Nabla), expects absolute attention. Lubna rules her household with an iron fist, terrorizing her maid, Precious. Despite his status and military authority, Ahmad deals with family pressures, including a visit to his parents (Ammy and Abbu) where he is instructed by Abbu to reconcile with his estranged aunt in Zaria before deploying to Russia for five months.
- Zaria Segment: Meanwhile, young NJ sneaks out of her strict home environment to meet her charismatic, older boyfriend, Najib. Her illicit outings constantly risk discovery by her harsh guardian, Ya Abubakar, who subjects her to severe physical punishments whenever she is caught breaking rules. Balancing school, secret dates, and the constant threat of family repercussions, NJ's life is fraught with anxiety, fear, and teenage rebellion.
Description
- Genres: Contemporary Romance, Nigerian Fiction, Family Drama, Coming-of-Age.
- Setting: Urban Nigeria (primarily Abuja's highbrow estates and Zaria).
- Key Themes: Power dynamics in relationships, strict parental/guardian control vs. teenage rebellion, romantic possessiveness, class disparity, and cultural/family obligations.
Analytics
- Pacing & Tone: Fast-paced with abrupt scene shifts typical of contemporary Hausa popular fiction (Littattafan Soyayya style). The tone oscillates sharply between luxurious romance, domestic intimidation, psychological tension, and raw adolescent vulnerability.
- Character Archetypes:
- Ya Ahmad: The stoic, powerful, yet emotionally complex military officer torn between professional duties and domestic chaos.
- Lubna (Nabla): Spoiled, proud, and tyrannical in her small domain, mirroring the toxic pride Ahmad sometimes encounters.
- NJ (Najibah): A rebellious, naive 15-year-old caught between the manipulative allure of older men (Najib) and the brutal physical policing of her home guardian (Ya Abubakar).
- Precious & Ummita: Secondary characters acting as foils or victims of the primary characters' high-handedness and domestic pressures.
- Narrative Style: First-person narrative perspective switching dynamically through different viewpoints or focal characters, characterized by colloquial Nigerian English mixed with natural Hausa dialogue.
