Today again, Nana saw Qaisar lying on that bed, wrapped in a veil, with only his hand protruding from beneath it as he wrote in a book.
He lifted his head, glanced at her, and continued writing.
“Qaisar.”
“Yes,” he replied without looking at her.
“Please, what is wrong with you?”
“Where?”
“I see you’re always on that bed now, always covered. Did Giyaz do something to you?”
He shook his head. “No. What did you see?”
“I know he’s the only one who can harm you,” she said softly.
“Who told you? There are powerful jinn stronger than me who could harm me. I just don’t interfere in anyone’s affairs. I stay aside, enjoying my solitary life with my books and my medicine-making.”
Nana smiled. “When will you get married?”
“When I grow up.”
“Aren’t you grown already? Where is Haula?”
He frowned. “Go to my medicine room. There’s a bottle shaped like a world map—bring it to me.”
“Okay,” Nana said, heading to the storage room where he kept his medicines.
She stood there staring at the bottles, watching how some of the concoctions swirled inside them like living things. As she picked up the bottle he mentioned and turned around, she suddenly saw Giyaz standing behind her.
“A‘udhu bi-kalimatillahil-tammat,” she uttered in fear.
In front of her appeared an old, hunched figure. He opened his mouth and said, “I have never hated any creature on earth more than you. I will ruin your life, kill you, wipe out your lineage, and finally be at peace with this calamity.” He stepped back and pointed his staff at her; it burned with a crackling fire.
Nana stepped back, covered her face with her hands, waiting to feel the fire burn her—but then she heard silence. Slowly she opened her eyes and saw Qaisar standing between them. The sparks burned him; he fell to the side, his body smoking.
Nana dropped the bottle and ran to him. Trembling in panic, she cried, “Qaisar, what happened to you?” That was when she noticed the many wounds on his body, including the fresh burns.
Giyaz rushed to Qaisar, lifted him, but realized his body had gone limp.
“I swear, if my son dies, I will kill you even in the hereafter.”
Suppressing her fear, Nana shouted, “What did you do to him? What kind of cruel creature are you? Everyone takes pride in their child and tries to protect them, but you are always trying to harm him. Qaisar, please wake up.” She cried as she tried to touch him, but an intense cold passed through her.
She opened her eyes slowly through sobs and saw Sayyid holding her tightly, looking at her with pity. She tried to stand, but he stopped her. “Calm down a little. What happened to him that made you cry like this? Once everything settles, I will take action—he cannot keep following my wife. I’m deeply upset about it.”
“You will do nothing to him. He is none of your business. Despite the hatred and everything I did to him, he didn’t abandon me—unlike you, who did.”
He stared at her, about to speak, then stopped. She slipped away and lay down, her heart full of fear and worry, praying that Giyaz hadn’t caused Qaisar lasting harm. He left her room, having heard her crying and sobbing.
---
The next morning he brought her clothes to wear for their departure. Looking at her pleadingly, he said, “My love, I know I wronged you, but please gather your strength so we can find a solution. Whatever they ask you, tell them everything—don’t hide anything—for the sake of our future.”
“There is no ‘our future.’ Just give me my child and let me go.”
“Alright,” he said. “Here are the clothes. Go bathe and get ready. I’ll be waiting.”
She hesitated, then accepted them. “Thank you.”
He smiled. “You can even bathe in my room; there are lotions there.”
“No, I have my own.”
“Mine too—you used to apply them out of love,” he teased.
She turned away. He smiled wider. “Do you remember when you used to bathe me in Nigeria? You’ll bathe me again in Agadez.”
“Go to your princess—the fair-skinned noblewoman,” she replied without turning.
As she turned, their bodies collided. She hadn’t noticed him approach silently, like a chameleon. He wrapped his arm around her waist; her heart pounded in fear.
“My love, if not for your love tying me down, I’d have had you whipped. Is this how you speak to Imam Hammad? Speak respectfully; stop raising your voice,” he said, leaning close, their breaths mingling.
Smiling, he added, “I warned you before, remember?” He winked.
“So you will bathe me in Agadez.”
“I don’t like this kind of thing,” she said breathlessly.
He released her and left the room. She sat there, catching her breath.
---
“Jamila, explain. I don’t understand your illness anymore. I’m scared—what’s happening?” her mother pleaded.
“There’s nothing,” Jamila said, shaking her head.
“I swear you’ll tell me. You’re wasting away—what are you hiding?” her mother demanded anxiously.
Tears streamed down Jamila’s face. “Please, Mama, leave me alone. Nothing is wrong.”
“I swear you’ll tell me!”
“I don’t even know,” Jamila sobbed.
Her mother threatened her again until Jamila finally whispered, “I’m pregnant.”
Her mother staggered back in shock, clutching her chest. “W-what did you say? Pregnant? Where? How?”
Jamila just cried.
Her mother grabbed her. “Tell me who did this before I kill you for bringing shame!”
At that moment, Baba’s voice interrupted. Her mother let go and stormed out.
---
Nana stood before the mirror in the dress, knowing it was far above her station. She saw him enter, dressed in royal blue matching her outfit.
He sprayed perfume on her, took jewelry from his pocket, and put rings and a bracelet on her hand. She stared, startled—she hadn’t worn jewelry in so long.
“I’ll remove these; I’m scared,” she said.
He ignored her, adjusted her veil, admiring her beauty and wondering how Asal could call her ugly just because she was dark-skinned.
“Remember,” he said, “answer everything honestly if you want Muhsin back.”
“Why can’t you just explain?”
“If my explanation were enough, it wouldn’t have come to this.” He then produced her phone.
“My phone! You took it?”
“Yes. You wouldn’t listen. Let’s go.”
They rode together in the back seat. Nana silently prayed to regain her child; she felt only dread toward that house.
At the palace, attendants greeted Imam Hammad. He held Nana’s hand as they entered, drawing everyone’s attention—clearly she wasn’t Asal.
Inside the private hall sat the Sultan, Matawalle, and the Sardauna. Nana trembled uncontrollably.
“Calm down,” he whispered. “Don’t ruin our lives.”
They sat. Sardauna asked Nana to remove her veil.
“What’s your name?”
“Nana Asma’u.”
“Where are you from?”
“Nigeria.”
“Do you know him?” (pointing to Hammad)
“Yes.”
“Who is he to you?”
She hesitated. “My husband.”
“And the boy?”
“My son.”
The questioning continued. Eventually, Muhsin was brought in. He leapt into Nana’s arms crying “Nene!” She clutched him, sobbing.
The council decided: Nana would be returned to Nigeria, but Muhsin would remain. Nana screamed, clinging to her child. Attendants tried to take him. Hammad intervened, ordering them to stop, but the decision stood.
Nana collapsed. Hammad personally placed her in the car, but guards blocked him from leaving.
“It’s an order from above,” they said. Nana was driven away.
---
Hammad confronted the Sultan, arguing as a father, not a ruler. He declared Nana was his wife, Muhsin his son, and vowed to leave the kingdom if necessary.
The Sultan slapped him.
Hammad replied calmly that Nana was not just a woman—she was his salvation, his healer, the one who stood by him through illness. “You cannot separate us,” he said, and left.
---
Chaos spread. Asal confronted Hammad, accusing him of betrayal. Suddenly, Hammad convulsed, his body burning as if on fire.
Later, the Sultan worried deeply—this illness was worse than before. Doctors wouldn’t suffice; secrecy was vital.
---
Meanwhile, Nana, separated from her son, wasted away with grief. Nene tried to comfort her, insisting patience was needed.
Elsewhere, tragedy struck: Doctor Sharif’s daughter Hafsa was found murdered. He collapsed in agony upon seeing her body.
Shukura, too, suffered alone, dreaming constantly of Nana, urging her in dreams to pray.
---
Days passed. Hammad refused food, his condition worsening. Political pressure mounted to reveal the truth about his “son.”
The Sultan stalled, knowing the danger.
---
Nana felt unwell herself, sensing something deeper than grief. Nene prepared herbal medicine for her “protection.”
---
Finally, Mahmoudu told the Sultan the truth: the only person who truly understood Hammad’s illness—inside and out—was Muhsin’s mother.
Today again, Nana saw Qaisar lying on that bed, wrapped in a veil, with only his hand protruding from beneath it as he wrote in a book.
He lifted his head, glanced at her, and continued writing.
“Qaisar.”
“Yes,” he replied without looking at her.
“Please, what is wrong with you?”
“Where?”
“I see you’re always on that bed now, always covered. Did Giyaz do something to you?”
He shook his head. “No. What did you see?”
“I know he’s the only one who can harm you,” she said softly.
“Who told you? There are powerful jinn stronger than me who could harm me. I just don’t interfere in anyone’s affairs. I stay aside, enjoying my solitary life with my books and my medicine-making.”
Nana smiled. “When will you get married?”
“When I grow up.”
“Aren’t you grown already? Where is Haula?”
He frowned. “Go to my medicine room. There’s a bottle shaped like a world map—bring it to me.”
“Okay,” Nana said, heading to the storage room where he kept his medicines.
She stood there staring at the bottles, watching how some of the concoctions swirled inside them like living things. As she picked up the bottle he mentioned and turned around, she suddenly saw Giyaz standing behind her.
“A‘udhu bi-kalimatillahil-tammat,” she uttered in fear.
In front of her appeared an old, hunched figure. He opened his mouth and said, “I have never hated any creature on earth more than you. I will ruin your life, kill you, wipe out your lineage, and finally be at peace with this calamity.” He stepped back and pointed his staff at her; it burned with a crackling fire.
Nana stepped back, covered her face with her hands, waiting to feel the fire burn her—but then she heard silence. Slowly she opened her eyes and saw Qaisar standing between them. The sparks burned him; he fell to the side, his body smoking.
Nana dropped the bottle and ran to him. Trembling in panic, she cried, “Qaisar, what happened to you?” That was when she noticed the many wounds on his body, including the fresh burns.
Giyaz rushed to Qaisar, lifted him, but realized his body had gone limp.
“I swear, if my son dies, I will kill you even in the hereafter.”
Suppressing her fear, Nana shouted, “What did you do to him? What kind of cruel creature are you? Everyone takes pride in their child and tries to protect them, but you are always trying to harm him. Qaisar, please wake up.” She cried as she tried to touch him, but an intense cold passed through her.
She opened her eyes slowly through sobs and saw Sayyid holding her tightly, looking at her with pity. She tried to stand, but he stopped her. “Calm down a little. What happened to him that made you cry like this? Once everything settles, I will take action—he cannot keep following my wife. I’m deeply upset about it.”
“You will do nothing to him. He is none of your business. Despite the hatred and everything I did to him, he didn’t abandon me—unlike you, who did.”
He stared at her, about to speak, then stopped. She slipped away and lay down, her heart full of fear and worry, praying that Giyaz hadn’t caused Qaisar lasting harm. He left her room, having heard her crying and sobbing.
---
The next morning he brought her clothes to wear for their departure. Looking at her pleadingly, he said, “My love, I know I wronged you, but please gather your strength so we can find a solution. Whatever they ask you, tell them everything—don’t hide anything—for the sake of our future.”
“There is no ‘our future.’ Just give me my child and let me go.”
“Alright,” he said. “Here are the clothes. Go bathe and get ready. I’ll be waiting.”
She hesitated, then accepted them. “Thank you.”
He smiled. “You can even bathe in my room; there are lotions there.”
“No, I have my own.”
“Mine too—you used to apply them out of love,” he teased.
She turned away. He smiled wider. “Do you remember when you used to bathe me in Nigeria? You’ll bathe me again in Agadez.”
“Go to your princess—the fair-skinned noblewoman,” she replied without turning.
As she turned, their bodies collided. She hadn’t noticed him approach silently, like a chameleon. He wrapped his arm around her waist; her heart pounded in fear.
“My love, if not for your love tying me down, I’d have had you whipped. Is this how you speak to Imam Hammad? Speak respectfully; stop raising your voice,” he said, leaning close, their breaths mingling.
Smiling, he added, “I warned you before, remember?” He winked.
“So you will bathe me in Agadez.”
“I don’t like this kind of thing,” she said breathlessly.
He released her and left the room. She sat there, catching her breath.
---
“Jamila, explain. I don’t understand your illness anymore. I’m scared—what’s happening?” her mother pleaded.
“There’s nothing,” Jamila said, shaking her head.
“I swear you’ll tell me. You’re wasting away—what are you hiding?” her mother demanded anxiously.
Tears streamed down Jamila’s face. “Please, Mama, leave me alone. Nothing is wrong.”
“I swear you’ll tell me!”
“I don’t even know,” Jamila sobbed.
Her mother threatened her again until Jamila finally whispered, “I’m pregnant.”
Her mother staggered back in shock, clutching her chest. “W-what did you say? Pregnant? Where? How?”
Jamila just cried.
Her mother grabbed her. “Tell me who did this before I kill you for bringing shame!”
At that moment, Baba’s voice interrupted. Her mother let go and stormed out.
---
Nana stood before the mirror in the dress, knowing it was far above her station. She saw him enter, dressed in royal blue matching her outfit.
He sprayed perfume on her, took jewelry from his pocket, and put rings and a bracelet on her hand. She stared, startled—she hadn’t worn jewelry in so long.
“I’ll remove these; I’m scared,” she said.
He ignored her, adjusted her veil, admiring her beauty and wondering how Asal could call her ugly just because she was dark-skinned.
“Remember,” he said, “answer everything honestly if you want Muhsin back.”
“Why can’t you just explain?”
“If my explanation were enough, it wouldn’t have come to this.” He then produced her phone.
“My phone! You took it?”
“Yes. You wouldn’t listen. Let’s go.”
They rode together in the back seat. Nana silently prayed to regain her child; she felt only dread toward that house.
At the palace, attendants greeted Imam Hammad. He held Nana’s hand as they entered, drawing everyone’s attention—clearly she wasn’t Asal.
Inside the private hall sat the Sultan, Matawalle, and the Sardauna. Nana trembled uncontrollably.
“Calm down,” he whispered. “Don’t ruin our lives.”
They sat. Sardauna asked Nana to remove her veil.
“What’s your name?”
“Nana Asma’u.”
“Where are you from?”
“Nigeria.”
“Do you know him?” (pointing to Hammad)
“Yes.”
“Who is he to you?”
She hesitated. “My husband.”
“And the boy?”
“My son.”
The questioning continued. Eventually, Muhsin was brought in. He leapt into Nana’s arms crying “Nene!” She clutched him, sobbing.
The council decided: Nana would be returned to Nigeria, but Muhsin would remain. Nana screamed, clinging to her child. Attendants tried to take him. Hammad intervened, ordering them to stop, but the decision stood.
Nana collapsed. Hammad personally placed her in the car, but guards blocked him from leaving.
“It’s an order from above,” they said. Nana was driven away.
---
Hammad confronted the Sultan, arguing as a father, not a ruler. He declared Nana was his wife, Muhsin his son, and vowed to leave the kingdom if necessary.
The Sultan slapped him.
Hammad replied calmly that Nana was not just a woman—she was his salvation, his healer, the one who stood by him through illness. “You cannot separate us,” he said, and left.
---
Chaos spread. Asal confronted Hammad, accusing him of betrayal. Suddenly, Hammad convulsed, his body burning as if on fire.
Later, the Sultan worried deeply—this illness was worse than before. Doctors wouldn’t suffice; secrecy was vital.
---
Meanwhile, Nana, separated from her son, wasted away with grief. Nene tried to comfort her, insisting patience was needed.
Elsewhere, tragedy struck: Doctor Sharif’s daughter Hafsa was found murdered. He collapsed in agony upon seeing her body.
Shukura, too, suffered alone, dreaming constantly of Nana, urging her in dreams to pray.
---
Days passed. Hammad refused food, his condition worsening. Political pressure mounted to reveal the truth about his “son.”
The Sultan stalled, knowing the danger.
---
Nana felt unwell herself, sensing something deeper than grief. Nene prepared herbal medicine for her “protection.”
---
Finally, Mahmoudu told the Sultan the truth: the only person who truly understood Hammad’s illness—inside and out—was Muhsin’s mother.