It was 4:00 AM in the morning. The only light piercing through the room was the dim glow of the bedside lamp. Scattered on the floor near a pair of white Calvin Klein boxers were a red G-string pant that looked no different from those worn by full-time prostitutes, along with a slender, transparent net push-up bra and other wicked nightwear. They lay like debris in the middle of a vast, luxurious master bedroom. Even in the darkness, one's eyes could bear witness to the royal purple and cool golden color scheme applied to the room. The room was deathly quiet, as if no one was inside, save for the heavy fragrance of perfume and the gentle sound of the AC's cool breeze blowing softly.
The Character Introduction
A stunning woman lay on a bed as white as snow, the "crème de la crème." At first glance, you could tell she belonged to the caliber of high-society women in Abuja. Her body was full and voluptuous with no double chin; a single look told you that wealth and comfort had completely permeated her skin. In appearance, she was probably around 45 to 46 years old, though her age didn't show much on her body due to the extraordinary beauty of her face and physique bestowed upon her by God.
Waking Up and the Conflict
At 4:00 AM sharp, the alarm clock by her bedside rang. She woke up feeling extremely lethargic, holding her head as she cast her heavy, weary eyes toward the young man sleeping soundly beside her. For about 10 minutes, she lay still, staring at him. Nothing came back to her mind except the brief conversation they had had late last night. He had suggested that they have a baby through sperm insemination or surrogacy, or whatever methods existed, just so they could have a child together—given her advanced age and their marriage of convenience, which she didn't take seriously except as a means to satisfy her desires and enjoy life. A small hiss escaped her lips. She turned on the bedside lamp, which illuminated him even more brightly. He was a handsome brown-skin guy who looked about 13 or 14 years old at first glance (though older in reality). After the death of her husband, late Alhaji Haroun Ciroma, this young man's good looks were one of the things that made her choose to marry him. He had large, sexy, captivating eyes, a sharp nose, a full beard that was always shining and meticulously shaped with an expensive modern haircut, and a naughty, stylish beard that screamed "bad boy." He was tall and straight, with no sign of emaciation; looking at him, you would think he was a model.
Inner Monologue and Dilemma
Slowly, she closed her eyes and opened them again, recalling how incredibly good he was at mind-blowing sex. She felt that even if her late husband, the father of her children, were to return from the world of the dead, she could never let this guy go. For any woman who truly wanted to experience deep sexual pleasure from a man, this guy knew how to deliver. With great difficulty, she managed to pull her eyes away from him, feeling a deep, wicked wave of anxiety in her heart. For the umpteenth time, she let out a heavy sigh, realizing that she could never bring herself to leave him. Right now, she was at the peak of desperately craving his fiery passion and presence in her world. If any other man had brought up the idea of surrogacy or sperm insemination to her today, she would have blasted him with a basketful of fiery insults or found a way to dump him—especially considering she already had her two grown-up kids left behind by her late husband, Alhaji Haroun Ciroma. In her mind, her baby girls were more than enough for her in this world and the hereafter; she didn't need to think about having another child. Yet, she knew very well that if she left this handsome guy, she would face a huge problem, because right now, he was the only one who could satisfy her precisely how she liked. To top it all off, he never poked his nose into her political affairs like her late husband, the former politician, used to do. So what was wrong if he wanted them to have something that would bond their marriage forever? In her mind, maybe it was true love, or perhaps her body's pleasure was what tempted him to want a long-term life with her. Or maybe he just loved enjoying her wealth, which she lavished on his lifestyle and everything else—even though she didn't dwell much on that. She preferred to believe that her love was glaringly obvious in his eyes, since he understood her and let her live her life the way she wanted. That was why she felt in her heart that she could do anything for him, but having a child at her age was simply too much to ask. The matter began to trouble her mind. For about 30 minutes after waking up, she sat on the edge of the bed, replaying last night with him in her mind with a complicated expression on her face. Even though she had enjoyed it, the talk about having a baby had truly unsettled her. Slowly, she got off the bed, pondering how to approach the situation. A heavy sigh escaped her; she simply couldn't wait to go out, finish her routine engagements, and head straight to the hospital to lay all these talks before her doctor. She wanted a professional solution because she essentially had to agree to do things his way—she didn't want to lose him at all.
Morning Rush and Her Daughters
Amidst these thoughts, she suddenly remembered that she had a 5:40 AM flight to catch to Kano State, and she hadn't even performed the Fajr prayer yet. This made her lower her well-groomed feet to the floor, stand up slowly, and walk leisurely until she entered the bathroom. She drew hot water, stepped in for about 5 minutes, and then came out. After brushing her teeth, she put on a super-white bathrobe, placed a long hijab over it, stood for prayer, and finished within 2 minutes. After finishing, she removed the hijab, kept her bathrobe on, and sat before the mirror to apply a bewitching, heavy makeup to her beautiful face. From time to time, she turned to look at the clock, calculating the remaining time before she had to leave and check on her children, especially since she had noticed over the past couple of days that both of them had changed towards her quite a bit. This prompted her to pick up her fancy phone and search online for an instant fast-food restaurant. Without wasting time, she ordered expensive breakfast meals for her children online, which would arrive in 1 hour and 20 minutes while she was gone. Before anyone woke up, she stepped into her closet to find the appropriate clothes to wear today.
Departure
Around 5:15 AM, she stepped out fully dressed, walking on expensive Gucci heels in an outfit resembling royalty, radiating aloofness while tapping on her high-end phone. Her entire skin radiated the scent of Zebra Rasasi and a sexy red Arabian oil called Mousuf; their soothing fragrances blended smoothly with the cold breeze of the house's AC. She wore a peach-colored English wear from Soltis of London. She never paid attention to how heavily her body shape drove men crazy outside; in her view, how you look simply speaks volumes about your own personality. Being a veteran and fierce politician, she naturally had to combine her path with glamour, a touch of flirtatious charm, and elegance to command even more awe and presence. Slowly, she walked down as if she weren't even touching the ground, heading straight to her daughters' wing in a bit of a rush. She couldn't even remember the last time she strolled over there to check on them; she thought children were messy, and she hated children's tantrums even slightly—which was why she didn't have many of them. All she ever wished for was for holidays to come so she could pack them off to Yola to her mother's place, just to get away from their endless complaints that she didn't give them enough attention and time. Quietly, she pushed open their door like someone up to no good, making sure not to wake them. Peering inside, she saw them lying intertwined with each other like poor, pitiful orphans. She merely curled her lip in disdain and stepped inside to survey the room. There was nothing weird. Just books on the floor near her eldest daughter Noor Firdaus Haroun's bed—some open—along with the Holy Quran placed on her table next to a brass reading lantern.
Noor Firdaus and Laila
Nur Firdaus was her eldest daughter, about 17 years old and finishing up secondary school. She looked strikingly like her mother in the face, but possessed a lot of her late father's character traits. The most admirable thing about Nur Firdaus's life was how she held onto religious morals and Quranic recitation, which served as a major pillar in her life, bringing her immense honor and popularity. She didn't care much for secular education compared to how deeply she valued Islamic studies. Various awards sat on Nur Firdaus's drawer, half of which were from Quranic recitation competitions she had won. Her younger daughter, Laila Haroun, was a carefree soul who lived life on her own terms. Just 15 years old and in SS2 in secondary school, Laila inherited her mother's physical curves. However, she had a much fuller body frame, being thicker and broader than her older sister Nur Firdaus, who only surpassed her in height and regal presence. In facial features, Laila took after their grandmother, Didi. Looking at them standing, you would think they were Arab princesses due to the pure, milky beauty bestowed upon them by God, originating from the Fulani lineage of the Ardo Bello clan in Mayo Belwa, Yola. She let out a slight sigh, shedding mere crocodile tears as she looked at them like she cared, but her mind was elsewhere—consumed by her political affairs. She clearly had no time to think about her kids, let alone their lifestyle. Before even two full minutes passed, her phone rang. She gave a small scoff and pressed silent when she saw it was the driver. She turned quietly, slipped out of the room, and hurried away outside. As soon as she stepped out, the driver opened the door to her massive Lexus SUV. She got in, checked her flashy gold-chained watch, and said tightly, "Malam Liman, hurry up and drive me out before these kids wake up and pester me with noise." Without turning back to look at her, he politely replied, "Yes, ma'am," started the car in a hurry, and drove off...
Morning Aftermath and the Urgent Paperwork
Not long after they left, Nur Firdaus woke up with the morning supplication on her lips. She checked the clock and saw it was almost 5:30 AM. She turned to look at her younger sister, Leila, who was clutching a pillow tightly against her chest and sleeping peacefully. Nur Firdaus smiled softly. It seemed nothing troubled Leila's mind. As she reached out to turn on the lamp, the lingering scent of their mother's perfume drifted into the room and hit her nose, instantly causing her to leap out of bed in a hurry. Trembling, she stood up and saw their bedroom door open. This confirmed that their mother had sneaked into the room to open the drawer where the Quran was kept—she had taken a white paper and rushed out! Her heart beating furiously, she ran all the way to the front gate, hoping to catch a glimpse of her mother, but alas—when she got there, absolute silence. She peered around to see if their driver, Malam Liman, was still there, but he was gone too. She spent over 10 minutes in the courtyard, unable to find peace until she was certain her mother had left. A heavy weight dropped in her throat, knowing that her mother might not return on time. Sometimes when her mother left like this, she wouldn't come back for two months. She had come home in the middle of the night, and now Nur Firdaus had missed her chance to see her—especially since today was the absolute deadline for parental signatures from school. They were going to travel for an important competition, and school rules strictly mandated a complete parental signature. Slowly, she looked at the white paper in her hand, and bitter, warm tears rolled down her cheeks as a wave of intense longing for her late father, who passed away when she was ten, washed over her. She stood there crying for five minutes before catching her breath. Wiping her tears with quiet resilience, she walked back into the house feeling weak. Leila was still fast asleep. Ignoring her, Nur Firdaus went into the bathroom, performed ablution calmly, and came back to wake Leila up. With great difficulty, Leila woke up, looking at her sister's disturbed face. Placing her hand over her eyes like a baby, rubbing them sleepily, Leila muttered, "Big sis... Yaa Noory... What is wrong? Did I punch you in my sleep? Why do you look so angry?" Nur Firdaus stayed silent until she felt the soft touch of her younger sister's hand gently sliding across her waist, a gesture that instantly melted the fatigue and weakness she was trying to hold back. Turning around, their eyes met. Before Leila could speak again, cutting her off gently, Nur Firdaus flashed a forced, weak smile and said, "I'm not angry, Laila." Leila said nothing, continuing to stare at her. Closing her eyes, Nur Firdaus whispered, "I just... I don't know what's hurting me." In panic, Leila caught her breath and asked, "Big sis, you're hurting? Okay, what happened? Did Adnan do something to you?" she finished with a hint of panic. Shaking her head, Nur Firdaus held her hand calmly and said, "Little sis, just forget it. This isn't even about Adnan..." She paused, then softly added, "It's Mum. When I woke up, I smelled her perfume in this room, but before I could follow her outside, she was already gone. She didn't even..." She choked up and stopped. With her heart shattered and a trembling, painful voice, she bit her lip and finished, "Malam Bello will never let me travel to Kaduna if Mummy doesn't sign this for me. And this competition means a lot to me, Laila. I will never get this opportunity again for the rest of my life. I want to do this because I'm sure Dad would be so proud of me if he were alive. I studied too hard for this. I want to participate and win—not for anything else, but for my Baba. I want him to be proud of us wherever he is. I want Allah to send him the reward of every recitation I make there as light in his grave and as charity for his lifeless soul. Mummy just needs to sign this paper so I can go, but I've been trailing her with this paper for 2 weeks, and all for what?" She stopped, feeling like her heart would tear apart from the pain. With a painfully quivering voice, she bit her lip and finished as bitter, sympathetic tears streamed down her face like water, showing how deeply invested she was. She had set her mind that participating in this competition was the only thing worth dedicating to her dear late father—her only chance, especially seeing how his relatives and mother didn't care about him, each living their own lives and forgetting him. She could never forget her father, because he was her hero; he gave her all the education and morals that brought her praise and pride wherever she went.
Leila's Comfort and Morning Routine
Her younger sister Leila, with tears in her own eyes, threw her arms around her and gently hugged her in comfort. "Big sis, shh, stop crying, Yaa Noory. Please, let's just find another way. In sha Allah, you will go to Kaduna, and you will win this. I feel it strongly in my body." Nur Firdaus closed her eyes tightly, taking comfort in Leila's warm embrace. Without saying another word, she wiped her tears, stepped down, headed to her prayer mat, and performed her prayer before the time elapsed. Leila slipped into the bathroom, turned on the shower to a low flow, sat down on the closed toilet seat, and dozed back off to sleep. After about 10 minutes, she heard Nur Firdaus's faint voice from the door: "Laila! Why is it that every time you go to make ablution, you take forever? Please hurry up, perform your prayer, take a bath, and get dressed. We can't be late for school today. Please, I have a chemistry practical, you know?" Through her sleep-fogged haze, Leila cleared her throat and mumbled, "Uhum... uhum." Nur Firdaus walked away quietly into the cold morning air, wearing her long sky-blue hijab, heading to the back of their house where she usually sat to read the Quran in peace while looking at nature. Sitting down on the dark green carpet grass, she opened Surah At-Tawbah and began reciting with mastery, her melodious, heart-touching voice soothing every living creature around her while calming the soul. Alongside the Quran, she carried her high-end Samsung Galaxy S23 phone and a bottle of water. Inside the house, Leila didn't wake up from her bathroom slumber until nearly 6:00 AM. Feeling extremely lethargic, she stood up, stripped off her clothes, and let the shower water run over her body. The water cascaded over the fully developed breasts of her youthful body, sending waves of intense pleasure through her. She was blessed with a naturally high sex drive, and her full breasts were her favorite feature; whenever she bathed, she loved playing with them, wishing she could explore her body more. Within 15 minutes, she finished bathing, performed ablution, and stepped out around 6:30 AM. Knowing her sister Nur Firdaus might burst in anytime, she hurried through her prayers without pausing for long supplications. She applied her lotions, heavily scented perfumes, and quickly put on her makeup. Opening her wardrobe, she pulled out her ironed school uniform pants. They hugged her hips tightly, outlining the gorgeous, voluptuous shape of her wide hips—nobody looking at Leila's body would ever guess she was only 15, except perhaps by looking at her young face. She put on the trousers, slipped on her shoes, and pulled over a sheer white vest. Not wearing a bra, her perky nipples and the rhythmic bounce of her youthful assets were prominently on display. She sprayed herself heavily with Guilty Absolute by Paco Rabanne, admiring her reflection in the mirror and knowing she looked scorching hot—guaranteed to drive any man completely crazy. A sly smile crossed her face as she watched her poking nipples gleam through the vest, her body swaying seductively with every move. She turned, walked over to her sister Nur Firdaus's table, snatched the white competition paper, and headed straight toward their mother's bedroom, even though she knew she wasn't home.
2. Summary
Set in an upscale Abuja home at 4:00 AM, the story contrasts two very different worlds within the same household. A wealthy, self-absorbed female politician wakes up to thoughts of her much younger, handsome lover, who has recently proposed having a baby via surrogacy or artificial insemination. Disturbed by this idea yet terrified of losing him because of how well he satisfies her physical needs, she prepares for a sudden business trip to Kano State, entirely neglecting her two teenage daughters. Meanwhile, her eldest daughter, Nur Firdaus (17), wakes up heartbroken upon discovering her mother has left without signing the crucial parental consent form needed for her to travel to Kaduna State for a prestigious Islamic Quranic recitation competition—an event she dedicated to the memory of her late, beloved father, Alhaji Haroun Ciroma. Her carefree younger sister, Leila (15), tries to comfort her. As Nur Firdaus goes outside to recite the Quran in solitude, Leila prepares for school in a provocative manner, grabs the unsigned competition form, and heads toward her mother's empty room, setting the stage for an encounter with the mother's young lover.
3. Description
Setting: A luxurious master bedroom in Abuja filled with expensive designer lingerie and high-end decor, transitioning to a quiet, elegant home environment contrasted by emotional tension and youthful rebellion.
Themes: Wealth and neglect, maternal absence, adolescent awakening and sexuality, ambition vs. domestic duty, and the lingering grief of a lost father.
Tone: Melodramatic, sensory-rich, tense, and introspective.
4. Analytics Table
Category
Details & Metrics from Text
Main Characters
• The Mother: High-society Abuja politician, wealthy, self-absorbed, aged 45–46.
• Nur Firdaus: Eldest daughter, 17 years old, religious, dedicated to Quranic recitation, grieving her late father.
• Laila: Younger daughter, 15 years old (SS2), carefree, voluptuous, flirtatious.
• The Young Lover: Brown-skin handsome man, stylish beard, model-like physique, intimately involved with the mother.
Key Settings
Abuja luxury mansion, Master Bedroom, Daughters' Room, Back garden (Quran recitation spot), Kano State (destination of flight).
Timeline of Events
• 4:00 AM: Mother wakes up, thinks about her lover and his baby proposal.
• 5:15 AM: Mother gets dressed in Gucci heels/Peach English wear and leaves for her flight to Kano.
• 5:30 AM: Nur Firdaus wakes up, discovers her mother left without signing her competition form, and weeps.
• 6:00 AM - 6:45 AM: Leila wakes up, bathes, dresses provocatively, and takes the paper toward the mother's room.
Core Conflict
Nur Firdaus needs her mother's signature to attend the Kaduna Quranic competition in honor of her late father, but her mother is completely unavailable and emotionally detached.
Introduction and Setting
It was 4:00 AM in the morning. The only light piercing through the room was the dim glow of the bedside lamp. Scattered on the floor near a pair of white Calvin Klein boxers were a red G-string pant that looked no different from those worn by full-time prostitutes, along with a slender, transparent net push-up bra and other wicked nightwear. They lay like debris in the middle of a vast, luxurious master bedroom. Even in the darkness, one's eyes could bear witness to the royal purple and cool golden color scheme applied to the room. The room was deathly quiet, as if no one was inside, save for the heavy fragrance of perfume and the gentle sound of the AC's cool breeze blowing softly.
The Character Introduction
A stunning woman lay on a bed as white as snow, the "crème de la crème." At first glance, you could tell she belonged to the caliber of high-society women in Abuja. Her body was full and voluptuous with no double chin; a single look told you that wealth and comfort had completely permeated her skin. In appearance, she was probably around 45 to 46 years old, though her age didn't show much on her body due to the extraordinary beauty of her face and physique bestowed upon her by God.
Waking Up and the Conflict
At 4:00 AM sharp, the alarm clock by her bedside rang. She woke up feeling extremely lethargic, holding her head as she cast her heavy, weary eyes toward the young man sleeping soundly beside her. For about 10 minutes, she lay still, staring at him. Nothing came back to her mind except the brief conversation they had had late last night. He had suggested that they have a baby through sperm insemination or surrogacy, or whatever methods existed, just so they could have a child together—given her advanced age and their marriage of convenience, which she didn't take seriously except as a means to satisfy her desires and enjoy life.
A small hiss escaped her lips. She turned on the bedside lamp, which illuminated him even more brightly.
He was a handsome brown-skin guy who looked about 13 or 14 years old at first glance (though older in reality). After the death of her husband, late Alhaji Haroun Ciroma, this young man's good looks were one of the things that made her choose to marry him. He had large, sexy, captivating eyes, a sharp nose, a full beard that was always shining and meticulously shaped with an expensive modern haircut, and a naughty, stylish beard that screamed "bad boy." He was tall and straight, with no sign of emaciation; looking at him, you would think he was a model.
Inner Monologue and Dilemma
Slowly, she closed her eyes and opened them again, recalling how incredibly good he was at mind-blowing sex. She felt that even if her late husband, the father of her children, were to return from the world of the dead, she could never let this guy go. For any woman who truly wanted to experience deep sexual pleasure from a man, this guy knew how to deliver.
With great difficulty, she managed to pull her eyes away from him, feeling a deep, wicked wave of anxiety in her heart. For the umpteenth time, she let out a heavy sigh, realizing that she could never bring herself to leave him. Right now, she was at the peak of desperately craving his fiery passion and presence in her world. If any other man had brought up the idea of surrogacy or sperm insemination to her today, she would have blasted him with a basketful of fiery insults or found a way to dump him—especially considering she already had her two grown-up kids left behind by her late husband, Alhaji Haroun Ciroma. In her mind, her baby girls were more than enough for her in this world and the hereafter; she didn't need to think about having another child.
Yet, she knew very well that if she left this handsome guy, she would face a huge problem, because right now, he was the only one who could satisfy her precisely how she liked. To top it all off, he never poked his nose into her political affairs like her late husband, the former politician, used to do. So what was wrong if he wanted them to have something that would bond their marriage forever? In her mind, maybe it was true love, or perhaps her body's pleasure was what tempted him to want a long-term life with her. Or maybe he just loved enjoying her wealth, which she lavished on his lifestyle and everything else—even though she didn't dwell much on that.
She preferred to believe that her love was glaringly obvious in his eyes, since he understood her and let her live her life the way she wanted. That was why she felt in her heart that she could do anything for him, but having a child at her age was simply too much to ask. The matter began to trouble her mind. For about 30 minutes after waking up, she sat on the edge of the bed, replaying last night with him in her mind with a complicated expression on her face. Even though she had enjoyed it, the talk about having a baby had truly unsettled her. Slowly, she got off the bed, pondering how to approach the situation.
A heavy sigh escaped her; she simply couldn't wait to go out, finish her routine engagements, and head straight to the hospital to lay all these talks before her doctor. She wanted a professional solution because she essentially had to agree to do things his way—she didn't want to lose him at all.
Morning Rush and Her Daughters
Amidst these thoughts, she suddenly remembered that she had a 5:40 AM flight to catch to Kano State, and she hadn't even performed the Fajr prayer yet. This made her lower her well-groomed feet to the floor, stand up slowly, and walk leisurely until she entered the bathroom. She drew hot water, stepped in for about 5 minutes, and then came out. After brushing her teeth, she put on a super-white bathrobe, placed a long hijab over it, stood for prayer, and finished within 2 minutes.
After finishing, she removed the hijab, kept her bathrobe on, and sat before the mirror to apply a bewitching, heavy makeup to her beautiful face. From time to time, she turned to look at the clock, calculating the remaining time before she had to leave and check on her children, especially since she had noticed over the past couple of days that both of them had changed towards her quite a bit.
This prompted her to pick up her fancy phone and search online for an instant fast-food restaurant. Without wasting time, she ordered expensive breakfast meals for her children online, which would arrive in 1 hour and 20 minutes while she was gone.
Before anyone woke up, she stepped into her closet to find the appropriate clothes to wear today.
Departure
Around 5:15 AM, she stepped out fully dressed, walking on expensive Gucci heels in an outfit resembling royalty, radiating aloofness while tapping on her high-end phone. Her entire skin radiated the scent of Zebra Rasasi and a sexy red Arabian oil called Mousuf; their soothing fragrances blended smoothly with the cold breeze of the house's AC.
She wore a peach-colored English wear from Soltis of London. She never paid attention to how heavily her body shape drove men crazy outside; in her view, how you look simply speaks volumes about your own personality. Being a veteran and fierce politician, she naturally had to combine her path with glamour, a touch of flirtatious charm, and elegance to command even more awe and presence.
Slowly, she walked down as if she weren't even touching the ground, heading straight to her daughters' wing in a bit of a rush. She couldn't even remember the last time she strolled over there to check on them; she thought children were messy, and she hated children's tantrums even slightly—which was why she didn't have many of them. All she ever wished for was for holidays to come so she could pack them off to Yola to her mother's place, just to get away from their endless complaints that she didn't give them enough attention and time.
Quietly, she pushed open their door like someone up to no good, making sure not to wake them. Peering inside, she saw them lying intertwined with each other like poor, pitiful orphans. She merely curled her lip in disdain and stepped inside to survey the room.
There was nothing weird. Just books on the floor near her eldest daughter Noor Firdaus Haroun's bed—some open—along with the Holy Quran placed on her table next to a brass reading lantern.
Noor Firdaus and Laila
Nur Firdaus was her eldest daughter, about 17 years old and finishing up secondary school. She looked strikingly like her mother in the face, but possessed a lot of her late father's character traits. The most admirable thing about Nur Firdaus's life was how she held onto religious morals and Quranic recitation, which served as a major pillar in her life, bringing her immense honor and popularity. She didn't care much for secular education compared to how deeply she valued Islamic studies.
Various awards sat on Nur Firdaus's drawer, half of which were from Quranic recitation competitions she had won.
Her younger daughter, Laila Haroun, was a carefree soul who lived life on her own terms. Just 15 years old and in SS2 in secondary school, Laila inherited her mother's physical curves. However, she had a much fuller body frame, being thicker and broader than her older sister Nur Firdaus, who only surpassed her in height and regal presence. In facial features, Laila took after their grandmother, Didi.
Looking at them standing, you would think they were Arab princesses due to the pure, milky beauty bestowed upon them by God, originating from the Fulani lineage of the Ardo Bello clan in Mayo Belwa, Yola.
She let out a slight sigh, shedding mere crocodile tears as she looked at them like she cared, but her mind was elsewhere—consumed by her political affairs. She clearly had no time to think about her kids, let alone their lifestyle.
Before even two full minutes passed, her phone rang. She gave a small scoff and pressed silent when she saw it was the driver. She turned quietly, slipped out of the room, and hurried away outside.
As soon as she stepped out, the driver opened the door to her massive Lexus SUV. She got in, checked her flashy gold-chained watch, and said tightly, "Malam Liman, hurry up and drive me out before these kids wake up and pester me with noise."
Without turning back to look at her, he politely replied, "Yes, ma'am," started the car in a hurry, and drove off...
Morning Aftermath and the Urgent Paperwork
Not long after they left, Nur Firdaus woke up with the morning supplication on her lips. She checked the clock and saw it was almost 5:30 AM. She turned to look at her younger sister, Leila, who was clutching a pillow tightly against her chest and sleeping peacefully.
Nur Firdaus smiled softly. It seemed nothing troubled Leila's mind. As she reached out to turn on the lamp, the lingering scent of their mother's perfume drifted into the room and hit her nose, instantly causing her to leap out of bed in a hurry. Trembling, she stood up and saw their bedroom door open. This confirmed that their mother had sneaked into the room to open the drawer where the Quran was kept—she had taken a white paper and rushed out!
Her heart beating furiously, she ran all the way to the front gate, hoping to catch a glimpse of her mother, but alas—when she got there, absolute silence.
She peered around to see if their driver, Malam Liman, was still there, but he was gone too. She spent over 10 minutes in the courtyard, unable to find peace until she was certain her mother had left. A heavy weight dropped in her throat, knowing that her mother might not return on time. Sometimes when her mother left like this, she wouldn't come back for two months. She had come home in the middle of the night, and now Nur Firdaus had missed her chance to see her—especially since today was the absolute deadline for parental signatures from school.
They were going to travel for an important competition, and school rules strictly mandated a complete parental signature. Slowly, she looked at the white paper in her hand, and bitter, warm tears rolled down her cheeks as a wave of intense longing for her late father, who passed away when she was ten, washed over her.
She stood there crying for five minutes before catching her breath. Wiping her tears with quiet resilience, she walked back into the house feeling weak. Leila was still fast asleep. Ignoring her, Nur Firdaus went into the bathroom, performed ablution calmly, and came back to wake Leila up. With great difficulty, Leila woke up, looking at her sister's disturbed face.
Placing her hand over her eyes like a baby, rubbing them sleepily, Leila muttered, "Big sis... Yaa Noory... What is wrong? Did I punch you in my sleep? Why do you look so angry?"
Nur Firdaus stayed silent until she felt the soft touch of her younger sister's hand gently sliding across her waist, a gesture that instantly melted the fatigue and weakness she was trying to hold back.
Turning around, their eyes met. Before Leila could speak again, cutting her off gently, Nur Firdaus flashed a forced, weak smile and said, "I'm not angry, Laila." Leila said nothing, continuing to stare at her. Closing her eyes, Nur Firdaus whispered, "I just... I don't know what's hurting me."
In panic, Leila caught her breath and asked, "Big sis, you're hurting? Okay, what happened? Did Adnan do something to you?" she finished with a hint of panic.
Shaking her head, Nur Firdaus held her hand calmly and said, "Little sis, just forget it. This isn't even about Adnan..." She paused, then softly added, "It's Mum. When I woke up, I smelled her perfume in this room, but before I could follow her outside, she was already gone. She didn't even..." She choked up and stopped.
With her heart shattered and a trembling, painful voice, she bit her lip and finished, "Malam Bello will never let me travel to Kaduna if Mummy doesn't sign this for me. And this competition means a lot to me, Laila. I will never get this opportunity again for the rest of my life. I want to do this because I'm sure Dad would be so proud of me if he were alive. I studied too hard for this. I want to participate and win—not for anything else, but for my Baba. I want him to be proud of us wherever he is. I want Allah to send him the reward of every recitation I make there as light in his grave and as charity for his lifeless soul. Mummy just needs to sign this paper so I can go, but I've been trailing her with this paper for 2 weeks, and all for what?"
She stopped, feeling like her heart would tear apart from the pain. With a painfully quivering voice, she bit her lip and finished as bitter, sympathetic tears streamed down her face like water, showing how deeply invested she was.
She had set her mind that participating in this competition was the only thing worth dedicating to her dear late father—her only chance, especially seeing how his relatives and mother didn't care about him, each living their own lives and forgetting him.
She could never forget her father, because he was her hero; he gave her all the education and morals that brought her praise and pride wherever she went.
Leila's Comfort and Morning Routine
Her younger sister Leila, with tears in her own eyes, threw her arms around her and gently hugged her in comfort. "Big sis, shh, stop crying, Yaa Noory. Please, let's just find another way. In sha Allah, you will go to Kaduna, and you will win this. I feel it strongly in my body."
Nur Firdaus closed her eyes tightly, taking comfort in Leila's warm embrace. Without saying another word, she wiped her tears, stepped down, headed to her prayer mat, and performed her prayer before the time elapsed.
Leila slipped into the bathroom, turned on the shower to a low flow, sat down on the closed toilet seat, and dozed back off to sleep.
After about 10 minutes, she heard Nur Firdaus's faint voice from the door:
"Laila! Why is it that every time you go to make ablution, you take forever? Please hurry up, perform your prayer, take a bath, and get dressed. We can't be late for school today. Please, I have a chemistry practical, you know?"
Through her sleep-fogged haze, Leila cleared her throat and mumbled, "Uhum... uhum."
Nur Firdaus walked away quietly into the cold morning air, wearing her long sky-blue hijab, heading to the back of their house where she usually sat to read the Quran in peace while looking at nature. Sitting down on the dark green carpet grass, she opened Surah At-Tawbah and began reciting with mastery, her melodious, heart-touching voice soothing every living creature around her while calming the soul. Alongside the Quran, she carried her high-end Samsung Galaxy S23 phone and a bottle of water.
Inside the house, Leila didn't wake up from her bathroom slumber until nearly 6:00 AM. Feeling extremely lethargic, she stood up, stripped off her clothes, and let the shower water run over her body. The water cascaded over the fully developed breasts of her youthful body, sending waves of intense pleasure through her. She was blessed with a naturally high sex drive, and her full breasts were her favorite feature; whenever she bathed, she loved playing with them, wishing she could explore her body more.
Within 15 minutes, she finished bathing, performed ablution, and stepped out around 6:30 AM. Knowing her sister Nur Firdaus might burst in anytime, she hurried through her prayers without pausing for long supplications. She applied her lotions, heavily scented perfumes, and quickly put on her makeup. Opening her wardrobe, she pulled out her ironed school uniform pants. They hugged her hips tightly, outlining the gorgeous, voluptuous shape of her wide hips—nobody looking at Leila's body would ever guess she was only 15, except perhaps by looking at her young face.
She put on the trousers, slipped on her shoes, and pulled over a sheer white vest. Not wearing a bra, her perky nipples and the rhythmic bounce of her youthful assets were prominently on display.
She sprayed herself heavily with Guilty Absolute by Paco Rabanne, admiring her reflection in the mirror and knowing she looked scorching hot—guaranteed to drive any man completely crazy.
A sly smile crossed her face as she watched her poking nipples gleam through the vest, her body swaying seductively with every move. She turned, walked over to her sister Nur Firdaus's table, snatched the white competition paper, and headed straight toward their mother's bedroom, even though she knew she wasn't home.
2. Summary
Set in an upscale Abuja home at 4:00 AM, the story contrasts two very different worlds within the same household. A wealthy, self-absorbed female politician wakes up to thoughts of her much younger, handsome lover, who has recently proposed having a baby via surrogacy or artificial insemination. Disturbed by this idea yet terrified of losing him because of how well he satisfies her physical needs, she prepares for a sudden business trip to Kano State, entirely neglecting her two teenage daughters.
Meanwhile, her eldest daughter, Nur Firdaus (17), wakes up heartbroken upon discovering her mother has left without signing the crucial parental consent form needed for her to travel to Kaduna State for a prestigious Islamic Quranic recitation competition—an event she dedicated to the memory of her late, beloved father, Alhaji Haroun Ciroma. Her carefree younger sister, Leila (15), tries to comfort her. As Nur Firdaus goes outside to recite the Quran in solitude, Leila prepares for school in a provocative manner, grabs the unsigned competition form, and heads toward her mother's empty room, setting the stage for an encounter with the mother's young lover.
3. Description
Tone: Melodramatic, sensory-rich, tense, and introspective.
4. Analytics Table