While we were deep in a medically induced sleep from the injections the doctor had given us, Innaro burst into the room. Completely devoid of any mercy, she began waking us up by violently beating us across our backs and thighs.
Both Munubiya and I sprang up into a sitting position in absolute terror.
“Get up, you hypocrites! So this shameful affair didn't just stop at hugging and holding hands? You went as far as bringing pregnancies into this house?! You cursed, wretched bastards! I swear by Allah, both you and your worthless mother are leaving this house today. If your father refuses to divorce your mother today and kick you all out, I will formally strip him of my maternal blessings. He will have to choose between you or me today.”
She then burst into dramatic tears, wrapping her wrapper tightly around herself as she wiped her face. "Oh, how Malam wronged me by forcing this marriage with a girl from a family of no lineage or origin! Look how she has given birth to nothing but calamity and scandal for us, while he passed away and left me to bear this shame alone. Malam, you deeply wronged me by leaving me with this chaotic aftermath. I swear by Allah, A'isha must leave this house today along with her wretched pack of children! I utterly detest you all, and I detest anyone who dares to love A'isha! I hate you all, by Allah!" She burst into another loud fit of weeping.
By this time, all the women of the household had rushed out of their quarters. Some entered our living room while others crowded around our bedroom door, joined by a few wedding guests who had maliciously refused to go home just to stay and witness the unfolding drama.
One of the women of the household had gone out and falsely informed Innaro that we were violently ill and vomiting everything we ate, and that when the doctor examined us, he secretly declared that we were both three months pregnant.
Munubiya and I held onto each other, weeping with a heart-wrenching pain due to the horrific public humiliation Innaro was subjecting us and our mother to in front of the entire community.
Dady and Baba K'arami rushed into the room, trying to reason with Innaro, telling her that the rumor was completely false and that absolutely no one had said we were pregnant.
She turned on them fiercely, shouting insults and claiming they were lying just to protect our mother. She argued that if the doctor hadn't explicitly said it, the women of the house would never have come to inform her.
Furious, Baba K'arami demanded, “Innaro, who exactly came and told you this blatant lie?!”
“One of the women of this household, of course! And it came directly from the mouth of someone I know would never lie to me!”
This time, Dady’s anger completely flared up. He snapped, “Innaro, who among them? Which absolute tramp of a woman said that?!”
Instantly, all the women crowded around the room began looking away, shifting their gazes guiltily from one another.
Innaro barked back, “Don't you dare insult her! If it hadn't happened, she wouldn't have said it. And whoever she is, I will never reveal her name. If you are trying to insult me instead, let me hear it!”
“May Allah calm your anger, Innaro. How could I ever insult you?”
"Only you know your foolish heart!" she snapped.
Throughout the entire chaotic ordeal, our Abba and our mother, Inna A'isha, listened from their room, but neither of them made any attempt to step outside. Innaro then began grabbing our clothes and personal belongings, throwing them out into the dirt yard, screaming that we must leave the house immediately.
"Innalillahi wa inna ilaihir raji'un! What kind of horrific nightmare is this?!" our mother wailed from inside her room, weeping hysterically. Our Abba held her tightly, trying desperately to fight back the tears welling up in his own eyes.
Seeing that the situation was spinning completely out of control, Baba K'arami hurriedly left the compound. He ran down to the end of our street and fetched an elderly man named Malam Labaran. He was a lifelong, fiercely trusted friend of the late Malam Faruku; he was the only individual in the entire community who possessed the authority to firmly put a brake on Innaro's erratic behavior.
Indeed, the moment the elderly man stepped into the compound and spoke, Innaro instantly froze, huffing and puffing with residual anger.
Malam Labaran adjusted his grip on his walking cane and said, “Haba, Innar Jafaru. With all your wisdom and advanced age, how can you execute such childish, reckless behavior in front of your daughters-in-law, your children, and your grandchildren? Is there absolutely no one whose counsel you respect enough to make you stop?!”
Softening her voice significantly, she grumbled, “Malam, I know you don't grasp the true gravity of what happened, but I swear by Allah, if you knew, you would personally command Auwalu to divorce this woman of no lineage so she and her children can face their ruin, but—”
The old man raised his hand, cutting her off. “I have heard absolutely everything, Innar Jafaru. But this destructive path you have chosen is not the solution. A proper investigation must be conducted to uncover the absolute truth of this matter. Therefore, return to your quarters immediately. Tomorrow, we shall sit down as a family to discuss this calmly when everyone’s temper has cooled, and we shall also await whatever resolution comes from the King’s Palace.”
Extremely reluctantly, Innaro turned and walked away. The malicious women of our household were highly disappointed that the drama had cut short; they had desperately hoped our mother would receive a divorce decree today and that our father would cast us out into the streets. Everyone dragged their feet back to their rooms, filled with bitter resentment, silently praying that the royal family would take drastic, punitive action against us.
Only Maman Fauziyya showed genuine sorrow and concern for our plight.
Section 2: The Hostage Crisis and the Press Confrontation
Meanwhile, Galadima and his companions arrived at the headquarters of the *Manuniya* newspaper company. The mere announcement of his sudden arrival sent a wave of absolute terror freezing through the veins of the employees—especially those who were entirely innocent of the plot, who felt deeply threatened.
The general manager himself was in a state of complete panic, completely losing his composure and scrambling for a place to steady himself by the time Galadima and his entourage marched into the main office, spearheaded by his personal secretary.
The manager instantly threw himself to the floor, trembling as he frantically paid his respects to the prince. Galadima didn't even grant him a single glance. In a thunderous, terrifying shout, he began to speak…
Section 3: The Manager's Tragically Forced Hand
It wasn't just the manager; absolutely everyone in the entire printing house was completely terrified by Galadima's thunderous shout. Even Muftahu and Harun were struck with fear, knowing that such an intense, explosive level of rage posed a massive, dangerous threat to Galadima’s already fragile health.
Sure enough, Galadima suddenly clutched his head as a vicious, blinding migraine tore through his skull. Harun rushed forward, pulled a chair over, and carefully guided him into a seat. Galadima remained slumped there, his hands tightly pressing against his temples.
Muftahu let out a tense breath, realizing that the exact health crisis they had been trying so hard to avoid was beginning to manifest. He turned his gaze to the manager, who was still trembling on the floor.
"Get up and sit down," Muftahu commanded.
The manager rose, his body shaking violently, and retreated to his office chair. Muftahu and Harun took their seats across from him.
Fixing him with a piercing, interrogative glare, Harun warned, “Manager, compose yourself and cooperate by telling us the absolute truth. If you do not, I swear by Allah you will deeply regret it. And it won't just be you—your entire extended family will curse the day you were born among them.”
The manager wiped away the tears pooling in his eyes and began speaking in a shaking but desperate voice. “Before yesterday’s paper even went to print, I was already drowning in regret. I deeply curse the day I became an employee at a media house that could violently defame the son of the very man who built the foundation of my entire career. If the remote control of my destiny were in my hands, I would erase yesterday from my existence entirely. But I...”
Muftahu cut him off sharply, raising his hand. “Look here, manager, we did not come here to listen to your life story. We want you to tell us exactly who commissioned this hit? How much did they pay you to execute it?”
“I swear by Allah, my lord, they did not pay me a single penny! Look over there—they left that duffel bag for me, but I haven't even dared to open it. Furthermore, not a single employee at this media house printed that scandalous story willingly or with their own hands. The perpetrators did everything themselves late last night. They held us hostage at gunpoint, rounding us up into a single room. Every single one of them was heavily armed and wore full tactical face masks; by Allah, we did not see a single face.”
The manager broke down into hysterical weeping before continuing, “Because they knew His Highness would storm this building today, they meticulously planned everything. They went to my private residence late last night and kidnapped my entire family, including my elderly mother. Right now, they are holding them hostage. They explicitly swore to me that if a single word of truth escapes my lips to you, they will immediately execute my wife, my four young children, my mother, and my little sister. By Allah, I am living through an absolute living nightmare! I slept right here in this office last night, unable to step outside because I couldn't bear to face the horrific slander the public was reading about the prince this morning. I swear to you on my life, I am entirely innocent!”
The room fell into an absolute, chilling silence as the manager spoke. Galadima had kept his head buried in his hands, but his head snapped up the moment the manager mentioned that the operatives had taken his family hostage. Galadima’s eyes were completely bloodshot, burning with a lethal fury that terrified the manager to his core. Looking at the prince's terrifying expression, the manager began to wonder in fear if Galadima was even fully human, or if he was possessed by spirits.
Without uttering a single word, Galadima stood up, clutching his throbbing head, and marched straight out of the office. The remaining staff members scrambled out of his way, bowing frantically, but he ignored them completely.
Seeing their leader exit, his royal guards leaped into action, throwing open the car door for him. Muftahu and Harun hurried out of the building immediately behind him.
### Section 4: The Sisters' Secret Compact and the Mother's Intuition
Back at the house, a heavy, suffocating silence descended on the compound following Innaro’s dramatic exit. The malicious women of the household retreated to their respective quarters alongside their wedding guests to continue gossiping in secret.
Inside our bedroom, Munubiya and I dissolved into a fresh wave of agonizing tears. Munubiya reached out, grabbing my hands tightly in hers.
“Munaya, for the sake of Allah, please allow me to step forward and take the punishment for my own actions! I am the one who committed the mistake, not you! Why on earth did you claim responsibility to our parents? Please, let me tell them the truth!”
"No, Munubiya," I replied firmly, squeezing her hands back. “This burden is mine to bear. Do not forget that this entire chain of events occurred because of me. If Fu'aad hadn't taken us to that plaza in the first place, none of this nightmare would have happened. Munubiya, your happiness is my ultimate sacrifice. I will never be able to live with myself if I see you trapped in misery. For the sake of Allah, do not let a single soul in this house find out that I wasn't the one involved—not even our mother. I promise you I will endure whatever trials and persecution arise from this. I will contact Fu'aad and tell him to come forward immediately so we can get married. Even though I desperately dreamed that we would have our weddings on the exact same day, this is the destiny Allah has written for us.”
We threw our arms around each other, sobbing hysterically. Through her choked sovs, Munubiya wailed, “What did we ever do to whoever engineered this horrific slander against us? What path did we block in this world to deserve this, Munaya?”
“I don't know, Munubiya. I don't know who is behind it. But I strongly suspect the corporate management of that media house. They saw a sensationalist story and exploited it to make a name for themselves. They have deeply oppressed us, Munubiya. They published a complete distortion of what actually took place. Galadima did not even touch you, yet they digitally manipulated the images to make it look like he was kissing you! What kind of monstrous cruelty is that? By Allah, he didn't touch me either when we accidentally collided at the Eid prayer ground, yet look at how the newspaper shows his hand explicitly gripping mine. I cannot blame our parents; no mother or father could witness such shocking images without breaking down. Even if we spend the rest of our lives swearing our innocence on the Holy Qur'an, nobody in the community will ever believe us. My heart bleeds for our mother. Our position in this household was already incredibly fragile, so how do you think we will survive now? Munubiya, our mother... I cannot bear to see her suffer because of us. We need her to understand us. Even if the entire world turns its back on us, I just need our mother to know our innocence...”
“I already understand you, my precious children.”
The sudden voice made us gasp. Our mother had entered the room. “I was cast into absolute despair when I saw those graphic images in the press, and it is a nightmare that no mother should ever have to witness her daughters endure. It tore me apart to the point of collapse. But my pain was rooted in the horrific verbal abuse Innaro inflicted upon us. My children, I know deep within my soul that you would never commit such an abominable act. My maternal intuition tells me with absolute certainty that you have been deeply framed...”
With a cry of overwhelming relief, we leaped off the bed and threw ourselves into our mother's arms, weeping uncontrollably alongside her until our tears finally ran dry.
Once we composed ourselves, we laid bare the entire sequence of events to her. Munaya went to her bag, pulled out the expensive smartphone that Galadima had accidentally dropped and left behind at the Eid ground, and presented it to her.
Looking at the phone, our mother's suspicions were fully confirmed: there was a massive, dangerous hidden plot at play that her daughters were entirely blind to. She realized that the target of this conspiracy was actually the Prince, Galadima, and her daughters were merely collateral damage caught in the crossfire of his powerful enemies. Her heart swelled with a deep, unexpected pity for the prince, and she prayed fervently that Allah would deliver both him and her daughters from this trap.
Shortly after, Mama Rabi'a arrived alongside Ayusher and her companions. They sat down in a tight circle to unpack the crisis. With the full context laid out, Mama Rabi'a and our mother fully understood the reality of the situation.
They delivered a profoundly moving, gentle lecture to us, guiding us on the severe dangers of naively following young men without foresight. Munubiya and I felt a deep wave of sobriety wash over us; we fully realized that our decision to sneak out with Fu'aad to the plaza was the critical error that opened the door to this disaster.
We brokenly begged our mothers for forgiveness. From there, the conversation shifted to the urgent directive issued by our father, Abba, who had adamantly declared that Munaya must be married off within exactly two weeks to cleanse the family's shame.
They made a definitive resolution: they would call Fu'aad immediately. If his intentions of love toward Munaya were truly genuine, he would have to step forward immediately with his family to formalize the marriage rites within the two-week deadline.
### Section 5: The Royal Trial and Mama Fulani's Ultimatum
By the time the convoy returned to the palace, Galadima was virtually unresponsive. Stumbling blindly and swaying on his feet, he dragged himself into his private quarters. Neither Muftahu nor Harun attempted to follow him, giving him space.
The moment he reached his bedroom, he collapsed face-down onto a three-seater sofa, completely incapacitated by the excruciating, blinding migraine tearing through his brain. It was only with the absolute limits of his willpower that he managed to perform his Maghrib and Isha prayers combined. He ended up lying flat on his back right there on his prayer mat, clutching his forehead, suspended in a painful state between consciousness and sleep.
By 8:30 PM, every critical stakeholder, titleholder, and elder of the royal family had gathered in the grand council hall, including the King himself. However, Galadima’s seat remained glaringly empty, with no word or explanation for his absence.
Suddenly, the room fell into a tense hush as Mama Fulani made her grand entrance.
She was an incredibly powerful, aristocratic matriarch who was easily 77 years old. However, her life of immense luxury and elite pampering completely masked her advanced age; she possessed a small, elegant frame and carried the striking, purebred features of an elite Fulani matriarch.
The moment she stepped into the hall, everyone in the room instantly stood up out of profound deference—with the sole exception of the King, who merely bowed his head deeply to show respect to his mother.
She took her seat on a luxurious two-seater sofa, radiating absolute imperial authority. She scanned every single face in the room with a cold, calculating gaze before settling back.
In a voice dripping with aristocratic arrogance, she demanded, “Where is he? Has his supreme arrogance blinded him from attending my summons?”
Everyone in the room knew she was referring to Galadima, but nobody dared to spea
While we were deep in a medically induced sleep from the injections the doctor had given us, Innaro burst into the room. Completely devoid of any mercy, she began waking us up by violently beating us across our backs and thighs.
Both Munubiya and I sprang up into a sitting position in absolute terror.
“Get up, you hypocrites! So this shameful affair didn't just stop at hugging and holding hands? You went as far as bringing pregnancies into this house?! You cursed, wretched bastards! I swear by Allah, both you and your worthless mother are leaving this house today. If your father refuses to divorce your mother today and kick you all out, I will formally strip him of my maternal blessings. He will have to choose between you or me today.”
She then burst into dramatic tears, wrapping her wrapper tightly around herself as she wiped her face. "Oh, how Malam wronged me by forcing this marriage with a girl from a family of no lineage or origin! Look how she has given birth to nothing but calamity and scandal for us, while he passed away and left me to bear this shame alone. Malam, you deeply wronged me by leaving me with this chaotic aftermath. I swear by Allah, A'isha must leave this house today along with her wretched pack of children! I utterly detest you all, and I detest anyone who dares to love A'isha! I hate you all, by Allah!" She burst into another loud fit of weeping.
By this time, all the women of the household had rushed out of their quarters. Some entered our living room while others crowded around our bedroom door, joined by a few wedding guests who had maliciously refused to go home just to stay and witness the unfolding drama.
One of the women of the household had gone out and falsely informed Innaro that we were violently ill and vomiting everything we ate, and that when the doctor examined us, he secretly declared that we were both three months pregnant.
Munubiya and I held onto each other, weeping with a heart-wrenching pain due to the horrific public humiliation Innaro was subjecting us and our mother to in front of the entire community.
Dady and Baba K'arami rushed into the room, trying to reason with Innaro, telling her that the rumor was completely false and that absolutely no one had said we were pregnant.
She turned on them fiercely, shouting insults and claiming they were lying just to protect our mother. She argued that if the doctor hadn't explicitly said it, the women of the house would never have come to inform her.
Furious, Baba K'arami demanded, “Innaro, who exactly came and told you this blatant lie?!”
“One of the women of this household, of course! And it came directly from the mouth of someone I know would never lie to me!”
This time, Dady’s anger completely flared up. He snapped, “Innaro, who among them? Which absolute tramp of a woman said that?!”
Instantly, all the women crowded around the room began looking away, shifting their gazes guiltily from one another.
Innaro barked back, “Don't you dare insult her! If it hadn't happened, she wouldn't have said it. And whoever she is, I will never reveal her name. If you are trying to insult me instead, let me hear it!”
“May Allah calm your anger, Innaro. How could I ever insult you?”
"Only you know your foolish heart!" she snapped.
Throughout the entire chaotic ordeal, our Abba and our mother, Inna A'isha, listened from their room, but neither of them made any attempt to step outside. Innaro then began grabbing our clothes and personal belongings, throwing them out into the dirt yard, screaming that we must leave the house immediately.
"Innalillahi wa inna ilaihir raji'un! What kind of horrific nightmare is this?!" our mother wailed from inside her room, weeping hysterically. Our Abba held her tightly, trying desperately to fight back the tears welling up in his own eyes.
Seeing that the situation was spinning completely out of control, Baba K'arami hurriedly left the compound. He ran down to the end of our street and fetched an elderly man named Malam Labaran. He was a lifelong, fiercely trusted friend of the late Malam Faruku; he was the only individual in the entire community who possessed the authority to firmly put a brake on Innaro's erratic behavior.
Indeed, the moment the elderly man stepped into the compound and spoke, Innaro instantly froze, huffing and puffing with residual anger.
Malam Labaran adjusted his grip on his walking cane and said, “Haba, Innar Jafaru. With all your wisdom and advanced age, how can you execute such childish, reckless behavior in front of your daughters-in-law, your children, and your grandchildren? Is there absolutely no one whose counsel you respect enough to make you stop?!”
Softening her voice significantly, she grumbled, “Malam, I know you don't grasp the true gravity of what happened, but I swear by Allah, if you knew, you would personally command Auwalu to divorce this woman of no lineage so she and her children can face their ruin, but—”
The old man raised his hand, cutting her off. “I have heard absolutely everything, Innar Jafaru. But this destructive path you have chosen is not the solution. A proper investigation must be conducted to uncover the absolute truth of this matter. Therefore, return to your quarters immediately. Tomorrow, we shall sit down as a family to discuss this calmly when everyone’s temper has cooled, and we shall also await whatever resolution comes from the King’s Palace.”
Extremely reluctantly, Innaro turned and walked away. The malicious women of our household were highly disappointed that the drama had cut short; they had desperately hoped our mother would receive a divorce decree today and that our father would cast us out into the streets. Everyone dragged their feet back to their rooms, filled with bitter resentment, silently praying that the royal family would take drastic, punitive action against us.
Only Maman Fauziyya showed genuine sorrow and concern for our plight.
Section 2: The Hostage Crisis and the Press Confrontation
Meanwhile, Galadima and his companions arrived at the headquarters of the *Manuniya* newspaper company. The mere announcement of his sudden arrival sent a wave of absolute terror freezing through the veins of the employees—especially those who were entirely innocent of the plot, who felt deeply threatened.
The general manager himself was in a state of complete panic, completely losing his composure and scrambling for a place to steady himself by the time Galadima and his entourage marched into the main office, spearheaded by his personal secretary.
The manager instantly threw himself to the floor, trembling as he frantically paid his respects to the prince. Galadima didn't even grant him a single glance. In a thunderous, terrifying shout, he began to speak…
Section 3: The Manager's Tragically Forced Hand
It wasn't just the manager; absolutely everyone in the entire printing house was completely terrified by Galadima's thunderous shout. Even Muftahu and Harun were struck with fear, knowing that such an intense, explosive level of rage posed a massive, dangerous threat to Galadima’s already fragile health.
Sure enough, Galadima suddenly clutched his head as a vicious, blinding migraine tore through his skull. Harun rushed forward, pulled a chair over, and carefully guided him into a seat. Galadima remained slumped there, his hands tightly pressing against his temples.
Muftahu let out a tense breath, realizing that the exact health crisis they had been trying so hard to avoid was beginning to manifest. He turned his gaze to the manager, who was still trembling on the floor.
"Get up and sit down," Muftahu commanded.
The manager rose, his body shaking violently, and retreated to his office chair. Muftahu and Harun took their seats across from him.
Fixing him with a piercing, interrogative glare, Harun warned, “Manager, compose yourself and cooperate by telling us the absolute truth. If you do not, I swear by Allah you will deeply regret it. And it won't just be you—your entire extended family will curse the day you were born among them.”
The manager wiped away the tears pooling in his eyes and began speaking in a shaking but desperate voice. “Before yesterday’s paper even went to print, I was already drowning in regret. I deeply curse the day I became an employee at a media house that could violently defame the son of the very man who built the foundation of my entire career. If the remote control of my destiny were in my hands, I would erase yesterday from my existence entirely. But I...”
Muftahu cut him off sharply, raising his hand. “Look here, manager, we did not come here to listen to your life story. We want you to tell us exactly who commissioned this hit? How much did they pay you to execute it?”
“I swear by Allah, my lord, they did not pay me a single penny! Look over there—they left that duffel bag for me, but I haven't even dared to open it. Furthermore, not a single employee at this media house printed that scandalous story willingly or with their own hands. The perpetrators did everything themselves late last night. They held us hostage at gunpoint, rounding us up into a single room. Every single one of them was heavily armed and wore full tactical face masks; by Allah, we did not see a single face.”
The manager broke down into hysterical weeping before continuing, “Because they knew His Highness would storm this building today, they meticulously planned everything. They went to my private residence late last night and kidnapped my entire family, including my elderly mother. Right now, they are holding them hostage. They explicitly swore to me that if a single word of truth escapes my lips to you, they will immediately execute my wife, my four young children, my mother, and my little sister. By Allah, I am living through an absolute living nightmare! I slept right here in this office last night, unable to step outside because I couldn't bear to face the horrific slander the public was reading about the prince this morning. I swear to you on my life, I am entirely innocent!”
The room fell into an absolute, chilling silence as the manager spoke. Galadima had kept his head buried in his hands, but his head snapped up the moment the manager mentioned that the operatives had taken his family hostage. Galadima’s eyes were completely bloodshot, burning with a lethal fury that terrified the manager to his core. Looking at the prince's terrifying expression, the manager began to wonder in fear if Galadima was even fully human, or if he was possessed by spirits.
Without uttering a single word, Galadima stood up, clutching his throbbing head, and marched straight out of the office. The remaining staff members scrambled out of his way, bowing frantically, but he ignored them completely.
Seeing their leader exit, his royal guards leaped into action, throwing open the car door for him. Muftahu and Harun hurried out of the building immediately behind him.
### Section 4: The Sisters' Secret Compact and the Mother's Intuition
Back at the house, a heavy, suffocating silence descended on the compound following Innaro’s dramatic exit. The malicious women of the household retreated to their respective quarters alongside their wedding guests to continue gossiping in secret.
Inside our bedroom, Munubiya and I dissolved into a fresh wave of agonizing tears. Munubiya reached out, grabbing my hands tightly in hers.
“Munaya, for the sake of Allah, please allow me to step forward and take the punishment for my own actions! I am the one who committed the mistake, not you! Why on earth did you claim responsibility to our parents? Please, let me tell them the truth!”
"No, Munubiya," I replied firmly, squeezing her hands back. “This burden is mine to bear. Do not forget that this entire chain of events occurred because of me. If Fu'aad hadn't taken us to that plaza in the first place, none of this nightmare would have happened. Munubiya, your happiness is my ultimate sacrifice. I will never be able to live with myself if I see you trapped in misery. For the sake of Allah, do not let a single soul in this house find out that I wasn't the one involved—not even our mother. I promise you I will endure whatever trials and persecution arise from this. I will contact Fu'aad and tell him to come forward immediately so we can get married. Even though I desperately dreamed that we would have our weddings on the exact same day, this is the destiny Allah has written for us.”
We threw our arms around each other, sobbing hysterically. Through her choked sovs, Munubiya wailed, “What did we ever do to whoever engineered this horrific slander against us? What path did we block in this world to deserve this, Munaya?”
“I don't know, Munubiya. I don't know who is behind it. But I strongly suspect the corporate management of that media house. They saw a sensationalist story and exploited it to make a name for themselves. They have deeply oppressed us, Munubiya. They published a complete distortion of what actually took place. Galadima did not even touch you, yet they digitally manipulated the images to make it look like he was kissing you! What kind of monstrous cruelty is that? By Allah, he didn't touch me either when we accidentally collided at the Eid prayer ground, yet look at how the newspaper shows his hand explicitly gripping mine. I cannot blame our parents; no mother or father could witness such shocking images without breaking down. Even if we spend the rest of our lives swearing our innocence on the Holy Qur'an, nobody in the community will ever believe us. My heart bleeds for our mother. Our position in this household was already incredibly fragile, so how do you think we will survive now? Munubiya, our mother... I cannot bear to see her suffer because of us. We need her to understand us. Even if the entire world turns its back on us, I just need our mother to know our innocence...”
“I already understand you, my precious children.”
The sudden voice made us gasp. Our mother had entered the room. “I was cast into absolute despair when I saw those graphic images in the press, and it is a nightmare that no mother should ever have to witness her daughters endure. It tore me apart to the point of collapse. But my pain was rooted in the horrific verbal abuse Innaro inflicted upon us. My children, I know deep within my soul that you would never commit such an abominable act. My maternal intuition tells me with absolute certainty that you have been deeply framed...”
With a cry of overwhelming relief, we leaped off the bed and threw ourselves into our mother's arms, weeping uncontrollably alongside her until our tears finally ran dry.
Once we composed ourselves, we laid bare the entire sequence of events to her. Munaya went to her bag, pulled out the expensive smartphone that Galadima had accidentally dropped and left behind at the Eid ground, and presented it to her.
Looking at the phone, our mother's suspicions were fully confirmed: there was a massive, dangerous hidden plot at play that her daughters were entirely blind to. She realized that the target of this conspiracy was actually the Prince, Galadima, and her daughters were merely collateral damage caught in the crossfire of his powerful enemies. Her heart swelled with a deep, unexpected pity for the prince, and she prayed fervently that Allah would deliver both him and her daughters from this trap.
Shortly after, Mama Rabi'a arrived alongside Ayusher and her companions. They sat down in a tight circle to unpack the crisis. With the full context laid out, Mama Rabi'a and our mother fully understood the reality of the situation.
They delivered a profoundly moving, gentle lecture to us, guiding us on the severe dangers of naively following young men without foresight. Munubiya and I felt a deep wave of sobriety wash over us; we fully realized that our decision to sneak out with Fu'aad to the plaza was the critical error that opened the door to this disaster.
We brokenly begged our mothers for forgiveness. From there, the conversation shifted to the urgent directive issued by our father, Abba, who had adamantly declared that Munaya must be married off within exactly two weeks to cleanse the family's shame.
They made a definitive resolution: they would call Fu'aad immediately. If his intentions of love toward Munaya were truly genuine, he would have to step forward immediately with his family to formalize the marriage rites within the two-week deadline.
### Section 5: The Royal Trial and Mama Fulani's Ultimatum
By the time the convoy returned to the palace, Galadima was virtually unresponsive. Stumbling blindly and swaying on his feet, he dragged himself into his private quarters. Neither Muftahu nor Harun attempted to follow him, giving him space.
The moment he reached his bedroom, he collapsed face-down onto a three-seater sofa, completely incapacitated by the excruciating, blinding migraine tearing through his brain. It was only with the absolute limits of his willpower that he managed to perform his Maghrib and Isha prayers combined. He ended up lying flat on his back right there on his prayer mat, clutching his forehead, suspended in a painful state between consciousness and sleep.
By 8:30 PM, every critical stakeholder, titleholder, and elder of the royal family had gathered in the grand council hall, including the King himself. However, Galadima’s seat remained glaringly empty, with no word or explanation for his absence.
Suddenly, the room fell into a tense hush as Mama Fulani made her grand entrance.
She was an incredibly powerful, aristocratic matriarch who was easily 77 years old. However, her life of immense luxury and elite pampering completely masked her advanced age; she possessed a small, elegant frame and carried the striking, purebred features of an elite Fulani matriarch.
The moment she stepped into the hall, everyone in the room instantly stood up out of profound deference—with the sole exception of the King, who merely bowed his head deeply to show respect to his mother.
She took her seat on a luxurious two-seater sofa, radiating absolute imperial authority. She scanned every single face in the room with a cold, calculating gaze before settling back.
In a voice dripping with aristocratic arrogance, she demanded, “Where is he? Has his supreme arrogance blinded him from attending my summons?”
Everyone in the room knew she was referring to Galadima, but nobody dared to spea