On the day of the naming ceremony, a massive crowd of prominent people gathered early in the morning. The newborns officially received their names. The eldest was named after my Abba (Ammar), the second after my Daddy (Annur), and the third after my Baba (Anwar). I was deeply pleased with these beautiful names. Even those who couldn't attend my wedding made sure to come for the naming ceremony. Aisha, Hauwa, and I all wore matching outfits (Anko). I spotted Zainab GY Zango there, along with every single member of the paid forum. Aminatu Miss Hajjo came, as did Takwara’s foster daughter, alongside Mom Islam, Ummu Affan, Hajiya Badi'at, Ummu Maher, Aisha Mash, Mummy Shukura, Mrs. Ibrahim, Sadnaf, Fauziya D. Sulaiman, Halima K. Mashi, Zara'u, Baba Yakasai, Gidan Iko, Rukayya Ibrahim Gawata, and Maameelo, who stayed right at the forefront of the celebration. Delicious food and delicacies were served in abundance. Maman Haneef and the members of the HAD'AKAR MARUBUTA (Writers' Association) all attended, and the Matan Arewa group was fully represented as well. Countless souvenirs were distributed—including clothes, bags, baskets, and incense (turaren wuta). Hajiya Badi'at Ibrahim contributed immensely to the event and truly outdid herself. Takwara had invited a vast number of distinguished guests, including the Governor's wife herself, along with her entourage and peers. Hajiya Hadiza Ma'aji (Takwara's elder sister), Hafsat Ma'aji, Fa'iza Ma'aji, and Aunt Halima all came to celebrate with us. The house was filled with people offering endless congratulations and blessings. Alhaji Musaddam's wives, Hajiya Sultana, Alhaji Musaddam's elder sister Aunt Jamila, and his younger sister Amina were all in attendance. Maryam Sulaiman Indabawa, Yar Autan Royal, Queen Nasmah, Mum Nusaiba, and Ayush Abdallah also graced the event. Honestly, I cannot list everyone because the crowd was simply overwhelming. We took countless videos and photographs together. I was completely exhausted by the end of it. The following morning, the domestic staff thoroughly cleaned and restored the entire house, leaving it so spotless you would never guess a massive naming ceremony had just taken place there. As for our triplet boys, we call them Ammar (Abba's namesake), Annur (Daddy's namesake), and Anwar (Baba's namesake). "I am incredibly tired, Areef," I said. "You should really rest too. Turn off your phones and get some sleep." "Only if you come and keep me company while I sleep," he teased. "Oh, please spare me! Where would I find the time to sleep right now?" "Did I tell you that the Governor gifted these children two million Naira?" Areef shared. "Oh, we are so grateful! His three wives also gave one hundred thousand Naira each, along with ten pieces of wrappers and ten baby outfits. In fact, the senior wife who came to visit us brought the clothes herself." "Wow, truly?" "Yes. She constantly asks about you, calling you her foster daughter, and sends her regards. Sometimes she asks me to bring you over to visit, but I know how you are! This childbirth will certainly force you out of your shell soon enough with all these acts of generosity." I laughed. "Let me leave you to rest then, my happiness." A month passed, and the babies grew much more active and alert. One Friday, Ya Ibrahim called Areef. "I've just arrived in town to check on the babies. Where exactly is Sabon Fegi? Are you along the PS line?" "Yes, that's it," Areef replied. A short while later, Ya Ibrahim arrived. A young boy on the street directed him: "Where is Doctor Areef's house?" "Right over there." "Thank you." Ya Ibrahim called Areef from outside, and the security guard opened the gate for him to drive in. They exchanged warm, enthusiastic greetings before coming inside, where refreshments were served. We handed the babies to him. "Which one is my namesake?" he asked joyfully. "Here he is," Areef pointed out. "Masha Allah! And this one is Abba, and this is Daddy." Areef did all the talking and explaining while I remained quiet, observing how handsome and distinguished Ya Ibrahim had become. He looked like a very successful, prominent man—that is life for you. He stayed until the Zuhr prayer time. Before leaving, he presented us with five large suitcases. "Here are some things for the children to wear," he said, adding, "and here is three hundred thousand Naira to be deposited into each of their savings accounts." We all shared a hearty laugh. When I opened the suitcases later, I saw that Ya Ibrahim had packed them entirely with children's clothing, without a single item for adults. Looking at those suitcases instantly brought back emotional memories of the bridal chests he had once lovingly put together for me—a gesture I could never forget.
Part 2: Chapters 103 & 104
(During all the grandeur of the naming ceremony, Deezatu was completely absent, leaving the stage entirely to others. Maman Hanifa, Hajara Isa, and Mama Biyoji kept praising the event continuously.) The triplets reached three months old and grew more delightful by the day. On a Monday, after Ya Areef left for work, I called out, "Fatima, please bring me that suitcase I kept in the middle of the room. If it's too heavy for you, call Khairat to help." "Alright, Anty." "Take it over to their daddy's section." Today, I knew Areef and I were going to have a definitive conversation. He returned home around 3:00 PM. "Welcome back," I greeted. "Thank you. Where are my children?" "They are over there sleeping. For Allah's sake, don't wake them up. You do this every single day—the moment you walk in, you wake them up." "Are they your children or mine?" he joked. "They are yours." He took a quick shower and ate his lunch. As the call to prayer sounded, he left for the mosque. By the time he returned, the babies were awake. "See? They heard their daddy's voice," I said. "Give them to me so I can lay them down. Anwar is the youngest, but look at him now—he's growing faster than the others!" Areef remarked. Then, noticing the open suitcase, he paused. "What is this? Who is getting married?" "No one. Have a look inside." He opened it. "Why am I seeing ten wrappers, ten pieces of lace, and matching long gowns?" "The clothes you see there were given to me by Ya Ibrahim long before we got married, back when he brought his own wedding chests. He started putting them together using my name, but I completely forgot about them until now." As I spoke, I watched his face closely. His expression shifted entirely. "I see," Areef said coldly. "And now you bring your ex-boyfriend's clothes into my house for you to wear?" "Yes." "That will never happen. Even if you run completely out of clothes, you will wear my jallabiyas before you ever put these on. What kind of clothes are these that you've kept hidden anyway?" "Stop it! I will not tolerate this insult. What kind of meaningless jealousy is this?" I countered firmly. "Lest you forget, long before you ever bought me a single thread, he was the one buying clothes to clothe me when I had nothing. Back when I lived a life of survival, stitching my own rags with a needle and thread, he would spend all day working in his shop. If he earned a thousand Naira, he would spend three hundred and save seven hundred just to come check on us, even when we were surviving on bare garri without sugar. We would celebrate his return. Where were you back then? Did you see me then? You only noticed me later, and before you began showing your affection, I wasn't even mature enough to understand what love meant." Overwhelmed with shame, Areef fell completely silent. I stood up to leave the room. "Don't you dare step out of this room," he commanded. "And what are you going to tell me?" He stepped forward and took my hands gently. "Please, forgive me. I didn't mean it that way. By Allah, it's only because I am so deeply jealous over you. Please understand me." "I will never understand you if it's based on this," I said, pulling my hands away. I walked out without giving him or the children another glance. For the next ten days, we played a game of hide-and-seek. I gave him the cold shoulder, and he became visibly distressed, even losing weight from the anxiety. One day, as I was walking past, he entered the room, swept me up into his arms, and carried me straight to the bed. "Please forgive me, stop being angry with me," he pleaded. "I can't bear your anger; it makes me completely miserable." He then brought out a collection of fabrics. "Look, I took all these to your tailor and had them beautifully sewn for you. Please, if it will make you stop avoiding me, strip off what you're wearing and try this on. It will look beautiful on you." I smiled softly, realizing the tension had passed. I selected one outfit and put it on. "It looks stunning on you," he said softly. Then I noticed tears welling up in my hubby's eyes. "I never want to be the reason your happiness shatters. That's why I've been so deeply distressed." "It's over now," I comforted him. "In fact, I had already planned to give Ya Ibrahim's clothes away as gifts to Khairat, Fatima, and Hanan." "No, keep them and wear them. I actually like them very much," he insisted. "Thank you for understanding," I replied, grateful that he had moved past his insecurity and that our rift was healed.
Three Years Later
Our children had grown incredibly smart, talkative, and big enough to be enrolled in school. Hanan gave birth again, blessing her family with a baby boy whom she named after my Abba. Fatima and Khairat both got married in Potiskum and had babies of their own; Fatima had a daughter named after Mimah, and Khairat had a daughter named after Takwara. Al-Amin joined the military academy, where he was receiving specialized elite training. Hauwa now had three children, while Aisha had two, including a boy named after my Baba. Through the profits of my booming business network and the shops my Abba opened for me, I built a large, beautiful house for Baba, allowing him to relocate permanently to Damaturu. I also sponsored both him and Inna for the Holy Pilgrimage to Mecca. In fact, I sponsored all my parents—including Baba Sani—for Hajj to seek their ultimate blessings. Hauwa and I became prominent, successful women, and our husbands grew into the closest of friends. I was blessed with another set of twins—both girls! One was named after Mimah and the other after Takwara. My close relationship with the Governor's wife opened many doors; I imported high-quality goods from abroad to sell, while rising to a senior position at my workplace. Our family bonds remained stronger than ever. Baba had become an incredibly prominent man, fully self-sufficient and a shining light in the community. Takwara finally retired from her active duties to rest at home. Kande and the security guard got married and lived close to her to look after her. Daddy provided them with a comfortable house and life, for which we can only say Alhamdulillah. My Abba became a massively wealthy merchant and one of the richest men in Potiskum, owning ten thriving shops, each bearing the proud name: Alhaji Ahmad Toshiba.
Part 2: Chapters 105 & 106 (The End)
All good things must eventually come to an end, and the story of Aminatu has now reached its final chapter. I give infinite thanks to Allah for granting me the ability to complete this book. May Allah reward all of us as writers for the lessons contained within. Aminatu's story serves as a profound lesson for society, particularly for those who mistreat foster children or stepchildren. It highlights the ultimate value of patience and endurance, traits that every child in a difficult situation should emulate. Inna was ultimately humbled by reality, and despite the immense hardships she inflicted on Aminatu, Aminatu became her ultimate source of pride and support. Similarly, Baba Sani had once deeply wronged Aminatu, yet she was the one who elevated his status and brought light into his life. The deep obedience and respect Aminatu showed her parents is a beautiful example for youths her age. My immense gratitude goes to Alhaji Ahmad Toshiba and Aisha Sulaiman Baba; I salute you all for allowing me to use your names in this novel. We must remember that this world is fleeting, and we should never discriminate against other people's children in favor of our own, for we never know who will ultimately bring us salvation and aid in the future.
Special Dedication
A respectful tribute to my sister, Hadiza Ma'aji. I dedicate this entire book to you and your wonderful family. I honor your grace and standing. May Allah grant you and your husband, Doctor Umar Sule (Chiroma), a lifetime of peace and enduring harmony.
Five Years Later
Sahibi eventually got married to a close friend of Fatima's. They had two children, Afura and Affan, and relocated permanently to Gombe. One afternoon, I observed a group of children gathered around Alhaji Ahmad, playfully pulling at his beard while others jumped around joyfully. I wondered whose children they were, only to look closer and realize they were Doctor Areef's children! I laughed to myself, wondering how they had suddenly multiplied to six without my even realizing it. After our return from a trip to England, I had conceived again and given birth to a boy, whom I named after Baba Sani. Fatima now had four children, and Al-Amin had risen to become a high-ranking military officer. We ensured all the children received exceptional care and upbringing. We brought the children to spend the day at Takwara's house, and they were driving her absolutely wild with their energy. "Anwar, what is wrong with you?" she scolded. "It was Annur who hit me!" he cried out. "You are really facing quite a handful with them, Takwara! Just wait until they come over for their full school holidays," I laughed. "Oh no, we don't want them staying here! Keep them in your own house!" she joked. Right then, Areef walked into the living room. Hearing the crying, he asked, "Who upset you?" "It was Annur!" Takwara threw her hands up. "For Allah's sake, please take your children and leave! Thank you for the visit, but goodbye!" "Daddy, did you hear that? She's kicking us out!" Anwar cried. "Don't leave yet, let's stay for a couple of days," Areef teased. "Absolutely not! If you don't leave, I will run away to Potiskum myself!" Takwara retorted. Their back-and-forth brought a joyous laugh to all of us. Alhamdulillah, Alhamdulillah, Alhamdulillah, Alhamdulillah.
Chapters 101 & 102
On the day of the naming ceremony, a massive crowd of prominent people gathered early in the morning. The newborns officially received their names. The eldest was named after my Abba (Ammar), the second after my Daddy (Annur), and the third after my Baba (Anwar).
I was deeply pleased with these beautiful names. Even those who couldn't attend my wedding made sure to come for the naming ceremony. Aisha, Hauwa, and I all wore matching outfits (Anko). I spotted Zainab GY Zango there, along with every single member of the paid forum. Aminatu Miss Hajjo came, as did Takwara’s foster daughter, alongside Mom Islam, Ummu Affan, Hajiya Badi'at, Ummu Maher, Aisha Mash, Mummy Shukura, Mrs. Ibrahim, Sadnaf, Fauziya D. Sulaiman, Halima K. Mashi, Zara'u, Baba Yakasai, Gidan Iko, Rukayya Ibrahim Gawata, and Maameelo, who stayed right at the forefront of the celebration.
Delicious food and delicacies were served in abundance. Maman Haneef and the members of the HAD'AKAR MARUBUTA (Writers' Association) all attended, and the Matan Arewa group was fully represented as well. Countless souvenirs were distributed—including clothes, bags, baskets, and incense (turaren wuta). Hajiya Badi'at Ibrahim contributed immensely to the event and truly outdid herself. Takwara had invited a vast number of distinguished guests, including the Governor's wife herself, along with her entourage and peers. Hajiya Hadiza Ma'aji (Takwara's elder sister), Hafsat Ma'aji, Fa'iza Ma'aji, and Aunt Halima all came to celebrate with us. The house was filled with people offering endless congratulations and blessings. Alhaji Musaddam's wives, Hajiya Sultana, Alhaji Musaddam's elder sister Aunt Jamila, and his younger sister Amina were all in attendance. Maryam Sulaiman Indabawa, Yar Autan Royal, Queen Nasmah, Mum Nusaiba, and Ayush Abdallah also graced the event. Honestly, I cannot list everyone because the crowd was simply overwhelming. We took countless videos and photographs together.
I was completely exhausted by the end of it. The following morning, the domestic staff thoroughly cleaned and restored the entire house, leaving it so spotless you would never guess a massive naming ceremony had just taken place there. As for our triplet boys, we call them Ammar (Abba's namesake), Annur (Daddy's namesake), and Anwar (Baba's namesake).
"I am incredibly tired, Areef," I said. "You should really rest too. Turn off your phones and get some sleep."
"Only if you come and keep me company while I sleep," he teased.
"Oh, please spare me! Where would I find the time to sleep right now?"
"Did I tell you that the Governor gifted these children two million Naira?" Areef shared. "Oh, we are so grateful! His three wives also gave one hundred thousand Naira each, along with ten pieces of wrappers and ten baby outfits. In fact, the senior wife who came to visit us brought the clothes herself."
"Wow, truly?"
"Yes. She constantly asks about you, calling you her foster daughter, and sends her regards. Sometimes she asks me to bring you over to visit, but I know how you are! This childbirth will certainly force you out of your shell soon enough with all these acts of generosity."
I laughed. "Let me leave you to rest then, my happiness."
A month passed, and the babies grew much more active and alert. One Friday, Ya Ibrahim called Areef.
"I've just arrived in town to check on the babies. Where exactly is Sabon Fegi? Are you along the PS line?"
"Yes, that's it," Areef replied.
A short while later, Ya Ibrahim arrived. A young boy on the street directed him: "Where is Doctor Areef's house?" "Right over there." "Thank you." Ya Ibrahim called Areef from outside, and the security guard opened the gate for him to drive in. They exchanged warm, enthusiastic greetings before coming inside, where refreshments were served.
We handed the babies to him. "Which one is my namesake?" he asked joyfully.
"Here he is," Areef pointed out. "Masha Allah! And this one is Abba, and this is Daddy." Areef did all the talking and explaining while I remained quiet, observing how handsome and distinguished Ya Ibrahim had become. He looked like a very successful, prominent man—that is life for you. He stayed until the Zuhr prayer time.
Before leaving, he presented us with five large suitcases. "Here are some things for the children to wear," he said, adding, "and here is three hundred thousand Naira to be deposited into each of their savings accounts."
We all shared a hearty laugh. When I opened the suitcases later, I saw that Ya Ibrahim had packed them entirely with children's clothing, without a single item for adults. Looking at those suitcases instantly brought back emotional memories of the bridal chests he had once lovingly put together for me—a gesture I could never forget.
Part 2: Chapters 103 & 104
(During all the grandeur of the naming ceremony, Deezatu was completely absent, leaving the stage entirely to others. Maman Hanifa, Hajara Isa, and Mama Biyoji kept praising the event continuously.)
The triplets reached three months old and grew more delightful by the day. On a Monday, after Ya Areef left for work, I called out, "Fatima, please bring me that suitcase I kept in the middle of the room. If it's too heavy for you, call Khairat to help."
"Alright, Anty."
"Take it over to their daddy's section." Today, I knew Areef and I were going to have a definitive conversation.
He returned home around 3:00 PM. "Welcome back," I greeted.
"Thank you. Where are my children?"
"They are over there sleeping. For Allah's sake, don't wake them up. You do this every single day—the moment you walk in, you wake them up."
"Are they your children or mine?" he joked.
"They are yours."
He took a quick shower and ate his lunch. As the call to prayer sounded, he left for the mosque. By the time he returned, the babies were awake.
"See? They heard their daddy's voice," I said.
"Give them to me so I can lay them down. Anwar is the youngest, but look at him now—he's growing faster than the others!" Areef remarked. Then, noticing the open suitcase, he paused. "What is this? Who is getting married?"
"No one. Have a look inside."
He opened it. "Why am I seeing ten wrappers, ten pieces of lace, and matching long gowns?"
"The clothes you see there were given to me by Ya Ibrahim long before we got married, back when he brought his own wedding chests. He started putting them together using my name, but I completely forgot about them until now."
As I spoke, I watched his face closely. His expression shifted entirely.
"I see," Areef said coldly. "And now you bring your ex-boyfriend's clothes into my house for you to wear?"
"Yes."
"That will never happen. Even if you run completely out of clothes, you will wear my jallabiyas before you ever put these on. What kind of clothes are these that you've kept hidden anyway?"
"Stop it! I will not tolerate this insult. What kind of meaningless jealousy is this?" I countered firmly. "Lest you forget, long before you ever bought me a single thread, he was the one buying clothes to clothe me when I had nothing. Back when I lived a life of survival, stitching my own rags with a needle and thread, he would spend all day working in his shop. If he earned a thousand Naira, he would spend three hundred and save seven hundred just to come check on us, even when we were surviving on bare garri without sugar. We would celebrate his return. Where were you back then? Did you see me then? You only noticed me later, and before you began showing your affection, I wasn't even mature enough to understand what love meant."
Overwhelmed with shame, Areef fell completely silent. I stood up to leave the room.
"Don't you dare step out of this room," he commanded.
"And what are you going to tell me?"
He stepped forward and took my hands gently. "Please, forgive me. I didn't mean it that way. By Allah, it's only because I am so deeply jealous over you. Please understand me."
"I will never understand you if it's based on this," I said, pulling my hands away. I walked out without giving him or the children another glance.
For the next ten days, we played a game of hide-and-seek. I gave him the cold shoulder, and he became visibly distressed, even losing weight from the anxiety. One day, as I was walking past, he entered the room, swept me up into his arms, and carried me straight to the bed.
"Please forgive me, stop being angry with me," he pleaded. "I can't bear your anger; it makes me completely miserable." He then brought out a collection of fabrics. "Look, I took all these to your tailor and had them beautifully sewn for you. Please, if it will make you stop avoiding me, strip off what you're wearing and try this on. It will look beautiful on you."
I smiled softly, realizing the tension had passed. I selected one outfit and put it on.
"It looks stunning on you," he said softly. Then I noticed tears welling up in my hubby's eyes. "I never want to be the reason your happiness shatters. That's why I've been so deeply distressed."
"It's over now," I comforted him. "In fact, I had already planned to give Ya Ibrahim's clothes away as gifts to Khairat, Fatima, and Hanan."
"No, keep them and wear them. I actually like them very much," he insisted.
"Thank you for understanding," I replied, grateful that he had moved past his insecurity and that our rift was healed.
Three Years Later
Our children had grown incredibly smart, talkative, and big enough to be enrolled in school.
Hanan gave birth again, blessing her family with a baby boy whom she named after my Abba. Fatima and Khairat both got married in Potiskum and had babies of their own; Fatima had a daughter named after Mimah, and Khairat had a daughter named after Takwara. Al-Amin joined the military academy, where he was receiving specialized elite training. Hauwa now had three children, while Aisha had two, including a boy named after my Baba.
Through the profits of my booming business network and the shops my Abba opened for me, I built a large, beautiful house for Baba, allowing him to relocate permanently to Damaturu. I also sponsored both him and Inna for the Holy Pilgrimage to Mecca. In fact, I sponsored all my parents—including Baba Sani—for Hajj to seek their ultimate blessings.
Hauwa and I became prominent, successful women, and our husbands grew into the closest of friends.
I was blessed with another set of twins—both girls! One was named after Mimah and the other after Takwara. My close relationship with the Governor's wife opened many doors; I imported high-quality goods from abroad to sell, while rising to a senior position at my workplace. Our family bonds remained stronger than ever.
Baba had become an incredibly prominent man, fully self-sufficient and a shining light in the community.
Takwara finally retired from her active duties to rest at home. Kande and the security guard got married and lived close to her to look after her. Daddy provided them with a comfortable house and life, for which we can only say Alhamdulillah.
My Abba became a massively wealthy merchant and one of the richest men in Potiskum, owning ten thriving shops, each bearing the proud name: Alhaji Ahmad Toshiba.
Part 2: Chapters 105 & 106 (The End)
All good things must eventually come to an end, and the story of Aminatu has now reached its final chapter. I give infinite thanks to Allah for granting me the ability to complete this book. May Allah reward all of us as writers for the lessons contained within.
Aminatu's story serves as a profound lesson for society, particularly for those who mistreat foster children or stepchildren. It highlights the ultimate value of patience and endurance, traits that every child in a difficult situation should emulate. Inna was ultimately humbled by reality, and despite the immense hardships she inflicted on Aminatu, Aminatu became her ultimate source of pride and support. Similarly, Baba Sani had once deeply wronged Aminatu, yet she was the one who elevated his status and brought light into his life. The deep obedience and respect Aminatu showed her parents is a beautiful example for youths her age.
My immense gratitude goes to Alhaji Ahmad Toshiba and Aisha Sulaiman Baba; I salute you all for allowing me to use your names in this novel. We must remember that this world is fleeting, and we should never discriminate against other people's children in favor of our own, for we never know who will ultimately bring us salvation and aid in the future.
Five Years Later
Sahibi eventually got married to a close friend of Fatima's. They had two children, Afura and Affan, and relocated permanently to Gombe.
One afternoon, I observed a group of children gathered around Alhaji Ahmad, playfully pulling at his beard while others jumped around joyfully. I wondered whose children they were, only to look closer and realize they were Doctor Areef's children! I laughed to myself, wondering how they had suddenly multiplied to six without my even realizing it.
After our return from a trip to England, I had conceived again and given birth to a boy, whom I named after Baba Sani. Fatima now had four children, and Al-Amin had risen to become a high-ranking military officer. We ensured all the children received exceptional care and upbringing.
We brought the children to spend the day at Takwara's house, and they were driving her absolutely wild with their energy.
"Anwar, what is wrong with you?" she scolded.
"It was Annur who hit me!" he cried out.
"You are really facing quite a handful with them, Takwara! Just wait until they come over for their full school holidays," I laughed.
"Oh no, we don't want them staying here! Keep them in your own house!" she joked.
Right then, Areef walked into the living room. Hearing the crying, he asked, "Who upset you?"
"It was Annur!"
Takwara threw her hands up. "For Allah's sake, please take your children and leave! Thank you for the visit, but goodbye!"
"Daddy, did you hear that? She's kicking us out!" Anwar cried.
"Don't leave yet, let's stay for a couple of days," Areef teased.
"Absolutely not! If you don't leave, I will run away to Potiskum myself!" Takwara retorted.
Their back-and-forth brought a joyous laugh to all of us.
Alhamdulillah, Alhamdulillah, Alhamdulillah, Alhamdulillah.