The voices finally reached her ears, and she caught the drift of their conversation. Because of everything she had been murmuring through her panic, they were utterly bewildered; they couldn't understand a single word she was saying, as she was speaking entirely in the Tubanci (Tubu) language. She fell silent, slowly fluttering her eyes open. Her breath was coming in short, rapid gasps as she tightly pressed her arms against her chest, warily scanning the people gathered around the room. Gradually, her breathing stabilized, and memories of the life she had lived in this village began returning to her, piece by piece, crystal clear. Her eyes quickly darted to the children who belonged to her, before shifting her gaze over to Gaishata, who was leaning quietly against the wall, staring intently at her mother. When Jakadiya was about to leave to deliver the good news to the King after the call to prayer, she had instructed Gaishata to help her mother out to join her relatives. Gaishata had wrapped her in a large, dark-green blanket and assisted her out, for up until that moment, Anna had not even taken a bath. Truth be told, Gaishata hadn't paid much attention to the newborn baby either; her entire focus and anxiety were consumed by her mother. Slowly, Anna shook her head before whispering, "Inna lillahi wa'ina ilaihi raji'un." She raised her hands, staring at them intently. They were heavily stained with the dark tint of turkudi dye, yet underneath, one could clearly see that her skin was beginning to show the unmistakable signs of aging, characteristic of an elderly woman. While she was lost in this state, word arrived that the King was requesting to enter. In a hurried rush, the palace guard gathered whatever clutter was lying around. He took a woven mat from Mariama and spread it out a short distance from them, before stepping forward to lift the burlap sack that served as the makeshift curtain at the house entrance. The King stepped inside, having instructed his entourage to wait outside. He walked further into the compound, offering words of peace and greetings. They answered him in hushed, respectful tones. His gaze shifted toward Gaishata, who was still leaning against the wall. She raised her head, caught his eye, and immediately lowered her gaze out of respect. He then turned his eyes to Minata, who was cradling the newborn baby, keeping him warmly bundled up against her body. Letting out a soft sigh, the King knelt down to greet Anna. She merely gave him a slight nod of her head, unable to find the words to speak. Sitting down, he asked in the Buzanci (Tamasheq) language, "Anna, how are you feeling?" Anna raised her large eyes and let them rest upon him. She simply blinked slowly, signaling her acknowledgment. A heavy silence followed as she stared at the ruler, her mouth full of unsaid words. After a long pause, she rasped, "Where is he?" Mariama, wishing to ease the awkward tension of how she was sitting, shifted much closer to her and said, "ANNA, he went out since yesterday and hasn't returned. Anna, please get up and wash your body; you haven't even performed your prayers yet." Hearing the mention of prayers, Anna found the strength to hoist herself up. Mariama supported her, and they made their way toward the small, enclosed bathroom area in the backyard. Mariama fetched water for her in their old metal kettle before rushing off to start wrestling with the firewood to boil hot water. Meanwhile, the King took the baby into his arms and moved a bit closer to Gaishata, speaking to her soothingly to help her relax and feel at ease. Anna spent a long time washing, using the blue Omo detergent powder Mariama had handed her as her bath soap. It took a while of vigorously scrubbing it into her skin, but she finally managed to rid herself of the deep layer of grime covering her body. She emerged, performed her ablutions, bypassed the others, and slipped into the room to establish her prayers. She remained on her prayer mat for a very long time because she had to make up for all the missed prayers. The moment she completed the final taslim, she remained seated in supplication, suddenly bursting into a deep, heartbreaking sob that shook her entire frame. Terrified by her weeping, they all rushed into the room. Mariama quickly pulled open the window shutters to let more light flood into the space. Without a moment's hesitation, Mariama threw herself into Anna's arms, weeping bitterly as she pleaded, "Oh Anna, please, Anna, what is it? What has brought you to this state? In this life, we have witnessed all kinds of horrific trials and tribulations, and you never once broke down. But yesterday, we suddenly just heard the sound of your collapse. What on earth happened to make you faint like that? Anna, please be comforted. Please pull yourself together, for you are our only source of peace and stability! 👏🏻" Anna gradually stifled her sobbing, a profound sense of pity for her children swelling in her heart. With her head still partially covered, she spoke out in the Tubanci language: "Amma ay yini zundu yigustiya, ayyinira unga ci? Dudonur? Tani ayyinira baranniri, abbanur dudonur." (Translation: This man has deeply wronged me. Where are my parents? Where is my sister? Please, help me and take me to my mother, my father, and my elder sister.) Mariama turned to the King in absolute panic. "Do you hear the language she is speaking? Ever since she woke up, this is the only tongue she uses, and we have no idea what she's saying! Anna, please help us. Have you completely forgotten our language?" Slowly, the King stepped further into the room. He knelt down a short distance from her, softening his voice and bowing his head in the traditional show of deep respect a son-in-law accords his in-laws. Speaking in Tubanci, he said, "Halasss de wonnuy? Ammanuma ngalla cuku? Tussu ko ka yogodi taha tani tudaqanur cussu qunu." (Translation: Calm your heart. I do not understand anything of what you are saying. Who has wronged you? Please, speak to me in Buzanci so that I can understand you properly.) Letting out a deep sigh, she adjusted her posture, looked directly at them, and revealed: "My name is ALLATCHI. I am the daughter of GUKUNNI, who is the younger brother of King Mahamat of Ngimi. My mother's name is Hatimi, and my elder sister's name is Herde." She paused, observing the looks of absolute shock and bewilderment locking the faces of her daughter and her son-in-law. A bittersweet smile touched her lips as she continued, "My mother was exceptionally fair-skinned—so fair that if you so much as touched her skin, it looked as though blood would surface. My father, on the other hand, was pitch black, his lips bearing that deep, traditional dark hue because he was a pure, blue-blooded Tuareg (Batube). My sister took after our father's dark complexion, though being a woman, hers wasn't quite as intense. I, however, inherited my mother's fair skin." She paused, her eyes softening. "If you recall the physical traits of Agaishana—her skin texture and her facial features—they are identical to my mother's. I could never forget my mother's face. Her skin took after my father's side, though hers is significantly fairer than his. But as for her demeanor, her silence, and the proud way she stands on her own two feet regardless of the hardship she faces... she mirrors my father entirely." The King rested his chin in his hand, utterly stunned by the revelation that threatened to blow his mind. Staring at Anna, his voice shook with an uncharacteristic tremor born of sheer shock as he gasped, "Do you mean to say... you are of the direct bloodline of Honorable GUKUNNI?!" Anna closed her eyes solemnly. "I am his second daughter. To the best of my knowledge, after my birth, my mother's womb was surgically inverted due to the severe health complications she battled from the moment she conceived me until delivery. I do not know if my father ever remarried after that. As far as I know, my parents only ever had the two of us." The King stammered, "I know of Honorable GUKUNNI... the legendary judge of Niamey! The grand judge notorious for handing down uncompromising sentences to criminals? Is he the one you mean?" Anna raised her head and nodded silently without speaking, a heavy solemnity masking her face, perhaps a return to her original noble demeanor. In utter astonishment, the King pressed, "But... but how on earth did you find yourself ending up here?" Anna squeezed her eyes shut as the painful past flooded back. "One day, my sister and I were driving back from a salon. While driving, we accidentally struck a young man wearing a turban. Terrified, we slammed on the brakes and stopped. My sister, who had just started practicing as a doctor, immediately showed her credentials to a policeman who rushed over to investigate the accident and arrest the offender. She explained she was a private medical practitioner and named our father. Because of who we were, the police quickly assisted us, and we rushed the injured man to the hospital. I was weeping uncontrollably, for throughout my life, I have always possessed a foolishly soft heart, constantly attaching myself to strangers, despite my mother's endless warnings to be careful because not everyone is good-natured or pure of heart." She exhaled slowly. "We nursed this man until he fully recovered. Our parents even visited him at the hospital out of respect for my relentless crying and pleading. The day he was discharged, he fell to his knees, weeping and begging us to help him find a job. He claimed he was completely stranded in the city with no one to turn to, and that he had only migrated there to find money to feed his impoverished parents." "I blindly insisted we help him, ignoring the abundance of staff already working in our mansion. I argued endlessly until we hired him. He was a Buzu (Tuareg), and he promised he would teach me the Buzanci language. Seeing that I wouldn't let the matter rest, my father eventually employed him as our estate gardener." "We grew incredibly close to this servant of God because he was highly witty and always made me laugh. And as for me, wherever there was laughter, that was where you would find me. Furthermore, I didn't have many friends; my elder sister was always away at work, while I was still a student, as there was a ten-year age gap between us." Her expression darkened. "The name of this servant was Algabittt. Algabitt the Buzu. A strikingly handsome young man, but with the deceptive beauty of a serpent." "All I can remember next is that one day, I came back from a date with a classmate of mine who had expressed his love for me—I was also studying medicine at the time. As I walked into the compound, I found Algabitt standing there holding something strange. His entire body was trembling. He had sprayed a very potent, overpowering perfume—a strange concoction that completely scrambled one's consciousness. From that exact moment, I forgot who I was. I became nothing more than a mindless shadow, following Algabitt's every whim! Are my father and mother still alive? Where are they? Where did you know them from?!" Anna suddenly hurled the barrage of questions at him, bolting to her feet, having sworn an oath that today, come what may, she would trace her path back to her lineage—even if she had to journey there on foot!
Unspoken Tension in Paris
Upon entering the room, he set her suitcase down near the wardrobe. He stood there for a moment, looking at her, and said, "Agaishana, let me go grab us something to eat. You should take a bath; the bathroom is right over there. When you're done, perform your prayers." She acknowledged his words with a quiet nod, and he exited, leaving her standing alone in the space. Slowly, she walked up to the large bedroom mirror and stood still, studying her reflection. Composing her thoughts, she whispered a prayer, removed her clothes, opened her suitcase, and pulled out a long, milk-colored hijab, having tied a long towel around her waist beneath it. She opened the bathroom door and stepped inside. Having lived in Ayya’s house, she was fully accustomed to modern fixtures, as they were identical to the ones there. Quietly and serenely, she took a warm bath, finishing off with a refreshing splash of cold water under the shower. Done, she performed her ablutions, changed into fresh clothes, and stepped out. Picking up a prayer mat she noticed lying nearby, she unfolded and spread it out. She changed into a long dress, draped her hijab, and stood up to pray. After concluding her prayers, she sat down and offered a lengthy, heartfelt supplication for her biological parents, her foster parents, her husband, the Muslim community, and herself. Glancing up at the wall clock, she noted that it had been nearly two hours since he left. She let out a soft sigh. Had she not been long accustomed to solitude and the isolation of the wilderness, she would have been terrified to be left entirely alone in a room like this. Rising to her feet, she neatly folded her prayer mat and adjusted her hijab, releasing a beautiful, subtle fragrance—a collection of perfumes Wardugu had thoughtfully packed for her alongside Alhinayeet. Sensing a rising restlessness from the prolonged silence outside, she gently turned the door handle and stepped out of the quiet room. What met her eyes instantly sent a jolt through her heart. Mu'azam was seated on the sofa, and Khadija was right beside him, dressed in loose, comfortable loungewear, her head loosely draped in a white scarf. She was carefully spoon-feeding him, saying playfully, "You have to take another bite. Do you want to ruin your health? You know I won't allow that!" Agaishat froze. Crossing her arms over her chest, she fixed her gaze squarely upon them. Khadija was the first to notice her presence. She instantly sprang up, her face flushing with deep embarrassment. Oh heavens, she whispered to herself. In all honesty, she had completely forgotten for a moment that he was now a married man. Because she had been so used to looking after him and making sure he ate in the past, she hadn't realized that repeating the gesture now could deeply sting his new wife's heart. Scratching her head awkwardly, she offered Agaishat a nervous smile, set the spoon down, and hurried out of the room with her eyes glued to the floor, suddenly feeling a suffocating wave of intimidation and dread at the prospect of locking eyes with Agaishat. Mu'azam himself hung his head, entirely unable to look up at his wife. Serenely, Agaishat walked over to where he sat. She bent down, picked up a clean plate, and used an unused spoon to scoop a portion of food she knew would satisfy her. She smiled softly and said, "Hunger drove me out. Let me quickly eat my share. 😊" Mu'azam sat paralyzed, tracking her with his eyes until she disappeared back into her room. Upon entering her room, Agaishat placed the food a short distance away from her prayer area, took off her hijab, sat down cross-legged, and lined up her phones—the one Wardugu had handed her and the one Ayya had bought her. Whispering a Bismillah, she prepared to eat. Suddenly, she paused, staring blankly at the plate. She murmured aloud to herself, "Why didn't I feel that thing called jealousy? Didn't Alhinayeet tell me that when you love someone, you harbor a blind, fierce jealousy over them?" Who even was jealousy? What did it feel like? 'She told me that if I ever saw my husband with another woman, I would feel my heart shatter—that some women weep bitterly while others unleash their fury clearly.' "Could it be that I simply do not possess a heart inside my chest?"
Arrrakham: A Question of Love and Jealousy
Shrugging her shoulders, she answered her own agonizing question: "Well, they are just close friends, aren't they? Just like Alhinayeet and Wardugu. That must be why I didn't care. Besides, I will grow to love him eventually. Once I love him, perhaps I too will be gripped by that jealousy." A smile returned to her lips as she uttered another Bismillah and quietly began enjoying her meal, for truth be told, she was famished. Even back in the wilderness, no matter the chaos or trauma surrounding her, she never let a prepared meal go to waste; she would eat her fill, and only then pick up her struggles from where she left off. From the moment she had picked up that plate, Mu'azam’s gaze had followed her until she was completely out of sight. Resting his chin in both hands, he rubbed his face, pacing up and down the room, completely consumed by bewilderment. How could a woman walk in on her husband sitting intimately with another woman—especially with Khadija dressed in loungewear, even if it wasn't strictly inappropriate—and cowering in such close proximity, actually feeding him, only for the wife to walk away without a single dramatic word? What did this mean? No, this couldn't just be dismissed by saying she grew up in a remote village and knew nothing of love. Don't village women love? Do they not possess hearts? Do they not feel jealousy? She hadn't shown a single flicker of emotion; he hadn't detected even the slightest trace of resentment or anger in her stance. A strange, chilling wave of insecurity washed over him, completely dampening his desires. He paced back and forth, entirely paralyzed by shame, unable to bring himself to enter her room or even sleep in his own quarters, until the night bled into the early hours of the morning. Meanwhile, Walyn did not return home until she had spent six days at her parents' house. The moment the doctor discharged her, she had maintained a stern countenance, insisting she be taken to her family home. Her mother complied with her wishes, and at her parents' house, she received such lavish, doting care that they treated her like royalty. Every minor need was met with a swift withdrawal from the bank, to the point where Wardugu constantly received transaction alerts on his phone linked to the account. He would simply smile and go about his bustling schedule. Today, after taking a bath, she elegantly styled herself, donning a luxurious lifaya veil she had asked her mother to purchase for her. She wore exquisite makeup, her hair beautifully woven into delicate, intricate cornrows that gathered at the back, radiating an alluring, sweet fragrance. Carrying a small handbag, she took her mother's car keys. Walking her mother out to the car to bid her farewell, she was fully resolved to return to her matrimonial home today. (WALYN's grand return). Seated in the driver's seat, she extended her hand toward her mother without saying a word. Her mother, with a slight grimace, handed over Wardugu’s bank card. Though reluctant, she turned and left, but not before sternly reminding her daughter to be extremely cautious around Wardugu and to know exactly how to carry herself when she returned to his side! With that, she commenced her journey back to the house she had left six days ago. An incredibly demanding workload held Wardugu captive today, just as it had yesterday. A heavy court sentence had just been handed down to a syndicate caught red-handed smuggling illicit drugs and intoxicating substances into the country. The honorable judge, the grand justice GUKUNNI, had stood like an unyielding pillar of iron—favoring neither the wealthy nor the impoverished—digging deep beneath the surface to unearth every hidden detail before striking his heavy gavel. He outlined the severe prison terms each convict would serve, leaving absolutely no room for appeal, as it was the highest court in Niger that had passed the judgment. This intense legal crackdown had left Wardugu’s own head throbbing with pressure, as his forces were heavily involved in safely transporting the convicts to high-security facilities, reinforcing city-wide security protocols, and managing a barrage of desperate citizens begging him to secure the release of their relatives—unaware that he possessed absolutely no authority to bypass the law. Amidst all this, he was also scheduled to fly out to Paris tonight, as he was due to launch a highly dangerous operation alongside his close friend and brother tomorrow morning at exactly seven o'clock. Every single person who cared for him was gripped by anxiety over this mission; even Ayya had been fully briefed on the high stakes involved... He didn't finish organizing his final security directives until well after the Maghrib prayer, leaving him with barely four hours before his flight to Paris was scheduled to take off. In a hurried rush, he emerged from his office and slid into the backseat of the vehicle held open by his bodyguard. The driver climbed in and accelerated forward. (This was part of a new security protocol he had recently adopted—he now allowed a designated driver to chauffeur him, something he had stubbornly refused to tolerate in the past). He directed the driver to head straight to Ayya’s residence. The saintly woman was seated out in the courtyard. The bright compound lights illuminated her as she gently rocked her legs, a newspaper held in her hands and a pair of reading glasses perched on her nose. She was waiting up for him, and him alone. The moment Wardugu arrived, he stepped up behind her chair and wrapped his arms tightly around Ayya, resting his head heavily against her shoulder as he squeezed his eyes shut. Gently tapping his hand, she murmured, "What is weighing on your mind, my son?" Wardugu let out a long, exhausted sigh, slowly releasing his embrace to face her directly. "I am about to depart, Ayya." Ayya shook her head, seeing right through his attempt to deflect her question. Taking his hands into a firm grip, she implored, "When you go, be a warrior. Never let the remembrance of Allah leave your lips, no matter what happens. Remain patient in the face of things that seem beyond your strength. And please, do me this great favor—look after my precious trust for me. I deeply resented that you forbade me from traveling along with you, because I have no idea how that poor girl will cope in that unfamiliar place. She is just a child... a fragile, young child." Wardugu closed his eyes tightly before opening them slowly, staring deeply at Ayya. He gathered both of her hands, pressed them firmly against his chest, and bowed his head. They remained locked in that profound, silent embrace for nearly five minutes. Ayya rested her chin atop the thick, abundant crown of his hair, her own eyes closed in silent prayer. He was the first to gently stir, looking up at his foster mother. A perfect, reassuring smile graced his lips as he whispered, "We are entirely sustained by your prayers, our dear Anmi. 👏" "May Allah protect you, may He grant him full healing, and may He preserve my little girl for me..." Ayya prayed fervently, gently caressing the side of his face. A quiet smile played on his lips as he murmured his amen, before rising to his feet. He and Ayya walked side by side out to the waiting vehicle, where he opened the door and climbed inside. As the car drove away, Wardugu sat in the back, deeply moved as he reflected on the immense, profound love that existed between Ayya and that young girl. A gentle smile touched his face. Shifting his position, he pulled out his phone and dialed Khadija’s number. At that exact moment, Khadija was seated on her prayer mat, reciting her praises with her prayer beads. Agaishat was lounging on a single-seater sofa, her eyes peacefully closed as she gently pressed a digital finger-counter, pacing her remembrances rhythmically. Mu'azam, on the other hand, was fast asleep—the heavy effect of the sedative injections they frequently administered to ensure he achieved complete rest ever since he was admitted to the hospital. There was very little conversation between the two women, yet they maintained a deep, mutual respect for one another. Quietly, Khadija answered Wardugu's call. Over the past couple of days, he had made it a habit to call her up to four times a day, despite being entirely consumed by his overwhelming workload. The moment she answered, he offered his peace greetings as usual, but then instantly went dead silent, drawing his lips into a tight line. Khadija smiled to herself. Truthfully, the unique eccentricities of Mu'azam’s friend never ceased to amuse her; if this man were a woman, she thought, his dramatic pride and aloofness would be unbearable. Stepping out of the room with light, silent steps to avoid making any sound that might awaken the sleeping patient, she reported, "Alhamdulillah, General. His body is responding beautifully to the medications, and he is highly stable. Right now, he is fast asleep." Wardugu let out a quiet sigh of relief before asking bluntly, "Agaishat?" Khadija rubbed her forehead, a smile playing on her face. "She is sitting right here." "Has she eaten?" he demanded. Khadija pulled the phone away from her ear for a fraction of a second, staring at the caller ID in utter amazement. She blinked, silently questioning herself: What is the meaning of this intense, obsessive worrying? Is it because she is his sister, or because she is his best friend's wife? He treats her like an absolute infant! Every single day he calls, he must ask if she has eaten. If she hasn't, he hangs up only to call back later, persistently checking until he is personally assured she has consumed food. And it's not even like he ever asks to speak to her directly! Besides, Ayya calls Agaishat constantly; the girl has her own phones! Why doesn't he just call her directly instead of hovering through an intermediary? Shaking off her bewilderment, she gave him the confirmation he sought, assuring him that Agaishat had indeed eaten. "Merci" (Thank you), he clipped out, and instantly terminated the call. Khadija stared at her phone screen in amusement. From where she stood, she could see Agaishat shifting her legs, indicating she was fully awake. Letting out a soft sigh, Khadija walked over and sat down nearby.
Flashback: The Three Days Before the Hospitalization
During those final three days before Mu'azam was officially moved to the hospital, a subtle bond had begun to form between him and Agaishat—the kind of attachment born of being confined to the same shared space, a genuine closeness. Khadija had completely stopped coming over to the main house during that period; instead, Mu'azam would frequently step out to visit her quarters, given that they were immediate neighbors. Agaishat would often watch him through the windows as he went back and forth. Throughout those days, he had showered Agaishat with immense care and attention. They would sit together for hours, chatting warmly, and he even taught her how to play mobile games on his phone until she became quite adept at it. He taught her how to navigate a smartphone, empowering her to browse and look up whatever she desired. He grew incredibly fond of her. However, the moment the Maghrib prayer set in, he would politely bid her good evening, escort her safely to her bedroom door, and then retire to his own room. He had never once attempted to share a bed with her; in fact, he hadn't so much as kissed her hand, let alone crossed any moral boundaries. He simply provided her with the kind of pure, dedicated companionship that caused Agaishat to become deeply attached to him. To the point where if she didn't catch a glimpse of his passing shadow, a wave of anxiety would wash over her, settling only when she finally saw him and they shared a conversation. One could never fully appreciate how breathtakingly exquisite Agaishat’s physique had become until she dressed in snug trousers or the loose, revealing silk loungewear she currently favored. In those outfits, she stood as an absolute masterpiece of a woman—a striking sight that commanded nothing short of praises to the Almighty. Agaishat belonged to that rare class of women who were fully aware of their devastating beauty but chose to wield it with a slow, devastating subtlety, capable of leaving a thousand onlookers utterly breathless. Living in one place, enjoying rich meals, resting peacefully, and indulging in fine clothing—with prayers being her only real routine now—had caused her body to blossom magnificently.
WAYE MIJINA BOOK 4
A Shocking Awakening and Shrouded Identity
The voices finally reached her ears, and she caught the drift of their conversation. Because of everything she had been murmuring through her panic, they were utterly bewildered; they couldn't understand a single word she was saying, as she was speaking entirely in the Tubanci (Tubu) language.
She fell silent, slowly fluttering her eyes open. Her breath was coming in short, rapid gasps as she tightly pressed her arms against her chest, warily scanning the people gathered around the room. Gradually, her breathing stabilized, and memories of the life she had lived in this village began returning to her, piece by piece, crystal clear.
Her eyes quickly darted to the children who belonged to her, before shifting her gaze over to Gaishata, who was leaning quietly against the wall, staring intently at her mother. When Jakadiya was about to leave to deliver the good news to the King after the call to prayer, she had instructed Gaishata to help her mother out to join her relatives. Gaishata had wrapped her in a large, dark-green blanket and assisted her out, for up until that moment, Anna had not even taken a bath. Truth be told, Gaishata hadn't paid much attention to the newborn baby either; her entire focus and anxiety were consumed by her mother.
Slowly, Anna shook her head before whispering, "Inna lillahi wa'ina ilaihi raji'un."
She raised her hands, staring at them intently. They were heavily stained with the dark tint of turkudi dye, yet underneath, one could clearly see that her skin was beginning to show the unmistakable signs of aging, characteristic of an elderly woman.
While she was lost in this state, word arrived that the King was requesting to enter.
In a hurried rush, the palace guard gathered whatever clutter was lying around. He took a woven mat from Mariama and spread it out a short distance from them, before stepping forward to lift the burlap sack that served as the makeshift curtain at the house entrance.
The King stepped inside, having instructed his entourage to wait outside. He walked further into the compound, offering words of peace and greetings.
They answered him in hushed, respectful tones.
His gaze shifted toward Gaishata, who was still leaning against the wall. She raised her head, caught his eye, and immediately lowered her gaze out of respect. He then turned his eyes to Minata, who was cradling the newborn baby, keeping him warmly bundled up against her body.
Letting out a soft sigh, the King knelt down to greet Anna. She merely gave him a slight nod of her head, unable to find the words to speak.
Sitting down, he asked in the Buzanci (Tamasheq) language, "Anna, how are you feeling?"
Anna raised her large eyes and let them rest upon him. She simply blinked slowly, signaling her acknowledgment.
A heavy silence followed as she stared at the ruler, her mouth full of unsaid words. After a long pause, she rasped, "Where is he?"
Mariama, wishing to ease the awkward tension of how she was sitting, shifted much closer to her and said, "ANNA, he went out since yesterday and hasn't returned. Anna, please get up and wash your body; you haven't even performed your prayers yet."
Hearing the mention of prayers, Anna found the strength to hoist herself up. Mariama supported her, and they made their way toward the small, enclosed bathroom area in the backyard. Mariama fetched water for her in their old metal kettle before rushing off to start wrestling with the firewood to boil hot water. Meanwhile, the King took the baby into his arms and moved a bit closer to Gaishata, speaking to her soothingly to help her relax and feel at ease.
Anna spent a long time washing, using the blue Omo detergent powder Mariama had handed her as her bath soap. It took a while of vigorously scrubbing it into her skin, but she finally managed to rid herself of the deep layer of grime covering her body. She emerged, performed her ablutions, bypassed the others, and slipped into the room to establish her prayers.
She remained on her prayer mat for a very long time because she had to make up for all the missed prayers. The moment she completed the final taslim, she remained seated in supplication, suddenly bursting into a deep, heartbreaking sob that shook her entire frame.
Terrified by her weeping, they all rushed into the room. Mariama quickly pulled open the window shutters to let more light flood into the space.
Without a moment's hesitation, Mariama threw herself into Anna's arms, weeping bitterly as she pleaded, "Oh Anna, please, Anna, what is it? What has brought you to this state? In this life, we have witnessed all kinds of horrific trials and tribulations, and you never once broke down. But yesterday, we suddenly just heard the sound of your collapse. What on earth happened to make you faint like that? Anna, please be comforted. Please pull yourself together, for you are our only source of peace and stability! 👏🏻"
Anna gradually stifled her sobbing, a profound sense of pity for her children swelling in her heart.
With her head still partially covered, she spoke out in the Tubanci language: "Amma ay yini zundu yigustiya, ayyinira unga ci? Dudonur? Tani ayyinira baranniri, abbanur dudonur." (Translation: This man has deeply wronged me. Where are my parents? Where is my sister? Please, help me and take me to my mother, my father, and my elder sister.)
Mariama turned to the King in absolute panic. "Do you hear the language she is speaking? Ever since she woke up, this is the only tongue she uses, and we have no idea what she's saying! Anna, please help us. Have you completely forgotten our language?"
Slowly, the King stepped further into the room. He knelt down a short distance from her, softening his voice and bowing his head in the traditional show of deep respect a son-in-law accords his in-laws. Speaking in Tubanci, he said, "Halasss de wonnuy? Ammanuma ngalla cuku? Tussu ko ka yogodi taha tani tudaqanur cussu qunu." (Translation: Calm your heart. I do not understand anything of what you are saying. Who has wronged you? Please, speak to me in Buzanci so that I can understand you properly.)
Letting out a deep sigh, she adjusted her posture, looked directly at them, and revealed: "My name is ALLATCHI. I am the daughter of GUKUNNI, who is the younger brother of King Mahamat of Ngimi. My mother's name is Hatimi, and my elder sister's name is Herde."
She paused, observing the looks of absolute shock and bewilderment locking the faces of her daughter and her son-in-law. A bittersweet smile touched her lips as she continued, "My mother was exceptionally fair-skinned—so fair that if you so much as touched her skin, it looked as though blood would surface. My father, on the other hand, was pitch black, his lips bearing that deep, traditional dark hue because he was a pure, blue-blooded Tuareg (Batube). My sister took after our father's dark complexion, though being a woman, hers wasn't quite as intense. I, however, inherited my mother's fair skin."
She paused, her eyes softening. "If you recall the physical traits of Agaishana—her skin texture and her facial features—they are identical to my mother's. I could never forget my mother's face. Her skin took after my father's side, though hers is significantly fairer than his. But as for her demeanor, her silence, and the proud way she stands on her own two feet regardless of the hardship she faces... she mirrors my father entirely."
The King rested his chin in his hand, utterly stunned by the revelation that threatened to blow his mind. Staring at Anna, his voice shook with an uncharacteristic tremor born of sheer shock as he gasped, "Do you mean to say... you are of the direct bloodline of Honorable GUKUNNI?!"
Anna closed her eyes solemnly. "I am his second daughter. To the best of my knowledge, after my birth, my mother's womb was surgically inverted due to the severe health complications she battled from the moment she conceived me until delivery. I do not know if my father ever remarried after that. As far as I know, my parents only ever had the two of us."
The King stammered, "I know of Honorable GUKUNNI... the legendary judge of Niamey! The grand judge notorious for handing down uncompromising sentences to criminals? Is he the one you mean?"
Anna raised her head and nodded silently without speaking, a heavy solemnity masking her face, perhaps a return to her original noble demeanor.
In utter astonishment, the King pressed, "But... but how on earth did you find yourself ending up here?"
Anna squeezed her eyes shut as the painful past flooded back. "One day, my sister and I were driving back from a salon. While driving, we accidentally struck a young man wearing a turban. Terrified, we slammed on the brakes and stopped. My sister, who had just started practicing as a doctor, immediately showed her credentials to a policeman who rushed over to investigate the accident and arrest the offender. She explained she was a private medical practitioner and named our father. Because of who we were, the police quickly assisted us, and we rushed the injured man to the hospital. I was weeping uncontrollably, for throughout my life, I have always possessed a foolishly soft heart, constantly attaching myself to strangers, despite my mother's endless warnings to be careful because not everyone is good-natured or pure of heart."
She exhaled slowly. "We nursed this man until he fully recovered. Our parents even visited him at the hospital out of respect for my relentless crying and pleading. The day he was discharged, he fell to his knees, weeping and begging us to help him find a job. He claimed he was completely stranded in the city with no one to turn to, and that he had only migrated there to find money to feed his impoverished parents."
"I blindly insisted we help him, ignoring the abundance of staff already working in our mansion. I argued endlessly until we hired him. He was a Buzu (Tuareg), and he promised he would teach me the Buzanci language. Seeing that I wouldn't let the matter rest, my father eventually employed him as our estate gardener."
"We grew incredibly close to this servant of God because he was highly witty and always made me laugh. And as for me, wherever there was laughter, that was where you would find me. Furthermore, I didn't have many friends; my elder sister was always away at work, while I was still a student, as there was a ten-year age gap between us."
Her expression darkened. "The name of this servant was Algabittt. Algabitt the Buzu. A strikingly handsome young man, but with the deceptive beauty of a serpent."
"All I can remember next is that one day, I came back from a date with a classmate of mine who had expressed his love for me—I was also studying medicine at the time. As I walked into the compound, I found Algabitt standing there holding something strange. His entire body was trembling. He had sprayed a very potent, overpowering perfume—a strange concoction that completely scrambled one's consciousness. From that exact moment, I forgot who I was. I became nothing more than a mindless shadow, following Algabitt's every whim! Are my father and mother still alive? Where are they? Where did you know them from?!" Anna suddenly hurled the barrage of questions at him, bolting to her feet, having sworn an oath that today, come what may, she would trace her path back to her lineage—even if she had to journey there on foot!
Unspoken Tension in Paris
Upon entering the room, he set her suitcase down near the wardrobe. He stood there for a moment, looking at her, and said, "Agaishana, let me go grab us something to eat. You should take a bath; the bathroom is right over there. When you're done, perform your prayers."
She acknowledged his words with a quiet nod, and he exited, leaving her standing alone in the space.
Slowly, she walked up to the large bedroom mirror and stood still, studying her reflection. Composing her thoughts, she whispered a prayer, removed her clothes, opened her suitcase, and pulled out a long, milk-colored hijab, having tied a long towel around her waist beneath it.
She opened the bathroom door and stepped inside. Having lived in Ayya’s house, she was fully accustomed to modern fixtures, as they were identical to the ones there. Quietly and serenely, she took a warm bath, finishing off with a refreshing splash of cold water under the shower. Done, she performed her ablutions, changed into fresh clothes, and stepped out.
Picking up a prayer mat she noticed lying nearby, she unfolded and spread it out. She changed into a long dress, draped her hijab, and stood up to pray. After concluding her prayers, she sat down and offered a lengthy, heartfelt supplication for her biological parents, her foster parents, her husband, the Muslim community, and herself.
Glancing up at the wall clock, she noted that it had been nearly two hours since he left. She let out a soft sigh. Had she not been long accustomed to solitude and the isolation of the wilderness, she would have been terrified to be left entirely alone in a room like this.
Rising to her feet, she neatly folded her prayer mat and adjusted her hijab, releasing a beautiful, subtle fragrance—a collection of perfumes Wardugu had thoughtfully packed for her alongside Alhinayeet.
Sensing a rising restlessness from the prolonged silence outside, she gently turned the door handle and stepped out of the quiet room.
What met her eyes instantly sent a jolt through her heart.
Mu'azam was seated on the sofa, and Khadija was right beside him, dressed in loose, comfortable loungewear, her head loosely draped in a white scarf. She was carefully spoon-feeding him, saying playfully, "You have to take another bite. Do you want to ruin your health? You know I won't allow that!"
Agaishat froze. Crossing her arms over her chest, she fixed her gaze squarely upon them.
Khadija was the first to notice her presence. She instantly sprang up, her face flushing with deep embarrassment. Oh heavens, she whispered to herself. In all honesty, she had completely forgotten for a moment that he was now a married man. Because she had been so used to looking after him and making sure he ate in the past, she hadn't realized that repeating the gesture now could deeply sting his new wife's heart. Scratching her head awkwardly, she offered Agaishat a nervous smile, set the spoon down, and hurried out of the room with her eyes glued to the floor, suddenly feeling a suffocating wave of intimidation and dread at the prospect of locking eyes with Agaishat.
Mu'azam himself hung his head, entirely unable to look up at his wife.
Serenely, Agaishat walked over to where he sat. She bent down, picked up a clean plate, and used an unused spoon to scoop a portion of food she knew would satisfy her. She smiled softly and said, "Hunger drove me out. Let me quickly eat my share. 😊"
Mu'azam sat paralyzed, tracking her with his eyes until she disappeared back into her room.
Upon entering her room, Agaishat placed the food a short distance away from her prayer area, took off her hijab, sat down cross-legged, and lined up her phones—the one Wardugu had handed her and the one Ayya had bought her. Whispering a Bismillah, she prepared to eat.
Suddenly, she paused, staring blankly at the plate. She murmured aloud to herself, "Why didn't I feel that thing called jealousy? Didn't Alhinayeet tell me that when you love someone, you harbor a blind, fierce jealousy over them?" Who even was jealousy? What did it feel like? 'She told me that if I ever saw my husband with another woman, I would feel my heart shatter—that some women weep bitterly while others unleash their fury clearly.'
"Could it be that I simply do not possess a heart inside my chest?"
Arrrakham: A Question of Love and Jealousy
Shrugging her shoulders, she answered her own agonizing question: "Well, they are just close friends, aren't they? Just like Alhinayeet and Wardugu. That must be why I didn't care. Besides, I will grow to love him eventually. Once I love him, perhaps I too will be gripped by that jealousy."
A smile returned to her lips as she uttered another Bismillah and quietly began enjoying her meal, for truth be told, she was famished. Even back in the wilderness, no matter the chaos or trauma surrounding her, she never let a prepared meal go to waste; she would eat her fill, and only then pick up her struggles from where she left off.
From the moment she had picked up that plate, Mu'azam’s gaze had followed her until she was completely out of sight. Resting his chin in both hands, he rubbed his face, pacing up and down the room, completely consumed by bewilderment. How could a woman walk in on her husband sitting intimately with another woman—especially with Khadija dressed in loungewear, even if it wasn't strictly inappropriate—and cowering in such close proximity, actually feeding him, only for the wife to walk away without a single dramatic word? What did this mean? No, this couldn't just be dismissed by saying she grew up in a remote village and knew nothing of love. Don't village women love? Do they not possess hearts? Do they not feel jealousy? She hadn't shown a single flicker of emotion; he hadn't detected even the slightest trace of resentment or anger in her stance. A strange, chilling wave of insecurity washed over him, completely dampening his desires. He paced back and forth, entirely paralyzed by shame, unable to bring himself to enter her room or even sleep in his own quarters, until the night bled into the early hours of the morning.
Meanwhile, Walyn did not return home until she had spent six days at her parents' house. The moment the doctor discharged her, she had maintained a stern countenance, insisting she be taken to her family home. Her mother complied with her wishes, and at her parents' house, she received such lavish, doting care that they treated her like royalty. Every minor need was met with a swift withdrawal from the bank, to the point where Wardugu constantly received transaction alerts on his phone linked to the account. He would simply smile and go about his bustling schedule.
Today, after taking a bath, she elegantly styled herself, donning a luxurious lifaya veil she had asked her mother to purchase for her. She wore exquisite makeup, her hair beautifully woven into delicate, intricate cornrows that gathered at the back, radiating an alluring, sweet fragrance. Carrying a small handbag, she took her mother's car keys. Walking her mother out to the car to bid her farewell, she was fully resolved to return to her matrimonial home today. (WALYN's grand return).
Seated in the driver's seat, she extended her hand toward her mother without saying a word. Her mother, with a slight grimace, handed over Wardugu’s bank card. Though reluctant, she turned and left, but not before sternly reminding her daughter to be extremely cautious around Wardugu and to know exactly how to carry herself when she returned to his side!
With that, she commenced her journey back to the house she had left six days ago.
An incredibly demanding workload held Wardugu captive today, just as it had yesterday. A heavy court sentence had just been handed down to a syndicate caught red-handed smuggling illicit drugs and intoxicating substances into the country. The honorable judge, the grand justice GUKUNNI, had stood like an unyielding pillar of iron—favoring neither the wealthy nor the impoverished—digging deep beneath the surface to unearth every hidden detail before striking his heavy gavel. He outlined the severe prison terms each convict would serve, leaving absolutely no room for appeal, as it was the highest court in Niger that had passed the judgment.
This intense legal crackdown had left Wardugu’s own head throbbing with pressure, as his forces were heavily involved in safely transporting the convicts to high-security facilities, reinforcing city-wide security protocols, and managing a barrage of desperate citizens begging him to secure the release of their relatives—unaware that he possessed absolutely no authority to bypass the law. Amidst all this, he was also scheduled to fly out to Paris tonight, as he was due to launch a highly dangerous operation alongside his close friend and brother tomorrow morning at exactly seven o'clock. Every single person who cared for him was gripped by anxiety over this mission; even Ayya had been fully briefed on the high stakes involved...
He didn't finish organizing his final security directives until well after the Maghrib prayer, leaving him with barely four hours before his flight to Paris was scheduled to take off.
In a hurried rush, he emerged from his office and slid into the backseat of the vehicle held open by his bodyguard. The driver climbed in and accelerated forward. (This was part of a new security protocol he had recently adopted—he now allowed a designated driver to chauffeur him, something he had stubbornly refused to tolerate in the past). He directed the driver to head straight to Ayya’s residence.
The saintly woman was seated out in the courtyard. The bright compound lights illuminated her as she gently rocked her legs, a newspaper held in her hands and a pair of reading glasses perched on her nose. She was waiting up for him, and him alone.
The moment Wardugu arrived, he stepped up behind her chair and wrapped his arms tightly around Ayya, resting his head heavily against her shoulder as he squeezed his eyes shut.
Gently tapping his hand, she murmured, "What is weighing on your mind, my son?"
Wardugu let out a long, exhausted sigh, slowly releasing his embrace to face her directly. "I am about to depart, Ayya."
Ayya shook her head, seeing right through his attempt to deflect her question. Taking his hands into a firm grip, she implored, "When you go, be a warrior. Never let the remembrance of Allah leave your lips, no matter what happens. Remain patient in the face of things that seem beyond your strength. And please, do me this great favor—look after my precious trust for me. I deeply resented that you forbade me from traveling along with you, because I have no idea how that poor girl will cope in that unfamiliar place. She is just a child... a fragile, young child."
Wardugu closed his eyes tightly before opening them slowly, staring deeply at Ayya. He gathered both of her hands, pressed them firmly against his chest, and bowed his head. They remained locked in that profound, silent embrace for nearly five minutes. Ayya rested her chin atop the thick, abundant crown of his hair, her own eyes closed in silent prayer.
He was the first to gently stir, looking up at his foster mother. A perfect, reassuring smile graced his lips as he whispered, "We are entirely sustained by your prayers, our dear Anmi. 👏"
"May Allah protect you, may He grant him full healing, and may He preserve my little girl for me..." Ayya prayed fervently, gently caressing the side of his face.
A quiet smile played on his lips as he murmured his amen, before rising to his feet. He and Ayya walked side by side out to the waiting vehicle, where he opened the door and climbed inside.
As the car drove away, Wardugu sat in the back, deeply moved as he reflected on the immense, profound love that existed between Ayya and that young girl. A gentle smile touched his face. Shifting his position, he pulled out his phone and dialed Khadija’s number.
At that exact moment, Khadija was seated on her prayer mat, reciting her praises with her prayer beads. Agaishat was lounging on a single-seater sofa, her eyes peacefully closed as she gently pressed a digital finger-counter, pacing her remembrances rhythmically. Mu'azam, on the other hand, was fast asleep—the heavy effect of the sedative injections they frequently administered to ensure he achieved complete rest ever since he was admitted to the hospital. There was very little conversation between the two women, yet they maintained a deep, mutual respect for one another.
Quietly, Khadija answered Wardugu's call. Over the past couple of days, he had made it a habit to call her up to four times a day, despite being entirely consumed by his overwhelming workload. The moment she answered, he offered his peace greetings as usual, but then instantly went dead silent, drawing his lips into a tight line.
Khadija smiled to herself. Truthfully, the unique eccentricities of Mu'azam’s friend never ceased to amuse her; if this man were a woman, she thought, his dramatic pride and aloofness would be unbearable. Stepping out of the room with light, silent steps to avoid making any sound that might awaken the sleeping patient, she reported, "Alhamdulillah, General. His body is responding beautifully to the medications, and he is highly stable. Right now, he is fast asleep."
Wardugu let out a quiet sigh of relief before asking bluntly, "Agaishat?"
Khadija rubbed her forehead, a smile playing on her face. "She is sitting right here."
"Has she eaten?" he demanded.
Khadija pulled the phone away from her ear for a fraction of a second, staring at the caller ID in utter amazement. She blinked, silently questioning herself: What is the meaning of this intense, obsessive worrying? Is it because she is his sister, or because she is his best friend's wife? He treats her like an absolute infant! Every single day he calls, he must ask if she has eaten. If she hasn't, he hangs up only to call back later, persistently checking until he is personally assured she has consumed food. And it's not even like he ever asks to speak to her directly! Besides, Ayya calls Agaishat constantly; the girl has her own phones! Why doesn't he just call her directly instead of hovering through an intermediary?
Shaking off her bewilderment, she gave him the confirmation he sought, assuring him that Agaishat had indeed eaten.
"Merci" (Thank you), he clipped out, and instantly terminated the call.
Khadija stared at her phone screen in amusement. From where she stood, she could see Agaishat shifting her legs, indicating she was fully awake. Letting out a soft sigh, Khadija walked over and sat down nearby.
Flashback: The Three Days Before the Hospitalization
During those final three days before Mu'azam was officially moved to the hospital, a subtle bond had begun to form between him and Agaishat—the kind of attachment born of being confined to the same shared space, a genuine closeness. Khadija had completely stopped coming over to the main house during that period; instead, Mu'azam would frequently step out to visit her quarters, given that they were immediate neighbors. Agaishat would often watch him through the windows as he went back and forth.
Throughout those days, he had showered Agaishat with immense care and attention. They would sit together for hours, chatting warmly, and he even taught her how to play mobile games on his phone until she became quite adept at it. He taught her how to navigate a smartphone, empowering her to browse and look up whatever she desired.
He grew incredibly fond of her. However, the moment the Maghrib prayer set in, he would politely bid her good evening, escort her safely to her bedroom door, and then retire to his own room. He had never once attempted to share a bed with her; in fact, he hadn't so much as kissed her hand, let alone crossed any moral boundaries. He simply provided her with the kind of pure, dedicated companionship that caused Agaishat to become deeply attached to him. To the point where if she didn't catch a glimpse of his passing shadow, a wave of anxiety would wash over her, settling only when she finally saw him and they shared a conversation.
One could never fully appreciate how breathtakingly exquisite Agaishat’s physique had become until she dressed in snug trousers or the loose, revealing silk loungewear she currently favored. In those outfits, she stood as an absolute masterpiece of a woman—a striking sight that commanded nothing short of praises to the Almighty. Agaishat belonged to that rare class of women who were fully aware of their devastating beauty but chose to wield it with a slow, devastating subtlety, capable of leaving a thousand onlookers utterly breathless.
Living in one place, enjoying rich meals, resting peacefully, and indulging in fine clothing—with prayers being her only real routine now—had caused her body to blossom magnificently.