Zuciya Da Kwanji Book 4 Maimuna Idris Beli

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Part 4 (Continued) — Unraveling the Conspiracy

But Abdulwahab simply could not contain his immense shock. He blurted out, "How on earth did this happen? You are my younger brother Abdullahi's new bride?"
Fatima offered a forced, strained smile, then turned her face away, letting his question drop into a heavy silence.
His bewilderment deepened. Her refusal to speak was confirmation enough; the reality of the situation felt like a wild fairy tale. He shook his head in absolute disbelief. Refusing to entertain his shock, she sat rigidly, offering no reaction until he finally let out a deep breath and began to explain the situation to her.
"We were able to see Abdullahi earlier today. Thanks be to Allah, we found him in good health, aside from the expected toll of confinement. However, we couldn't get any statement from him regarding the reason behind his arrest. Still, we will never grow weary of thanking Allah; everything will become easier now that we finally know his whereabouts."
Fatima merely let out a quiet sigh, fixing her eyes intently on her fingernails. She had not uttered a single word, and there was no sign that she intended to. Yaya Abdulwahab did not take offense; he had known her proud, aloof nature for a long time.
He continued, delivering the message, "He sends his greetings to you all. He ordered that if any need to go out arises, whichever of you requires it must ask one of us for permission, even if it is just over a phone call. As for you specifically, Fatima, he asks that you be patient and strictly avoid going anywhere. If he has a particular reason for this restriction, he didn't share it with us. So, please bear with it and be careful."
She did not move a muscle, nor did she show any sign of responding. Inside, however, she was completely filled to the brim with sheer astonishment. It amazed her that despite the harrowing crisis Abdullahi was trapped in, he still wouldn't miss a chance to flex his "stamina" and assert his authority over her—even if that assertion was merely a survival mechanism that had no real impact on their actual predicament. Yet, she could no longer deny to herself that his unrelenting actions were precisely what had brought her to her current state: a constant tug-of-war, with him pulling and her resisting.
Abdulwahab, growing weary of waiting for her to speak and desperate to hear her voice, probed further. "He also asked me to extend his deep sympathy regarding your health."
Swallowing hard and fighting back the thick pool of tears in her eyes, she managed to whisper, "Thank you."
She continued to wipe away her tears. They flowed from the sudden, bitter realization of her profound vulnerability on all fronts—the physical toll of her advanced pregnancy combined with the absolute absence of a caregiver or anyone to offer gentle, soothing words. To make matters worse, she was physically exhausted from handling the grueling household chores all by herself, struggling against the harsh reality of a home devoid of help, precisely at a time when she most desperately needed a caring partner and an assistant.
As she repeatedly wiped her face, her tears only deepened Abdulwahab’s confusion. He began to silently and intensely analyze her. Unable to guess her true thoughts, he simply presented the women with a thick stack of cash, said his goodbyes, and walked out.
He left the house completely stunned by how Abdullahi had managed to successfully marry this incredibly difficult ex-wife of Alhaji—a woman upon whom Alhaji had poured all the love and desperate hopes of the entire world, even long after Allah had decreed their separation. Abdulwahab vividly recalled a time when he had attended the Hajj pilgrimage from Sudan, where he was studying; Alhaji would call his phone every single day, weeping and begging him to pray that Allah would return Fatima to him.
Yet, the absolute truth was that he felt immensely happy about her marriage to his younger brother. He knew all too well that Abdullahi was an expert at navigating chaotic turbulence and maintaining authority through sheer strength of heart and stamina. These specific traits were exactly what would grant him the ability to govern a proud, high-maintenance woman like Fatima.
This realization suddenly triggered a dark suspicion in his mind: was it possible that Alhaji had a direct hand in Abdullahi’s sudden arrest and confinement? The pieces of the puzzle were beginning to fit together too perfectly. He vowed to uncover the absolute truth.
He started by trying to call Alhaji that very night, but all of Alhaji's phone lines were switched off. He then called Alhaji’s personal secretary, who confirmed that his boss had been out of town for a long time. Still, Abdulwahab refused to let the matter rest. A couple of days later, he tracked down the country where Alhaji was currently staying. Realizing he had a foreign contact number for him there, he placed a call—but Alhaji flatly refused to answer.
From that moment on, his suspicion solidified into absolute certainty: Alhaji was undoubtedly behind Abdullahi's detention.
Changing his strategy, Abdulwahab began a quiet, highly discreet investigation. His efforts eventually led him to the shocking truth: Alhaji had indeed ordered his operatives to lock Abdullahi away under a fabricated accusation of betraying a business trust regarding a deal they had allegedly secured together. Unfortunately, the security officials fiercely refused to disclose the specific nature of this alleged business.
Determined to confront Alhaji face-to-face, Abdulwahab threw himself into tracking him down. He went as far as visiting Alhaji's residence and corporate offices, only to be informed that Alhaji had briefly returned from Mexico two days prior, only to immediately jet off to Kazakhstan, where he was scheduled to remain for the next two months.
Abdulwahab’s blood boiled with fury. Alhaji had locked up an innocent man with no political godfathers to protect him, and had simply swanned off out of the country—essentially leaving him to rot, as if to say if he died in there, they could just carry his corpse out. Left with no choice, Abdulwahab carved out a special time to meet with his father, Malam, in strict privacy.
"Anya, Malam... isn't this problem of Abdullahi’s a result of domestic politics? I strongly believe a wolf has been cloaked in sheep's clothing here."
Malam remained entirely silent, staring at his son with a mixture of deep sorrow and intense focus, but he didn't interrupt, prompting Abdulwahab to lay it all out.
"Alhaji Sulaiman is the ex-husband of Abdullahi's new bride. Based on my personal knowledge of him, he has never placed his soul or desires on anything in this world more than Fatima. Even after Allah decreed their divorce, he remained hopelessly intoxicated by his love for her. He used to constantly seek Islamic legal verdicts (fatawa) from me on how she could possibly become lawful to him again, because he had mistakenly given her a triple divorce (saki uku) all at once. When I refused to create a loophole for him, we almost had a massive falling out. Later, I discovered he was hiring young men to go to her family home to act as an interim marriage helper (auren kisan wuta), but because her uncle is an extremely strict and upright man, he kept thwarting their steps.
I stopped hearing updates about him right around the time you informed me that Abdullahi had taken another wife. I didn't even know who the woman was until last month when I finally went to the house and saw her. That was exactly when I began to suspect Alhaji’s hand in Abdullahi’s arrest. Sure enough, my investigation confirmed it. My only fear now, Malam, is this: Allah forbid that Alhaji actually hired Abdullahi to marry Fatima temporarily to make her lawful for him again, and Abdullahi then refused to fulfill the ignoble contract he was paid for! Especially given how the security agents are playing games and being incredibly evasive about the exact crime he is being accused of—it looks as though someone has bought them off..."
Malam abruptly cut him off, his voice heavy with sorrow and submission to the divine will. "That is exactly what the situation is, Abdulwahab... Inna lillahi wa inna ilaihi raji'un (To Allah we belong and to Him we shall return). Do you see the terrifying turbulence Abdullahi has thrust himself into?"
Abdulwahab quickly interjected, "No, let us not rush to pass final judgment. Let us wait until we hear the truth directly from his own mouth, shouldn't we?"
Malam nodded slowly, adding, "The Messenger of Allah (S.A.W) spoke the absolute truth when he said that towards the end of times, trials and tribulations (fitintinu) will multiply massively; you will try to flee from fitnah, yet it will pursue you right into your household, right into your bedroom. But the greatest fitnah that men will ever face is regarding women."
"May the Almighty deliver us," Abdulwahab murmured.
In a somber tone, Malam instructed, "Amen. Make every effort to see him tomorrow. From there, we will know exactly what steps to take, because we will not allow his life to be destroyed over someone else's selfish desires."
Abdulwahab bowed respectfully. "May Allah spare our lives to see it."
The following day, when Abdulwahab secured an audience with Abdullahi and presented him with this heavy suspicion, Abdullahi flatly denied it. Abdulwahab deployed every conversational tactic and psychological trick he knew, but Abdullahi remained entirely stubborn, refusing to break his stance.
He didn't do this for any other reason than to protect Fatima's desperate wish; he knew her well enough to know she would be utterly devastated if the secret leaked out. Furthermore, in his estimation, keeping the secret hidden was his primary leverage to keep her bound to the house; if he shattered the secret now, she would likely detach herself from him entirely, and he would lose his greatest weapon of influence over her. Even if none of that mattered, he was fully prepared to cover Fatima's flaws for the rest of his life, even if doing so brought him absolutely no personal benefit.
Nevertheless, he was deeply shocked by how the attention of his family and friends had successfully gravitated toward Alhaji, to the point of uncovering his role in the arrest. Sagiru was the only one he had confided in, and Sagiru had explicitly assured him that he hadn't uttered a word to Yaya Abdulwahab or the others. Furthermore, just the previous day, Fatima's uncle (Kawu) had visited him in detention, overwhelming him with desperate pleas to reveal if Alhaji or Fatima had a hand in his imprisonment, swearing that if their involvement was proven, he would personally drag them to court. Just as he had refused to tell Kawu, he now steadfastly refused to tell Abdulwahab, repeating a single, unyielding line: "I honestly do not know what I did to warrant being arrested."
Abdulwahab pressed, "But they are claiming that a massive sum of money was collected from him based on a specific agenda, and that you pocketed the funds without executing the job for him."
After a calculated pause, Abdullahi replied, "In that case, go and tell them that if it is the money they want and not my life, it can be returned to them. Every single Kobo is safely put away; not a single penny has been touched."
Abdulwahab stood up, his heart burning with intense frustration as the guard signaled that their time was up. Glaring at Abdullahi in deep anger, he snapped, "Fine. I will send Malam to you. Perhaps you will tell him exactly what kind of job and agenda you took money for!"
Abdullahi offered no response, remaining completely silent until his brother, tired of staring at his unyielding expression in fury, turned and walked out.
The moment Abdulwahab left the cell area, he went straight back to the office of the officer-in-charge of the case. He engaged him in a lengthy, intense debate, demanding to know the nature of the unfulfilled assignment that had kept Abdullahi detained for over three months without ever being arraigned before a court of law. But the officer offered zero concrete answers, slickly dodging the questions with typical police evasiveness.
Losing his patience, Abdulwahab demanded to know the exact amount owed, adding, "I will personally refund Alhaji so you can release him."
Without a shred of shame regarding his age or professional rank, the officer replied coldly, "Alhaji requires the completion of the job, not a refund. In fact, he has assured us that if Abdullahi executes the assignment even now, he promises to double the initial price he paid him."
Abdulwahab let out a sharp breath, biting his lip in disgust. "Is that so? Fine. We will follow the legal and proper channels to fight for our rights, just as he used his corrupt paths to satisfy his heart’s desires—a desire so ugly and vile that you are too ashamed to even say it out loud to us."
That very week, Malam did something he had spent a lifetime resisting: he personally reached out to leverage his influence with his prominent former students who had risen to become powerful, high-ranking figures within the Nigerian establishment, presenting them with the injustice faced by his son.
Within less than twenty-four hours—and without the wealthy instigator of the arrest even being aware—a single high-level phone call was placed, issuing an absolute directive that Abdullahi must not spend another single night in detention.
Suddenly, a flurry of urgent phone calls from official quarters flooded Malam and Abdullahi’s brothers, instructing them to come pick him up immediately. Upon their arrival, a tense, rapid meeting was held where paperwork was swiftly signed, setting conditions that Abdullahi must be presented whenever the need arose—specifically when Alhaji returned to Nigeria for a mediation or if the matter proceeded to court.
Malam issued a strict order: Abdullahi was to be brought directly to the family compound, not to his own matrimonial home.
And so it was done; Abdullahi was driven straight to the family house in Gadon Kaya.
The moment his wives saw the state he was in, they burst into frantic tears. Abdullahi was completely unrecognizable; his body had wasted away so severely that his ribs could be counted individually, and his skin was in a horrific state. He was covered in filth, infested with lice and insect bites from the cell.
Malam personally oversaw his recovery. They prepared various types of medicated baths and targeted skincare treatments to heal his skin. He shaved off all his overgrown body hair, while his nephew Sahabi shaved his head clean. Within a short time, his monstrous, neglected appearance faded away, and he looked like a human being once more, though he was still anchored by an intense, overwhelming physical exhaustion and severe weight loss.
Malam personally threw Abdullahi's discarded prison clothes into a fire, burning them to ashes. Abdullahi was fed warm, nourishing food, and a doctor was brought in to examine him, administering intravenous injections and medications. After desperately making up the numerous mandatory prayers he had missed while incapacitated, he collapsed into a deep sleep.
He didn't wake up until shortly before Maghrib. He performed his prayers with the family and was then required to sit and listen to his father's counsel, as Malam had not yet granted him permission to leave—even though Abdullahi’s entire mind and anxiety were now locked onto his family, particularly Fatima and the fragile state he had left her in.
It wasn't until after ten o'clock that Malam called him into strict privacy. He delivered a lengthy, profound sermon on the concepts of absolute reliance on God (tawakkali) and patience through life's trials, warning him heavily against letting the desperate desires of the heart dictate his decisions. Finally, he arrived at his core demand: Abdullahi must reveal the exact nature of the business deal he had struck with Alhaji.
Left with no choice, as he could never lie to his father—who had been his greatest confidant and advisor since childhood—Abdullahi confessed everything. Malam had always characterized him by saying, "Abu Turab is incredibly stubborn and mischievous, but he possesses a razor-sharp intellect, deep foresight, an elite ability to keep secrets, and an absolute resilience to achieve whatever he sets his mind to."
Now, Abdullahi kept absolutely nothing hidden from his father. He detailed everything from the very day he crossed paths with Alhaji at the hospital, where the offer of marriage was first made. He explained how a conviction had gripped his soul that he could marry this woman to rescue her and Alhaji from a grave sin, without even knowing who she was at the time. He detailed how gracefully her uncle (Kawu) had received him, the marriage itself, the money Alhaji had paid him, and how he had strategically deployed his "stamina" to discipline and domesticate her, achieving the massive victory of keeping her under his roof for a full year.
He didn't hide his vulnerability either; he confessed the intense, burning love he felt for her in his soul, admitting that no matter how brutal the consequences, he could never bring himself to divorce her. Finally, he concluded his narration by revealing her past involvement in the interim marriage scheme.
Malam sat in stunned, absolute silence, staring at his son as he witnessed the sheer complexity of divine decree. He was entirely at a loss for words. He couldn't bring himself to say Abdullahi had done wrong, especially when considering the inescapable destiny (kaddara) that Almighty Allah had orchestrated between them, and Abdullahi's fierce commitment to preventing a severe religious transgression. Yet, the entire situation had transformed into a high-stakes gamble with human lives.
He reflected on how a man’s fierce desire could blind him into intense obsession over a woman—particularly women of Fatima’s caliber. Abdullahi had walked right into Fatima's trap, just as Alhaji was rotting away in his own prison of obsession over her. Women possess a powerful, disruptive nature; they can make a man compromise his very faith unless he rules over his emotions with absolute intellect.
For more than twenty minutes, Malam struggled to find the right words to untangle and analyze Abdullahi’s wild narrative. Finally, he looked up at him and said, "Very well. Go inside and get some sleep. If Allah spares our lives until tomorrow, you may return to your home. I know the household has already been notified of your release, but I believe it is far better for you to rest a bit more and look a bit more presentable by tomorrow before they see you. You know women are fragile creatures."
Abdullahi desperately wanted to object, but it was impossible to argue with his father. However, he remained kneeling before Malam, adopting a deeply submissive posture to show profound respect. Bowing lower, he pleaded, "I am immensely grateful, Malam. Furthermore, I am begging you for a massive favor: for the sake of Allah, do not let Yaya or the others find out about this. I do not want Fatima's image to be permanently ruined in their eyes, especially now that she is carrying my child and must become a permanent fixture of this family. I also know she would utterly despise having this secret exposed; it was precisely this leverage that I used to keep her confined to the house and strip her of her phone and car."
Malam smiled gently and replied, "The secret remains strictly between the two of us. However, I cannot make an absolute promise, because I believe your brother Abdulwahab must be brought into the loop to help untie this knot. He is Alhaji's close friend, and I am entirely certain he will protect the secret. In fact, he was the one who brought these suspicions to me in the first place, yet he intentionally kept it under wraps to prevent people from misinterpreting it."
Abdullahi’s face instantly lit up with relief and joy. He bowed repeatedly, pouring out heartfelt gratitude to his father.
The following morning, when he went to greet Malam, his father told him, "Wait until after the Jummah prayer; I will personally accompany you to your house."
A sudden wave of intense anxiety gripped Abdullahi’s chest as he replied, "Understood, Malam." He spent the rest of the day at the family compound, which was constantly buzzing with an endless stream of extended family and well-wishing friends arriving to offer comfort and celebrate his safe return.
At exactly five o'clock in the evening, Malam’s driver pulled up, and Malam and Abdullahi climbed into the back seat to head home. From that moment on, Abdullahi's insides began to churn violently with nerves; he knew with absolute certainty that his father would not personally escort him home without a deliberate, profound piece of wisdom in mind.
Meanwhile, Fatima sat in her living room, enduring an existence that felt entirely like a fever dream compared to the vibrant, beautiful chapters of her past life that had slipped away.
Earlier that morning, Maryam—who was burning with an intense desire to see her brother Abdullahi—had rushed back to the main family house, leaving Fatima entirely alone. Abdullahi's other wives and their relatives had also stopped by briefly in the morning, assuming Abdullahi had already arrived. Upon learning he was still at the family compound, their faces fell, and without lingering or offering any warmth, they immediately packed up and left her behind.
Now, she could hear the house settling into a profound silence as the chaotic chatter of Hindatu and Sadiya’s relatives faded away. Suddenly, a quiet, orderly shuffling of footsteps echoed through the compound, moving with the measured cadence of a formal staircase procession. She knew with absolute certainty that Abdullahi had arrived—and he was likely in the company of his highly revered father.
Good heavens! She felt the entire living room spin violently around her. She struggled to her feet with immense difficulty, completely paralyzed by her own conflicting emotions. Was she experiencing joy, or was it pure terror? With what face was she supposed to receive him? Should she adopt the hostile face they were accustomed to, or an entirely new one?
Neither option appealed to her. She knew neither face would serve her; the hostile front they were used to had brought her absolutely nothing but misery, and she was entirely unprepared to adopt a submissive one. More than anything, the sheer anxiety of how he would look at her now that she was carrying this massive, protruding pregnancy consumed her mind.
Finding zero answers to the questions raging in her head, she simply stood there, carrying the heavy weight of her thoughts. Unable to sit or stand still, her eyes remained glued to the door. Deep down, she knew it was highly unlikely he would step into her quarters immediately, just as her own pride would never allow her feet to carry her to his room. Yet, she found herself reaching for a massive, all-enveloping hijab and throwing it over her body. Though she couldn't fully explain the impulse, she was deeply driven by a profound shyness and dread of him seeing her with her advanced pregnancy at this exact moment.
Malam was currently seated with Sadiya and Hindatu in Abdullahi's central living room. He was expressing his deep gratitude to them for their patience and resilience during their husband's long absence, anchoring his words with profound advice on marital patience and peaceful cohabitation—which he emphasized was far greater than a royal inheritance. His words carried a subtle, indirect reference to the bitter complaints Sadiya had formally lodged with him on the very day Abdullahi was arrested.
Sadiya’s heart swelled with smug satisfaction over Fatima’s failure to come out and greet Malam; she relished the fact that the patriarch was witnessing Fatima's wretched attitude firsthand. After all, Hindatu had explicitly sent the housemaid, Rabi, twice to Fatima’s quarters to inform her of Malam's arrival. Sadiya was elated; she desperately wanted Fatima’s reputation to be completely blackened within Abdullahi's family, and it deeply pleased her that Malam hadn't bothered to ask for her. In fact, during the personalized advice he had administered to each wife individually, he completely omitted any mention of Fatima.
Abdullahi, however, was deeply distressed by this. Ever since he had married Fatima, today marked the very first time his father had set foot inside his home, and he desperately did not want this historic visit to be defined by Fatima actively isolating herself from the patriarch.
Shifting uncomfortably in his seat, he finally spoke up, "Hindatu, I think Rabi must have forgotten. Go and call Fatima."
In a calm, measured tone, Malam interjected, "No, leave her be. Take me to her quarters instead."
The entire room froze in utter shock. Abdullahi’s heart began to hammer violently against his ribs—thump, thump, thump! Yet, he fought with everything he had to keep his face completely expressionless.
As Hindatu stood up to lead the way, Abdullahi quickly intervened, blocking her. "Allow me to inform her first."
He turned the handle of her door, pushed it open, and stepped directly into her living room, offering a soft, quiet Islamic greeting (sallama). He found her sitting on a chair, her chin resting heavily on her hand as she leaned against the armrest in deep, sorrowful thought.
He approached her with a calm, steady step. Fatima immediately stood up, and they stood frozen, locked in an intense, silent gaze, both of their hearts completely overwhelmed with turmoil. She met his eyes, her rapid, shallow breathing impossible to conceal, while he looked at her with an expression entirely unraveled by profound pity.
She had wasted away severely, looking so frail it seemed as though she were swallowing needles, and her face bore the distinct, heavy swelling typical of advanced pregnancy. He studied her from head to toe, the loud, strained sound of her labored breathing echoing clearly in the quiet room.
Fighting to steady his voice, he managed to say, "Force your heart to find peace, and calm your mind, Fatima."
She let out a long, heavy sigh and averted her gaze, giving him a moment to scan the room. He noticed how drastically everything had changed; the space was thick with dust and suffered from a complete lack of proper maintenance. A fresh wave of profound sympathy flooded his soul. She had been left entirely without a single helper during a time in her life when she most desperately needed support; how on earth had he forgotten her vulnerability while he was locked away, failing to ensure someone was sent to look after her?
He caught her eyes as she quickly looked back at him, but he found himself entirely at a loss for words. He could only utter a soft, "Sannu (sympathy), Fatima."
The tears she had fought so desperately to hold back instantly burst past her defenses, cascading down her face. She sank into a chair, covering her face with her hands as violent sobs racked her body.
Abdullahi quickly dropped to his knees before her, gently taking her trembling hands into his own shaking grasp. "For the sake of Allah, Fatima, please save your tears for a time when I will have the freedom to properly wipe them away for you. Wait until a time when I can welcome them and feel their flow, do you hear me?"
Feeling how incredibly thin and skeletal his hands had become within her grasp, she broke down into an even more intense, shattering fit of sobbing. He could only shake his head in sorrow, utterly powerless to find words, until he finally pointed toward the door and said in a weak, emotional voice, "I told you, now is absolutely not the time for crying. Straighten yourself up; Malam is about to step in, and he wants to speak with you."
Instantly, her weeping stopped dead. Her eyes widened in absolute terror as she stared at him. In a panicked, trembling voice, she gasped, "Did you tell him everything, Abdul?"
He shook his head, looking directly into her face, his eyes welling with tears that he cleverly fought to conceal. He gently reached out and placed his hand on her pregnant stomach, touching it with the extreme tenderness of someone handling a fragile egg.
Because her mind was completely frantic with panic, she didn't even register his touch, continuing to speak with a stammering, tangled tongue. "Abdul, why on earth didn't you consult me before taking this matter to Malam's ears? If the problem was your worry that I would leave this house, why didn't you just give me a choice to see if I would choose to stay? For the past year that I have lived here, did you honestly think you had me tied up by force, Abdul...?"
Realizing she was entirely unhinged and out of her mind with fear, Abdullahi reached up and gently placed his hand over her mouth to silence her, before releasing her and standing up straight.
"Please forgive me. This did not happen by my own choice; it was entirely forced upon us by absolute necessity. Or have you truly not heard the news that my arrest was entirely orchestrated by Alhaji?"
Fatima instantly clutched her head in horror, frantically reciting, "Inna lillahi wa inna ilaihi raji'un!" (To Allah we belong and to Him we shall return).
She raised her tear-stained face, locking her eyes onto his. "I swear to you by Almighty Allah, Abdul... I had absolutely no hand in this!"
He took a step toward the door, determined not to keep his father waiting any longer, and replied softly, "I know. Do not worry."