I have something for you at the end of this chapter, but don't skip!

"Jeez," Sadiq muttered, applying slight pressure on the brakes until his car slowly came to a stop. The man in a white top and black slacks angling his left arm to the other side of the road yelled something Sadiq's rolled-up windows flattened.

Sadiq knew what it meant, he was asking him to park to the side of the road for the known VIO procedures, yet he rolled his windows from his side, setting a questioning palm out. The man gestured again, a few honks coming from the small traffic Sadiq had initiated by halting in the middle of the road.

He counted his steady breaths as he rolled his wheel to park at the side. Didn't they know that he had better things like drowning in his anxiety to do? What nonsense were they hinting at by knocking on his side window? He rolled it down, tuning the sound of music down until it disappeared.

"Barka de." A man different from the one that held Sadiq off greeted him, leaning down and holding unto the door of the car. Sadiq answered curtly, a neutral visage plastered before the man, hoping that'd let them off his back.

Luck wasn't on his side.

They exchanged short greetings before the questions began. First, it was the car documents, the first charge being, "Do you know that your custom duty has expired?"

"For real?" Sadiq feigned surprise, further setting his palm out for the file which the officer released. His eyes swiped the file with his father's name on it, to the expiry date at the bottom of the sheet. "Lallai kuwa!" Charades were his thing as well, "I had no idea." He set the sheet out back to the officer, nodding, "Motan ba nawa bane nima. I borrowed it." Pure lies he told, in his most confident voice. Well, on paper, the car was not his. But in the unwritten law, no one touched the car except him although the documents were named in Abi's possession.

The officer hummed, lifting sheet after sheet before he spoke again. "These are not the complete documents."

Sadiq's eyes squinted, wrinkles setting on his forehead as he leaned unto the passenger dashboard and sank his fingers into the storage compartment. He met the sight of a set of unnecessary garbage he had no recollection of putting there, pulling them out and unto the passenger seat before he caught another stack of papers, this time fewer. They were the rest of the documents, he confirmed before handing them to the officer and returning his intrigued eyes back to the garbage littering his passenger seat. He scoured the papers, a few pieces of plastic, other things and found an Md card he had no rights to.

"Can I see your fire extinguisher?"

Sadiq's narrowed eyes flew from the Md card to the man before he nodded, tucking the card into his Kaftan pocket and propelling his hand to the back seat in search of the fire extinguisher. He caught it, handing it to the man who sought the car's triangle and Sadiq sighed. These people and making up ways to fine drivers.

Once the triangle flashed before the officer's eyes, he handed the documents back to Sadiq, tapping the door, "You have everything apart from your custom duty. Do well to renew it." Dismissed on short notice.

He had braced himself for a fine. It was what these people did and yet there he was, driving back to Abi to deliver his errands and retiring to his room.

He imagined his reflection from the ceiling. His back rested on the bed, knees bent and sizing up while his toes shook to alleviate the heat clamoring him. It wasn't the Kano heat, although that did contribute a lot. No. It was the heat from the brain as it tortured him through a series of outcomes bound to come by in a few more days.

The verdict day.

His heart skipped beats, the thought was too sufferable for him.

In his selfish attempt, he thought of himself mostly. If Amani was executed, she'd be laid to rest, in a house in Jannah awaiting her for the cruel, cruel, false crucification she suffered on earth. While he and the rest of the people who loved her would be left with a carved part of their heart ablaze till the day they breathed their last.

It was the end for her if executed. It was the beginning of the end for him if she was executed.

How could he live, knowing she was on trial for a false crime? How could he live, waking and never seeing, hearing, or touching her again? How could he live, knowing he fell for the drugs the last time she was taken into custody, and now, death? How could he ever, ever love again?

The lights in the room withered before his sight until his focus remained on a single artistic detail of a flower on the ceiling, the rest of his peripheral view consumed by darkness. A darkness he was sure would consume him whole if the verdict didn't turn out in their favor.

Every cell within him had been annihilated by the existential vacuum; an unfaltering feeling of emptiness and meaninglessness. How many milliseconds would it take for mere darkness to swallow him whole?

Forever.

The thought of darkness rendering him into oblivion didn't sound so bad. And it was the thought that did it, awakening his less sabotaged limb to rise and occupy his mind with something so he didn't go back to those dark alleys.

The torturous venture to a shower began by rising off the bed to step off his clothes. He threw the kaftan top to the couch, the kaftan wasn't dirty enough for the laundry, nor was it clean enough for the closet, introducing the couch as its best sitting place. Sadiq's angle missed, the cloth falling to the floor with a small crashing sound.

"Kai!" It must be the crack of his phone, how did he not feel the weight before he sent the material flying? He rushed to it, dipping his hand into it and catching most of the contents before reviving it.

His phone, ATM card, a Pos transaction receipt, and the MD card he had hurriedly thrown into his pocket earlier on.

The decision was made unconsciously, he was going to see the contents for himself-see if he'd find the owner through it. After a quick shower, he sought his laptop from the accent table beside the wall socket and landed heavily on the bed after changing into nightwear.

His screen lighted with a warning to look out for trojan horses which he dismissed, clicking on the explore button to the files present on it.

Sadiq's demeanor slumped, his shoulders dropping as his movements stilled. The screen had lighted up with a picture of Mommy in a reefer coat, slacks tight against her legs. A smile he witnessed once or twice for the short year and a half he knew her was plastered on her visage, her arms spread and mouth open implying she was either screaming or talking when the picture was taken. A happy one at that.

The background was the quiz. It must've been on one of the numerous trips Amani enjoyed taking with her mother.
The memories flooded. Sadiq had forgotten how Mommy was shaped like. The picture was a reminder of the chipped-off physical recollections of her he had. How could someone so beautiful, so kind-hearted live a life so full of misery and yet kept a heart-clenching smile like hers?

It was then, he knew, Amani was shaped strong like her mother. If she faltered, it was because she sought change from the pain, from the normalcy of ill-treatment.

"Allahu akbar." The yearn in his tone. Doomed enough to dry his throat. His tongue was tied, his finger working on the next picture, the very next, the other next. There were moments captured. Never created. Every picture was genuine. Whether it was a smirk, a smile, a laugh, a jump, a frown, a bird flying, or a shooting star. They weren't made up.

Rows of pictures consisting of views, Amani's family, mostly Mommy, Nadeen, Walid and Akram, Sabrin, Hafiz, and even Sadiq's passed under the pressure of his finger.

The pictures got happier and shit got real.

At a point, Sadiq's back rose from the edge of the bed, his finger about to press unto the next media paralyzing. His eyes and mind syncing, he recalled Mike's desperation towards this Md card at the sight of the visible bruises on Mommy's neck and lip.

The picture stood in less quality, Nadeen's arms completely wrapped around Mommy's shoulder as she hugged her from the side. A low-neck Ankara blouse sat below the evidence Sadiq had failed to deliver when he was told Amani had lost the MD card to her camera and suggested it be found with him.

If his mind had withered from knowing this was Amani's card, it sure agreed now. More so, it was not an ordinary card that he had planned on safekeeping for her, this might just be what the vain attempt at a case towards Amani needed. The next set of pictures contained almost the same thing, a picture taken for the memories but now a picture set as evidence that was lost even before the prosecuting crime was committed.

A matter not to be played with. So when he ignored the time frame being a few minutes past midnight, he still didn't renounce his intentions to call the one person that could use this to their advantage. Mike.

"Do you realize it is minutes past midnight, young man?"

"I do," he was breathless, pacing the room and unable to keep still. "I have the evidence. The card. The Md card you asked me during the preliminary investigations. The card that—"

"Slow down," Mike's clear voice against Sadiq's jumbled and heavy one. "Slow down and talk to me. What evidence?"

As if Mike was there, Sadiq's finger pointed at his laptop, "The Md card you said would help you build a better case. Remember-remember when you came looking for me with Nadeen and Walid?"

"Yes, yes, I do." Mike was becoming restless as well, his tone hiking in implication. "Ehen?"

"Shi ne! I think she must've lost it in my car. It's Abi's car and he keeps this car in Kano. I am the only one who drives it. It must've been when she crashed her camera on Jay's luncheon." He remembered the day like the back of his palm, the joy, the ecstasy, their first contact with opioids which at the time they weren't aware of. "I left the car with the car wash the next morning, se de in sune suka ajiye min Md card in. I found it in my storage compartment!" Over-explaining his way, his theory could be the only cause for this. Why hadn't he checked the compartment earlier? Why hadn't the VIO pulled him over sooner? "Can we use it?" The line was silent, Sadiq's skyrocketed hopes in threat of downfall, "We can use it right?" Needing his hopes to stay where they were, he called out, "Micheal?"

"Yes." Mike finally answered in hesitation. "I err—" he paused, swooshing sounds hitting Sadiq's ears as he said some muffled words before his voice became clear again. "I should call our private investigator. The verdict is close. Where are you? Can you bring me the card right—"

"I am in Kano!" It was the most frustrating thing he had had to utter. Not even his grumbled yes to whatever Abi said could compare.

"Shit!" The curse was loud. Compelling them both to face it. Shit was real and nasty, no way in their favor despite limbs that could be sorted to make things whole again. "You have to be in Abuja. Sadiq, get on the next plane or car or bus-i don't care at the moment and get me that md card as soon as you can!" It was ringing, Amani's voice. Save me, save me, save me. And The only response Sadiq's voice was giving was, I'm coming baby, I am coming for you.

"I'll do that," he furiously nodded, halting to curl his toes. He had no set plan in his head-theories, possibilities, plans rattling and disappearing in his mind before he could catch a sensible one. His legs hurried to the drawer, slashing it open as he began to rummage through what he didn't even know.

"But wait."

The command sounded to his organs, his breath ceasing to a stop.

"Send me the pictures first. All of them. The court will need to see it from the md, but I don't need to wait. Send them, and get on transit."

"Yes, don't-I'll worry-sorry, I'll send it!"

In haste, Sadiq emailed Mike the pictures from his laptop and proceeded to pace in the room as he sought the nearest flight to Abuja. Choices flew to him, his finger landing on the nearest one he could find, his poor financial choice for the moment sidestepping his sweet reason until his ticket was assured.

No rest for Sadiq. The sleep had abandoned his eyes but betrayed him at the departure hall the next morning. His eyes were hazy, mistaking this thing for the other thing.

While his airline which was best known for delaying flights did the exact thing that morning, he was still grateful to be in Abuja before 10 Am. A part of him believed the 40-minute drive to Garki lasted hours. Time was not moving on his end and his cargo pants suffered the squeeze of his anxious hands.

In a few more minutes, Sadiq stepped off the bolt, heading into Mike's home as per Mike's request.

Each step into Mike's lounge proved more contemptible for Sadiq. A leap into a space of incredulity, mind frozen and heart shattered. A promise of rain of tears and side effects in swollen eyes.

Sudden coldness, a feeling of dizziness, and a shaky halting voice. "What is he doing here, Mike?" Sadiq's voice finished with a pointing finger, resting on the man on the opposite couch to Mike.

"It is not what it looks-"

"He is here to bribe you, isn't he?" Sadiq's raised eyebrows accompanied his question, his left foot sliding forward to align with his right. His earlier shock was annihilated by rage. "Mike, I thought you were different." And yet every day, people never disappointed by being counterfeits, pure deceits.

"You're not the only one who has my sister's best interest at heart," oddly calm, the man defended, spiraling his face to the side. Facing Sadiq head-on.

"How could you do this to Aman?" Sadiq needed answers he didn't want to hear, yet no leash was strong enough to arrest him from seeking them. "You want to sentence an innocent to 15 years-worse, death for how much? How many millions are we talking about?" An inch forward, a thousand halts inward. It was part of the lessons from his forced sessions; not everything you want to say must be said. Not everyone is going to see reason from your point of view. But in his state, how could he not yell, "Answer me!"

"Young man, you won't come into my house and scream at me."

If Sadiq's self-management senses were beginning to take over, impracticality overtook them. Carelessly demanding, "Then what is he doing here?"

"Kai yaro, kar ka gaya min magana mana." Finally, a reaction.

"Rashid," Mike called, sending a glaring palm to the couch Rashid rose from. Not bothering to watch him sit back, he spoke with closed eyes, "Sadiq, just like you are here to bring evidence capable of helping Amani, so is her brother. If you'd sit and look at what we're trying to achieve here!"

He wasn't convinced, "what evidence?"

"Sit down," Rashid offered a palm to his side, a space for Sadiq.

Sadiq narrowed his eyes at the space, proceeding to do the opposite of what he was offered, taking a seat on the one-seater couch adjacent to Mike and slanting forward, scrutinizing the scattered files on the center table.

"I am not giving that Md until I understand every reason why he is here."

"Then Amani goes to prison for 15 years," Mike said, clasping his palm and resting daring eyes on Sadiq. Rashid did the same. Their looks slowly melted the inflexible facade Sadiq had on. "Or worse, they sentence her to death. Depending on how generous Grace wakes up feeling like."

Sadiq's stiff decision softened as his staring contest with Mike proved more sterile than fruitful. His eyes flickered to Rashid, an impossible win against those two. If he was to resist, who said they couldn't wipe him off the face of the earth in a matter of minutes in the empty house? He dipped a hand into his pocket, counting down to zero before producing the md card he had thrown and zipped in a zip lock bag per the private investigators' request as evidence was not to be handled by anyone. Ignoring Mike's set-out palm, the bag flew to the table, landing atop the baggage of files Sadiq had no idea what contained them.

Silence dominated the room for a minute before Mike cleared his throat, picking a firm file that had a clinical stamp on it. "This," he went on to explain. The file he so gloriously held in his hand was the authentic hospital file, reporting on all the bruises and cuts Mommy had on the day the Katagum murder had occurred. Mike used the word, 'Authentic,' as the file deserved it. In it laid a clear report of various signs of abuse; all of which was denied before the court and all of it found where? For some odd reason, in Mama's file bag.

It brought room for thinking. How did it end up there? Was it exchanged for the fake one presented at court?

Rashid had no time to ask. Nor confront his mother about it. Verdict day was a breath away and It was clear to him now, his father was abusive. Hid it so well, in all his 30-plus years of life, he would have never agreed with the fact without spontaneously stumbling on the file while in search of his extra local government certificate his mother still harbored.

Sides were switched briskly. Sides he should've never taken in the first place displaced. And sides deserving of his support emerged. Sides an apology and ultimate support were long overdue. Rashid went out of his way in search of Mike. And the rest was history.

An hour into waiting for the private investigator, Mike excused himself to dress in casual's like the rest of the men occupying his lounge. Rashid knocked on his door first thing that morning, he was still stuck in his nightwear.

"You really love my sister, don't you?" Rashid stated, not asked. He knew the answer to it, adding the question tag was an attempt to spike a running conversation.

I do. Sadiq had obliged himself to internally answer but gave no worthwhile reaction to it.

Rashid wasn't fazed, resting his gaze on a still tensed-up Sadiq. "Don't you?"

"I do."

Rashid hummed once Sadiq's view met his. He nodded, as if in approval of whatever Sadiq had to offer.

"How's your drug issue?"

Sadiq didn't know he had signed up for an 'open up to me' session. Nonetheless, he shrugged, placing his phone down on his jean-covered lap. "Trying to keep my head above water with the meetings and therapy I've joined."

Rashid continued to nod, eyes traveling to the center table as the room fell silent again.

Once sure no question was going to be thrown again, Sadiq engaged in meaningless scrolls through his phone. Whispering voices began to hover over him, another strong one emerging from his heart reminding him of what he was to do in moments when his phone wasn't giving him financial, relationship, healing, or management benefits. He set the phone down again, closing his eyes and beginning his dhikrs.

"When she gets released," Sadiq was yanked out of his world, his eyes flying open to the ceiling, down to the owner of the voice who gave him a light smile, "When you're clean and stable. When you're both ready," Rashid gestured an arm at Sadiq and another to his empty side, "You have her hand in marriage."

***

"Your honor I'd like to request the addition of two crucial pieces of evidence and one more witness."

Helen cleared her throat loudly, punching her microphone on and protesting, "Your honor I was not informed about this. And we can't just-"

"You would if you checked all your inboxes." Mike fired, in a haste to lay his cards out to judge Grace. He caught the judge's stern look and briefly turned to Helen, "I'll send the invoice after court so you know I did send it to you first." Stepping on Helen's right to protest, Mike crossed his hands in front of him, facing Grace, stance empathetic. "Your honor I wouldn't have requested to do this at the very last minute if it wasn't crucial to this case. With these three authentic defenses I have found which were buried by," he began to count with his fingers, "people, circumstances, and obviously the police's incompetence towards the investigation of this case. Let me present them to you and if deem them useless to this case, please, do away with them."

Grace rummaged through Mike with her eyes for any signal of fraud. His eyes, his stance, his words. It gave nothing off. It was Amani she burnt with her gaze next. The defendant who was once staring at her counselor in shock and confusion, suddenly neutral at the feeling of the eyes of the most important person in the courtroom on her.

She mustn't fuck up.

Although Mike had given up like her, still considering that early plea they still had the chance to go for, it was with her life she trusted what he was about to present.

A nod. A single nod from Grace had Mike visibly sighing, his shoulders dropping with ease. It was the second toughest to the verdict, the permission he had to present and polish his side of the game.

"Binta Wakili is not here..." Mike began by glancing at Amani who dropped her eyes close at the mention of her mother's name. The screen lighted with pictures after a forewarning by the clerk on how graphic things were about to get and if anyone needed to step out, now was the time. "But I want you to have a drop- to feel a drop of what she felt."

Against Mike, Amani, and the rest of her family's wishes, a slide show of the final abuse her mother bore through her father's cursed hands played.

Amani's face contorted and in fear of the court watching her shatter, her palms flew to the rescue of her face, enveloping them in the warmth that no more soothed her soul. A miserable warmth. One that could not cover her nudeness to the world.

Subsequent to the authentic clinical reports of her mother with Rashid serving as witness as the spontaneous founder of those files, the court adjoined to a still confused Amani.

Amani walked hand in hand with her lawyer through the hallways, her ears sounding to the hushed conversation Mike and his assistant were having.

"Did you really send it to Helen?"

Mike glanced around, placing a firm tap on Amani's shoulder before tutting, a smile creeping the side of his lip. "I did not. Who's going to know?"

Mike's assistant halted for a second, letting out a low laugh that immediately gained Amani's voice to the surface.

"What was all that about?"

You skipped🙂 go back!!!

Now that you are done, Assalam!

To get a full, uncensored copy of this book(with of course some conditions), guess how many more chapters we have left in this book.

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And oh!

Seems to me Rashid wants a wedding not a burial🤭