ADNAN BAYERO'S POV.

KANO, NIGERIA.

"Your cousin is in town. You should drop by and see him."

Hajiya's words were practically the reason I decided how to spend my day. What she did not know however, is that I am already aware of the man's presence, and we had already made prior arrangements to meet as we have something important to discuss.

And that was how I found myself, around eleven in the morning, driving into the private polo club open to only specific members. Keeping the car in the parking lot, I stepped out, and was instantly welcomed by two workers there that must have recognized the car, then followed, waiting for me.

The moment I stepped out, their greetings came almost instantly.

"Ranka ya dade barka da safiya."

"Alhaji Sannu da zuwa." Their greetings came simultaneously, as he crouched slightly.

My lips slanted into a small smile. "Sannun ku dai. Ya azumin?" I inquired, shifting the car keys from one hand to another, before slipping it into the pocket of my pants.

Their response came together, "Alhamdullilah, Alhaji."

Then, one of them, the older one, added, "Azumi ai gashi har yazo qarshe. Sallah nan da kwana hudu."

The other replied him before I can, "Ko biyar ba," He suggested, "Hala azumi talatin zamuyi shekarannan."

The old man's eyes narrowed almost immediately, his response immediate. "Kai, baza muyi ba. Ashirin da tara zaayi." His tone was serious, and judging from his expression, it appears it would take a lot to convince him to do thirty if it actually comes down to that.

I found it amusing, and it did not hide in my tone when I asked, "Haba, bakaso muyi talatin ne? Daya ne fa kawai." I teased.

The second guy, the younger one was quick to join in agreement. "Nima Alaji haka nace. Toh amma in ashirin da tara yakeso ai gashi ga Yarima yau. Sai ya gaya mishi ashirin da tara yakeson yi."

The old man, who could not care less and might not be swayed to leave his earlier resolve remained firm in his words. "Zan gaya mishi. Ai Yarima yana tausayin mutanen sa."

I chuckled, then shook my head, "Toh Allah ya kawo mana da sauqi," I said, earning an 'ameen' from both of them. "Yana ciki ko?"

They both nodded in confirmation. "Eh yana nan. Tun dazu ya iso."

"Okay toh barin shiga gun sa."

"Toh afito lafiya Alaji. Allah ya ja zamanin Sarki Muhammadu."

"Ameen," I made my way further inside the club, maneuvering my way around it, knowing it like the back of my hand thanks to the time I spent there, quite possibly my whole life.

As such, I knew a specific area where I would find my target, a secluded side reserved only for him as the founder, and owner of the club. And I was right, because the moment I reached the private lounge, my gaze landed on him, seated on one of the tables set there, another man seated along with him on the chair to his left. They had their backs towards me, and were conversing so they did not notice my presence.

At least, until I was close enough, then made my presence known with a greeting. "Assalamu alaikum,"

They looked up, their response coming almost immediately as I got warm smiles in return. "Wa alaikassalam,"

"Gentlemen," I acknowledge, a touch of familiarity to my tone.

My target for the day, held my gaze, then added, "Professor Adnan Bayero." He acknowledged, his tone teasing as he extended out a hand.

I smiled back, taking his hand. "Yerima Amir Qasim." I teased back. "Sarkin Musulman na gobe in sha Allah."

Amir Qasim Muhammad III—Yerima as I tease him occasionally, my maternal cousin, close friend, and the eldest Prince in the Sokoto Emirate, shook his head, "You will never change," He stated as if it is not true. Every one already knows he is next in line for the position—despite too many internal and external power strife revolving around it.

It is something to be taken care of when the time comes though.

"As won't you."

The second gentleman in the picture's voice came before I could acknowledge him first. "Youngest Professor around," He joked, "Wannan if I see you I should just be hiding my face like this." He extended a hand out, and to tease me further, he even bent his head down slightly. "Ranka ya dade, kune boko wallahi."

I shook my head, tutting slightly as I shifted my gaze to my cousin, Amir Qasim, "Kaji mutumin ka ko?"

Amir Qasim released a slight huff, shaking his head as well then threw a look at the man beside him. "As if you are one to talk as well. If anyone should say a thing here, it is I—stuck in between two medical doctors. One a Professor, and one, a CMD."

"Ah ah," The guy beside him raised his hands in surrender, "They gave me this position against my will. If it is up to me, I am comfortable being a simple doctor please."

"Of course you are," I agreed, as I took the seat to Amir Qasim's right, a formation of trio that has always been a constant here for us. "The great Dr. Aslam Abd Al Rasheed. The only person I know with no ambitions for higher positions." I stated earnestly, because it is true.

I came to know him through Amir Qasim, and considering we are both in the same field, it was easy for us to hit it off and eventually become close friends over the past few years, despite our busy schedules with our lives. Still, our polo days remained the one thing that we share, the foundation for our friendship.

And when I say Aslam is one of the simplest people I know, I mean it, and in a good way. His family owns one of the top hospitals in the country, Horizon General Hospital—the hospital I was working in before, and still am at this moment, and being the eldest, he could have taken over the position passed on to him from his grandfather. But, he did not—and instead left it to his cousin.

He is comfortable with simply being a doctor, and aspire to be nothing more—until about a year ago when he was made the CMD—how he managed to accept that position is beyond me truly, but he obviously does a good job at it regardless.

"Speaking of which," I continued, my gaze set on him. "I heard you welcomed your second child a while ago. Congratulations, Allah ya raya da imani." I had already called him when I heard, as I was not in the country then but I felt as though I should do so in person as well.

The grin that took over his features was instantaneous—a testament of his already established and well known love towards his family. "Thank you. Asad yayi qani. I am telling you, nothing warms your heart more than having kids."

Amir Qasim hummed knowingly, boredom lacing it as he shifted his gaze to meet mine, "He has started," He stated. "Now we won't hear the end of it."

"Bari kawai," We both threw a pointed look at Aslam, a wordless warning for him to not start his usual gush about his wife and son—now sons. Believe me, this man can spend the entire day talking about his family, as if we are not already aware of the love he has for his wife, Aisha.

A whipped man really, that is who he is. He offered us a sheepish smile in response to our words about him. Yup, certainly a whipped man.

"Before he could start, and we lose track of what we are originally here for," Amir Qasim cut him, his tone suddenly serious, aligning with his expression as he turned around to face me, "Regarding what you asked me to look into..." He started, and my expression mirrored his as well, even Aslam's own visage changed, recognizing the change in the air.

My shoulders stiffened, already anticipating what I would hear. I focused my undivided attention on Amir Qasim, as I waited for him to continue.

I had expected his next words—in fact, the conversation and the investigation would not have come about if not that I had suspected it and asked him to look into it for me. And yet, the confirmation hit me like a truck, the truth a bitter pill to swallow.

"...Barrister Khalil Wambai's death was not an accident," He stated, "He was killed."

I found myself releasing a deep breath, one of my hands fisted slightly as the confirmation dawned on me. I knew it at the back of my mind, and yet, I did not anticipate how I would take the confirmation. He was not close to me, I barely knew the man but knowing there is a conspiracy behind his death—a death that caused too much pain to my loved one, I felt affected as well.

Still, I kept a cool head, then parted my lips to speak. "I was right then," I breathed out. "I am sure it must involve the case he was working on."

"It is," Amir Qasim nodded in agreement, leaning back on his seat—his casual action imposing. Calmly so, he continued. "I have to be frank with you, Adnan, it appears the case involves someone with influence, taking it on from the start was his mistake. Though, he did not know of course. But, he is no match for whoever this is."

"He kept hitting a dead end," I stated, my mind reeling with memories of his time investigating, of what I had heard, and what he told me the one time I agreed to talk to him. "And yet, he kept on insisting."

"That is why he came to you eventually," Amir Qasim stated, "Because he knows you can give him a way out."

"We tried to dissuade him," Aslam's voice came, concern etching his expression as he as well sported a grim expression. With a slight shake of his head, he continued. "His job was to be a corporate lawyer for us, he was not supposed to take up any patient case but he did not listen. I even tried to talk to him myself, but he was stubborn." His concern is valid, because it involves someone that was his employee, and a patient that was in his hospital.

So, you can say it started in the hospital, because that is where Khalil met the patient, and I did as well. A complex web that we did not anticipate. Only difference is, while I had done my part, Khalil tried to take on something he should not.

It was not my field, I did mine and the police were handling theirs. There was no need for me to overstep. And besides, I left shortly after it had started, and handed over the case to another doctor so I did not have much knowledge aside from that I knew initially. Not to mention, it was not my case, nor field to begin with. A colleague, a psychiatrist, merely consulted me, and I found myself involved a couple of times.

So, it was not my field, and not my patient per se.

"I did not tell him much as well," I stated earnestly, remembering our first and only conversation stark in my mind as if it happened just a couple of minutes ago. "We were supposed to talk further after he told me he was driving, so the call ended."

"You were the last person he spoke to," Amir Qasim pointed out, his gaze a mirage of so many emotions, I could not tell what is going through his head. With him, one never could. He can be a simple man on the surface, but Amir Qasim is case to be studied really. I still cannot decipher what goes through his mind. "I understand your suspicions but tell me, Adnan, do you plan on pursuing this?"

"I would advise you not to," Aslam cut in, his usual larking expression missing and instead, replaced with solemnity. "You are in no position to—you are a doctor, not a lawyer or law enforcement agent. This is beyond you. Even the girl that was involved, the patient, she died shortly after Khalil's death. That should say something about this case."

I kept mum, my mind already racing with thoughts of what to do or how to handle this. I could not give them an answer, not when they might not hear what they want to and might end up trying to dissuade me.

Silence ensued, and I could feel both their gazes on me—Aslam's was filled with concern, Amir Qasim's was penetrating, and observing, as if he was slowly picking me and my thoughts apart.

When he found whatever it is he was looking for, he parted his lips to speak, his tone knowing. "You are doing this because of her, aren't you?" It sounded like a question, but it was a statement as a matter of fact—something he already knows and is aware of.

I am not surprised he knows this much. After all, this is Amir Qasim—beyond his calm and outgoing façade, a complex and potentially scary man to be honest.

When I did not say a thing to refute it, Aslam, confused by the sudden change in conversation asked, "Who are we talking about here?" He, unlike Amir Qasim does not care much for that outside his circle, and that which he is not informed of—unlike my dearest cousin that might just know more about you than you know of yourself.

Amir Qasim did not respond to that though, allowing me to answer the question myself.

I sighed, and did not try to deny it. Instead, I lifted my head, holding his gaze as I responded. "Sa'adah," I sighed. "My wife to be, in shaa Allah."

A slight snicker came from Amir Qasim, though amusing, was still a slight mock. He faced Aslam, then elaborated. "Khalil's ex-wife, and the love of his," He pointed at me, "life." He untangled the web for Aslam.

I flashed him a look, and he flashed me one back, daring me to claim otherwise. I could not, because he is right, and I cannot deny that.

Aslam's face dawned with understanding, and then a teasing smile took over his features almost immediately. "Ah ah, kace my man will soon become a husband."

A small smile donned my face, unable to help it, not that I want to. "In shaa Allah." She needs to agree first, but she would—I am sure of it. "Which is all the more reason I need to handle this. She might not be safe, and everyone is unaware." Given how complex this is, of course whoever is behind it will not want to leave any person that might be aware behind.

Sa'adah was his wife, I am sure they would suspect her of knowing something—though something tells me she does not. Still, I do not want to take chances. Which is another reason all the more I want her to become my wife as soon as possible. My mind would be much better at ease knowing she is wife me, and safe.

At least, I am aware. No one else in the family is, not even her—and it is not something I can bring up. I will not. Who knows what turmoil I would throw them all in if they know he was killed—I would be putting them in danger.

"Adnan, you are not safe as well," Amir Qasim pointed out, "In this moment, you are in danger as well, and if you insist on pursuing this, you would be putting yourself more in danger," His words still did not sway me, so, he added. "You want to marry her, right?"

"Of course," there is no hesitation in me. I want her, no one else. I want her to be my wife, more than anything else at this moment.

"Exactly," He breathed out, turning around to face me completely. His gaze was steel like, and his words hit the target. "Say you marry her, and still pursue this further. Then, Allah ya sawwaqe, you end up like Khalil. Would you want her to be without a husband again? Can you subject her to that pain again? Is that what you do for those you love?"

He is right, as much as I hate to admit it. He always is. I did not think that far.

But, he did not stop there, seeming to fully want to knock permanent understanding into my mind.

"—Adnan, to her, her husband simply died in a car accident. Which do you think is better? For her to move on knowing that, or would you rather pull her back into the pain she went through, and subject her to more pain and quite possibly guilt, by knowing he was actually killed. Which one do you think is better?"

"He is right," Aslam hopped in, on the same ship as Amir Qasim. His own words were solemn, the intensity behind it matching. "If you put yourself in danger as well, ultimately, the person that would be hurt all over, is her. Abunda kake so kenan?"

I rested my arm on the armrest, massaging my temple with my fingers as their words together swirled in my mind, unrest. It clashed with my very own thoughts and principles. "So what?" I focused my gaze on them both. "I turn a blind eye to it? Is that what you want me to?" It is a sarcastic question, because they both know it.

My consciousness will not allow me to live with myself, or Saadah, keeping that secret from her. I should do so for her mental wellbeing, yes. But, is that really the right thing to do? Besides, she might still be in danger. Should I fold my arms and wait for it to unravel then bury myself in regret?

Amir Qasim's gaze was pointed, sharp as a sword as he laser focused it on me, his expression stern, mimicking that of an elder—an obvious fact, given he is older than I am, though only by a year but still. He plays the elder brother role well enough.

Of all the words he had uttered thus far, nothing hits the target more than his next words. "You know what it feels like to lose a loved one," He stated, and without any elaboration, we both knew who he is talking about. If possible, the air became even more tense, though for me it felt suffocating as he brought back memories I do not wish to recall.

My fists curled on instinct, my heart rate spiking as the memories came pouring in, threatening to choke and deny me of the very air keeping me alive. He knew what he was doing by poking this topic, knowing it is the only thing that would make my resolve crack.

And like hell it did.

Of course I know the pain, very much so.

And he knew that, because then he continued, "Exactly, you know it." He said, certain. "If you love her truly, and I know you do, do not pursue this decision any further."

I know I should not, heck, I do not want to because he has convinced me, but there is something holding me back.

I released a heavy breath, the weight pressing down my shoulders and heart. My mind was all jumbled up, a mess, that is what I am at the moment. It must have shown, or maybe, Amir Qasim just happens to know me a bit too much that he understood.

So, with a determined sigh, his voice came again. "If you do insist on pursuing this, then do not do it yourself. Allow me," His arms crossed over his torso, his shoulders broadening. "I will handle it for you."

My brows drew in, "No, you can't," I shook my head. "You have a wife as well, you should not put yourself in danger..."

His snicker came, a chuckle so taunting, it was dark as the gloomy clouds above. "Adnan kenan," He sighed, a small, ghostly smile dancing across his lips. "I can handle myself well enough. This is nothing." I did not doubt him.

The power this man wields...it is immense. No doubt there.

So, I swallowed down a lump, then nodded in agreement. I will leave this in his care.

But even so, Khalil's last, parting words played in my mind—something I have not been able to erase all this while.

'Dr. Adnan, you have sisters, imagine it is one of them, how would you react? I do not have sisters, but I do have a wife, and the mere thought of her being in that situation makes me feel sick inside. I cannot give up on this case...I do not want to. No matter what, I will get to the bottom of it, I just need your help.' When I did not give him an answer then, he added, 'I will call you later please if you do not mind, I am driving currently and I need to be there for my wife's graduation.'

I could hear the smile in his voice, the way his tone lightened as he spoke of his wife, and at that moment, I decided to in fact help him. I just did not know his end was then, and I would be left to shoulder the burden of the case alone.

At least, not anymore. Amir Qasim handling this makes me feel at ease slightly, because I know he will get to the bottom of it, he always does. And while he does that, I would focus on getting my wife.

As soon as possible.

***

Tohhhhhhhhhhhhhh it's been too peaceful. It's not Jannah's book without drama and someone dying now. Let me add a bit of spice but I'll keep it minimal...maybe🫢

So Khalil's death was not an accident 💀 but I know nuccytm is behind it, I'm sure 😒

And Aslam made a cameo appearanceeeee🥹🥹 my doctor. Plus, you've met my newest addition to the family, Amir Qasim🫢🥹 my prince not firince fa, Prince!! Yawwa be firince bello bane 😂

What do you think happened? What conspiracy is behind it?

It's been too peaceful really, I'm going to add pepper in this book. Wait, wait a minute let me bring my new knife and cute some onions, I just got new harvest from Jos🔥 Yawwa it'll be better.

Sha moving onnnnnnn Labarin Aminu Saira amma ba lahiya ba. All of them are mad. Faqat.

I have nothing more to say really. Have a good night.

Love, Jannah Mia❤️