KUBI CALIPHATE.

10 YEARS AGO.

It is astonishing how quickly one's life can take a turn, or in Nusaiba's case, how quickly it took a turn for the worst.

Did she see it coming? No, not in a thousand years. Not even Asma's warnings gave away its severity to such extent. But, when it did happen, it happened fast.

It almost felt like the blink of an eye, and everything was gone. Just like that.

There is a level of how much pain a person could take really, and for Nusaiba, it reached the point where tears no longer came out of her eyes—her tear ducts had been emptied, and could produce no more tears.

The farther the car drove from Sokoto, the more bits of her heart chipped away along the road. It felt like an eternity really, not that she cared for anything else at that point as the car drove to who knows where. She did not have it in her to be alarmed, or to worry about where she was to be taken.

She felt as though nothing mattered again, and hence, there was no need to bother. Dan Masani could be driving her to her death, and she would welcome it even.

Her eyes were wide awake—sleep nowhere near her, but she could only stare out, watching the trees they drove past with her mind anywhere but there. The night morphed into daylight, the sun rising to its very peak with them still on the road. How many hours had they been on the road? She had no idea.

But by the time the sun was about to set again, the car finally came to a halt, and that was when she noticed it. The building they had pulled up at.

Her eyes took it in—the two-story building that stood in its glory, straight out of the areas belonging to rich people, her mind brought to her. What caught her attention however, was the sign she saw which decorated the entire house.

The royal insignia.

The house belonged to a royal, but it did not seem like a palace.

Dan Masani stepped out first without a word, not that he had said anything to her throughout the drive, while she remained seated in her position, her eyes taking a glance around the house, noting how it appeared almost empty. Contrary to what one might think given it's a royal house, there was no guards in sight. If anything, it appears there was no one there aside from them.

She watched as Dan Masani made his way towards the entrance of the house, still as shaken as he was earlier on, but stopping when a lady approached him, he stopped, and they exchanged a few words. He gestured to the car, to which she nodded, before he made his way further in while the lady made her way over to the car.

Upon reaching the side where Nusaiba was, she pulled it open, and when their eyes met, she offered her a small smile—though her own eyes were misty. Nusaiba simply stared at the woman, her hand holding onto Asma's necklace, which she had picked up earlier, clutching it as if her life depended on it.

What the woman did next took Nusaiba by surprise. She did not expect anything really, but she did not anticipate the woman's next move.

The woman reached forward, her arms instantly wrapping around Nusaiba before she pulled her into her embrace. Her hand patted her back softly, and then, she said, her voice thick with emotion. "I am sorry for your loss." It seemed she was trying to hold back her own tears, because her voice broke when she added. "You are not alone. You have me."

In that moment, Nusaiba was beyond the point of breaking down—she did not have it in her, and thus, did not react to the woman in the slightest. But there was something about the woman's embrace, although a stranger, was filled with warmth Nusaiba never thought she would feel ever again.

Everything since then passed on in a blur. The woman hugged her for a while longer, before she led her into the house, and led her to a room upstairs. Nusaiba cared not for the details, she was doing everything almost robotic. She was very much aware when the woman brought her change of clothes, and gestured to the bathroom so she could shower and change but she remained in that position unmoving.

The woman did not prod her. She went out and returned with food not long afterwards. The aroma could have made Nusaiba salivate on a normal basis, but at that moment, it made her nearly throw up the remaining food that was left in her stomach.

And she did.

Just when she thought she could hold it in, she found herself sprinting to the gestured bathroom, hunching over the wash hand basin, and retching out the remaining contents. The woman followed behind her quietly, patting her back until she was done, and helped her clean up afterwards.

She did not complain. She never did.

For about three days, the same circle repeated itself—stare at the wall for hours, eat nothing despite the older woman's attempts, and only visiting the bathroom to perform ablution or relieve herself. Even then, she stopped after the second day, prayer no longer in her mind.

There was so much going on in her mind that she started to doubt her faith, and it wavered because prayers eluded her mind as whole.

She slept only when her body was too exhausted, and she had no choice but to succumb to it.

But it never lasts for long, and she is awoken by the nightmare that she witnessed—her body hot all over, as if she was the one burning in the fire.

On the third day, she jolted awake from the nightmare not just because of it, but because of the loud crashing sound that came from outside. She found herself in a sitting position, cold sweat coating her whole body as she heaved heavily. Her chest rose and fell with each breath that escapes and her head whipped in the direction the sound came from.

Curiosity got the best of her as another crashing sound came, followed by voices raised. Ever since she was brought to that house, she barely hears any sound aside from when the old woman visits to keep her company—she has not seen Dan Masani either, and she cared not for him or where she was exactly.

The sudden unfamiliar voices though, she was curious.

The tiles were cold beneath her feet as she got out of bed—the air conditioning doing nothing other than dropping her body temperature, contributing to the brewing fever she knew was going to come sooner or later. One step after another, she made her way towards the door—for the sounds came from that direction.

However, before she could reach the door, a knock came—firm, hard, but resolute.

Her heart dropped to the pit of her stomach, for reasons she too could not tell. Was it fear? It is a contributing factor anyway.

The older woman knocks whenever she visits, but it was always soft in her own way.

This felt different, commanding even.

When she did not answer, another knock came, making her swallow a lump. A beat passed, and she could not bring herself to part her lips and say anything. At least, until the third knock came, and her lips parted in instinct, the response flowing in a low but audible voice.

"Come in."

A moment passed, and she almost thought she was hearing things because it felt as though the world had stilled. The door slowly pushed open, and she took a few steps back, her eyes defensively narrowing at the person on the other side of the door. Not quite expecting whom she saw, her lips tugged into a deep frown upon seeing the older man that walked in—old enough to be her father, if not even older.

She did not detect any warning alarms in her head regarding him, especially not since he did not exactly step foot in the room. He stood by the door simply, not stepping a single foot in, and his gaze found hers.

Nusaiba knew whom he was even without him explaining.

Asmau's father. The resemblance was uncanny.

His face did not give anything away, no doubt the composed leader he appears to be, but his eyes were red, and it spoke of the pain he did not show. He simply stared for the first few seconds, and she could have sworn she saw a layer of tears coat his eyes once again. But, he turned his head away, his eyes closing for a few seconds, as if to compose himself. And when he did, he finally looked at her again, more in check with his emotions.

Then, he parted his lips to speak, and she has not forgotten the exact words he said to her then.

"My daughter did not die because of you." He had said, his voice calmer than she expected—but the thickness of pain behind it was clear enough. "She died because it was her time, and nothing could change it. So, do it ever blame yourself."

Nusaiba's shoulders slumped the moment he said that, and it almost felt as though the emotions she had been keeping at bay for days were threatening to break free. Her heart felt as though it had been struck, piercing the part she thought had turn stone cold. Her eyes—they stung with newfound tears.

He took in a sharp breath, his eyes holding hers, and his lips then curled into the faintest smiles, one that clearly took a lot for him to masuster. "I know what happened to your family, I am sorry for your loss. I understand how you feel."

She did not doubt him in the slightest. Why? Because they both lost someone.

She lost her family; he lost his daughter. They were both mourning.

"I know it will not compare, but my daughter must mean well with you for her to do what she did. For that reason, I will not allow you to be without family as well. From this day henceforth, I will adopt you as my daughter if you accept. I will be your family, if you allow it. You won't be without a father."

Calipha was not one to show emotions easily, he rarely does. And in the few moments that he does, he does nor linger on it for long. Even in that moment, after saying it, almost as if he could not bring himself to keep standing there, having said all he wanted to, he turned around and walked away, not without a parting statement.

"Rest and recuperate for a few days. I will visit you again soon. I will get your answer when you are ready."

Nusaiba was not fully convinced then, but she would not deny did struck right where she did not think it would. Her knees felt weak, but before she could lose herself in the thoughts of that, someone else appeared in her room.

Except, contrary to the older woman and the Calipha, this guest did not knock, or seek any permission. He simply stormed into the room, the action which startled her, making her immediately take a few steps away from him. He came to a stop in front of her, his eyes red, but unlike the Calipha it was not from having shed one too many tears.

His were red with fury.

For a second, with the way he carried himself, she truly expected the worst from him. He seemed to be the type that would do anything on impulse without regretting it. And to make matters worse, there was a trail of blood that followed behind the path he came towards. The source of the blood? The injury he had sustained from his bruised knuckles, the kind that had goosebumps appearing on her skin.

The tears that had coated her eyes began to fall then, except they were no longer because she was moved by the Calipha's words, but out of the fear for the man in front of her. He appeared seconds away from strangling her to death as well.

As the first few tears dropped, his eyes narrowed in slits and then his voice finally came. "Wipe your tears." He said, his tone harsh, making her swallow a lump immediately. "You do not have the liberty to cry, not when everything that happened is your fault."

She shook her head, her eyes still glossy with tears. "It's not, I did not..." Her voice was low, a whisper even as she tried to defend herself, to explain to him that she had no hand in this, but he cut her off.

"My sister died because of you." He accused, his voice sharp as a knife, and his glare pointed. "Your whole family, they died because of you. You killed them."

She shook her head more vigorously, her head pounding as more tears streamed down her face, wishing she could shut his words out. It made her whole world feel as though it was spinning, and she could feel herself seconds away from hyperventilating.

Or was it a panic attack?

But he did not stop.

Rather, he took a step closer to her, continuing. "Do you know why they died?" He inquired, his voice dropping. "Do you know they got killed? Do you know who did it?"

Her eyes widened, feeling as though an ice bucket had been dumped 0n her. Did he say...killed? They were killed? She had believed it was just an unfortunate incident that befall on her family. That they were unlucky, and it ended up as a catastrophic disaster that claimed so many lives.

But, killed is another thing entirely.

And as if knowing the thoughts running through her head, he ascertained. "Yes, killed." His hand reached out, taking a hold of her shoulders firmly just as she had started walking away from him. He leveled his gaze with hers, his voice bitter when he said. "Your family, were killed because of you. My sister, ended up killed as well because of you." He paused, his face hardening to stone before he added. "They were killed by the royals in Sokoto—by Amir Qasim's family. They killed your family, and mine. They ruined your life. Giwa had your family killed because she did not want you to marry her son, and you would have ended up dead as well if not for my sister."

*****

La La lahhhhhh

Daman Zayd Ashe Kai ka hada?? Na you brainwash this girl into believing Kassim's family killed hers??

Ah dole ayi gaba, gaba dole😂 wannan haka yake. Wai!!!

Toh we don hear this side of the story. No the flash back don tire me seff, and writer's block decided to take me as victim like this 😭

In shaa Allah in shaa Allah, it would get better. The book that is. I have more drama ready for this, just pray my writing spirits return because Omo this rate, I'll soon crash.

But yeah, like I said, this will be the first book of mine to exceed fifty chapters so be prepared. Maybe my Kai 70 haka.

Chaiiiii my first longgg book, how do you feel about it??

How do you feel about this last seff? I feel Asma's every action is valid really. Now remain Kassim make we hear his reason for hated ehen. Dole be muyi sulhu.

This enemies thing don tire me, MAKE UNA FALL IN LOVE NOW!! Open your hearts and allow love to enter!! Haann!!

Chai Nikam I'm done. Have a good night.

Have you read SwipeRight Auntie Left?? No?? Me na muku?? You no wan read my book again be?? Bikooooo

Sleep seff but abeg read my book now.
Just purchase it before you go to bed. Go and read soft love something. Ehen.

Love, Jannah Mia.