200 SENSIBLE comments for the next chapter. I know why I'm saying this.
We've entered my favorite phase of the story. Enjoy!🤍

ONE YEAR LATER.

Boston, Massachusetts.

"...most influential people all around the world are arriving at Sokoto, Nigeria, to share their condolence with the family of the late Sultan, His Royal Highness, Dr. Muhammad Haroon II. It has been two days since the late monarch passed on, and the entire country's foundation has been shaken by his death. Acquaintances of the late Sultan shared that this has been a very difficult moment for the family of the deceased..."

She reached a hand out to take the TV remote on the center table, tuning the volume down while the Live News broadcast continued on the Youtube channel, showcasing what was going on at the Emirate. She did not spare it a glance, and instead, settled down on the nearest couch, holding onto a bottle of pills with her other hand.

"Why would you turn the volume down? I was listening to it, you know?" The older man had grumbled, his pointed gaze on her.

She suspired, unbothered as she popped open the bottle of pills, dropping two onto her hand. "It is time for your medicine, Baba," She stated, dropping the pill container aside and picking up a water bottle, before extending both hands out, her gaze finding his as she offered him a tight-lipped smile. "You can continue watching it afterwards. Though, I am sure you've stuck to it long enough it's as if you are practically there."

"You've made nagging me your full-time job at this point it appears. That's all you've been doing for the whole year you moved here." Calipha Aminu scoffed, but he did not go against her words. Instead, he extended a hand out, and she leaned forward to drop the pills and hand him the water bottle. He placed the pills in his mouth first, before downing it with water.

She watched quietly, until she was certain he had taken it, before her shoulders slumped slightly. "I am doing it for your sake." She responded calmly, taking the bottle from him, closing it and placing it back on the table. "Otherwise, you would have continued with your habit of not taking your medications. So kake ka koma asibiti (do you want to go back to the hospital?). It took you so long to recover. It is as if you do not care."

He chuckled humorlessly, shaking his head. "My dear, when you reach my age, you already know you're knocking on death's door, so health issues are expected." He waved her off, his chuckle dying down. "You could be perfectly healthy one minute, and on your death bed the next. Look at the Sultan for instance." His tone turned serious as he gestured to the ongoing news, where old pictures of the Sultan were displayed on the screen, showcasing what his life had been.

Asma intentionally refused to look, keeping her gaze fixated on her father instead.

The act did not go unnoticed him.

When he realized it, he exhaled a loud breath, his shoulders slumping. He flicked his gaze in her direction, his voice dropping when he inquired. "Have you spoken to Amir Qasim yet?" Though his voice was soft, it was stern at the same time, showing the impending scolding that would follow if she claimed otherwise. "It is his father that passed away after all."

She sighed, her shoulders slightly slumped. The corner of her lips tilted into the faintest smiles at the corner, "I did." She responded, her voice low. "Na mishi ta'aziyya (I've offered my condolence)."

Calipha Aminu stared at her for a moment longer, his eyes slightly narrowed, as if to gauge her reaction carefully to see if she was just saying it to avoid his scolding. But then again, he knew she would not lie to him, so he chose to believe her. "Good." He nodded slowly. He tsked, his voice further dropping when he added. "Things must be so chaotic on his side now, getting through him would be difficult. Especially since the next Sultan has yet to be announced. There are so many people seeking the position—the competition is tough, I've been informed."

She simply hummed, not saying a thing.

He went silent for a moment, though he lightly tapped the space on the sofa beside him, lost in thought. He turned his head in her direction. "Even if you do not get through him," Asma knew right from that statement that the old man doesn't believe she had truly reached out to the man, he just didn't call her out on it, and she did not complain. "You should be understanding. It's a difficult stage for him. I am sure his phone is the least of his concerns."

Once again, she nodded, her lips still pressed shut.

Before the Calipha could say anything, the sound of footsteps approaching the living room came, and both of them lifted their heads just in time to see her father's trusted aide, the Waziri whom had recently visited once more step in.

Her lips curved into a small smile once their eyes met. "Baba Waziri, barka da rana."

His own smile mirrored hers. "Barka dai, 'yar baba." He joked, as he had been since she moved to stay with the older man.  His gaze moved to the Calipha, and he lightly teased. "I should have known I would find you with her."

"This one," The Calipha pointed a finger at her with a scoff. "All she has been doing is nagging me. I hear her voice in my sleep because of how much she has been bothering me."

Waziri chuckled while Asma scoffed, shaking her head, deciding to let the man have the last word. "Well, at least, she has been a good company to you here, hasn't she?" He teased, settling down on another empty couch, so he was facing Asma.

Calipha Aminu scoffed, waving the conversation away. "Have you sorted what I had asked you to?" He changed the topic, his tone turning serious.

Waziri's expression turned serious as well, and then he nodded. "Yes. I've managed to book us all flights tonight. The layover's in London, but I've made arrangements. By the time we land in Lagos tomorrow, we would take a flight to Sokoto."

"Masha Allah, that's good to hear then." The Calipa nodded slowly, exhaling a breath of relief.

Asma's gaze shifted between the two, her brows knitted. "What flight?" She blinked, her gaze falling on Waziri. "What are you talking about?" They lost her the moment Waziri started mentioning flights that night.

Waziri shifted his gaze to Calipha, and the older man knew what the look meant. He was supposed to give her the answer, and he did.

"We are all flying back tonight," He responded, his eyes finding hers. "I've had your maidservant pack your stuff. We leave tonight."

Asma's lips parted, her brows knitting. "No, Baba, I did not—"

"This is not up for discussion, Asma," He cut her off, his tone firm. "What kind of people would we be if we do not show up in this situation? Ai ko ba komai, akwai alaqa mai karfi a tsakanin mu da mutanen Sokoto (no matter what, there is a strong relationship between us and the people of Sokoto), you especially." His eyes narrowed slightly. "I do not want to hear any complaints. We are all going back, as will you."

Her shoulders slumped, and she found herself seated on the edge of the couch. "Baba, please, I—"

"Enough." He raised a hand to silence her. "Not a word more." Every trace of lark from his expression vanished, and it was replaced by this serious one she knew so well. He would not change his mind since he had already made it. "Waziri said he had not been able to reach out to Qasim through his phone, none of us have. So, wannan ta'aziyyar said ai muje da kanmu (we should go to this condolence ourselves), that is the right thing to do. I do not want to hear another complain on this, am I clear?"

She swallowed a lump, knowing this was beyond her. So, she resigned. "Understood, Baba."

"Good," He heaved out a breath. "Now go and get ready. Waziri and I have something to discuss. You heard him, our flight departs in a few hours."

She hummed, and pushed herself up to a sitting position. Her feet were suddenly heavy as she pulled herself away from the living room, leaving the elder men alone and heading towards the direction of her room. The moment she stepped in, she was welcomed by the comforting smell of talc and warmth, along with laundered cotton, a scent she had gotten used to over the past three months.

Upon reaching the bed, her gaze fell on her phone which buzzed with the messages that came trooping in, all of which she knew stemmed from none other than the very reason the Calipha was dragging her back to the place she'd stayed away from for a whole year. Yet, as she tapped the screen of her phone, above all the messages and missed calls, one stood out.

Two missed calls. Just a little over half an hour ago.

Her heart skipped a beat, the caller's ID stared back at her, a reminder of everything she had tried to keep in the past.

Her father's words replayed in her head. 'None of us had been able to get through him' and she held back a scoff. That must have been why he did not believe her when she said she had spoken to him on the phone already.

But she was not lying. She did.

She was the first one he called when the news broke, and she had picked—albeit with a very heavy heart.

Asma's momentary state of haze was ended when the sound of soft cries gained her attention from behind. She blinked, snapping back to reality as she instinctively turned around, just in time to see her maidservant approaching. But it was the tiny human all bundled up in the woman's arms that gained Asma's unwavering attention as always.

"He's been a little fussy," The younger woman had stated, reaching where Asma was. "I think he's hungry."

Asma instinctively reached her hands out to take the baby from the maid, dismissing her. The woman exited quietly, closing the door behind her.

"Hello my baby," She cooed, nestling him in her arms, cradled to her chest, and the baby, as if recognizing her instantly stopped his squirming, his small, innocent eyes holding onto hers, and his small hand extended. She extended her finger, and he enclosed it with his hand. She grinned. "Malam Khalilu you've started picking up the habit of he whose name you inherited, ko?" She lightly joked. "Ka fara rigama (you've become troublesome)."

The baby, as if knowing what she was saying, offered her a smile, and her grin grow as she moved to the rocking chair in the corner of the room, settling down on it.

She stared at him for a moment, before her smile wavered slightly, feeling her earlier emotions resurface. "Guess what, baby?" She whispered, her gaze still on him. "We're going to see daddy." She pushed aside the ache in her heart, and forced another smile on her face, "Are you excited to see him for the first time, hmm?" She caressed his soft cheeks with her finger, and all she got in return, was his small fists being wiggled around, too caught up in his own world.

They remained in that position for a moment, her mind swirling with thoughts of everything that had happened so far, and the missed calls which she had no plans of returning. Her phone had long been abandoned, as it had been most times over the past year.

Somewhere in between accompanying the Calipha, her pregnancy and the birth of Khalil, the life she had left behind was not something she often looked back to. For the first time in a very long time, she felt as though she was living her life by herself, surrounded by those she loved, and without feeling suffocated.

And she had not regretted her decision of being away from Amir Qasim once.

If anything, his name had become nothing but a distant memory, and his willingness to take a step back proved exactly what she needed in her life. She could count on one hand the times she had spoken to him over the past year, and two out of three were regarding Khali—the first, when she had no choice but to break the news of her pregnancy, and the second, when she delivered off the baby.

She could remember both times vividly.

Truth be told, she already knew she was pregnant by the time she left Nigeria, merely a few days after Amir Qasim had expressed his intention of letting her go. She had awoken to a handwritten note after the moment shared, and it was the only confirmation that what had transpired was not all in her head—that he was with her, just hours prior.

-I'm afraid I will not be able to bear letting you go if I ever had to look into your eyes. I might have to break my promise if I do. But, I won't. I will never be the reason for your pain again, nor will I make you feel suffocated.

There was more to the note, but that part stuck with her the most. And just like that, he was gone, with no trace of him behind. Even Tareeq was gone, and it was from the man that she found out Amir Qasim had returned to Sokoto, far from her.

She had never felt as lonely as she did the few days she had spent afterwards, especially with everyone gone. Even Karima, whom Tareeq had initially left behind to tend to the Princess, had been sent back to Sokoto by Asma, not that the woman had ever attempted to visit her. Asma did not think much into it then—she simply felt like it was not right to keep Karima with her when she was a married woman.

Besides, she did not want her to be seen in such state.

But a day before she had gotten her visa, she had received a peculiar guest. An outgoing guest escorted all the way from Sokoto to spend the evening with her, and though Asma wanted anything but another's company then, the woman was persistent, being enough entertainment for the both of them.

"—anyways, it is not my proudest factor, but well, that was how I ended up getting married to he who shall not ne named but looked ridiculously good in glasses," The woman had chirped, with a wide grin and her hands clasped together in front of her. She leaned forward slightly towards Asma who quietly listened to her, her expression blank. "I am only telling you this because I like you. I'm not usually this nice." She had added, and Asma had to hold back a scoff.

She doubted the woman's last statement. She had been chirpy right from the moment she arrived and she claims she is not nice? Asma begged to differ. Or perhaps, she truly was and she just saw her pitiful state and decided to indulge her.

The woman, her name was Sa'adah, carried on regardless of Asma's silence. "Our husbands are cousins, so you and I are bound to see more of each other in the future."

Asma held back a bitter smile. If only the woman knew how wrong her statement was. Still, she did not correct her, since she seemed oblivious. She'd rather let it be as so.

"Between you and I though," Sa'adah exhaled a breath, before clicking her tongue against the corner of her mouth, "Your husband is a bit too intimidating, Malam is the complete opposite." Asma had come to realize the woman called her husband 'malam' amongst others. It is their thing apparently.

Once more, Asma could only hold the woman's gaze for a moment, and was glad the moment had gotten interrupted by the maids whom had brought their lunch. The two were at the living room, and have made themselves comfortable on the carpet.

Despite how torn she felt internally, Asma would admit that Sa'adah's presence just had a way of making her feel comforted. The maids placed the food warmers between along with everything necessary. They left once they were done, and Asma turned to face Sa'adah.

"Please, dig in." Her voice was low, matching her low spirit. It did not help that she was feeling under the weather. If not that Sa'adah was there, she would have been curled up in bed as she had been doing the past few days.

Knowing the woman would not be comfortable if she did not start first, Asma peeled open the foil paper covering one of the trays, instantly hit by the aroma of freshly grilled fish, seasoned to perfection. It had been her favorite since arriving in Kubi, and yet at that moment, the scent instantly made her feel nauseous, and she quickly got on her feet, rushing to the nearest restroom.

Sa'adah followed behind her, muttering 'Hasbunnalu wa niimal wakeel' under her breath. She stayed outside the rest room for minutes, hearing the sound of the woman retching from behind closed doors. The sound of flushing soon followed, and a beat passed before the woman stepped out with hunched shoulders, dragging her feet.

Sa'adah rushed to her side, taking a hold of her arm and aiding her walk back to the living room. "Careful." She whispered, not letting go until Asma was seated on the nearest sofa, leaned back with her head tilted upwards.

Sa'adah picked up a water bottle, opened it, and settled down beside Asma, handing it out. "Here, take some water." Her voice had significantly softened.

"Thank you." Asma breathed out, taking the water bottle and sitting up slightly so she could take it. She dropped it after a few sips, offering Sa'adah a small, tight-lipped smile. "I am sorry, I'm being such a bad host." She added, her voice barely above a whisper. "Kiyi haquri (I apologize)."

"It's nothing." Sa'adah had waved her off, dropping the bottle aside. She then turned to face Asma whom had leaned back once more, her eyes close, blowing out shaky breaths while one hand rested on her chest, lightly patting it. She did not say anything for a moment, until she could not hold it anymore. "If you do not mind me asking..." She blinked, pausing for a split second. "...how long has this been going on?"

"Hmm?" Asma's eyes peeled open, though she remained unmoved from her position.

"How long have you been in this condition?" She repeated, her tone knowing.

Asma's lips curved downwards, the wheel sin her head turning. "I don't know. A week? More than?" She shrugged with a heavy breath. "It's nothing. The past few weeks have just been difficult that's all."

Sa'adah hummed, holding onto her gaze, clearly not believing her in the slightest. "Listen." She clasped her hands together in front of her. "I do not mean to intrude, but uhm..." She folded her lips in momentarily when Asma fixated her wary eyes on her. Still, she broke the news. "...do you think, there's any possibility, that..."

"That what?"

"You're pregnant." It was meant to be a question, but it came out as a statement.

Asma stilled, her lips parted. She could have sworn her heart momentarily failed to beat, and if not that she were still alive and breathing, she would have believed that were in the case. She then blinked, a shaky breath escaping her lips, but she did not try to deny it.

She could not even bring herself to deny it because there was every possibility of it—honestly, she would not even be surprised if that were the case.

But pregnancy? At that stage of their relationship?

Her hand instinctively went to her belly, and her heart rate quickened. "La ilaha illa anta subhanaka inni kuntu minazzalimin." She mumbled repeatedly, along with any other dua that came to mind because her world felt as though it was spinning.

Sa'adah, realizing the state the woman had found herself in, was quick to cut in. "Of course, it could be something else..." She tried to soothe her. "...but just in case, I happen to have some test strips with me. You can try checking it."

Asma brows drew in, giving the woman a questioning look.

Sa'adah understood what the look meant, so, she explained. "I tend to be go a little overboard when I'm scared so I bought a lot to check for myself." A small smile made its way on her face before she shrugged. "But my man is a doctor so he knew even before I took the tests so...I had a lot to spare."

Asma dreaded taking the test, but deep down, she felt it. And when the tests turned out positive, her shaky knees had given up on her, making her instantly crouch, alone in the bathroom. All she could think of, was how Allah worked wonders really. Just when she was hoping nothing could ever bring her back to Qasim so long as she had the choice, then came what would tie them forever.

Yet, she did not hate it. Rather, that was when newfound hope and strength bloomed in her. She clung onto the one thing and person she knew her life would revolve around, the only person that would never abandon her—someone she could call hers.

Her child.

It was not difficult getting Sa'adah to keep the secret. Having Amir Qasim find out before she left the country was the same as kissing her chance to leave farewell, she knew that much, and so, she dared not break it.

It was not until she was had her first ultrasound that she broke the news to him, and even then, it was out of fear of how the Calipha would react once he realized that the child's father was unaware of its existence.

So, she broke their no contact streak of months, despite she being very much aware of his presence on her socials. She had not been active much, but every Instagram or Snapchat story, he was there, being the first to view it even most times.

Not sure how to break the news to him exactly, she'd thought of so many ways yet resorted to one thing—taking a picture of the ultrasound and sending it to him, along with her EDD. She watched as the message went through, two instant ticks, which turned blue within a minute.

Her heart dropped to the pit of her stomach, nibbling at her thumbnail. She waited for his reaction. A message, an emoji, anything really. But those blue ticks stared at her for what felt like an eternity, and her nerves grew a pile. At one point, it felt as though she was seconds away from losing her mind entirely.

About five minutes passed with her legs pulled to her chest as she was seated on her bed, the phone in front of her. Just when she decided she could no longer sit there watching it with no response, she made a move to get up and busy herself with something else.

But the vibration came, her head turning around, his caller ID flashing across the screen. She released a shaky breath, her body suddenly going cold and her mouth dry. The phone had almost died when she picked it up with shaky hands, tapping the answer button and bringing the phone to her ear.

A second passed, no sound emitted from both sides.

Then she heard it. His heavy, controlled breath.

Then came his raspy, deep voice. "Assalamu alaiki." His voice, God, how she'd missed it. She had not realized how much until she heard it, and she had to close her eyes, her heart suddenly heavy.

She swallowed a lump, her heart dropping to the pit of her stomach before she whispered a reply, her voice barely audible to her own ears, but he did not seem to mind. "Wa alaiksaalam."

Another heavy breath. "How are you?" His voice, it was not soft, but it was not cold as well. He'd sounded so calm that she envied him really for she was being a mess on the other end, barely able to utter coherent words without making herself look like a fool.

"Fine." She cleared her throat, but it did nothing to improve her voice when she spoke again. "I'm doing okay."

"How is the Calipha?" Asma wanted to pull her hair at how calm he was being. She was close to banging her head on the nearest wall. Would he ask about the entire people in Boston before getting straight to the point? "I heard his health has improved after the surgery?"

She hummed, "It has." She swallowed another thick lump. "He's recovering well."

"Alhamdullilah." Another few seconds of silence, the tension growing and Asma almost wondered if he had ended the call. She had to pull the phone back to check and make sure the call was still ongoing. It was. His voice then came, his tone softening only slightly. "We're expecting." It was not a question; it was a statement.

"Yes," She hated how her voice was shaky. "Due in November, In shaa Allah."

He hummed, and she held her breath, anticipating what his next question would be. 'When did you find out?'. She had thought long and hard about how she would answer him, and yet, she wondered if she could be honest with him. How would he react to knowing she had been aware for months already and decided to keep him out of loop?

But much to her surprise, he did not ask that. Instead, what he said took her aback.

"Alhamdullilah." He mumbled repeatedly. "Allah ya miki albarka (May Allah bless you), and may you have a safe delivery."

"Ameen." She released a relieved breath, her shoulders slumping slightly.

"How are you?" He repeated for the second time, and this time around, it felt different.

"I'm okay." She could not bring herself to raise her voice any higher than a whisper.

"Do you need anything?" He inquired.

"No." What could she need? She had the peace of mind she had longed for.

He did not push for it. Instead, he said, "Let me know if anything comes up, no matter how little. And," He paused, and she could have sworn she heard him hold his breath before asking his next question. "Can I come see you?" That one question held more emotions than their entire conversation did.

Her shoulders slumped, her eyes closing as she ran a hand down her face. "Kassim..." She need not elaborate, he understood where she was headed to.

"It's fine." He assured. "I understand. I won't come." The moment he said that, she felt like the worst person on earth, but she could not bring herself to change her mind. "Take care."

"I will."

That was her first time contacting him since she'd left. The second, was after Khalil was born, and it was even more short than the first one was. She did not deny him to visit when she was to deliver, but the Sultan fell sick then, and he could not make it. But the moment she had delivered, he'd video called, saw the baby, showered prayers upon him and named him after her late brother and his companion—Ibrahim Khalil Qasim.

The third phone call? She could not be sure if she could term it a call even.

Before her mind could go down that lane, a knock on the door came, breaking her from her train of thoughts. She blinked, turning her head around as she gave the person the go-ahead. Her maidservant stepped in almost immediately, going to stand in front of her.

"Your belongings have been packed, Ma'am." She declared. "And Waziri told me to inform you that you'd be leaving for the airport soon."

Asma exhaled a breath, nodding. "Alright, thank you. You can go." Once the woman was out, her gaze moved to her son once more, and her shoulders slumped. Leaning back on the rocking chair, she pulled him to her chest, her arms wrapped securely around him. "I promise, I'll protect you, my baby." She whispered, her lips brushing his forehead. "You won't live the same fate your father and I had to go through."

She was not sure of what life awaited her back at Sokoto, but she knew one thing for certain. For her son, for their son, she was breaking the goddamn cycle of pain. No matter what it took.

True to Waziri's words, they left Boston that very night and took the flight back home—making a transit in London before another long flight that landed in Lagos. It was not until while they were preparing to take their next flight to Sokoto did Waziri break the news received from the Emirate.

"Amir Qasim has been crowned the Sultan of Sokoto."

*****

THINGS DEY SUPPPPPPPPP, KASSIM YA ZAMA SULTAN!!

Kam batu, Kuma Kunsan ai akwai balai🤣🤣 Muna Prince Ma anyi balai balle mun zama Sultan?

Tirrrrrrr Sokoto is on faya!!!!🤣

Toh ni ba wannan ba. I hope you know you owe me comments. I've said I've entered my favorite phase of the book and I'm feeling the vibe!!! I Dey feel am. Your comments will keep me motivated and tbh if you don't give the same energy na how my motivation too go lost.

Yes, I know there are people here. I Dey eye you. The way you fit run to my Instagram dm Dey complain, I've seen it alllllll, I hope you fit drop comments now that I'm back as well.

Toh yanxuuuu jira jiraaaaaaa.

Hadiza fa ta zama Queen kenan?? Giwa kuma mai babban daki. Kam batu akwai balaiiiii.

And we have a Prince!!! Asma and Kassim are parents now😭😭 baby Khalil welcome to the world. Allah ya raya mana Kai da Imani. I won't make you suffer kaji babyn mu🥹

Oh and btw, I'm putting my new book FBR on telegram in case you couldn't get ut on selar. No, just because you've bought it on Selar doesn't mean you're entitled to joining the telegram group. Thank you. It's for people that haven't bought the book.

Toh take care everyone. Stay safe and my comments!!

I'll see you when you give me the same energy.

Love always, Jannah Mia.