WHO ADDED ME IN HER NIGHT PRAYERS TO UPDATE? WHO??

Oya as you dey add me please include me in your prayer as well normally. Yawwa thank you.

Manage this. Wrote this through drowsy eyes and all, that's why it's a late night update.

You know how to compensate me though, right?

MY COMMENTS!!!!!

As always, Allah ya barmin ku.

Sokoto, Nigeria.

The shift in the room was instant—the stillness that took over immediate.

It was as if they had all ceased to breathe momentarily, Sarkin Gida's words registering in their minds, trying to digest and make sense but it was proven to be difficult. Yet, as he remained in that position, his smile wide and his gaze on Gimbiya Fulani, it became increasingly evident that he had no intention of taking back his words.

Another second passed, the silence stretching thin.

Hadiza was the first person to break the silence—her body growing instantly cold as she stilled, her voice low, but the restrained anger in it was evident. "What do you mean Fulani has returned?" Which Fulani? She wondered, though the small voice at the back of her mind which she had been adamant to ignore whispered that which she refuses to accept.

Which other Fulani could there be? There was only one other, whose title she'd already been warned by Amir Qasim not to even think of taking, resulting in her picking a different name for herself, 'Zeenariya'. But the man just said Fulani had returned?

Fulani?

Sarkin Gida's gaze flicked in her direction, his smile dropping slightly for he could see the storm in her eyes. Still, he responded, repeating his earlier words. "Fulani matar Sultan," He repeated, "The Princess of Kubi. She has returned."

"Bakada hankali," Hadiza had mumbled, though everyone had heard her.

"Hadiza," Gimbiya Fulani had called in a warning tone. "Ba girman ki bane tozarta mutane." She added, in a low voice meant only for the woman to hear.

But Hadiza's eyes were blinded by rage. She released a light, humorless scoff, shaking her head in disbelief. "Gimbiya Fulani have you heard what he said?" She turned her head to meet the older woman's gaze, and she struggled to keep her emotions in check, uncaring that she was in the presence of the other family members. "He said Fulani has returned. Have he any idea what he is saying—"

"Hadiza—" This time around it was Gimbiya Amarya that interrupted her, her gaze firm when she found Hadiza's gaze. She had not said a word, but the look she shared with the woman, the latter understood what it meant.

Hadiza parted her lips to say something but before she could, the sound of the door opening came once more, and everyone's attention piqued in the direction. Sarkin Gida, who was closest to the entrance quickly scrambled to get on his feet, and he moved to the side, crouching once more. "Allah ya kare ki daga sharrin maqiya. Allah ya qara miki lafiya. Allah ya ja zamanin ki. Allah ya qara ma Sultan martaba. Barka da shigowa gimbiyar asali, yar gidan sarauta, kin gaji Mulki, kin auri Mulki, kuma kin haifi Mulki. Taka lafiya mai dakin Sultan. Shigo cikin amici hasken fada..." His praises continued as she made an appearance, and everyone's gaze remained fixated on the entrance of the living room.

She stepped in dressed in a richly embroidered lafaya in shades or burnt orange and gold, featuring intricate floral patterns covering the matching set of wrapper and blouse. The lafaya rested on her shoulder, revealing only her headscarf which she had tied into perfection. Her face was bare of any makeup, yet she exuded the kind of radiance that demanded a second look. Her accessories were kept to the minimum, sticking to a pair of gold earrings and matching wrist watch and delicate rings. And to complete the look, pointed high heels with red soles, complimenting the tones of her attire.

Asma's head was held high, and her lips curved into the faintest smiles as she stepped in, her lips parting to utter the salaam in the same soft, and controlled tone they were all mostly acquainted with.

They had all unanimously answered the salaam, except one woman, frozen in her spot, standing and staring at her with mouth hung open.

Behind her trailed her maidservant, cradling a baby to her chest, hidden from the hawk-like eyes of everyone.

Asma's gaze found Gimbiya Amarya's first, and the older woman slowly pushed herself to a standing position, reaching out to take her walking stick in order to aid her. Giwa, who was the closest to her and the mobile one, given Hadiza had frozen and Karima was not one to easily get up on her own either, reached out to help the older woman, which she allowed her.

"Asmau..." Gimbiya Fulani's face broke into a wide grin, one hand extended out. "...It really is you."

Asma's smile remained as it was, small, but warm enough. Slipping off her heels, she made her way further into the living room, ignoring the prying eyes that followed her every move, the dim scent of her perfume only heard once a person is close enough. Once close enough, she attempted to crouch to greet Gimbiya Fulani, "Gimbiya Fulani barka da rana—" She started just as she was about to fully crouch, but the older woman held her upper arm, stopping her.

"Get up. Tashi, kinji?" She pulled her up, and Asma hesitantly allowed her to, straightening her spine. She pulled her other hand from Giwa's, and used both hands to take a hold of Asma's shoulders. "Takwara ta..."

Asma's smile widened a bit, "Gimbiya Fulani..."

The older woman pulled her into her weak embrace, lightly patting her back. "Welcome home, my dear." She whispered, so only she could hear, but the two women close enough heard. She pulled back after a few seconds, still holding her at arms-length, and then she glanced over her shoulder, her gaze falling on the baby in the maid's hands, and Asma could have sworn the old woman's eyes had glossed over then. The baby was fast asleep, his face covered by his flannel as he slept away peacefully, unaware of the attention he had gained. She smiled wider, her gaze finding Asma's. "Come, zo muje chiki. It must have been a long trip back."

"It was alright." Asma whispered back, "Let me greet everyone first. Ban musu gaisuwa ba."

Gimbiya Fulani nodded, giving her the go ahead.

Asma turned away from the woman, facing Giwa who had quietly remained there, not saying a word though her expression did not give anything away. Deep down, she was expecting the same hostility from the woman as their relationship had always been even before she left. Much to her surprise however, Asma crouched low, her expression genuine.

"Barka da rana, Giwa." She greeted, her head hung low.

Giwa blinked, momentarily stunned. Her lips parted slightly, but she responded regardless, her words cautious. "Lafiya..."

"Ya qarin haquri?"

"Lafiya..." Giwa's brows drew in, skeptically eyes Asma closely for any signs of falsehood—after all the woman was good at putting on theatrics. But she could not see any sign of that then. What has changed? She could not help but wonder.

"Allah ya gafarta mishi. Allah ya say a huta. Mu kuma Allah sa mu cika da Imani."

"Ameen ya rabbi." Giwa was quiet momentarily, but then she stunned Asma as well by asking. "How are you? And the baby?"

Asma looked up, her eyes slightly dilated. But she got past her shock almost immediately, reminding herself that Giwa is the boy's grandmother after all, just as she was Amir Qasim's mother, the only reason she was willing to put aside her personal feelings. "We're both good, alhamdullilah."

Giwa nodded slowly. "Allah ya raya shi da Imani."

"Ameen." Asma had turned to the others, issuing a generalized greeting this time around, and they had all answered—even the younger ladies had eagerly pitched in, trying to get in some word with the Queen. When the greetings were over, Asma's gaze flicked in Karima's direction, only to find that the woman had turned her head to the side, pretending as if she was not there.

Asma's lips curved into a slight frown, but she did not acknowledge it. Later, she'd told herself.

With the greeting over, and Gimbiya Fulani eager to whisk her away, she pulled her up once more. "Let's go inside." She'd repeated, this time around holding onto her hand, and leading her away. "Giwa, I'll leave things here to you." Gimbiya Fulani had entrusted, before her gaze fell on the still frozen woman standing beside her. "Hadiza, you stay and help them."

Asma did not once spare Hadiza a glance, despite feeling the woman's penetrative gaze on her all the while. She was standing right by her side, and everyone could feel the tension between the two but Asma refused to acknowledge her.

A light scoff escaped Hadiza's lips as Asma brushed past her with Gimbiya Fulani, disappearing in the direction of the older woman's room. But what had caught Hadiza's attention the most was the baby in the maid's arms as she walked past her, and despite his face being shielded, she still got a glance at it.

Fire thrummed in her veins.

Amir Qasim's son with that woman...

She took a step in the direction, unsure of what exactly she wanted to do but at most go along with the cruel things her mind was whispering at her to. But Giwa's voice came, halting her steps.

"Hadiza, ina zaki (where are you going)?"

Hadiza gritted her teeth; her hands curled into a fist by her side as she blew harsh breaths past her lips. She glared at Asma's retreating figure until it was no longer visible, and then she forced herself to turn around. But instead of staying there as she was instructed to, she stormed out, unable to stay in the room any longer.

The whispers followed behind as her family members and maids rushed after her, no doubt to pacify her but the damage had already been done. The other members of the royal family had seen the exchange—even Sarkin Gida had, and best believe the news would reach the other royal guards the moment he was out.

Rumors travel fast in the palace after all, and this was the juiciest of them all. Or at least, the beginning of it.

Inside the room Gimbiya Fulani had been occupying at Giwa's chamber, she settled on the bed first with the help of Asma, and when the latter attempted to settle down on the carpet, she took a hold of her wrist and gently pulled her so she was seated on the bed beside her.

Asma could only smile, a genuine one because Gimbiya Fulani was no doubt the only female in the house that would get such a reaction from her. Wordlessly, she turned to her maid, extended her hands out and the woman understood what she meant. Leaning down, she placed the baby in her arms before she quietly turned around and left the room, leaving them alone.

With she gone and the still sleeping baby now in his mother's arms, Asma turned to Gimbiya Fulani whose eyes were fixated on the child, and she carefully handed him to her. Gimbiya Fulani's smile was instant as she cradled the sleeping boy to her chest, her smile widening with each second that passes by.

"Masha Allah, tabarakallah," She mumbled repeatedly, "Yerima Ibrahim. Kilishin Sultan. Oh, ikon Allah. Yau Allah ya bani ikon ganin dan Qasim (Wonders. Allah has opportune me to see Qasim's son). My great grandson. Alhamdullilah ya rabbi." Her gaze found Asma's who stared at the two, and she extended a hand to pat the back of Asma's. "You've done well, my dear. Sannu. Allah ya miki albarka, kinji?"

"Ameen Gimbiya Fulani." Asma's smile was unwavering, her tone soft. She loved the warmth that came from the older woman's hand, and the motherly feeling she gave. It was one Asma hadn't had in a very long time—it almost made her heart ache.

"How I wish Muhammad had gotten the chance to see him," Gimbiya Fulani lamented, her smile now solemn as she stared at the sleeping baby. "His grandson. The moment you see this boy, you'll know his Qasim's. He has some of his features already. Is he fussy?" She blinked, lifting her head to stare at the mother.

Asma shook her head. "Not until recently." She admitted.

Gimbiya Fulani chuckled knowingly. "Qasim's son indeed." She breathed out. "That was how he was as a baby as well. Sai da ya fara wayo ya fara rigima kuma. You're in for a long one. He'll sleep during the day and disturb you at night. Thankfully, you're back. Allow his father to take care of him while you rest, it's now his time to suffer. Don't try to let him off the hook because he's the Sultan now. He became a father before then."

Asma chuckled, but she could not bring herself to say anything. Instead, she could only nod, as if to silently assure the older woman that she understood and will make sure he handles it as well.

A sigh escaped Gimbiya Fulani's lips as she focused her attention on the baby whom hadn't quite stirred awake, sleeping soundly just as she had mentioned he would earlier on. A few minutes passed with no words exchanged between the two women, but it was not awkward. And it remained as so, until the older woman decided to break the silence.

"You didn't want to return now, right?"

"Huh?" Asma blinked, taken aback by the sudden question.

Gimbiya Fulani tore her gaze from her great grandson, though her frail arms remained wrapped around him securely. "You did not want to return now," She repeated, holding Asma's gaze. "I'm pretty certain your father made you return."

Asma looked down, her shoulders slumping as she heaved out a breath. "He did not give me much of a choice," She admitted earnestly, not being able to bring herself to lie to the woman. "But he was right. It's long overdue."

Gimbiya Fulani hummed, before she turned her body around so she was fully facing her. "Listen to me, Fulani." She started, urging the woman to look up and find her gaze. Her expression was firm when she continued. "I know what you are most worried about and the main reason why you did not want to return. It's because of Hadiza, isn't it? Because she's also his wife?"

Asma looked away, the familiar ache in her heart returning. She'd mentally prepared herself to face the woman, the memory of her last meeting with her fresh in her mind, yet seeing Hadiza earlier? She was not sure how she got the strength to ignore her really when she wanted to do the complete opposite.

And the worst part? Knowing she'd have to share him with her. It was bad enough having to live the entire year knowing he was with her, it wasn't as real as it was about to be. How could she look forward to returning?

"Matar sa ce ai (She's his wife after all)." Asma found herself saying in a small voice, offering Gimbiya Fulani a smile though it did not reach her eyes. "Avoiding her is inevitable. Besides, I'm certain she doesn't make things complicated for him as I do."

"Kowa dai da nashi (everyone has their own)." Gimbiya Fulani chuckled humorlessly, shaking her head. "But, I do not want to talk about her. I want to talk about you, and him."

Asma blinked, her brows drawing in question.

Gimbiya Fulani heaved out a breath, silent for a moment, before she threw her question out. "Do you know how much Qasim adores you?" Asma's face flushed due to the sudden question, never quite expecting to have this question with the older woman. It was not just about her being her in-law, she was an adult as well, much older than her. This isn't something she was comfortable conversing about, but the older woman did not seem to care. "My grandsons happen to be very foolish when they are in love. Sadiq and Tareeq are no different I'm telling you." She huffed out an annoyed breath. "Ragwaye ne—especially Qasim and Sadeeq. Even Tareeq that's forming hard guy is no different."

Asma chuckled slightly at the older woman's tone.

Gimbiya Fulani's face was adorned by a small smile as well. "What I am trying to say is, you do not have any idea how much influence you have over him, my dear." She continued. "Keep aside the fact that he's the Sultan now, you, my Fulani are the only one here that has any influence over him. You just do not know how to wield it. If you do, waye kishiya? You would not even spare her the time of the day because you know fadar taki ce, and so is the ruler of the court."

Asma had no idea how she ended up receiving advice from her grandmother in law, but she was not complaining. She could only listen to the woman quietly, taking in her words.

"The biggest problem you two face is that you are both stubborn." She gave her a pointed look. "You both stand your ground and refuse to cave in, and that's not how marriage works. Sometimes, you have to learn to give in so that things would work out. Last time, he did the caving in, allowing you to take the time you need. But now, Asma, now it's your turn. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

Asma nodded slowly. "I understand." She does. She shouldn't be too stubborn, if she wants this to work.

"You have a son now," Gimbiya Fulani glanced at the boy momentarily before she carried on. "There's no better life you can give him than the one he'd get in his father's house. So, it'll be in your best interest to make your marriage work now that you're back. Don't give another woman the chance to gain the upper hand or take away what you have. Letting him have the upper hand doesn't mean you're weak, and so will doings things his way. If you know how to handle it right, you'd be the one with the upper hand. And knowing Sultan, he'd gladly you allow you to."

"I will try, in shaa Allah." She assured.

Gimbiya Fulani held her gaze for a moment, before she heaved out a breath. "Alright, I'll trust you on this for now." She pulled away, choosing to let Asma be for that moment since she'd said all that she wanted to. "I know you had a long flight and trip, so, I should allow you to rest."

"It's alright. I can linger around for a while." Asma offered with an assuring smile. "Everyone else is here, it wouldn't be right to leave."

"Don't bother," Gimbiya Fulani waved her off. "Staying here would be a headache. Everyone would be eying you like you're a piece of meat. Everyone's looking for drama so save yourself the headache and rest. You can come along tomorrow after you've gotten a good rest. Then you'd be a good host. After all, you're the Fulani now."

Asma's lips set into a tight line, before she nodded. "Okay. If you say so."

"Besides," Gimbiya Fulani added, her tone turning teasing. "Sultan would soon be done with his court session, and once he knows you're back, I'm sure it would end sooner. We shouldn't keep you here for long. I don't want the shameless boy coming here with all those prying eyes outside. Ba girman sa bane yanxu."

Asma flushed once more, looking down. Leave it to Gimbiya Fulani to casually say stuff like that as though it were the most normal thing to say. But the older woman did not take her words back still.

They stayed with the older woman for a while in the room, until Gimbiya Fulani it was time to send her away lest they have the Sultan soon knocking on their door unashamedly. Asma handed the boy back to the maid as they stepped out alongside Gimbiya Fulani, and as she bade everyone a general farewell then, true to the older woman's earlier words, the prying eyes had increased.

It was as if the ones around had called on those that weren't, and the living room was then filled to the brim was inquisitive people, and the only person missing, the very person she did not want to see. And when she glanced at Karima's direction, she realized the woman too, had made herself scarce.

Asma was more than glad she had taken Gimbiya Fulani's advice to leave, and she did.

She left the chambers with her maid and a guard accompanying them. Walking around the palace felt nostalgic, and her steps slowed as she made her way towards her side. It appeared almost everyone had gathered at Giwa's chamber, because even the guests that were trooping in, were all directed there.

She intentionally took the path she knew she would not run into people. But because she knew she would take a longer time, and she wanted to enjoy some alone time before whatever drama awaited her, she had her maidservant take the car and head back first with the Prince while she trekked there.

When her side came to sight, she found herself coming to a halt, a new thought she had not considered suddenly crossing. Was she to share the house with Hadiza? Had the woman taken over the side? It had not crossed her mind until then, even so when she spotted a maid she was sure she'd seen earlier with her lingering around the place.

Her frown deepened, her feet planted in place.

If that were the case, then she was not sure she could handle it. But then Gimbiya Fulani's words crossed her mind, and she wondered if it also applied then as well. Could she live in the same house with Hadiza?

Impossicant.

Lost in her thoughts, she'd tuned out of her surroundings. At least, until she heard the guard accompanying her mutter something. "Ran sarki ya dade..."

She glanced at him, but his gaze was not on her. Rather, it was in the opposite direction, and she followed his line of sight, only to see who had gained his attention.

Her breath got caught in her throat, and she could have sworn she'd forgotten how to breathe then. Gimbiya Fulani knew what she was saying after all, because it seemed court session had ended—maybe even sooner than usually as the older woman had implied, because approaching her was none other than the man she hadn't laid her eyes on for over a year. He hadn't brought along an entourage—only one person she recognized as Sallama, and a police guard. But they were the least of her concerns really.

His eyes were locked on her, and she felt her insides quiver.

Ya Ilahi. She thought, frozen in her spot, unable to move or say anything.

It did not help that his expression did not give anything away, as much as she could see despite the turban wrapped around his head, covering the sides of his face after all. She swallowed a lump as he got closer, her throat suddenly dry.

And when he got closer, the familiar scent of his cologne reached her—her knees weakened on instinct, and her heart stuttered.

She parted her lips to speak, but no words came out. And the ones at the very tip of her tongue? He'd stolen them once he was within arms-length.

In a swift, almost fleeting move, he'd wrapped one arm around her, pulling her into him, before the other arm joined, and he held her in his embrace, his head resting on her shoulder.

Asma's body went numb, her arms limb by her side. But his arms only pulled her closer, and if she feared if he hadn't, her knees would have fully given up on her and she would have fallen on the floor.

Then his voice came, that familiar, baritone deep and husky tone that never failed to make the butterflies in her tummy erupt.

"Fulani." He breathed out. "It's really you." His voice had sounded restrained, and she couldn't help but swallow a thick lump.

A shaky breath escaped her lips, glancing over his shoulder at the company they had, but everyone had turned away, pretending as if they weren't even there. Still, her heart thrummed, and she found herself whispering. "Sultan." She breathed out in the same shaky tone. "We have company."

His reply was instant. "I don't care." He truly did not seem to, not in the slightest.

"There are people watching us." She could spot other guards around and the maids glancing at them, before whispering amongst themselves. She already knew they would be the topic of discussion.

But he didn't care. "Let them watch," He had said, unbothered.

She swallowed another lump, and she wouldn't be surprised if she were told he could hear the sound of her heart beat. "Sultan," She whispered still.

"Don't call me that," He'd cut her off, still holding onto her, his arms holding her securely. "Everyone else calls me that. Not you too."

Her lips formed a small smile, "But you are the Sultan now." She'd said in a low voice, meant only for him to hear.

"I'm still just Qasim," He breathed out in the same voice. In a lower voice, he'd added. "Your Kassim."

Asma did not reply, nor did she make a move to return the hug. Unlike him, she wasn't that shameless. And yet, as her gaze caught the presence of someone not far from where they were, she suddenly wished she was.

Hadiza stood on the other side, face red and fuming as she watched them, and Asma would admit she'd loved every moment of it. The woman seemed seconds away from either blowing up in bits or charging towards them.

But as much as she loved seeing the look on the woman's face, more people seemed to gather around the place, hanging around the corners, and the last thing she wanted was that much eyes on them.

So, she focused her attention on him, and then attempted to pull back. He allowed her to, but he still held onto one of her hands, as if scared he'd let go she would disappear.

His gaze held hers, and a smile took over his features, giving her hand a small squeeze. He'd honestly expected her to pull away, but she did not much to his relief.

"Let's go." She'd breathed out.

He frowned. "Go where?"

"To see your son of course," Her lips curved into a small, warm smile. "Let's go see our son."

~*~

HMMMM!!! Su Sultan kuma yanxu ai an shiga three. I just know Qasim go oppress people every chance he gets. Bro dey act like one newly weds or something.

Yo ai shikenan. I shall not be oppressed! Repeat after me, we shall not be oppressed by fictional characters! Yawwa. We will stand our grounds.

Na single we single no be person we kill. Ah ah.

I sha know I love Gimbiya Fulani.

Hadiza go soon explode though, I can feel it. She is close to exploding.

Keh karima na so your life dey? Yo ai hikenan.

I will see you guys after I get my comments enough so you better comment!!

I told you it's my favorite part of the book, hehe.

Stay safe as always and have a good night.

Love, Jannah Mia.