He lay on his luxurious bed, both hands clutching his stomach. One glance at him and you could tell he was suffering from a severe illness. He was drenched in sweat and could barely move. He sighed in frustration, failing to reach his phone on the bedside drawer to call Abdallah for help.
He whispered a prayer of thanks when he finally reached the phone as the pain slightly subsided. Quickly, he dialed Abdallah’s number. After two rings, Abdallah picked up and started teasing him, as usual.
> “My groom, Zara’u’s husband, what’s with the early morning call?”
He paused, wanting to lash out at Abdallah but remembered he needed help. He softened his voice and said:
> “Guy, please come take me to the hospital. I’m really not feeling well.”
Alarmed, Abdallah responded:
> “What’s wrong with you?”
> “Honestly, I’ve been having abdominal pain since last night. I barely managed to pray the dawn prayer.”
Abdallah was shocked, even letting out a hiss like he had heard terrible news. Then he spoke angrily:
> “M.J, what kind of man are you? You don’t fear God. You have a wife at home, yet you’re always heading to the hospital for issues related to lust. It’s been two months since your wedding, and you still haven’t fulfilled your marital obligations. What will you say to God if you die with this girl’s rights on your neck? Accusations are sins—even if they’re true. And yet you constantly accuse her of evil without proof.”
He continued scolding him like a father would a child. M.J said nothing until Abdallah went quiet, then asked:
> “Are you done?”
> “I’m almost done.”
> “I asked for help. Since you won’t help me, I’ll hang up.”
> “I swear, Jawwad, if I hear you called a doctor, I’ll report everything you’ve been doing to Daddy.”
> “So you want me to suffer in pain?”
> “You have medicine at home. I’m giving you 30 minutes to feel better. If not, I’m calling Daddy.”
Abdallah hung up, leaving him speechless and frustrated. He knew Abdallah meant everything he said and feared his parents finding out what had been happening between him and the girl they deeply cared about. That’s why he decided to follow Abdallah’s advice. But where to begin?
A Painful Decision
After some deep thought, he gave a sinister smile despite his pain.
> “I have to marry another woman,” he concluded.
That was his only solution. He didn’t consider himself a womanizer like her. Though he knew bringing up the topic of a second marriage now could cause trouble, it was the only way out for him—he couldn’t keep defiling a woman he had no emotional connection with.
Looking at his wristwatch: 6:45 AM. He was sure she hadn’t left for work yet. Slowly, he stood up, clutching his stomach, slipped on his bedroom slippers, and walked towards her section of the house with nervous anticipation.
Visiting Her Room
He walked like a man in agony until he reached her side of the house. Her sitting room was spotless, with a calming fragrance filling the air.
> “She’s clean,” he muttered, impressed.
He stopped in front of her bedroom door, thinking before opening it and entering with a soft greeting.
There, he saw her in front of the mirror, rolling her veil onto her head, dressed in her work clothes. He quickly scanned the tidy room—it looked like no one had even slept there. Then he stared at her outfit; for the first time, he saw her in a way that made his heart skip. She looked stunning, reminding him of Bollywood actress Deepika Padukone in the movie Fighter.
Although they had been married for two months, he could count how many times he’d seen her face. From the day she moved in, he had imposed strict rules: she wasn’t allowed near his room, and he wanted nothing from her. Any time they met, he’d treat her with disdain that lingered long after.
A Violent Encounter
> “I came to claim my right,” he said coldly, interrupting her thoughts.
She turned around in shock to confirm if it was truly him. He sat on her bed. Without replying, she walked to the wardrobe, picked an abaya to wear over her uniform, and began dressing.
> “You heard what I said, so I don’t need to repeat myself,” he insisted, raising his brow.
> “You can come back later. Right now, I’m not available,” she responded calmly, grabbing her handbag to leave.
Suddenly, he grabbed her and pulled her forcefully, pressing her tight and unwrapping her veil. She struggled, but he didn’t let go.
> “Forget that you’re a policewoman—you won’t overpower me. Just relax and let me do what I want. If you could give yourself to strangers, why not your own husband?”
He finally freed her hair, surprised to see it was real, long, silky, and beautiful—not a wig. Mesmerized, he started caressing it, losing himself. She wanted to resist but remembered she hadn’t prayed and stopped fighting, letting him continue.
Aftermath
When he realized why she had stopped resisting, he was filled with shame and anger. He left the room abruptly, not even collecting his clothes.
She slowly got up, went to the bathroom, and got ready in a hurry—it was already almost 8:00 AM, and her meeting with the new commissioner was at 7:30. She left the house quickly.
A Shocking Meeting
As she entered the police compound, she felt she recognized some officers but ignored them due to lateness. She didn’t even read the name on the commissioner’s door before entering and giving a polite greeting.
She froze.
Her heart sank. Anxiety gripped her.
> “Welcome, Zarah. Leaving so soon without congratulating me on my new appointment?”
She slowly turned, glaring with disgust.
> “That’s why I came—to congratulate the person appointed. But the man I met doesn’t deserve it. You left Bauchi as commissioner only to return to Gombe in the same position? That’s not progress. Clearly, your presence here confirms you were involved in the former commissioner’s death, just so you could be close to me again. May God guide you.”
Suspension Letter
> “Wait—you haven’t received your letter yet,” he said, standing and handing her a document.
> “This is a suspension letter. You’re accused of two crimes: First, being involved in the disappearance of your housemaid two months ago. Second, the death of the journalist you secretly met on Monday night—he was killed the same night.”
She took the letter calmly, then tore it in front of him.
> “As usual, Mr. Commissioner,” she said, “face me directly. You know our deal—I don’t see you as a superior, I see you as an enemy. You have no right to suspend me—not even for a second. If you’re brave, face me head-on. Goodbye.”
She stormed out, leaving him dumbfounded.
At the Office
Ignoring greetings, she went straight to her office. Her head throbbed terribly. She buried her face on the desk and burst into tears—without even knowing why.
She paused when she sensed someone entering without knocking. Only two people would do that: Saleem or Jidda—or both.
Hand in hand, they entered with cheerful greetings but were surprised to see her tear-streaked face. Jidda rushed to her.
> “What’s wrong, my love?”
> “Nothing, just a headache.”
Jidda wasn’t convinced. She and Saleem sat down quietly, studying her expression. Then Jidda asked gently:
> “You went to congratulate the new commissioner but found out it’s Muttaka—the former Bauchi commissioner, now transferred to Gombe. That shook you. You’re now wondering how to handle all the problems. Am I right or wrong?”
Description
Ailing and Alone
He lay on his luxurious bed, both hands clutching his stomach. One glance at him and you could tell he was suffering from a severe illness. He was drenched in sweat and could barely move. He sighed in frustration, failing to reach his phone on the bedside drawer to call Abdallah for help.
He whispered a prayer of thanks when he finally reached the phone as the pain slightly subsided. Quickly, he dialed Abdallah’s number. After two rings, Abdallah picked up and started teasing him, as usual.
> “My groom, Zara’u’s husband, what’s with the early morning call?”
He paused, wanting to lash out at Abdallah but remembered he needed help. He softened his voice and said:
> “Guy, please come take me to the hospital. I’m really not feeling well.”
Alarmed, Abdallah responded:
> “What’s wrong with you?”
> “Honestly, I’ve been having abdominal pain since last night. I barely managed to pray the dawn prayer.”
Abdallah was shocked, even letting out a hiss like he had heard terrible news. Then he spoke angrily:
> “M.J, what kind of man are you? You don’t fear God. You have a wife at home, yet you’re always heading to the hospital for issues related to lust. It’s been two months since your wedding, and you still haven’t fulfilled your marital obligations. What will you say to God if you die with this girl’s rights on your neck? Accusations are sins—even if they’re true. And yet you constantly accuse her of evil without proof.”
He continued scolding him like a father would a child. M.J said nothing until Abdallah went quiet, then asked:
> “Are you done?”
> “I’m almost done.”
> “I asked for help. Since you won’t help me, I’ll hang up.”
> “I swear, Jawwad, if I hear you called a doctor, I’ll report everything you’ve been doing to Daddy.”
> “So you want me to suffer in pain?”
> “You have medicine at home. I’m giving you 30 minutes to feel better. If not, I’m calling Daddy.”
Abdallah hung up, leaving him speechless and frustrated. He knew Abdallah meant everything he said and feared his parents finding out what had been happening between him and the girl they deeply cared about. That’s why he decided to follow Abdallah’s advice. But where to begin?
A Painful Decision
After some deep thought, he gave a sinister smile despite his pain.
> “I have to marry another woman,” he concluded.
That was his only solution. He didn’t consider himself a womanizer like her. Though he knew bringing up the topic of a second marriage now could cause trouble, it was the only way out for him—he couldn’t keep defiling a woman he had no emotional connection with.
Looking at his wristwatch: 6:45 AM. He was sure she hadn’t left for work yet. Slowly, he stood up, clutching his stomach, slipped on his bedroom slippers, and walked towards her section of the house with nervous anticipation.
Visiting Her Room
He walked like a man in agony until he reached her side of the house. Her sitting room was spotless, with a calming fragrance filling the air.
> “She’s clean,” he muttered, impressed.
He stopped in front of her bedroom door, thinking before opening it and entering with a soft greeting.
There, he saw her in front of the mirror, rolling her veil onto her head, dressed in her work clothes. He quickly scanned the tidy room—it looked like no one had even slept there. Then he stared at her outfit; for the first time, he saw her in a way that made his heart skip. She looked stunning, reminding him of Bollywood actress Deepika Padukone in the movie Fighter.
Although they had been married for two months, he could count how many times he’d seen her face. From the day she moved in, he had imposed strict rules: she wasn’t allowed near his room, and he wanted nothing from her. Any time they met, he’d treat her with disdain that lingered long after.
A Violent Encounter
> “I came to claim my right,” he said coldly, interrupting her thoughts.
She turned around in shock to confirm if it was truly him. He sat on her bed. Without replying, she walked to the wardrobe, picked an abaya to wear over her uniform, and began dressing.
> “You heard what I said, so I don’t need to repeat myself,” he insisted, raising his brow.
> “You can come back later. Right now, I’m not available,” she responded calmly, grabbing her handbag to leave.
Suddenly, he grabbed her and pulled her forcefully, pressing her tight and unwrapping her veil. She struggled, but he didn’t let go.
> “Forget that you’re a policewoman—you won’t overpower me. Just relax and let me do what I want. If you could give yourself to strangers, why not your own husband?”
He finally freed her hair, surprised to see it was real, long, silky, and beautiful—not a wig. Mesmerized, he started caressing it, losing himself. She wanted to resist but remembered she hadn’t prayed and stopped fighting, letting him continue.
Aftermath
When he realized why she had stopped resisting, he was filled with shame and anger. He left the room abruptly, not even collecting his clothes.
She slowly got up, went to the bathroom, and got ready in a hurry—it was already almost 8:00 AM, and her meeting with the new commissioner was at 7:30. She left the house quickly.
A Shocking Meeting
As she entered the police compound, she felt she recognized some officers but ignored them due to lateness. She didn’t even read the name on the commissioner’s door before entering and giving a polite greeting.
She froze.
Her heart sank. Anxiety gripped her.
> “Welcome, Zarah. Leaving so soon without congratulating me on my new appointment?”
She slowly turned, glaring with disgust.
> “That’s why I came—to congratulate the person appointed. But the man I met doesn’t deserve it. You left Bauchi as commissioner only to return to Gombe in the same position? That’s not progress. Clearly, your presence here confirms you were involved in the former commissioner’s death, just so you could be close to me again. May God guide you.”
Suspension Letter
> “Wait—you haven’t received your letter yet,” he said, standing and handing her a document.
> “This is a suspension letter. You’re accused of two crimes: First, being involved in the disappearance of your housemaid two months ago. Second, the death of the journalist you secretly met on Monday night—he was killed the same night.”
She took the letter calmly, then tore it in front of him.
> “As usual, Mr. Commissioner,” she said, “face me directly. You know our deal—I don’t see you as a superior, I see you as an enemy. You have no right to suspend me—not even for a second. If you’re brave, face me head-on. Goodbye.”
She stormed out, leaving him dumbfounded.
At the Office
Ignoring greetings, she went straight to her office. Her head throbbed terribly. She buried her face on the desk and burst into tears—without even knowing why.
She paused when she sensed someone entering without knocking. Only two people would do that: Saleem or Jidda—or both.
Hand in hand, they entered with cheerful greetings but were surprised to see her tear-streaked face. Jidda rushed to her.
> “What’s wrong, my love?”
> “Nothing, just a headache.”
Jidda wasn’t convinced. She and Saleem sat down quietly, studying her expression. Then Jidda asked gently:
> “You went to congratulate the new commissioner but found out it’s Muttaka—the former Bauchi commissioner, now transferred to Gombe. That shook you. You’re now wondering how to handle all the problems. Am I right or wrong?”