Alhaji Shamsu was restlessly pacing back and forth in the center of the living room, his hands clasped behind his back.
One glance was enough to see that he was deeply troubled, desperately seeking a solution.
He let out another sigh of frustration, the umpteenth time.
> “No way, impossible, wallahi!” he burst out loudly.
> “Wallahi, it can never happen... Bankrupt? Me? Me?! The great Alhaji Shamsu, bankrupt? Even facing threats? No, I won’t let it happen. I must find a way. I have to!”
He ended his rant with a punch to the wall.
He looked at the clock again—5:55 PM.
Another frustrated hiss. Time was not in his favor. He resumed his anxious pacing until the clock struck exactly 6:00.
With trembling hands, he picked up his phone from the center table and dialed a number, sweating profusely from stress.
The line nearly disconnected before it was finally answered.
> “Hello sir,” a female voice greeted him.
> “Hi Helen... so what’s up? Is everything in place?” he asked nervously.
> “Yes sir. At last, you’ve been given an appointment…”
> “It’s okay, sir. But it’s scheduled for Monday at exactly 8 AM. You know he doesn’t like lateness…”
> “Oh, don’t worry! I’ll be there by seven. Thank you. I’ll reward you if all goes well.”
> “Alright sir, bye, and thank you.”
> “No, I’m the one who should thank you,” he said and ended the call.
He sank into the cushion behind him, exhaling deeply.
> “Wuhh! Alhamdulillah! At least I can smell the scent of success!”
> “It’s for Monday. Today is just Friday. Even if it takes a week, I’ll wait if success is guaranteed. Ya Allah, guide me and grant me success. Let me go and make up my missed prayers. Tension is not fun.”
And with that, he walked off while muttering prayers to himself, finally calm enough to perform his Asr and Dhuhr prayers.
Busy Businesswoman
> “Okay... Insha Allah... No need to worry. We always keep our promises, insha Allah. You’ll be glad you did business with us... hahaha, we’re the ones grateful... Alright, bye. Thanks for patronizing us.”
She ended the call with a deep breath.
> “Looks like this week will be hectic,” she said, looking at a young lady in front of her holding a thick book and a pen.
The young lady smiled, replying,
> “Wallahi, ma’am, it does look like that.”
> “Just now, I spoke with Sufee’s family. They want snacks for their daughter’s birthday, which is next Friday—only one week from now. Plus, we have Sir Wilson’s wedding order, which we haven’t even started yet.”
> “And we haven’t finished the Savannah Hotel order either,” the girl added, shaking her head.
> “Wuhh! No worries. We just need more staff so everything can go fast and smoothly. We’re known for keeping our promises; I don’t want to ruin our image.”
> “That’s true, ma’am. That’s how it should be,” said Maryam.
> “So, go and prepare everything. I’ll send you the plan via email shortly.”
Her phone rang, interrupting her.
She checked the caller and motioned to Maryam to excuse her. Maryam bowed slightly and left, gently pulling the door shut.
She picked up the call with a cheerful voice.
> “Assalamu alaikum.”
> “Wa alaiki salam, my jewel,” came the equally cheerful reply.
With joy at hearing his voice, she said,
> “Na’am, sweet daddy! How are you?”
> “Fine, jewel. How are you? How’s work?”
> “As usual, Dad. I feel like collapsing from exhaustion,” she said in a playful tone.
He laughed and replied,
> “I told you to get a white-collar job, sit in AC without stress, and earn a big salary every month—but you refused. Now, this is the result.”
She laughed too, rolling on her seat, used to her father’s complaints.
> “So, Daddy, what’s the news?” she asked, changing the topic.
> “There’s exciting news, my dear!” he said with glee.
> “Really?!” she exclaimed with curiosity.
> “Wallahi! Just come over and hear it.”
> “I’m on my way—I just closed from work.”
> “Then hurry, my jewel!”
She ended the call smiling, stood up quickly, and gathered her things. She couldn’t wait to find out what had changed her dad’s mood—especially since he had been down all morning and hardly spoke. After she calmed him with sweet words, he broke his silence. But now, he was even laughing!
She slung her bag over her shoulder, adjusted her scarf, sprayed herself with a sweet perfume, and left.
She bade farewell to her staff like a humble colleague, not like the boss she was, then entered her car and headed home.
Father and Daughter - A Moment of Joy
> “Alhamdulillah! Daddy, I’m so happy for you!” she said excitedly, hugging his shoulders.
> “I’m happier than you, my dear. May Allah continue to uplift me. Can you believe that spoilt brat gave us this much stress before confirming the appointment?”
> “Well, at least the effort paid off. You squeezed him hard!”
> “Squeezing him doesn’t begin to cover it. Just help me with prayers.”
> “Insha Allah, Dad. Everything will work out. Allah is in control.”
> “Let me confess something. I had to combine Dhuhr and Asr prayers. I didn’t pray them on time out of anxiety.”
She frowned and said,
> “Dad, seriously? Because of worldly problems, you missed your prayers?”
> “Wallahi, I was so tense I couldn’t stand up to pray.”
> “Dad, Allah doesn’t burden a soul beyond its capacity. That should’ve been a time to increase your worship so Allah could support you!”
> “Ah, I forgot I was speaking to ‘Ustaziya Saudatu.’ Forgive me—it won’t happen again,” he said, trying to calm her down.
She pouted again.
> “You always say that. Daddy, you prioritize the world over the Hereafter. Please stop. Money isn’t everything. Some people live comfortably without it. Seek lasting wealth—the Hereafter.”
> “Hmm, you don’t understand. Money is everything. With it, you have it all. The world listens to the wealthy. Look at that guy—he’s only 25+, yet look how he disrespected me. I’m old enough to be his father, but I never even got to hear his voice—only his secretary’s. What caused that? Money.”
She pouted and said,
> “The Prophet (SAW) said, ‘Seek this world as if you’ll never die, and seek the Hereafter as if you’ll die tomorrow.’”
> “Alright, alright, I hear you, Ustaziya!”
She smiled and stood up.
> “I’ll go upstairs. Maghrib is near. I’ll shower and pray.”
> “Okay. I’ll head to the mosque. Don’t forget us in your prayers. May Allah bless this deal.”
She laughed,
> “Insha Allah. You see the benefit of being self-employed? Nobody disturbs me now. I’m my own boss. My business, no debts, no threats…”
> “Go on now and pray, you sufferer. Is this even suffering?”
As she climbed the stairs laughing, she replied,
> “Dad, earning halal wealth is a noble struggle.”
> “Enjoy it,” he said, walking away.
After Isha prayers, he returned home and made deep supplications, praying the meeting would go well because he knew failure would ruin everything.
They ate, chatted briefly, and then retired for the night.
Weekend at Home
The next day, Saturday, no one was scheduled to work, so Saudart spent the day at home. She cooked, as was her custom. Even though they had house staff, she never neglected to help—especially in the kitchen.
Cooking was her favorite hobby. After completing her degree, she convinced her father to open a large bakery for her, where she made and sold snacks.
Saudart was an independent woman, determined not to rely on anyone. That’s why her father eventually gave in and let her follow her dreams.
Sunday came—still no work. She went to visit her mother (we'll explain the full story later as her parents are separated). She stayed there till Maghrib, then returned home to finalize Monday’s arrangements on her laptop.
MONDAY – The Big Day
Monday arrived—a busy day after the weekend for everyone.
At Alhaji Shamsu’s house, neither he nor his daughter slept after Fajr prayer.
She prepared to head to her bakery to screen new applicants, while Alhaji Shamsu dressed up to meet the man he called his “life saver.”
At exactly 7:00 AM, a knock came at her door.
She quickly zipped up her laptop bag and rushed to the door.
It was her father.
> “Dad? Is everything okay?” she asked, surprised.
He playfully glared at her.
> “And what if there is?”
> “I see you’re all dressed.”
> “And what do you expect me to wear? Mtcheew. I’m off,” he said and turned to leave.
She stopped him.
> “Please wait, let’s go together. I’m ready, just grabbing my laptop.”
> “Mtcheew. Be quick,” he replied, checking his watch.
She rushed out, and as they descended the stairs, she greeted him properly—he answered curtly. His mind was clearly elsewhere.
As she headed toward the dining room, he asked,
> “Where are you going?”
> “Dad, breakfast of course!”
He hissed and walked away.
> “In that case, bye. See you later.”
She ran after him, begging him to eat something, but he ignored her completely.
She knew how he was—when something was on his mind, he lost his appetite and kept sighing.
She escorted him to the car, leaned into the window, and said,
> “Dad, may Allah grant you success. But please eat something, I beg you.”
> “Amin, insha Allah,” he said as he started the car.
She stepped back and watched him drive off, then entered her own car and left too.
Description
Pacing in Distress
Alhaji Shamsu was restlessly pacing back and forth in the center of the living room, his hands clasped behind his back.
One glance was enough to see that he was deeply troubled, desperately seeking a solution.
He let out another sigh of frustration, the umpteenth time.
> “No way, impossible, wallahi!” he burst out loudly.
> “Wallahi, it can never happen... Bankrupt? Me? Me?! The great Alhaji Shamsu, bankrupt? Even facing threats? No, I won’t let it happen. I must find a way. I have to!”
He ended his rant with a punch to the wall.
He looked at the clock again—5:55 PM.
Another frustrated hiss. Time was not in his favor. He resumed his anxious pacing until the clock struck exactly 6:00.
With trembling hands, he picked up his phone from the center table and dialed a number, sweating profusely from stress.
The line nearly disconnected before it was finally answered.
> “Hello sir,” a female voice greeted him.
> “Hi Helen... so what’s up? Is everything in place?” he asked nervously.
> “Yes sir. At last, you’ve been given an appointment…”
> “Really?! Oh, I’m grateful! Thank you, thank you, Helen!” he interrupted excitedly.
> “It’s okay, sir. But it’s scheduled for Monday at exactly 8 AM. You know he doesn’t like lateness…”
> “Oh, don’t worry! I’ll be there by seven. Thank you. I’ll reward you if all goes well.”
> “Alright sir, bye, and thank you.”
> “No, I’m the one who should thank you,” he said and ended the call.
He sank into the cushion behind him, exhaling deeply.
> “Wuhh! Alhamdulillah! At least I can smell the scent of success!”
> “It’s for Monday. Today is just Friday. Even if it takes a week, I’ll wait if success is guaranteed. Ya Allah, guide me and grant me success. Let me go and make up my missed prayers. Tension is not fun.”
And with that, he walked off while muttering prayers to himself, finally calm enough to perform his Asr and Dhuhr prayers.
Busy Businesswoman
> “Okay... Insha Allah... No need to worry. We always keep our promises, insha Allah. You’ll be glad you did business with us... hahaha, we’re the ones grateful... Alright, bye. Thanks for patronizing us.”
She ended the call with a deep breath.
> “Looks like this week will be hectic,” she said, looking at a young lady in front of her holding a thick book and a pen.
The young lady smiled, replying,
> “Wallahi, ma’am, it does look like that.”
> “Just now, I spoke with Sufee’s family. They want snacks for their daughter’s birthday, which is next Friday—only one week from now. Plus, we have Sir Wilson’s wedding order, which we haven’t even started yet.”
> “And we haven’t finished the Savannah Hotel order either,” the girl added, shaking her head.
> “Wuhh! No worries. We just need more staff so everything can go fast and smoothly. We’re known for keeping our promises; I don’t want to ruin our image.”
> “That’s true, ma’am. That’s how it should be,” said Maryam.
> “So, go and prepare everything. I’ll send you the plan via email shortly.”
Her phone rang, interrupting her.
She checked the caller and motioned to Maryam to excuse her. Maryam bowed slightly and left, gently pulling the door shut.
She picked up the call with a cheerful voice.
> “Assalamu alaikum.”
> “Wa alaiki salam, my jewel,” came the equally cheerful reply.
With joy at hearing his voice, she said,
> “Na’am, sweet daddy! How are you?”
> “Fine, jewel. How are you? How’s work?”
> “As usual, Dad. I feel like collapsing from exhaustion,” she said in a playful tone.
He laughed and replied,
> “I told you to get a white-collar job, sit in AC without stress, and earn a big salary every month—but you refused. Now, this is the result.”
She laughed too, rolling on her seat, used to her father’s complaints.
> “So, Daddy, what’s the news?” she asked, changing the topic.
> “There’s exciting news, my dear!” he said with glee.
> “Really?!” she exclaimed with curiosity.
> “Wallahi! Just come over and hear it.”
> “I’m on my way—I just closed from work.”
> “Then hurry, my jewel!”
She ended the call smiling, stood up quickly, and gathered her things. She couldn’t wait to find out what had changed her dad’s mood—especially since he had been down all morning and hardly spoke. After she calmed him with sweet words, he broke his silence. But now, he was even laughing!
She slung her bag over her shoulder, adjusted her scarf, sprayed herself with a sweet perfume, and left.
She bade farewell to her staff like a humble colleague, not like the boss she was, then entered her car and headed home.
Father and Daughter - A Moment of Joy
> “Alhamdulillah! Daddy, I’m so happy for you!” she said excitedly, hugging his shoulders.
> “I’m happier than you, my dear. May Allah continue to uplift me. Can you believe that spoilt brat gave us this much stress before confirming the appointment?”
> “Well, at least the effort paid off. You squeezed him hard!”
> “Squeezing him doesn’t begin to cover it. Just help me with prayers.”
> “Insha Allah, Dad. Everything will work out. Allah is in control.”
> “Let me confess something. I had to combine Dhuhr and Asr prayers. I didn’t pray them on time out of anxiety.”
She frowned and said,
> “Dad, seriously? Because of worldly problems, you missed your prayers?”
> “Wallahi, I was so tense I couldn’t stand up to pray.”
> “Dad, Allah doesn’t burden a soul beyond its capacity. That should’ve been a time to increase your worship so Allah could support you!”
> “Ah, I forgot I was speaking to ‘Ustaziya Saudatu.’ Forgive me—it won’t happen again,” he said, trying to calm her down.
She pouted again.
> “You always say that. Daddy, you prioritize the world over the Hereafter. Please stop. Money isn’t everything. Some people live comfortably without it. Seek lasting wealth—the Hereafter.”
> “Hmm, you don’t understand. Money is everything. With it, you have it all. The world listens to the wealthy. Look at that guy—he’s only 25+, yet look how he disrespected me. I’m old enough to be his father, but I never even got to hear his voice—only his secretary’s. What caused that? Money.”
She pouted and said,
> “The Prophet (SAW) said, ‘Seek this world as if you’ll never die, and seek the Hereafter as if you’ll die tomorrow.’”
> “Alright, alright, I hear you, Ustaziya!”
She smiled and stood up.
> “I’ll go upstairs. Maghrib is near. I’ll shower and pray.”
> “Okay. I’ll head to the mosque. Don’t forget us in your prayers. May Allah bless this deal.”
She laughed,
> “Insha Allah. You see the benefit of being self-employed? Nobody disturbs me now. I’m my own boss. My business, no debts, no threats…”
> “Go on now and pray, you sufferer. Is this even suffering?”
As she climbed the stairs laughing, she replied,
> “Dad, earning halal wealth is a noble struggle.”
> “Enjoy it,” he said, walking away.
After Isha prayers, he returned home and made deep supplications, praying the meeting would go well because he knew failure would ruin everything.
They ate, chatted briefly, and then retired for the night.
Weekend at Home
The next day, Saturday, no one was scheduled to work, so Saudart spent the day at home. She cooked, as was her custom. Even though they had house staff, she never neglected to help—especially in the kitchen.
Cooking was her favorite hobby. After completing her degree, she convinced her father to open a large bakery for her, where she made and sold snacks.
Saudart was an independent woman, determined not to rely on anyone. That’s why her father eventually gave in and let her follow her dreams.
Sunday came—still no work. She went to visit her mother (we'll explain the full story later as her parents are separated). She stayed there till Maghrib, then returned home to finalize Monday’s arrangements on her laptop.
MONDAY – The Big Day
Monday arrived—a busy day after the weekend for everyone.
At Alhaji Shamsu’s house, neither he nor his daughter slept after Fajr prayer.
She prepared to head to her bakery to screen new applicants, while Alhaji Shamsu dressed up to meet the man he called his “life saver.”
At exactly 7:00 AM, a knock came at her door.
She quickly zipped up her laptop bag and rushed to the door.
It was her father.
> “Dad? Is everything okay?” she asked, surprised.
He playfully glared at her.
> “And what if there is?”
> “I see you’re all dressed.”
> “And what do you expect me to wear? Mtcheew. I’m off,” he said and turned to leave.
She stopped him.
> “Please wait, let’s go together. I’m ready, just grabbing my laptop.”
> “Mtcheew. Be quick,” he replied, checking his watch.
She rushed out, and as they descended the stairs, she greeted him properly—he answered curtly. His mind was clearly elsewhere.
As she headed toward the dining room, he asked,
> “Where are you going?”
> “Dad, breakfast of course!”
He hissed and walked away.
> “In that case, bye. See you later.”
She ran after him, begging him to eat something, but he ignored her completely.
She knew how he was—when something was on his mind, he lost his appetite and kept sighing.
She escorted him to the car, leaned into the window, and said,
> “Dad, may Allah grant you success. But please eat something, I beg you.”
> “Amin, insha Allah,” he said as he started the car.
She stepped back and watched him drive off, then entered her own car and left too.