Immediately, the attention of the staff coming out was drawn, and they all stood still, watching the wonders of God. Their hearts were filled with shock at the sight of DG M. Malik.
“For God’s sake, help me! He is trying to kidnap me, don’t let him take me away, please!” Maryama cried out in deep terror. No matter how hard she tried to free her hand from his grip, she could not, because his hold on her was very strong.
What made the people watching not intervene was the fact that they had never in their lives seen DG M. Malik pay attention to any woman among the staff, let alone hold one’s hand—until today. Therefore, they just fixed their eyes on the scene, convinced that something unusual must have driven him to act this way.
Maryama’s fear escalated beyond what the reader can imagine. He marched her straight into an office, shoved her inside, and entered with her. That was when she screamed aloud again, pleading for help. Before she could scream further, she noticed him open another room inside the office.
The sight made her freeze in shock—inside the room were drawings of her image, all made by his master whenever he dreamed of her. Maryama stood staring at the walls, her heart pounding rapidly, her breath heavy from the rush, and her mind thrown into chaos at the sight before her.
The room was filled with portraits of her face and body, proving to her that this obsession had lasted long. He looked at her and then at the drawings, convincing himself further that she was indeed the one. His voice trembled as he spoke:
“Please save my life. Follow me to my master.”
Maryama stared at him in horror, stepping back, her body trembling violently at the frightening discovery of her painted image.
The Master’s Obsession
“My master has been searching for you for long. He died in love with you. He loves you with a true, powerful love. For God’s sake, marry him, otherwise he may lose his life because of you if you refuse him. He truly loves you—he can do anything for you,” he continued, reaching for her hand again. “Let me take you to him. I swear he will die if he loses you.”
Maryama quickly pulled back, shaking her head in panic, her heart racing so fast it was frightening.
“For God’s sake, understand me. I will never harm you. I swear, all I want is to take you to his house, to show him what he has been dreaming of for years. Once I do, I will leave you. My master loves you so deeply he might die if he doesn’t find you,” he pleaded.
Maryama looked at him as though he were insane, her fear mixing with anger. Her voice quivered as she replied:
“So, he will die before his destined time has even come? You have truly lost your mind to believe this madness. Do you think I am really the one? Yes, those portraits resemble me—even the body structure—but in my heart, I believe it is someone else. They say God creates people in pairs. Perhaps it is even a jinn who took my likeness in his dream. Jinns can do anything. That is why I cannot accept that it is me.”
Her body trembling, she continued:
“If you are insane, return to your senses. If you are only overwhelmed by your master’s dreams, wake up from your delusion. I am not that person. Foolish man! Shameless being who has no respect for women! Over mere drawings, you drag me here while people watch us? I swear, may God judge between us for the way you touched me and disgraced me.”
She turned to leave, but he followed, trying again to seize her hand. Before he could, Maryama gave him two hard slaps—tass! tass!
His eyes blurred, his face stung, and he froze, clutching his cheek. Never could he remember being slapped like that before. Maryama pointed at him angrily, breathing heavily, and shouted:
“Don’t you ever dare lay those filthy hands on me again! My body is noble!”
He sank to his knees, begging her, but Maryama rushed out of the office, locking him inside. Outside, her heart raced as people’s eyes fell upon her, some likely suspecting something shameful had happened between them. Tears ran down her face.
Shaken, she fled the compound quickly and caught a vehicle at the staff gate. Only when the vehicle moved did she release a sigh of relief. She stopped at Oshodi under bridge, tears still rolling, determined never to return to that office again.
Maryama at Home
After a short walk, she boarded another vehicle toward Agege. By God’s grace, she caught the last available seat. Reaching Capitol Road, she walked to her neighborhood, still trembling from what she had seen. Entering her home, her eyes fell upon her mother (Umma) with her friend Ladi Na Amadu.
Umma smiled, saying, “So you’re only just coming back?”
Maryama sighed, replying, “Yes, Umma, I just returned.”
“You’re late today,” Umma added.
“We were busy with work; they even sent us as far as Apapa. Thank God, I’m back.”
After greetings, Ladi admired Maryama’s growth, marveling at how she had matured into a fine young woman, even ready for marriage. Umma mentioned that suitors came but often fled when serious talks arose. Still, now there was one who seemed determined—Abban Sadam’s close friend.
Ladi sighed deeply, hinting at her own troubled children, contrasting Maryama’s good behavior. Umma smiled, replying that only a suitor with financial strength could win Maryama, for she deserved dignity in marriage.
Later, Maryama’s aunty emerged, finding her crying. Concerned, she comforted her and brought food, though Maryama could only drink water. When pressed, Maryama explained everything that had happened at work.
Her aunty listened quietly, then said:
“So, the drawings resembled you?”
Maryama nodded.
“And that frightened you so much? Perhaps his master only dreamt of someone who looks like you. You allowed yourself to be terrified.”
Maryama admitted she was deeply shaken and vowed never to return to that office again. Her aunty advised her to always pray before leaving home.
Finally, they both calmed, discussing lighter matters, though Maryama’s heart remained scarred by the memory of the portraits and the madness she had faced.
Description
The Unexpected Struggle at the Office
Immediately, the attention of the staff coming out was drawn, and they all stood still, watching the wonders of God. Their hearts were filled with shock at the sight of DG M. Malik.
“For God’s sake, help me! He is trying to kidnap me, don’t let him take me away, please!” Maryama cried out in deep terror. No matter how hard she tried to free her hand from his grip, she could not, because his hold on her was very strong.
What made the people watching not intervene was the fact that they had never in their lives seen DG M. Malik pay attention to any woman among the staff, let alone hold one’s hand—until today. Therefore, they just fixed their eyes on the scene, convinced that something unusual must have driven him to act this way.
Maryama’s fear escalated beyond what the reader can imagine. He marched her straight into an office, shoved her inside, and entered with her. That was when she screamed aloud again, pleading for help. Before she could scream further, she noticed him open another room inside the office.
The sight made her freeze in shock—inside the room were drawings of her image, all made by his master whenever he dreamed of her. Maryama stood staring at the walls, her heart pounding rapidly, her breath heavy from the rush, and her mind thrown into chaos at the sight before her.
The room was filled with portraits of her face and body, proving to her that this obsession had lasted long. He looked at her and then at the drawings, convincing himself further that she was indeed the one. His voice trembled as he spoke:
“Please save my life. Follow me to my master.”
Maryama stared at him in horror, stepping back, her body trembling violently at the frightening discovery of her painted image.
The Master’s Obsession
“My master has been searching for you for long. He died in love with you. He loves you with a true, powerful love. For God’s sake, marry him, otherwise he may lose his life because of you if you refuse him. He truly loves you—he can do anything for you,” he continued, reaching for her hand again. “Let me take you to him. I swear he will die if he loses you.”
Maryama quickly pulled back, shaking her head in panic, her heart racing so fast it was frightening.
“For God’s sake, understand me. I will never harm you. I swear, all I want is to take you to his house, to show him what he has been dreaming of for years. Once I do, I will leave you. My master loves you so deeply he might die if he doesn’t find you,” he pleaded.
Maryama looked at him as though he were insane, her fear mixing with anger. Her voice quivered as she replied:
“So, he will die before his destined time has even come? You have truly lost your mind to believe this madness. Do you think I am really the one? Yes, those portraits resemble me—even the body structure—but in my heart, I believe it is someone else. They say God creates people in pairs. Perhaps it is even a jinn who took my likeness in his dream. Jinns can do anything. That is why I cannot accept that it is me.”
Her body trembling, she continued:
“If you are insane, return to your senses. If you are only overwhelmed by your master’s dreams, wake up from your delusion. I am not that person. Foolish man! Shameless being who has no respect for women! Over mere drawings, you drag me here while people watch us? I swear, may God judge between us for the way you touched me and disgraced me.”
She turned to leave, but he followed, trying again to seize her hand. Before he could, Maryama gave him two hard slaps—tass! tass!
His eyes blurred, his face stung, and he froze, clutching his cheek. Never could he remember being slapped like that before. Maryama pointed at him angrily, breathing heavily, and shouted:
“Don’t you ever dare lay those filthy hands on me again! My body is noble!”
He sank to his knees, begging her, but Maryama rushed out of the office, locking him inside. Outside, her heart raced as people’s eyes fell upon her, some likely suspecting something shameful had happened between them. Tears ran down her face.
Shaken, she fled the compound quickly and caught a vehicle at the staff gate. Only when the vehicle moved did she release a sigh of relief. She stopped at Oshodi under bridge, tears still rolling, determined never to return to that office again.
Maryama at Home
After a short walk, she boarded another vehicle toward Agege. By God’s grace, she caught the last available seat. Reaching Capitol Road, she walked to her neighborhood, still trembling from what she had seen. Entering her home, her eyes fell upon her mother (Umma) with her friend Ladi Na Amadu.
Umma smiled, saying, “So you’re only just coming back?”
Maryama sighed, replying, “Yes, Umma, I just returned.”
“You’re late today,” Umma added.
“We were busy with work; they even sent us as far as Apapa. Thank God, I’m back.”
After greetings, Ladi admired Maryama’s growth, marveling at how she had matured into a fine young woman, even ready for marriage. Umma mentioned that suitors came but often fled when serious talks arose. Still, now there was one who seemed determined—Abban Sadam’s close friend.
Ladi sighed deeply, hinting at her own troubled children, contrasting Maryama’s good behavior. Umma smiled, replying that only a suitor with financial strength could win Maryama, for she deserved dignity in marriage.
Later, Maryama’s aunty emerged, finding her crying. Concerned, she comforted her and brought food, though Maryama could only drink water. When pressed, Maryama explained everything that had happened at work.
Her aunty listened quietly, then said:
“So, the drawings resembled you?”
Maryama nodded.
“And that frightened you so much? Perhaps his master only dreamt of someone who looks like you. You allowed yourself to be terrified.”
Maryama admitted she was deeply shaken and vowed never to return to that office again. Her aunty advised her to always pray before leaving home.
Finally, they both calmed, discussing lighter matters, though Maryama’s heart remained scarred by the memory of the portraits and the madness she had faced.