When they began driving, Harun suddenly felt as though he could smell Galadima’s perfume. Shocked, he glanced toward the front of the car and said, “Lawwali, can you smell that too? That’s Sameer’s scent.”
Galadima smiled slightly but said nothing except a quiet “Uhmm.”
That deepened Harun’s suspicion. He wanted to speak again but changed his mind, picking up his phone instead to call and find out where Galadima really was. He knew something important must have drawn him out of the palace late at night. But just then, a call came in. He frowned, because he didn’t usually answer unknown calls. He trusted Lawwali, his father’s driver, but he didn’t tell him everything. Since the caller was persistent, he finally answered.
The moment he did, he quickly pulled the phone from his ear and leaned forward to confirm what his mind was telling him. Was he really imagining things to the point he couldn’t distinguish between Lawwali and Sameer anymore?
He said, “Sameer!”
Galadima, who was calmly driving, had already set up Harun’s phone so that any call in or out would pass through his own device. Hearing Harun’s reaction through the speaker, he simply replied, “Uhmyim.”
Terrified, Harun recoiled to the back seat, hitting it hard. His heartbeat pounded fast, one hundred beats a second. With trembling hands, he tried to make another call.
Galadima smirked proudly and said coldly, “Don’t waste your strength, my dear friend. Any number you call now will be redirected to my phone.”
Harun, trembling all over, threw his phone aside. Without thinking, he lunged forward and grabbed Galadima by the neck. Galadima drove with one hand while struggling to free himself with the other.
With effort, he steered the car to the roadside, then struck Harun hard in the stomach, forcing him to release his grip. The blow made Harun gasp for breath. Galadima then punched him in the mouth—blood splattered. Harun, still dazed from the stomach hit, fell back into the seat, clutching his belly and touching his bleeding nose.
When he saw the blood on his hand, he widened his eyes in disbelief. Sameer hit me? he thought. Even if they had fought, there was no way he could take such a beating—Harun wasn’t weak either.
Galadima, breathing heavily, gripped the steering wheel tightly, lifted his head, restarted the car, and sped off furiously.
Through the pain, Harun gasped, “Sameer… y-you hit me? You even made me bleed?”
Galadima ignored him, focusing on driving. Harun tried to rise again but couldn’t—the hit to his stomach had locked the muscles. He lay back, biting his lip, eyes squeezed shut, hand pressed to his side.
When they reached their destination, Galadima honked. Nuren himself came out and opened the gate. Enraged, Galadima stormed into the compound, startling Nuren.
He parked but didn’t switch off the car. Jumping out, he yanked open the passenger door, pulled Harun out, and punched him again. Harun struck back despite the pain.
Nuren and Muftahu rushed over, seeing the fight between the two close friends getting fierce. Nuren pulled Harun, Muftahu held Galadima.
“What’s wrong with you two?” Nuren shouted. “Men of your status, fighting like street boys? Do you realize if the press hears of this, it’ll be a huge scandal?”
Galadima shoved Muftahu backward so hard he almost fell. Without even looking at them, he pointed at Harun. “You fool! Before I let you kill me, I’ll destroy you—and your hypocrite father with you. Idiot!”
He stormed off toward the house, walking like a proud warrior going to claim a crown.
Both Nuren and Muftahu watched in disbelief. Harun too was shocked by Galadima’s words. Could it be that he has known who I really am all along, and just decided to let me live until now? Furious, he broke free from Nuren and swung at Muftahu. “You hypocrite! I’ll start with you!”
Muftahu quickly defended himself, and Nuren grabbed Harun again, confused. Everyone knew Harun and Galadima were very close—what could have turned them into enemies overnight? And talk of killing? Galadima was known to have a fierce temper; once he was angry, no one could reason with him.
The fight nearly resumed until Ameer and others arrived. They held Harun firmly despite his struggles and shouting at Muftahu, dragging him inside.
Nuren looked at Muftahu, who was now straightening his shirt and smiling. “What’s happening? Sameer and Harun fighting?”
Muftahu placed a hand on Nuren’s shoulder. “Brother, there’s something you don’t know. But I’m sure now—you’ll soon understand.” With that, he walked away, leaving Nuren even more puzzled. He realized Muftahu might already know the cause of the conflict. Slowly, he went to the car to turn it off before heading inside, his mind in turmoil. Sameer’s recent behavior didn’t match any of their assumptions.
Meanwhile, Galadima lay stretched out on a long couch. Since he entered the house, he hadn’t moved. Every time anger tried to rise in him, Munaya’s words echoed in his mind, calming him. (Indeed, this shows how powerful a woman’s wisdom can be.) Her advice came back to him vividly: When you lose one ball in the game, you don’t quit—you pick another and keep playing.
With closed eyes, he bit his lip and gave a faint smile.
Muftahu and Nuren just stood watching him silently, while Harun, locked in another room, kept banging the door, shouting harsh words about Galadima.
Galadima finally stood up, adjusted his clothes, looked at them, removed his gloves, and said, “I’m going home.”
That was all he said before walking out.
The two men watched him leave in silence. Outside, his chauffeur was already waiting. Galadima entered the car and sighed deeply as he sat down.
All the way back to the palace, no one dared speak.
When they arrived, the driver parked. Galadima didn’t wait for the door to be opened—he stepped out himself. Guards greeted him respectfully, but he didn’t respond.
He headed straight to Munaya’s quarters. Without knocking or asking for permission, he entered.
The servants and children were asleep; only Munaya was awake, pacing restlessly. She had gone to Galadima’s room more than seven times, unable to find him. Worry consumed her—where could he have gone at this hour, knowing that enemies always watched him closely? She feared they might finally have found their chance to harm him.
Description
When they began driving, Harun suddenly felt as though he could smell Galadima’s perfume. Shocked, he glanced toward the front of the car and said, “Lawwali, can you smell that too? That’s Sameer’s scent.”
Galadima smiled slightly but said nothing except a quiet “Uhmm.”
That deepened Harun’s suspicion. He wanted to speak again but changed his mind, picking up his phone instead to call and find out where Galadima really was. He knew something important must have drawn him out of the palace late at night. But just then, a call came in. He frowned, because he didn’t usually answer unknown calls. He trusted Lawwali, his father’s driver, but he didn’t tell him everything. Since the caller was persistent, he finally answered.
The moment he did, he quickly pulled the phone from his ear and leaned forward to confirm what his mind was telling him. Was he really imagining things to the point he couldn’t distinguish between Lawwali and Sameer anymore?
He said, “Sameer!”
Galadima, who was calmly driving, had already set up Harun’s phone so that any call in or out would pass through his own device. Hearing Harun’s reaction through the speaker, he simply replied, “Uhmyim.”
Terrified, Harun recoiled to the back seat, hitting it hard. His heartbeat pounded fast, one hundred beats a second. With trembling hands, he tried to make another call.
Galadima smirked proudly and said coldly, “Don’t waste your strength, my dear friend. Any number you call now will be redirected to my phone.”
Harun, trembling all over, threw his phone aside. Without thinking, he lunged forward and grabbed Galadima by the neck. Galadima drove with one hand while struggling to free himself with the other.
With effort, he steered the car to the roadside, then struck Harun hard in the stomach, forcing him to release his grip. The blow made Harun gasp for breath. Galadima then punched him in the mouth—blood splattered. Harun, still dazed from the stomach hit, fell back into the seat, clutching his belly and touching his bleeding nose.
When he saw the blood on his hand, he widened his eyes in disbelief. Sameer hit me? he thought. Even if they had fought, there was no way he could take such a beating—Harun wasn’t weak either.
Galadima, breathing heavily, gripped the steering wheel tightly, lifted his head, restarted the car, and sped off furiously.
Through the pain, Harun gasped, “Sameer… y-you hit me? You even made me bleed?”
Galadima ignored him, focusing on driving. Harun tried to rise again but couldn’t—the hit to his stomach had locked the muscles. He lay back, biting his lip, eyes squeezed shut, hand pressed to his side.
When they reached their destination, Galadima honked. Nuren himself came out and opened the gate. Enraged, Galadima stormed into the compound, startling Nuren.
He parked but didn’t switch off the car. Jumping out, he yanked open the passenger door, pulled Harun out, and punched him again. Harun struck back despite the pain.
Nuren and Muftahu rushed over, seeing the fight between the two close friends getting fierce. Nuren pulled Harun, Muftahu held Galadima.
“What’s wrong with you two?” Nuren shouted. “Men of your status, fighting like street boys? Do you realize if the press hears of this, it’ll be a huge scandal?”
Galadima shoved Muftahu backward so hard he almost fell. Without even looking at them, he pointed at Harun. “You fool! Before I let you kill me, I’ll destroy you—and your hypocrite father with you. Idiot!”
He stormed off toward the house, walking like a proud warrior going to claim a crown.
Both Nuren and Muftahu watched in disbelief. Harun too was shocked by Galadima’s words. Could it be that he has known who I really am all along, and just decided to let me live until now? Furious, he broke free from Nuren and swung at Muftahu. “You hypocrite! I’ll start with you!”
Muftahu quickly defended himself, and Nuren grabbed Harun again, confused. Everyone knew Harun and Galadima were very close—what could have turned them into enemies overnight? And talk of killing? Galadima was known to have a fierce temper; once he was angry, no one could reason with him.
The fight nearly resumed until Ameer and others arrived. They held Harun firmly despite his struggles and shouting at Muftahu, dragging him inside.
Nuren looked at Muftahu, who was now straightening his shirt and smiling. “What’s happening? Sameer and Harun fighting?”
Muftahu placed a hand on Nuren’s shoulder. “Brother, there’s something you don’t know. But I’m sure now—you’ll soon understand.” With that, he walked away, leaving Nuren even more puzzled. He realized Muftahu might already know the cause of the conflict. Slowly, he went to the car to turn it off before heading inside, his mind in turmoil. Sameer’s recent behavior didn’t match any of their assumptions.
Meanwhile, Galadima lay stretched out on a long couch. Since he entered the house, he hadn’t moved. Every time anger tried to rise in him, Munaya’s words echoed in his mind, calming him. (Indeed, this shows how powerful a woman’s wisdom can be.) Her advice came back to him vividly: When you lose one ball in the game, you don’t quit—you pick another and keep playing.
With closed eyes, he bit his lip and gave a faint smile.
Muftahu and Nuren just stood watching him silently, while Harun, locked in another room, kept banging the door, shouting harsh words about Galadima.
Galadima finally stood up, adjusted his clothes, looked at them, removed his gloves, and said, “I’m going home.”
That was all he said before walking out.
The two men watched him leave in silence. Outside, his chauffeur was already waiting. Galadima entered the car and sighed deeply as he sat down.
All the way back to the palace, no one dared speak.
When they arrived, the driver parked. Galadima didn’t wait for the door to be opened—he stepped out himself. Guards greeted him respectfully, but he didn’t respond.
He headed straight to Munaya’s quarters. Without knocking or asking for permission, he entered.
The servants and children were asleep; only Munaya was awake, pacing restlessly. She had gone to Galadima’s room more than seven times, unable to find him. Worry consumed her—where could he have gone at this hour, knowing that enemies always watched him closely? She feared they might finally have found their chance to harm him.