As they entered the lawyers’ headquarters, Maash also arrived. But before they could reach him, he was taken into an interrogation room—just a table with two chairs facing each other. He scanned the room with a displeased face before dragging a chair and sitting down.
A security officer entered, politely asking if he needed anything like tea. After staring at him for a while, Maash gave a faint smile, signaling no. The officer left, and Maash leaned back, closed his eyes, and stayed that way for about twenty minutes until the door opened again.
Even then, he didn’t move until the officer sat. A light tap on the table couldn’t make him stir either. Only when Maash chose did he open his eyes and fix a cold stare at the officer. Unable to withstand the gaze, the officer looked away and said, “Sir, we don’t have much time. If you don’t mind, please answer a few questions.”
“Go straight to the point,” Maash replied curtly.
The officer’s patience wore thin but he continued: “Containers belonging to your company left Lagos the night before last, heading to Ghana. Inside one, we discovered young girls being trafficked. Still within the container, we found incriminating materials.”
“Like what?” Maash asked with mockery.
The officer angrily handed him photos from the drivers, who confirmed the goods originated from his company. Maash barely glanced before shaking his head. “I don’t know these faces.”
“You could be hiding their identities. But you can’t deny the containers are yours,” the officer pushed.
Maash leaned forward, calmly placing both hands on the table. “Mr. Officer, remember you are not a judge. If you want answers, you’ll only get them from my lawyers.” Then he leaned back, folded his arms, and shut his eyes again.
Frustrated, the officer stormed out, while Maash smiled faintly to himself.
Bail and Family Reactions
The lawyers battled for his release all day. He refused food brought by Hayatu and asked only for ablution water when prayer time came. His mind seemed far from the police station.
By evening, Baba Prof arrived from the airport and found almost the whole family there—Paah, Uncle Abdullahi, Hajiya Mammah, Maman Maleeka, and Hayatu shuttling between Samraah’s hospital and the station. It still took three more hours before Maash was granted bail under strict conditions.
At around 9 PM, Maash finally walked out. He barely acknowledged his family, though Baba Prof hugged him warmly, thanking God. “Do you have pain? Did they hurt you? Are you hungry?” Baba Prof asked anxiously.
“Grandpa, I’m not a small boy,” Maash said dismissively.
Baba Prof only smiled, ruffling his hair like always. Paah, Uncle Abdullahi, and even Hajiya Mammah hugged him. He said nothing, only nodding faintly toward his lawyers and Hayatu before heading out.
Everyone followed, each lost in thought. Hayatu drove him, and though Maash’s eyes were shut in silence, he suddenly whispered, “Hospital.”
Shocked, Hayatu obeyed and turned toward the clinic where Samraah was admitted. Baba Prof’s driver, watching from behind, reported this, prompting Hajiya Mammah to speculate bitterly: “Maybe he went there to silence the doctors and hide his secrets.” Her words stung Paah, but he stayed quiet. Baba Prof only listened in silence, clearly troubled.
Visit to Samraah
At the clinic, Mama Balki had just finished her night prayers when a knock came. She assumed it was a nurse but was surprised to find Hayatu and Maash. She burst into praises of God when she saw him, smiling in relief.
Maash quietly greeted her with a faint smile, then walked straight to Samraah’s bedside. She lay pale and fragile, swollen-eyed from weeping, her lips cracked and pink from dehydration. He averted his gaze quickly, focusing on the IV line in her hand.
For long, he stared at her faint henna-stained nails before picking up her file. When he turned back, Mama Balki and Hayatu had slipped out, leaving him alone. He sat close, holding her hand gently, memories of his late mother flooding him.
Unexpectedly, a smile escaped him. For the first time in years, he felt that warmth. Then his eyes grew moist, and he brushed a tear away. At that moment, Samraah stirred in her sleep, her face twitching as if about to cry.
“Cry… Cry,” he whispered softly, brushing her cheek.
Her eyes fluttered open, hazy with sleep. Recognition hit her like lightning—her heart raced, and she burst into tears, begging him, “I beg you in God’s name, Awwab, please forgive me. I will die—I cannot bear it.”
Silent, he only stared, his eyes deep and unreadable. When her sobs grew louder, he shook his head and pulled away, standing to tuck the blanket around her gently.
“I will go now. Calm your mind,” he said quietly. Then, in a sudden moment of softness, he bent and placed a kiss on her forehead before leaving.
The door shut softly behind him just as Mama Balki returned. Seeing Samraah’s tears, she comforted her, urging her to stop. “Don’t let him see you like this again. He is your husband. Whatever happened, endure. Even today, from the police station, the first place he came was here—to you. Show him peace, not tears.”
Samraah, still shaken, whispered, “Mama, I did nothing to him. What took him to the police station?”
Mama Balki only sighed and continued to console her, while Samraah drifted back into sleep, her heart still heavy with questions.
Description
Police Interrogation
As they entered the lawyers’ headquarters, Maash also arrived. But before they could reach him, he was taken into an interrogation room—just a table with two chairs facing each other. He scanned the room with a displeased face before dragging a chair and sitting down.
A security officer entered, politely asking if he needed anything like tea. After staring at him for a while, Maash gave a faint smile, signaling no. The officer left, and Maash leaned back, closed his eyes, and stayed that way for about twenty minutes until the door opened again.
Even then, he didn’t move until the officer sat. A light tap on the table couldn’t make him stir either. Only when Maash chose did he open his eyes and fix a cold stare at the officer. Unable to withstand the gaze, the officer looked away and said, “Sir, we don’t have much time. If you don’t mind, please answer a few questions.”
“Go straight to the point,” Maash replied curtly.
The officer’s patience wore thin but he continued: “Containers belonging to your company left Lagos the night before last, heading to Ghana. Inside one, we discovered young girls being trafficked. Still within the container, we found incriminating materials.”
“Like what?” Maash asked with mockery.
The officer angrily handed him photos from the drivers, who confirmed the goods originated from his company. Maash barely glanced before shaking his head. “I don’t know these faces.”
“You could be hiding their identities. But you can’t deny the containers are yours,” the officer pushed.
Maash leaned forward, calmly placing both hands on the table. “Mr. Officer, remember you are not a judge. If you want answers, you’ll only get them from my lawyers.” Then he leaned back, folded his arms, and shut his eyes again.
Frustrated, the officer stormed out, while Maash smiled faintly to himself.
Bail and Family Reactions
The lawyers battled for his release all day. He refused food brought by Hayatu and asked only for ablution water when prayer time came. His mind seemed far from the police station.
By evening, Baba Prof arrived from the airport and found almost the whole family there—Paah, Uncle Abdullahi, Hajiya Mammah, Maman Maleeka, and Hayatu shuttling between Samraah’s hospital and the station. It still took three more hours before Maash was granted bail under strict conditions.
At around 9 PM, Maash finally walked out. He barely acknowledged his family, though Baba Prof hugged him warmly, thanking God. “Do you have pain? Did they hurt you? Are you hungry?” Baba Prof asked anxiously.
“Grandpa, I’m not a small boy,” Maash said dismissively.
Baba Prof only smiled, ruffling his hair like always. Paah, Uncle Abdullahi, and even Hajiya Mammah hugged him. He said nothing, only nodding faintly toward his lawyers and Hayatu before heading out.
Everyone followed, each lost in thought. Hayatu drove him, and though Maash’s eyes were shut in silence, he suddenly whispered, “Hospital.”
Shocked, Hayatu obeyed and turned toward the clinic where Samraah was admitted. Baba Prof’s driver, watching from behind, reported this, prompting Hajiya Mammah to speculate bitterly: “Maybe he went there to silence the doctors and hide his secrets.” Her words stung Paah, but he stayed quiet. Baba Prof only listened in silence, clearly troubled.
Visit to Samraah
At the clinic, Mama Balki had just finished her night prayers when a knock came. She assumed it was a nurse but was surprised to find Hayatu and Maash. She burst into praises of God when she saw him, smiling in relief.
Maash quietly greeted her with a faint smile, then walked straight to Samraah’s bedside. She lay pale and fragile, swollen-eyed from weeping, her lips cracked and pink from dehydration. He averted his gaze quickly, focusing on the IV line in her hand.
For long, he stared at her faint henna-stained nails before picking up her file. When he turned back, Mama Balki and Hayatu had slipped out, leaving him alone. He sat close, holding her hand gently, memories of his late mother flooding him.
Unexpectedly, a smile escaped him. For the first time in years, he felt that warmth. Then his eyes grew moist, and he brushed a tear away. At that moment, Samraah stirred in her sleep, her face twitching as if about to cry.
“Cry… Cry,” he whispered softly, brushing her cheek.
Her eyes fluttered open, hazy with sleep. Recognition hit her like lightning—her heart raced, and she burst into tears, begging him, “I beg you in God’s name, Awwab, please forgive me. I will die—I cannot bear it.”
Silent, he only stared, his eyes deep and unreadable. When her sobs grew louder, he shook his head and pulled away, standing to tuck the blanket around her gently.
“I will go now. Calm your mind,” he said quietly. Then, in a sudden moment of softness, he bent and placed a kiss on her forehead before leaving.
The door shut softly behind him just as Mama Balki returned. Seeing Samraah’s tears, she comforted her, urging her to stop. “Don’t let him see you like this again. He is your husband. Whatever happened, endure. Even today, from the police station, the first place he came was here—to you. Show him peace, not tears.”
Samraah, still shaken, whispered, “Mama, I did nothing to him. What took him to the police station?”
Mama Balki only sighed and continued to console her, while Samraah drifted back into sleep, her heart still heavy with questions.