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AMNOOR BOOK COMPELET
Rehaan stared at her in silence for a moment, while she avoided his gaze, looking away and praying silently that he wouldn't expose their secret and leave her ruined. He kept staring at her, amused to see her sitting so meekly—nothing like the sharp-tongued girl she usually was, and certainly not the one he had cornered earlier into a speechless panic. Rehaan lifted his chin and said, "You mentioned a secret marriage... so what do you want me to say?" She raised her eyes to meet his, their gazes locking.
He raised an eyebrow and said, "It's a secret," watching her closely.
She let out a long breath of relief and asked, "What about food? Biryani, fura da nono, or perhaps a burger—which one do you like best?"
"None of the above."
"We've been hearing rumors that Mr. Rehaan is planning to enter politics. Is that true?"
"No."
"Any plans to venture into politics in the future?"
"No."
"A few days ago, you were attacked, and people even feared you might have been harmed. Has there been any news about those who carried out the attack?"
He shook his head to indicate no and said, "They're working on it."
"Given that you are the youngest person in Yola whom God has blessed with immense wealth and talent, what kind of challenges do you face because of it?"
Rehaan paused briefly, turning the word challenges over in his mind. He knew the word, but it didn't register immediately in this context.
He looked at her and said, "Challenges..." He repeated it, gazing at her as if asking what she meant.
Islaha gave him a look that clearly said, Are you insulting my intelligence?, but since she couldn't speak her mind freely on camera, she just said, "I mean kalubale [challenges]."
"We talked about the attack, and there is no privacy."
"If you were to become the president of Nigeria, what is the first thing you would fix?"
"Security. Nigeria has no security at all."
"What makes you angry the fastest?"
"A two-faced person. They act like a good person on the outside, but they aren't."
Islaha knew he was talking about her, but she didn't show it. Instead, she asked, "What makes you happy?"
"My family."
"Is there any initiative Mr. Rehaan is undertaking that will generally help Nigeria?"
"In sha Allah."
"May God help and grant success."
"Amen."
"Lastly, what advice would you give to youths of a similar age?"
"Be smart, work hard, work smart. Don't look down on anything God provides, and purify your heart."
She was about to speak again, but he cut her off. "What did you say your name was?"
She shot him a quick look, their eyes meeting. She knew he was doing it on purpose just because she couldn't talk back while on camera, so she said, "Islaha."
Rehaan said, "Do you know what a parrot is?"
"I know."
"What is it called in Hausa?"
She glanced sideways and said, "I don't know the Hausa name," realizing he was just playing with her.
Rehaan said, "Add 'parrot' to the front of your name."
She let out a clear laugh and said, "Thank you, Mr. Rehaan."
Islaha looked at him again and said, "Thank you for sparing your time to have a discussion with us on our show."
He nodded, studying her face, and said, "Can I ask you a question?"
Even though her heart skipped a beat, she remembered she was on camera and said, "Yes, Sir."
He paused for a second as if he wanted to say something, then changed his mind and said, "It's okay."
"Thank you for giving us the opportunity to be with you. This is truly a huge success for us and for the city of Yola as a whole." He answered her with a look, and she turned to the camera to sign off to the audience before the camera stopped rolling.
Jazy clapped his hands and said, "Well done, miss. You did great."
She smiled and said, "Thank you, Mr. Jafar."
She looked at Rehaan and said, "Thank you, Mr. Rehaan."
He didn't say anything; he just stood up. The Chairman said, "Thank you very much, sir."
He replied, "You're welcome. But next time, change your presenter. This one seems like she doesn't know her job."
Islaha shot him a sharp look at his remark. Everyone else stared, as none of them could deny how brilliant she had been. Rehaan said nothing more and walked inside.
The Chairman asked, "Despite all of Islaha's hard work, was there a question she asked that you didn't like?"
Jafar laughed, knowing the Chairman didn't know the whole story, and said, "Forget it, he was just talking. Islaha did a great job. Don't worry about it," he said as he walked inside.
Only then did the Chairman feel at ease. He said, "Islaha, you are one of a kind. May God continue to protect you." She smiled, and Safeera pulled her into a hug because the interview had been so captivating.
Safeera whispered in her ear, "Hey, are you sure this guy hasn't fallen for you? The way he's looking at you..."
Islaha pinched her in the side and whispered, "God forbid." They all laughed as they began packing up the equipment.
Just then, Jazy came out, looked at Islaha, and said, "Miss, Rehaan wants a word with you." Her heart leaped; she really didn't want anyone to know there was anything going on between them.
Pushing down her fear, she said, "Me too? God, I hope I didn't do something wrong."
"Don't worry," Jazy laughed and walked out of the parlor.
She looked at the Chairman and asked, "What could he possibly want with me?"
The Chairman was shaking slightly and said, "Go on, you never know what he might want to say."
She headed toward where Jazy had emerged and found Rehaan sitting down, having removed his suit jacket and crossed one leg over the other.
She stood watching him and said, "I'm here."
He looked up at her but said nothing. She prompted, "You said you called me, yet you're ignoring me."
Knowing Jazy had sent her, and remembering he had told Jazy to send them transport money (though he decided instead to call Islaha up to hand it over directly), Rehaan picked up a check.
He said, "It's just a small gift for your TV channel."
She glared at him before extending her hand to take it, saying, "They thank you."
Rehaan looked straight into her eyes and said, "Is there nothing for you?"
"I didn't say I needed anything."
"They didn't say so either."
"You thought you could. I didn't ask to be given anything, and I don't need a single kobo of yours."
Rehaan raised an eyebrow, watching her, and said, "Is it because you're Rehaan's wife?"
Islaha looked at him in shock at his words—the very first time he had called her his wife since they began living together. Trying not to show how rattled she was, she asked, "Which Rehaan?"
Rehaan smiled faintly and said, "Your guest."
"I am not his wife. I am Rehaan's contract wife. I'm just waiting for my time to be up so I can go my own way. I don't need anything from him," she snapped, turning and walking out.
As she came out, she handed the check to the Chairman, who gasped when he saw the amount and bulged his eyes, "15 million!"
"There you see it. Please let's go, I am so tired," she said, visibly exhausted.
They all came out, murmuring in astonishment over the money as they got into the car. Islaha got dropped off along the way because she had arranged to meet with Barrister. Safeera was dropped off near her house, and just as she was about to step inside, Saheer called out, "Safeera."
She turned and said, "Hamma, good afternoon."
"Good afternoon. I've been calling your phone, but you weren't picking up."
"We weren't around, actually. We went for an interview with Islaha and the others."
Saheer said, "I wronged your friend, and I've been trying to reconcile, but she won't give me the chance."
Safeera replied, "Honestly, Hamma Saheer, you didn't act right. She came here crying and told me everything. No matter what Islaha does, she didn't deserve what you said to her. You know she entered into this marriage because of you, she stays because of you, and she does everything because of you. She's even committing sins against God because of you."
"Sins against God, Safeera?"
"Yes, Hamma. The conversations you two have are disobedience to God, not taking marriage seriously. Every conversation you have with her is writing up sins for you both, since you aren't her mahram, and you aren't talking like a brother and sister—you're talking about when you're going to get married and all that. You can see it's a major crime since she is already married under God's eyes, and a marriage is a marriage once it is witnessed and the bride price is paid. I scold her about it often, but she always acts like you're more important than anyone else to her. Yet you were the one who spoke words to her that made her cry. She was genuinely hurt; she told me she had never been as angry with you as she was that day."
Saheer sighed and said, "It was a mistake. God willing, it won't happen again."
"Why don't you tell her the truth about those who handed her over to you to take to the orphanage?"
"Safeera, if it were possible, I would tell her. But it's a painful thing to hear, and I don't want her to be distressed."
"Well, you need to come up with something she can handle before you see her again, because she misses her parents terribly."
"In sha Allah, I will. Help me beg her forgiveness, or even if we don't meet, let her take my phone so I can apologize. Just like you said, I will avoid meeting her until everything is sorted out. I lost my mind; I forgot the prohibition in all of this. It's not just her accumulating sins—it's me too, knowing full well she is married."
"That is the best way. May God help us."
"Amen, Bestie's bestie. Thank you for understanding me."
"And I want you to join me in prayer. If I am destined to marry Islaha, may God make it happen; if not, may God remove her from my heart, because enduring a miserable life is not worth it."
Safeera said, "In sha Allah, I will, Hamma Saheer. May God choose what is best for us and guide us onto the straight path, amen."
He said amen, they said their goodbyes, and she went inside her house while he walked into his, lost in a whirlwind of thoughts...
--- Nana Haleema
--- RDB3P59 --- Nana Haleema
When Islaha got home, she didn't even enter Mamy's wing. Mama spotted her from the window standing outside, gesturing and calling her over. Islaha walked over to Mama's place, greeted her with salam, and found her sitting on a sofa. Mama said, "I just saw you return from the window; you stayed out late today."
Islaha smiled and said, "I went for an interview, that's why. Good afternoon, Mama."
Mama replied, "Afternoon. How was work?"
"Alhamdulillah."
"Ma sha Allah. Tell me, how is that medicine? Did he take it?"
Islaha paused for a moment before saying, "Yes, he took it in his tea, but honestly, he didn't even know he drank it because he didn't know I put it in."
Mama broke into a delighted smile, patted Islaha, and said, "Well, of course, he doesn't need to know! I told you, he doesn't like medicine; if you tell him, he won't take it. Look, didn't he drink it now?"
Islaha said, "Yes, he did."
Mama said, "That was all I wanted to ask you. When he has those stomach cramps, it's so pitiful for everyone, which is why I called you to ask. Since he's taken it, thank God."
Islaha smiled and said, "Let me go now, Mama."
Mama said, "Alright, if you want food, there is some in the kitchen."
She replied, "I'm full, Mama." Mama followed her with a smile until she stepped out.
As soon as she was out of sight, Mama glared and muttered, "Foolish girl, you will cry tears of blood soon. This smile I'm giving you is fake, not genuine; it only reaches my face, not my heart."
When Islaha went to Mamy's wing, she found it locked, indicating Mamy wasn't around. She walked back and headed upstairs to Ray's place, feeling completely exhausted. She took a bath, performed her prayers, and came back downstairs to find food laid out as usual.
She served herself and ate, but then her mind drifted to why Mama was so keen on Rehaan taking that medicine. She muttered out loud, "Why does Mama want him to drink that medicine so badly? She sat there waiting for my return, and the moment I stepped in, she called and asked. Is that medicine really innocent?" Then she shrugged and thought, "Well, I'm not giving it to him anymore. Just in case something happens and they point fingers at me."
She picked up her phone and called Jafar to thank him. It only rang a few times before he picked up. "Mr. Jafar."
Jafar said, "Miss Journalist, I really applaud you. You've got talent."
She smiled and said, "Thank you. Thank you for keeping your promise; I really appreciate it."
"Don't mention it."
"Thank you."
"Welcome, Miss." With that, she ended the call.
Suddenly, she felt the urge to turn on the TV. Since coming to this house, she had never turned on the TV even once, barely even glancing at it when walking past. Now, she picked up the remote, turned it on, and scrolled through the channels, noticing there were no Hausa channels—only sports, news, American movies, and the like.
Seeing nothing she was used to watching, she put the remote down without turning the TV off. At that moment, the door opened. Even before he walked in, she caught his scent. He shut the door and walked into the parlor. Knowing it was him, she didn't lift her head. He walked right past her and went upstairs without saying a word to her, and she didn't say anything either.
She sat there until he came back down, having changed into formal babban riga attire—something he rarely wore. He walked out again without a word. Hearing the car drive off, she knew it was him because he hadn't fully latched the door. She glared in the direction he had gone and kept staring at the TV without really absorbing anything.
Eventually, she took off her hijab and lay down, getting drawn into an American movie that had started playing. When Hamma's call came in, she ignored it and kept watching with her hair uncovered, eventually falling fast asleep without realizing it.
Salman pushed the parlor door open and stepped inside, finding the door unlocked. Seeing her lying down, he walked over and sat on the carpet, staring at her face. Her hair had spilled over the arm of the sofa, and she was wearing a sleeveless long gown.
He smiled as he watched her. The sound of the TV made him look over at the screen, where he saw a woman lying asleep just like Islaha, with a man beside her stroking her hair. Slowly, Salman reached out and touched Islaha's hair, giggling as he said, "Ah, it's just like Rehaan's hair."
Then he touched it again and said, "No, it's like Mama's." He shook his head and muttered, "No, it's not hers..."
He drifted off in thought and said, "It's Banisha's, I remember," continuing to hold the lower strands of her hair.
Rehaan walked quietly into the parlor just as Salman leaned in close to Islaha's face. From the doorway, it looked as though he was about to kiss her, though Salman was actually just inspecting her face to see if she was asleep or awake.
Rehaan felt a sudden, heavy thud in the center of his head. His chest constricted, and a searing sensation rushed through his veins. His head felt unbearably heavy, and his heart pounded as if struck by a heavy object.
In a fierce, booming voice he didn't even know he possessed, he rushed forward into the parlor and shouted, "Hamma Salman!"
The way he yelled the name startled Salman so badly that he let out a sharp cry, and that cry caused Islaha to bolt awake in a panic, trembling with fear.
Salman spun around, looked at Rehaan, and complained, "Rehaan, you woke her up," clearly annoyed that Rehaan had disturbed her.
Rehaan's face darkened, feeling as though scalding air was being blown over him. He demanded, "What are you doing here?"
Salman just stared at him without answering. Rehaan snapped, "It's late, get up and go to bed!"
Salman shrugged his shoulders and said, "I'm not going."
Rehaan's anger flared even higher, leaving him at a loss for words. Salman pointed at the TV and said, "I was going to play that kind of game with her. She's sleeping, you don't wake people up, look!" he insisted, pointing at the TV screen where the woman on screen was beginning to undress.
Just as Salman pointed at the TV, the people on screen started stripping off their clothes. Islaha looked at the TV, quickly averted her eyes, scrambled off the sofa, and backed away from Salman.
Salman widened his eyes like a little child and squealed, "Oh, oh, oh! Look, they're taking off their clothes! I have nothing to do with it, I'm telling Umma!" he said, looking back at Rehaan.
Rehaan let out a long hiss, turned off the TV, and glared at Salman with mounting fury and frustration. "Get up and go. Umma is looking for you right now."
Salman shrugged. "I'm not going. I came to see her, not you."
"Get up and leave!"
"Salman, get out!" Rehaan roared, pointing firmly toward the door.
Salman froze, staring at Rehaan, utterly shocked by the harsh roar that pierced straight to his heart. In all the time he had known Rehaan, Rehaan had never yelled at him. His lack of scolding was precisely why Salman enjoyed hanging around him—Rehaan had never raised his voice or dismissed him before.
Seeing the dark, menacing look on Rehaan's face, Salman slowly stood up and walked out. Rehaan walked over, slammed the door shut, changed the lock, and marched back into the parlor, his blood boiling as he stared at her.
"Is the living room a bedroom? What is the use of your own bedroom if you aren't going to sleep there?"
The intensity of Rehaan's shout at Salman had shaken Islaha too. Combined with what Salman had pointed out and threatened to do, she was completely terrified, wondering what Rehaan might have done to her if he hadn't walked in when he did, especially since she had fallen asleep unaware of his arrival.
For the first time since coming to this house, she softened her tone. In a weak, fragile voice, she said, "I didn't know I fell asleep. I turned on the TV to watch and dozed off."
"What's the use of your bedroom TV? Do you know how long he was sitting right next to you? Do you know how many times he touched you?"
Islaha shook her head. "I didn't know, and I don't even know how he managed to open the door."
"Yesterday you came to my room complaining that he walked in, and I came and chased him out. How did he end up coming back today?"
Islaha remained silent. She could hear the fury in his voice, but she couldn't summon the energy to fight back or argue as she usually would. Instead, she sat quietly, letting his reprimand sink deep into her core.
Rehaan continued, "First and last, don't let me ever see you sleeping in the living room again. If you want to watch TV, go upstairs. Okay?"
She didn't even nod to show she understood, but his words had somehow anchored themselves in her mind. Rehaan let out a huff and went upstairs. He was seething with disgust toward Salman, realizing he had been far too lenient in letting Salman hang around Islaha's space.
Upstairs, as Rehaan stripped off his clothes, he paced around in a state of agitation he had never experienced before. Impulsively, he picked up his phone and called Jazy. The moment Jazy answered, Rehaan demanded, "Did you guys board the flight?"
Jazy answered, "Later. Are you alright?"
"Tell Abba to get Salman married."
"Which Salman?"
"Umma's Salman."
"Salman needs to get married?"
"Since he's now watching romance on TV and saying he wants to try it out, someone just like him needs to be married off."
Jazy asked with amusement, "What happened to put you in such a bad mood?"
"Salman pissed me off. I came back and found him sitting in the living room watching C-wife sleep, with the TV on, telling me he was going to do what was on the screen to her. Just imagine—what if I hadn't come back?"
Jazy chuckled softly, amused by how agitated his boss was over the "C-wife," and said, "Whoa! When did this happen?"
"Just now! But it's her fault too, she has no sense. Who told her the main parlor is a bedroom?"
Jazy chuckled heartily, reading between the lines of the situation, but sensing the tension, he said, "Well, boundaries need to be set, though you're the one who gave Salman access in the first place."
"I didn't know his madness had reached this level. I had no idea it would make my blood boil like this."
"So what are you going to do now, Mr. Rehaan?"
Product of frustration, Rehaan muttered, "I don't know, Jazy. I feel like going down there to beat him up, I swear. My heart is beating so strangely, I've never felt this way before."
"He's out of his mind, don't let it get to you."
Rehaan clicked his tongue, hung up the phone, and stood brooding. A deep annoyance lingered in his chest for reasons he couldn't quite name. The thought that kept plaguing him was simple: What if I hadn't come into the parlor? What would he have done to her? Nursing that bitter anger, he took a bath, went to bed, and resolved that he would definitely push Abba to arrange a wife for Salman just to end this madness.
On Monday morning, Islaha got dressed and went to work, as that was the day her interview with Rehaan was scheduled to drop. She arrived to find the team deep in editing. Once finished, the interview was posted across all their social media handles and uploaded to the channel.
Within a short time, the interview spread everywhere. Everyone was talking about it because it was the first time Rehaan had ever been heard speaking Hausa and Fulfulde fluently. The interview captured massive attention, trending in places they never expected it to reach.
Islaha sat at her office desk feeling under the weather. Her period was about to start, and her entire body felt out of sorts.
Safeera walked in and announced, "My friend, do you realize you've become a celebrity?"
Islaha looked at her listlessly. "I don't feel well, Safeera."
"What's wrong?"
"Stomach cramps."
"Ah, is it that time again?"
"Yeah, but the date shifted. It came three days early, that's why."
Safeera said, "I'm sorry, but seriously, you're a celeb now! Have you seen the followers you've gained on IG, TikTok, and Facebook? Have you seen how much they're talking about you? People are saying Mr. Rehaan couldn't stop looking at you—like the way he looked at you didn't seem like it was his first time seeing you."
Islaha closed her eyes and sighed, "People are just hypocrites. They love drama, I'm exhausted."
Safeera insisted, "Come on, let me walk you home."
Before Islaha could answer, the office door swung open and the Chairman walked in.
Islaha forced herself to sit up and put on a bright face. "Chairman, you came yourself?"
He smiled broadly. "Islaha, I had to come see you myself. You deserve it. Islaha, you brought us immense glory in less than three hours! Just now, two different companies called offering advertising deals, not to mention the massive wave of new followers we've gained. I always knew interviewing Mr. Rehaan would bring blessings, and look how fast those blessings are rolling in..."
Summary and Analysis of the Text
Narrative Summary
In this excerpt, the narrative progresses on multiple fronts involving Islaha, Rehaan, and those around them:
- The Interview Aftermath: Following a tense interview where Rehaan playfully needles Islaha (and leaves her with a parting check for her TV station), Rehaan leaves a parting jab about her presenting skills. Despite this, the interview goes viral, instantly launching Islaha and their media house into massive online fame and bringing in lucrative advertising deals.
- Saheer and Safeera: Saheer approaches Safeera to express remorse over hurting Islaha, acknowledging the emotional turmoil and spiritual friction caused by their inappropriate closeness while she is a married woman. Safeera urges him to fix things properly or give Islaha space.
- The Living Room Incident: Back at the mansion, Islaha falls asleep watching TV in the living room. Salman wanders in and begins touching her hair, echoing inappropriate romantic scenes from the television. Rehaan walks in, experiences a violent wave of protective fury, screams at Salman to get out, and locks him out. Rehaan then reprimands Islaha harshly for sleeping in the common areas, revealing deep-seated, possessive anxiety over her safety and proximity to other men.
- Physical Toll: Islaha struggles with physical discomfort from her menstrual cycle, feeling overwhelmed by her sudden celebrity status and the complex emotional dynamics of her contract marriage.
Analytics and Commentary
- Character Development & Psychological Shifts:
- Rehaan: Previously depicted as stoic, detached, and clinical, Rehaan undergoes a significant emotional crack in this scene. His visceral, explosive reaction to finding Salman near a sleeping Islaha highlights an escalating, possessive attachment. He is no longer viewing her as a mere "contract wife"—his jealousy and protective instincts are breaking through his facade.
- Islaha: Islaha is maturing under pressure. Where she might have previously snapped back at Rehaan's harsh scolding, her fatigue, physical pain, and the jarring reality of the household lead her to absorb the reprimand quietly. She is caught between her contract obligations, her growing public acclaim, and the chaotic household dynamics.
- Salman: Salman acts as a catalyst for tension. His childlike innocence mixed with inappropriate behavior forces Rehaan to confront the vulnerabilities of the household environment, prompting Rehaan to demand an arranged marriage for him.
- Themes Explored:
- Contract Marriage vs. Real Emotions: The line between a transactional relationship and genuine affection continues to blur. Rehaan's internal panic ("What if I hadn't come back?") directly contradicts the cold detachment of a "contract wife."
- Social Media and Instant Fame: The narrative touches on modern media dynamics in Northern Nigeria—how digital content, interviews, and unexpected pairings can instantly catapult ordinary people into viral celebrity status.
- Moral Boundaries and Repentance: The subplot involving Saheer and Safeera introduces a moral commentary on emotional affairs, inappropriate boundaries among unmarried/married peers, and the weight of spiritual accountability (zunubi).
Conclusions
This chapter serves as a crucial turning point in the relationship between Rehaan and Islaha. The professional success of the interview contrasts sharply with the domestic turmoil inside the mansion, signaling that Rehaan's emotional armor is rapidly crumbling. His overreaction to Salman is a clear narrative signpost that his feelings for Islaha have evolved past indifference, setting the stage for deeper romantic conflict as the contract marriage setup faces internal pressures.
