Big Uncle Book 2 Complete Yasmin Autar Alheri

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BIG UNCLE BOOK 2 COPLETE  

"Do you not know where you are standing? Does it make any logical sense for you to be walking around with such highly sensitive documents casually between you?" Tafisu spoke in a strict, authoritative tone, perfectly conveying exactly what Mammina wanted to say to them.
"Please forgive us... something has deeply confused us. It is a massive contradiction in information. The details that the Madam has given us differ completely from the records written on these documents," he said, after retrieving the papers and staring at them once more in his hands.
"Differ in what way?" Mammina found herself asking directly, unable to even wait for Tafisu to ask the question for her.
"Please forgive me, but take another look, Your Excellency... these are official documents from the nation of Ethiopia. Authentic verification... the birth years, an original hospital birth certificate, not a forgery, even bearing the official signature of the Head of State confirming that these documents are completely genuine from their source." She didn't even realize when she sprang to her feet. Unaware of her own movements, she marched directly in front of the cluster of cameras surrounding her, reached out, and furiously snatched the documents away.
She felt as though he was simply lying to her; she believed he had only uttered those words to disorient her, speaking them because his demeanor indicated a dark, calculated agenda.
Distraught and shaken, she stared at the paperwork as if she had never received an education in her life. In utter panic, she followed the text line by line, reading carefully. An official document establishing full citizenship and birthright of the nation of Ethiopia was undeniably in her hands, just as the journalist had initially stated.
She lifted her eyes, scanning the massive gathering of the press, every single one of whom was staring intently back at her. She examined them one by one. There were at least twenty individuals representing various television networks and radio stations. Among them, she had no way of knowing how many had already taken photographs of the document. She did not know how many had instantly broadcasted the images the moment they captured them—because she knew with absolute certainty that there was no way a scorching hot scoop like this could fall into the hands of a journalist and remain quiet overnight.
"Your Excellency... I asked if perhaps a mistake was made? Can you give us a detailed explanation of how this came to happen?" He pressed the question upon her again, adjusting the focus of his camera.
She glared at him with a deeply contemptuous look. She knew... touching a journalist was an incredibly dangerous game, affecting not just the individual but their entire family. And that was if it were just one reporter present, let alone a room packed to the brim with his colleagues.
"Pardon me... perhaps these documents were mixed up with others. I will reach out to you once everything is sorted out." That was all she said. She didn't wait around, nor did she stay to listen to the barrage of questions they hurled. She turned on her heel and exited in a frantic hurry. She could hear their voices throwing out a multitude of different questions behind her, but her legs could barely support her weight, let alone allow her to stand and face them.
"Undoubtedly... someone has breached my private vault... Tamim!!! You will die, you will surely die if you do not investigate and find out exactly what is happening, especially when everything was entrusted to your hands?!" she screamed in a frantic shriek, sounding like a deranged woman. Within her mind and soul, she knew with absolute certainty that if that room had been compromised... she had no remaining strength left. For a long time, she had planned the day she would enter that vault, remove certain items, and burn them to ashes, but she had kept procrastinating—because she knew their mere existence near her posed a lethal danger, even though she knew she had established a foothold in Agadez that no one could ever uproot. Beyond that, if anyone dared to force her out, bombs would detonate one after the other in the name of their King and the daughter he cherished above everyone else in the world.
Her hands shook violently as she accepted the paper that Tamim was handing to her as he entered the room, a deeply suppressed terror plastered across his face. His entire body was trembling, his teeth chattering kaf kaf kaf from sheer fright, looking as though he had just been drenched in freezing ice water.
In the name of Allah, the Most Gracious, the Most Merciful.
And whomsoever Allah disgraces, none can honor him.
Is Allah not sufficient for His servant?
SHEIKH MUHAMMAD HAISAM MOTI ABA JIFAR IBRAHEEM, the Silent One.
Although she only truly processed the final line of the document... her heart suffered a violent tremor. The name IBRAHEEM alone was a massive threat to her peace of mind... let alone seeing it attached to the very name she had just bid farewell to moments ago, filled with the joy that his departure presented a grand opportunity for her.
"Has the Lord not sufficed His servant?"
"Whomsoever Allah humbles and disgraces, there is truly no one left who can grant him honor." "These are the translations of what is written across this entire pile of documents," Tafisu stated, dipping her hand deeper into the papers. Every single page contained the exact same text, and they had completely replaced every single file that had previously held her highly confidential records.
"Innalillahi... I am ruined!" she found herself uttering, marking the very first time her vulnerability was laid completely bare. She slid downward, collapsing heavily onto the floor right in front of Tamim and Tafisu, entirely forgetting her high status and royal position.
★ ★ ★
For the first time in her life, she felt a man standing this close to her. It was the first time she experienced an overwhelming sense of protection and security tailing her every move. Every single step she took, he would place his stride in perfect sync with hers. Similarly, whenever a portion of her veil or abaya bunched up, she could feel his hand reaching out gently to adjust it, ensuring it sat perfectly on her body.
Every single time he did this... something entirely different settled over her body and soul... she experienced an aura of sheer prestige and grandeur unlike anything she had ever felt before.
Ever since they left the tarmac of the Agadez airport, she hadn't laid eyes on Falaaq and Maleek again. It wasn't because she particularly cared or shared a deep, close bond with them... no, it was just that from time to time, her heart would whisper to her that right now, she had no one else in the world closer to her than Falaaq.
She calmly lifted her blue eyes, noticing the absence of crowds or people. For the second time, a wave of astonishment washed over her—matching the shock she experienced back at the Agadez airport upon realizing that the private jet carrying them had brought them exclusively here to Niamey.
"A private terminal?" she murmured softly, her eyes locked onto the second private jet they were approaching, which looked vastly different from the one that had brought them to Niamey.
"What is happening?" she whispered deep within her soul.
"Does he possess this much influence and privilege?" she asked herself again, right as the airport staff on the ground greeted him with an exceptional, highly respectful welcome. However, just like in Agadez, all the dialogue they exchanged was in a language she could neither speak nor understand. Yet, the immense deference they showed him only plunged her deeper into a state of mystification.
Are you only just entering the darkness now, Akhnan, or have you not even begun to skim its surface?

My dear brothers and sisters, peace be upon you and the blessings of Allah.
Greetings and best wishes. I am celebrating the weddings of two of my sisters, so I kindly request your understanding and indulgence if you find me quiet on Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday. Even so, I will make every single effort to ensure I do not skip those days for you, In sha Allah. Due to life's demands and the wedding festivities, even if it is just a page or two, I will do my best so as not to leave you stranded.
Thank you all so very much. In sha Allah, Huguma will not disappoint you. 🙏🏽🙏🏽

"THE TIE IS BOUND... IT IS PERMANENT!" A voice from a distant corner of his heart answered him. He couldn't be sure, but he had been reflecting on it for a long time. There are certainly destinies that we initiate at first, but in the end, they escape our control, taking over to weave themselves on their own... Would this carefully orchestrated destiny slip from his fingers too?... Had it already begun to chart its own course?
His train of thought snapped when he began to hear a sound... something resembling a low, muffled sob underneath, a whimper being suppressed so that no one else would hear it. However, he was cut from a different cloth; he possessed an incredibly sharp sense of hearing, making it nearly impossible for anyone to utter a word, no matter how quiet, without him catching it.
As her eyes watched their aircraft pulling far away from Niger... flying far away from the entire country of Niamey, she felt as though she were entering a state of eternal separation. It felt as though she were leaving Niger forever, as if a great distance was forming between her and the Sultan that would last for eternity. It felt as if she were abandoning him for good... and he, too, was letting her go forever. She felt her entire heart break. Suddenly, she felt a desperate need for someone close to her—someone in front of whom she could cry freely and unreservedly, just like she used to do with the Sultan. She didn't cry before just anyone... no one ever saw her tears except for two people: the Sultan and Mammina. Yet right now, she only had the Sultan left as someone she could comfortably weep before. Where would she ever find a replacement? She concluded with a question that carried no answer.
Slowly, she felt the soft palm of his hand slipping into hers. Gradually, with a sensation as fluid as a serpent's glide, she felt him intertwining his five fingers right through the center of hers. Gently, he locked their hands together, applying a light pressure within his grasp so that they began to exchange the radiating warmth of their skin.
A profound silence... a silence laced with an overwhelming serenity settled between them, dominating the entire cabin space they occupied.
Although the crying did not stop entirely, a deep sense of relief began to wash slowly over her heart. A soothing coolness enveloped her, causing even the tears spilling from her eyes to feel remarkably cool. From time to time, she felt him lightly squeeze her hand resting inside his, as if he wanted to speak, or as if he were comforting her simply through the subtle movement and reassuring pressure of their joined fingers.
Several minutes passed before that smooth, deep voice of his vibrated softly next to her ear. He spoke in her language—in French—using that distinct accent of his that always struck a chord within her, making her appreciate the sheer beauty of the French language, a beauty she had never recognized until it came from his lips.
"Cry if you want to. It is not a sign of weakness... but do not let it consume you." She felt those words land upon her ears with a profoundly unique weight. Instead of the crying intensifying, she felt her tears gradually slow down and recede on their own. He perceived everything. Even though he wasn't looking directly at her face, he could feel her beginning to compose herself. He felt the heavy weight of the trust and responsibility placed upon his shoulders... and he hoped to honor it fully until Allah executed His divine will over their entire situation.
“Sometimes… a person must leave a place… in order to discover exactly where they are meant to be.” He spoke with deep, calculated reflection—words which he knew she might not fully grasp the deeper meaning of at this precise moment.
The statement resonated deeply within her, yet she found herself unable to fully untangle its meaning in her mind. She felt the moment he withdrew his soft palm from hers, leaving her fingers twitching slightly... moving as if they instinctively wanted to hold onto his fingers just as they were slipping away from her grasp.
"Here," he said softly, placing a tissue in front of her. She slowly turned her face to see what he was handing her, and her gaze traveled directly past the tissue, locking straight into his eyes.
He was staring at her with those exact eyes that would forever remind her of those very first days. Sometimes, when her lips parted, she found herself longing to ask him:
Are you that same man? The one from that fateful day who made me feel defeated for the very first time in my life?
However, his powerful aura and her own royal pride intertwined, rising to defend her dignity as a woman. Just like now, she quickly averted her eyes from him the moment she realized he had also shifted his gaze away from her.
"Assalamu alaikum, sir... is there anything you require?" She heard the voice of the young female flight attendant again. Akhnan drew a sharp breath into her nostrils, the sound catching tightly in her chest like a piercing spear.
What else does she want? The question flashed sharply through her mind. She tightened her fingers slightly, wanting to completely detach her attention from everything—because she despised how her focus was instinctively drawn to every single movement and word the young woman directed toward him.
Without offering the flight attendant an immediate answer, he calmly turned his head toward the side where Akhnan sat.
"Do you need anything?" he asked her with a distinct softness, using that French of his which, whenever he spoke it, made it sound like an entirely unique dialect compared to what she was accustomed to hearing. She simply shook her head, maintaining her characteristic pride and reserved demeanor. Moving her lips softly, she replied:
"Nothing." He lingered for a moment as if he wouldn't pull his eyes away from her face, before finally looking away. Without casting a single glance back at the flight attendant, he uttered:
"Water... and coffee. If there is any need beyond that, you will be notified." He spoke in his signature, highly concise manner of speaking.
The flight attendant nodded, then respectfully turned and left the area to fulfill his command.
Every single detail concerning the aircraft... everything regarding their journey screamed absolute privilege, a massive display of influence and immense wealth. It was an atmosphere unlike any she had ever experienced in all her history of flying. A profound quiet filled the space... as the jet pushed deeper into the open sky. The pilot and the minimalist crew members remained in their respective quarters, quietly attending to their duties.

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She could not control her heart; she could not stop her mind from repeating the burning question: WHO IS HE? WHO EXACTLY IS HE IN AGADEZ... OR NIAMEY, to command this level of extraordinary privilege?
A private jet... a private pilot... a private crew? Everything was private... and everything was exceptionally high-class, expensive, and prestigious.
After the flight attendant brought the water, he pushed it toward her, placing it alongside the tissue, despite the fact that she hadn't requested a thing. He then adjusted his seat to a position that allowed him to completely relax his back.
He relaxed with absolute composure, extending his long legs, which were clad in charcoal-colored socks that perfectly matched his attire.
Calmly opening the briefcase beside him, he pulled out a small book that, by her estimation, could not have exceeded fifty pages. From his reclined position, he further dimmed the lighting of the cabin space—which closely resembled a luxury parlor—settling deep into relaxation as he opened the book.
Silence blanketed the area once more—a quiet that left her with nothing but the rich scent of his perfume and an involuntary urge to steal glances at him. It didn't take long for her to realize that he took immense pleasure in reading; before long, she noticed how reading completely absorbed his attention and put him at absolute ease. Slowly and gradually, she found herself stealing glances at him—glances that stretched from a mere second into half-minute observations, before she quickly ripped her eyes away whenever she noticed him make the slightest movement. Observing how the large, bright whites of his eyes lowered as if sleep were trying to claim him... she slowly dropped her gaze to his lips. Something there captured her full attention... something she knew had only ever impressed her once before in a romance movie she had watched. They were lips with a highly captivating shape—lips that you would rarely ever see chapped. They possessed a natural sheen that showcased their smooth texture even from a distance, a distance from which one might assume the owner was utilizing lip gloss simply to enhance them. She cleverly lowered her gaze further to his chin. A perfectly trimmed beard and sideburns adorned his face, serving as the ultimate frame for his features. Fine, soft hairs rested above and below his lips, encircling them before connecting smoothly along his cheeks down to the base of his chin. It was pitch-black hair that naturally caught the eye, looking incredibly smooth—a smoothness that suddenly made her heart throb with a sudden desire to feel its texture within her own hands. She shifted her eyes back to his thick eyebrows, which threatened to meet in the center, and felt a sensation catch in her throat, sending a sudden realization through her mind:
Could he actually be more beautiful than me? The question instantly plunged her into a state of doubt... a doubt in which certainty was rapidly trying to prevail. He didn't just possess raw good looks... Allah had truly blessed his physical mold and structure with an extraordinary aura of KWARJINI (commanding prestige). Every single attribute of his, when examined, carried an immense sense of fulfillment, perfection, and dignity.
When she placed her eyes onto his hand holding the book, she felt the rhythm of her breathing temporarily shift. She quickly averted her eyes because her conscience began to chastise her:
Hasn't this staring gone too far? What if he senses it? Yet, just a single minute later, she found herself longing to look again. She wanted to look at those long fingers that, just today, had intertwined with her palms more intimately than ever before. She wanted to see the fingers that were the first to ever mingle with her own under the banner of a man touching her hands.
However, this time, just as she was about to withdraw her gaze, he caught her eyes with an incredible, startling speed that she never could have anticipated. A wave of deep, heavy shyness accompanied by a sudden chill rushed through every single limb of her body. They were wide, circular white eyes—she had never seen any man with eyes so remarkably white.
He locked her down with those magnetic, intense eyes of his—eyes that held a distinct power, affecting not only women but men as well. His eyes possessed a specific shape and an aura that is typically found only among those who consistently gaze upon the Quran and Hadith, owing to the prestige and blessings embedded within those sacred texts.
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💎 L U'U L U'U (The Diamond) 💎
BY H U G U M A
BOOK 03 /// PAGE 22
"Continue," he uttered calmly, moving those beautiful lips of his after she had completely ripped her gaze away from his direction. She was absolutely not going to allow it... she would never permit him to realize, even for a split second, that she had been stealing glances at him. His sudden speech caused her heart to pound even more violently than before, compounding the panic she had found herself in when he caught her off guard.
She tightened her expression slightly, feeling strongly that she would not give in easily.
"What?" she uttered with forced courage and resilience after turning back to look at him. However, the look was not direct, because she knew... under these circumstances, she could not look straight into the pupils of his eyes.
"The staring," he answered her in an unflinchingly direct manner, continuing to lock her down with those eyes of his. The way she began to respond to him with that distinct pride... that stubborn defiance... and that aura of self-importance instantly captured his interest.
The violent pounding of her heart only intensified as it confirmed that he had indeed seen her... he had absolutely caught her looking at him. Since when? From the very first glance? Or only at the very end? She found herself completely at a loss for words... unable to formulate an answer, because she herself was astonished: She, Khadeeja Muhammad Hammud... was stealing glances at a man? Why? For what reason? In a desperate bid to protect her dignity and maintain her pride, she averted her gaze from the space she occupied and redirected it toward the window without saying another word, watching how they sliced through the clouds and mist, pushing further into the high heavens.
For no clear reason, he found himself unwilling to let the conversation end there. He shifted slightly, adjusting his posture and crossing one leg over the other—a way of sitting that suited him remarkably well, projecting an effortless air of grandeur that he himself was likely unaware he possessed.
"What are you looking at?" he asked her again, a casual question that simply brought him a sense of amusement, though you could never read that expression on his face.
Her heart pounded even harder. She tightened her expression further, shaking her head.
"Nothing," she said in a dismissive tone, though deep down inside, her mind was flooded with self-interrogation. A hidden smile tugged at his thoughts. She wasn't the first woman with whom a situation like this had occurred, but her demeanor was uniquely packed with a distinct pride, self-worth, and the fierce dignity of a noble woman. He deeply admired this trait—guarding one's pride and honor—marking the very first time he had witnessed it directed toward him by a woman.
"Continue... however..." He paused slightly. All her attention was anchored there, her ears completely tuned to the exit of words from his mouth. His sudden pause caused a wave of intense anticipation to rush through her, desperate to hear how he would finish the sentence, but he cut the statement short right there.
"If you look at me for a while..." He paused once more, as if hesitant to complete the thought.
"I won't let you stop."
She whipped her head around instantly—a sudden movement she hadn't planned. That was exactly what he wanted... he held the pupils of her eyes firmly within his own, searching for something specific he wanted to see, and he successfully captured it before calmly withdrawing his gaze.
She drew slow, measured breaths after turning her eyes back to the window, feeling a wave of exhaustion and apprehension slowly creep into her body. Her chest heaved, and her breath escaped in heavy cycles, making her feel exactly like someone who had just finished a long, intense run.
Who exactly is he?