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VILLA STREET
It was a house built unlike any other along the orderly, well-structured streets of the neighborhood. From the outside, you wouldn't accord it much prestige or awe, just as you would never imagine that its interior contained a design and an elite security apparatus that took them quite a long time to breach before reaching the inner sanctum and their ultimate target.
Slowly, he lowered the large document from his eyes—an orange-colored paper filled with extensive writings containing highly critical information.
Dressed in black clothes that further accentuated his essence, his refinement, and filled him with immense charisma. Although he did not allow anyone standing in the room to see his face directly, those eyes... those eyes, heavy with countless deep emotions, darted between the people kneeling on their knees before him. These were people he never imagined he would find inside the house, even though he knew—and felt deep down—that there were indeed BURRIED SECRETS heavy enough to break almost any heart. He believed it even more now, remembering how breaking into the house had nearly cost them everything.
From the wide parlor, which served as the HEART OF THE HOUSE and a dangerous junction connecting every hidden sector of the compound—hidden zones that an ordinary person could neither see nor comprehend.
With profound calmness, he lowered his gaze onto the man whose physical stature, frame, and demeanor stood out completely from everyone else kneeling in the parlor.
"TAMIM." The name echoed in his mind with intense astonishment, making him ponder the magnitude of the thread tying this entire web of mystery together. Three individuals had been born and established with the name TAMIM within the Agadez Emirate. This was intentionally orchestrated to mislead the discerning, shift the perspective, and blind the foresight of any thinker whenever the name TAMIM was uttered in the Agadez Emirate, directing attention away from the truth.
With a cold composure, he withdrew his eyes from the man... the man who had tormented HIS COUNTRY for years. The man who had caused numerous security agency chiefs to complete their tenures and step down with the unfulfilled dream of capturing him. The man who had sown terror within the OROMO kingdom, and stripped away peace and joy from the family of AJANI AHMED. Just looking at him stoked a fire within his soul. Looking at him alone made him feel like executing the ultimate judgment right then and there. Yet, there was still more to be uncovered... there was still time... just not now, and not here.
He wanted to become the destruction sent to every sector and branch that joined forces to build this man, build his crimes, and sustain his existence. Twice he opened his mouth intending to speak to him, but closed it. He wasn't sure what to say to him. However, he believed that despite his massive frame—the body he took pride and arrogance in—the man was softened to his very core by what he felt inside. The clash had originally begun with Beeno's team, but in the end, Muhammad Haisam had to take over, setting a flawless trap that cornered him right into their hands.
The sound of approaching footsteps caused him to turn his gaze toward the source. It was Omar Salawii and Abeer, and his eyes fell upon the young man walking between them.
Haisam fixed his eyes entirely on him, just as the young man stared back into Haisam’s eyes as if searching for something unique—something that distinguished Haisam from every other being present.
The heart resting within Haisam's chest stirred, and he felt a wave of vulnerability wash through him. THE YOUNG MAN WAS THE ANSWER TO HIS QUESTION. His face alone was the answer to the mountain of unresolved questions lingering in his mind about this house.
He saw a mini AJANI walking on his own feet, yet in some of his movements, he mirrored SAFEENA. This was that infant... the baby stolen on the very day of his birth. This was the firstborn of her blood, the very first seed from Safeena’s body.
Haisam continued to watch him as they drew closer to where he stood. He felt his legs grow weak as he analyzed the boy’s features, so he clenched his hands, thrust them deep into his pants pockets, and continued to study the youth intently.
If his deduction today was correct, and if his eyes were perceiving the absolute truth, he could clearly see a sense of peace and extreme composure within the youth—a stark contrast to AHMAD ALMAZ.
The intense locked gaze between them did not break until they stood right beside him. With his eyes alone, he communicated with Omar, and then shifted his gaze to the rest of them. Communicating through mere eye contact, they understood exactly what he meant. He turned slowly and began to walk away, but the words spoken by the elder Tamim in the Oromo language made him pause slightly.
"I presume you are of the blood of ABA JIFAR... the Ibrahim whose destiny it was that the loss of SALEEM, his successor, occurred by my hands." He spoke with hard, callous words, reflecting the hardened nature of his heart.
Haisam felt the weight of the words deep in his soul. He felt the impact of every syllable. However, turning around to face him in this state could trigger unpredictable consequences. Therefore, he chose to keep walking calmly, uttering in a deeply authoritative and majestic voice:
"Beeno... I want the house erased." A brief command packed with vast meanings that required no further explanation to Abdii and the rest.
AKHNAN
She couldn't pinpoint exactly what was gripping her heart, but there was undeniably a strange, unfamiliar sensation drifting between her heart and her chest.
She felt a hollow stillness between her heart and chest when she found herself playing a Quranic recitation after the silence and solitude she had chosen enveloped the room. Her heart reminded her of his last words to her:
"Frequent listening to and recitation of the Quran grants peace to the heart."
Slowly, the profound truth of his words began to permeate her being. A wave of tranquility—the kind she never believed could exist for a human soul and body after facing such a horrific threat to life—washed over her. It was his gentle voice, the one that successfully made its way into modern MP3 nightlight players. That soothing recitation... that voice which exuded the absolute serenity possessed by its owner, even before you ever laid eyes on his actual face.
Just like her... now that the sound of the recitation was entering her ears with such peace and coolness, his face kept returning to her mind. His face flashed before her, capturing every movement that showcased his pride and royalty. From their very first day at the hippodrome... gradually leading up to the hours and moments that forged a deep closeness between them—specifically the Festival de l'Aïr. A day that had threatened to become a horrific tragedy, transforming her history from the QUEEN OF AGADEZ into the most degraded creature. But by Allah’s grace, and through his presence... his heroism and a rare, exceptional valor he possessed, she escaped that terrible attack.
Slowly, she opened her eyes as the recitation reached the end of Surah Al-Baqarah, which coincided with a question that flashed across her consciousness.
"Is there anything anyone could give her in this world that matches the value of what he did for her?" The question descended upon her gently, merging with another that quickly followed.
"What if Tamim had succeeded in his plot? What if what he planned had come to pass? What if Haisam hadn’t been with them at that exact moment? What would have happened?" The question struck a massive chord in her chest, forcing her to close her eyes a second time, until her lips parted to whisper:
"Astagfirullahal azeem." Accompanied by a feeling that resonated in her ears—with that voice of his, with that softness in his tone which had become like a guide to her, until she felt her state stabilize. A stabilization that perfectly coincided with the Adhan starting to play from her phone placed beside her.
She fixed her eyes on the phone, staring at it as if waiting for something. The call to prayer rang out peacefully—the exact melody used by the Haramain mosques for every one of the five daily prayers. She did not avert her gaze until the Adhan finished.
Slowly, she extended her hand, picked up the phone, and scrolled through it. He was the one who set that Adhan for her on the day he took her to that house... that house whose location she still didn't know within Agadez, nor whom it belonged to. At the time, she felt the Adhan was restrictive, because every single hour a prayer time arrived, it would persist in ringing until she left everything behind to go pray. She had navigated all through the phone settings but failed to see where he downloaded the application; she couldn't deduce or understand anything about it. She was forced to accept it, up until now when she had finally begun to grow accustomed to it.
"The Messenger of Allah strictly warned regarding prayer; he cautioned us to guard its timings. It is the one thing that, no matter how good your deeds are, if you fall short in it, you cannot pass before Allah. Everything of yours... all your deeds are ruined. Prayer alone is the cure... it rectifies the human heart and deeds. If you perfect your prayer, even sins will flee from you. But if you pray... and still do not cease committing the evil deeds Allah has forbidden... it is possible your prayer was never accepted in the first place, or it wasn't performed the way Allah desires, which is why it holds no influence in restraining you from grave sins." She recalled one of his speeches that she heard on a day they were studying with Falaak.
Before she could make any move, Birra requested permission to enter, bowing her head respectfully as was their standard custom.
"It is time for prayer, Your Highness," she said, keeping her head lowered. Akhnan stared at her for a brief moment. Was this the first time Birra was coming in specifically to remind her of prayer time? What happened? What brought about this sudden change?
She didn't overthink it, as her instincts told her exactly where the change originated. She simply pulled herself up and sat fully on the soft, small relaxation bed.
"Tanti Aisa left a message. She said to inform you that she has departed. She insisted we shouldn't formally announce her departure to you so you could rest... but she will return on the days of your travel to see you off, In sha Allah." She felt a slight surprise at Aisa's departure at this moment. It wasn't the right time to leave, given that the festival days weren't even concluded, let alone making preparations to return.
"Is there anything else you require?" Birra asked politely again. The question surprised Akhnan slightly, causing her to turn and look at Birra. She knew... asking this kind of question was a completely new behavior toward her.
"Forgive me... it is an order from Abdii, who received it from Sheikh Muhammad. No matter how small your request, it must be reported and handled appropriately." She spent a few moments looking at Birra, as the statement found a unique place in her mind, settling deeply.
This wasn't the first day her needs were looked after... this wasn't the first time her desires were prioritized and fiercely guarded... but today, everything felt vastly different from the usual routine.
Without saying a word to Birra, she stood up calmly.
"I need to go to His Majesty’s library," she stated simply. For some reason, she felt a strong urge to look up a book concerning the history of the Messenger of Allah. She wanted clarity regarding the Prophet whom he frequently quoted as saying or doing things. Today, for the first time in her life, she was deeply interested in exploring the biography of the best of creation and how he lived his life.
"It is done," Birra uttered, then stood up, though she paused momentarily. "However, Morsa Safiyya left a message."
Akhnan merely closed her eyes briefly and opened them while pulling her abundant hair into a thin hairband.
"She said if it's possible, you should try to endure and complete the remaining body spa treatments for the days left."
As if she wouldn't reply—maintaining the natural aura of aloofness that was inherent to her character—she continued walking until she reached the bathroom door, delivering her answer before stepping inside:
"I will attend... after I finish with the library." For some reason, she felt the weight today, for the first time, of turning down Morsa Safiyya's offer or failing to answer her call.
Once she entered the bathroom, Birra let out a small smile, turned, and left to announce Akhnan's departure from her quarters to the royal library section so the path could be cleared. It was a rule—a protocol exclusive to Akhnan alone; she never shared a path with anyone while moving through the palace. All foot traffic had to halt along her designated route until she reached her destination.
HAISAM
Tied in a towel around his waist—a towel whose length barely reached slightly below his knees—the small size of the towel failed to conceal the well-built, powerfully toned physique and commanding presence blessed upon him by Allah. It was an appearance he never allowed anyone to see him in, not even Omar.
His smooth, damp hair dripping with water was proof enough that he had just showered, pouring water that thoroughly drenched his hair, which was distinctly and authentically characteristic of the Oromo tribe.
From his gait to his facial expression, one could read a depletion of physical energy alongside a heavy, profound sense of inner relief. That was how he was... because deep inside his mind, it felt as though small thunderclaps had been echoing ever since the initial investigation concluded regarding the youth, and the response the youth gave after being asked his name.
"I HAVE NO NAME." That was the only name the boy knew as a full human being who had lived for over twenty years.
"HE IS OF AJANI’S BLOOD... HE IS THE BLOOD OF SULTAN MUHAMMAD HAMMUD." He didn't believe there was any duration of time, circumstance, or hour that would ever erase these two statements from his mind.
Even now, as he stood before the luxurious, massive mirror of his grand master bedroom... he thrust all ten fingers into his wet hair. He took a deep breath into his lungs, exhaling fully after lowering his hands.
He had handled various cases involving all kinds of criminals... he had seen things that strengthened his faith... he had cracked highly dangerous cases, investigated them, and vindicated the innocent. Yet, he had never seen such sheer expertise in the art of malice... taking revenge on someone completely innocent... and such intense rebellion against Allah as that displayed by ZEENATUN ZAITUNA.
His large, exceptionally beautiful eyes—the kind of beauty that nothing could ever diminish—he closed them, once again running five fingers through his hair, spreading them across his handsome face, typical of robust Oromo youth.
He felt a burning heat deep within his soul—a heat that originated from his face down to his entire body whenever he remembered that AHMAD was a blood sibling to Akhnan... her biological brother whom she had no substitute for, and yet that woman, ZAITUNA, had intended to marry him as her HUSBAND?
"Ya Salam," he muttered, clenching his fist as his heart posed a terrifying question:
"What if that had happened? What if everything had occurred exactly as she wished? What if everything had turned out the way she planned?" He felt his legs grow weak and turn cold, as if the event were about to manifest right now—a vulnerability unlike any he had felt, even during the tightest corners of their high-risk, complex operations. He slowly began to step backward, feeling as though the weight in his heart was trying to completely overpower his physical frame.
As he was about to sit, his ringing phone interrupted his movement. He reached out and checked the name. It was Omar. Only now did he remember he had left him waiting for a long time, so without wasting time, he answered, saying briefly:
"Dhiifama, dhufaa jira (Forgive me, I am coming right now)." Omar said nothing, and just as Haisam didn't wait to hear a reply, he disconnected the call. However, before he could make another move, a green light signaled an alert.
It was a special green light indicator he had personally designed and linked to every vital sector he required within certain wings of the compound and the palace without anyone's knowledge. Calmly, he stood up, walked to where the small device was, retrieved a compact laptop system, and returned to the edge of the rounded bed—which looked more like a miniature world than a mere bed. He sat down properly and began aligning everything exactly to his preference.
Resting his hand on the stool where the laptop sat, he monitored the feed. She appeared clearly on the screen, walking calmly with Birra following behind her. It was a gait that one might mistake for deliberate elegance or showing off, but it was simply her natural disposition—a walk that, under any circumstance, vividly displayed how royalty ran through her veins. He slowly widened his eyes before shifting his gaze to where his phone lay, a quiet sigh escaping him. He picked up the phone and unlocked it to send a message. Something shifted deep down in his heart; seeing her again made the ache in his chest double. A subtle feeling akin to deep empathy slowly pierced his heart, making him feel as though he lacked the endurance to look at her for too long—as if he felt a greater need to protect her right now than to simply watch her.
The call was answered on the first ring, and he held it to his ear. He closed his eyes and opened them simultaneously, feeling the lingering unease in his heart, choked up by the unexplainable weight paralyzing his emotions. His lips parted to respond to the greeting—those beautiful lips that naturally commanded attention and admiration.
"Where are they going out to?"
"The royal library, Obbo (Sir)."
"Is there maximum security?" As if Haisam were standing right in front of him, Abdii nodded.
"There is, Obbo." A silence stretched for seconds as if Haisam wouldn't respond, before he finally spoke:
"Zaituna... I want her removed from the list of people who have direct access to see her... even if she explicitly requests it."
"It is done, Obbo," Abdii replied. Abdii's compliance brought their conversation to an end, and Haisam calmly set the phone back down.
Standing up, he walked to the front of the mirror, still feeling his head cluttered and congested with a massive influx of events. Whenever he remembered those two youths... whenever he recalled the events that transpired in the past hours, his anger multiplied.
He dressed impeccably in black trousers and a dark olive green shirt. Colors that complemented his physique with perfect structure and harmony. They accentuated his height and his toned, robust body, just as they highlighted his fair skin down to his face, which today fully embraced his title as MISKILI ZAM (The Cold/Aloof Gentleman).
His mild, characteristic perfume was the final touch before he put it down, turned toward the door, and began to walk out with a hurried stride—like someone who suddenly remembered forgetting something of extreme importance.
The sound of his footsteps caused Omar to look up from the active video call he was having face-to-face with Bobbo Muhammad Dawud.
"Here he comes, Bobbo," Omar uttered quietly, sitting up properly in his chair.
Haisam walked straight toward one of the chairs adjacent to Omar. Even before sitting down, he extended his long arm, pulling the laptop screen closer to his face...
2. Summary of the Story
This excerpt follows a high-stakes operational breakthrough and its emotional aftermath within a royal or elite security context.
- The Raid/Confrontation: An elite security operative, Muhammad Haisam (also known as Miskili Zam), along with his team (Omar, Beeno, Abeer, and Abdii), successfully infiltrates a heavily fortified, deceptively plain villa ("Villa Street"). They apprehend a long-wanted criminal mastermind, Tamim, who has plagued their country, the Oromo kingdom, and the Ajani Ahmed family for decades.
- The Revelation: During the raid, Haisam discovers a young captive who has no name but is identified as the stolen firstborn child of Safeena and the bloodline of Sultan Muhammad Hammud/Ajani. The elder Tamim tries to taunt Haisam regarding his lineage (Aba Jifar/Ibrahim), but Haisam remains stoic and orders the entire compound to be structurally erased.
- The Royal Burden: Meanwhile, Akhnan, the Queen of Agadez, struggles with trauma from a near-fatal attack during the Festival de l'Aïr, finding solace only in the Quranic recitations provided by Haisam. She observes strict royal protocols (clearing paths when she walks) and seeks answers by heading to the royal library to study the life of the Prophet Muhammad.
The Protection Dynamic: Haisam, physically exhausted and emotionally overwhelmed by the depravity of the antagonist Zeenatun Zaituna (who had plotted to forcefully marry Akhnan's biological brother, Ahmad), secretly monitors Akhnan through a hidden surveillance network. Deeply moved and fiercely protective, he issues strict orders to seal her off from any potential threat, specifically banning Zaituna from ever gaining access to her.
3. Character Descriptions
- Muhammad Haisam (Miskili Zam): A highly elite, charismatic, and intensely tactical security agent of Oromo heritage. He possesses an imposing, muscular build, striking eyes, and an aura of absolute authority. He is deeply religious, stoic, and carries an intense sense of duty. He is fiercely protective of Akhnan, hiding his vulnerability under a cold, aloof exterior (Miskili).
- Akhnan (The Queen of Agadez): A regal, naturally dignified, and aloof young woman of high royal status. She is recovering from severe trauma following a coordinated attack against her nobility. She is deeply reflective, strictly bound by royal protocol, and increasingly reliant on Haisam's spiritual guidance and protection.
- Tamim (The Antagonist): A notorious, cold-hearted criminal mastermind who operated under identity layers (three people sharing the name to confuse intelligence agencies). He spent decades evading justice, terrorizing kingdoms, and tearing families apart before being cornered by Haisam.
The Nameless Youth: A young man over twenty years old who was stolen at birth. He is the biological son of Safeena and carries the royal lineage of Ajani/Sultan Hammud. He possesses a remarkably calm demeanor that closely mirrors Akhnan's family line.
4. Literary Analytics
A. Themes
- Justice vs. Retribution: The narrative explores the heavy psychological toll of law enforcement. Haisam battles the urge to execute immediate vigilante justice against Tamim, choosing instead strategic eradication and systemic accountability.
- Trauma, Ruin, and Spiritual Solace: Both primary characters handle heavy psychological burdens. Akhnan uses spiritual grounding (the Quran and Adhan) to stabilize herself after surviving an existential threat, showing the literature's emphasis on faith as a therapeutic anchor.
Identity and Heritage: The text heavily plays on hidden identities—the nameless boy who discovers his royal lineage, the triple identity of "Tamim" used to deceive intelligence, and Haisam's hidden connection to Aba Jifar.
B. Structural and Linguistic Devices
- Code-Switching and Cultural Anchors: The author seamlessly blends Hausa prose with Oromo dialogue fragments ("dhiifama, dhufaa jira") and Islamic phrases. This establishes a multicultural, Afro-centric Islamic setting spanning Agadez (Niger) and Oromo regions.
- Dualism in Characterization: There is a brilliant parallel between Haisam and Akhnan. Both are naturally aloof, highly powerful in their respective rights, and mask deep emotional vulnerability behind strict personal protocols (Haisam's closed-off room routines vs. Akhnan's cleared palace hallways).
- Pacing and Tension: The author shifts expertly from the high-tension, fast-paced tactical aftermath in the parlor to the slow, atmospheric, and internal stream-of-consciousness monologue of Akhnan in her chambers, ending with Haisam bridging the two worlds via surveillance.
