: The Ultimatum from Hajiya Babba**

My body felt weak, as if the very strength had been drained from my bones. I entered Hajiya Babba's room with a low voice, offering my greetings. After four or five attempts, she finally answered and gave me permission to enter. I sat on the floor while she sat on a chair, scrolling through her phone. She answered my greeting without even looking up.

“Hajiya, I was told you were looking for me.”

After several minutes of silence, she finally spoke. “Yes, I called you regarding our previous discussion. By now, we should know where we stand and where we are headed.”

I took a deep, heavy breath before finding the courage to speak. “Hajiya, God willing, in the coming days I will bring you a firm answer. I am doing my absolute best not to disappoint you...”

Before I could finish, she barked at me so sharply that I instinctively closed my eyes.

“Shut your mouth! I didn't call you here for long speeches. I’m giving you exactly two months to fulfill your promise. Within this timeframe, you have the chance to do whatever you need to do. If you exceed this by even one hour, I will humiliate you beyond your wildest imagination. Then, I’ll pack your things and throw you out of my house.”

With forced confidence, I replied, “God willing, I expect to have everything settled even before that time.”

She gave me a piercing glare and continued, “It’s up to you to do what’s best for your life. I’ve made my decision as the owner of this house. I didn't build these rooms for business just for you to occupy one without contributing anything.”

"God willing," I said respectfully. She waved her hand for me to leave. I returned to my room, feeling drained, and collapsed onto my mat, panting as if I had been running for my life. Tangled, directionless thoughts began to cloud my mind.

### **Part 2: The Trip to the Hotel**

I couldn't wait until morning to speak with Zinariya. I went to her room, but it was locked. I remembered she told me she wouldn't be staying the night. I returned to my room and eventually fell into a deep sleep. The cold morning breeze woke me for prayers. Afterward, I sat with my head in my hands until I felt a hand on my shoulder. It was Zinariya, her face glowing with joy.

"You're back?" I asked.

"Are you still sleeping on this thing?" she asked, sitting on the mat. “This is a life of hardship. This mat is no better than sleeping on the bare ground.”

I smiled weakly. “When did you get back? There’s a problem.”

“I came in around 3:00 AM. I wanted to knock, but I decided to let you sleep. I’ve been so happy I thought the sun would never rise.”

“What happened?”

She placed some documents on my lap. “These are the papers for a massive duplex in the Federal Capital Territory (Abuja).”

My eyes widened. “Who gave you this gift?”

She winked—a habit of hers when she was happy. “It was a gift from my outing last night. Or rather, it was signed over to me permanently. I’m certain some people in this house will be crying today. By God's grace, this year I will win the 'Champion of the Poisonous Sting' competition that Hajiya Babba organizes every year.”

“What competition is that?”

“A contest Hajiya holds every year-end for whoever gets the most gifts, connects with the most powerful men, and brings in the most wealth. The winner is the star of the year.”

I shrugged; that was the least of my concerns. My own problems were burning like a fire.

"Hajiya gave me a three-month ultimatum," I told her. “I don't know what to do.”

"Don't worry," Zinariya said. “I’ll call the contact I know at the hotel. Let's go see him so he knows we are serious.”

I hesitated. “A hotel? Since my mother gave birth to me, I’ve never even walked past a hotel gate, let alone gone inside.”

“Oh, keep quiet! What’s wrong with going to a hotel? Just get up. When it's time to solve a problem, you don't worry about where you have to go.”

I protested that I had work, but she glared at me. “Amatullah, if you're not going, just say it clearly instead of making excuses.”

I went with her. We took a Napep (tricycle) and eventually pulled up to a building with a flashing sign: **SARAUTA HOTEL**. I felt out of place seeing the crowd and the luxury cars. Destiny had brought me to a place I never even dreamed of visiting.

Inside, we met a light-skinned, well-built man in a P-cap. He was a friend of Zinariya’s. She asked him if **Sheikh** would be coming to the hotel soon.

"I don't think the Sheikh will be in town until Ramadan," he said. “Maybe four or five months from now. But he only ever stays here because of the VIP treatment he gets from the Emir and the Governor.”

My heart sank. As they stepped aside to talk privately, I lowered my head. Suddenly, I felt eyes on me. I looked up and froze. It was **Saif**. He stood perfectly still, staring at me. My heart hammered against my ribs. We stood locked in a gaze for minutes until a man approached him.

“Sir, the guests have arrived in the conference hall. Everyone is waiting for you.”

Saif nodded and went upstairs without a word. I panicked, my body shaking and sweat soaking my clothes. I grabbed Zinariya and begged her to leave immediately.

### **Part 3: The Ultimate Confrontation**

I returned to Hajiya Muhibbat’s house. She and the children were out. I tried to stay busy by cleaning the kitchen and mopping the floor, tears streaming down my face. While I was mopping, Saif walked in. His face was a mask of anger. He sat down and crossed his legs.

"Welcome back, sir," I whispered. He didn't answer. I tried to leave with my bucket, but he stopped me.

“Who are you? And with what evil intention did you sneak your way into this house?”

I froze. I could hear his footsteps approaching me. I closed my eyes, my body shaking as if electrified. I could smell the scent of his expensive perfume as he stood right in front of me.

“Who are you? Why did you hide your true identity from Anty? Why do you have two faces? You act like a modest, sensible woman, but in reality, you are a prostitute living in a house of prostitutes. From the day Anty brought you here, I had you investigated. I know everything. Why did you lie to the woman who trusted you? She let you into her home, entrusted you with her children, while she works long hours. Why did you enter our lives? Who sent you, and how much are they paying you?”

Tears washed over my face. I opened my eyes, which were now bloodshot and burning. The bucket slipped from my hand, spilling water everywhere. For the first time, I looked him directly in the eyes.

"You have nothing to say?" he sneered. “Does a prostitute even have words to defend herself? You should prepare your defense for God, because you have no excuse for choosing this life of destruction other than your own desires.”

"That is enough! I said enough!" I screamed, my voice trembling.

“It is not enough! You’ve ruined your life. At your age, you already know how to go to hotels.”

"That is enough!" I shouted, pointing a finger at him, my rage boiling over. “Do you think a human being has the power to perfectly script their own life? Do you think anyone chooses for their life to be ruined from the roots, for darkness to swallow their light? I know you are educated, but your education has failed you because it hasn't taught you not to judge what you don't understand. You had me investigated? So what? What did that gain you?”

I wiped my tears and continued from the depths of my soul. “I admit it—your investigation was right. I live in a brothel. But did you bother to investigate *why* I am there? I am alone. I have no parents, no siblings, no family. No one to correct me when I’m wrong. But did you look into my past? You were raised in luxury, Saif. You had good food, a good home, and a high-level religious and secular education. You grew up with parents who wouldn't let a single tear fall from your eyes. How could your mind possibly understand those who never had a fraction of your privilege?”

“I wasn't raised without manners. My father raised me with the fear of God. He gave me a religious education to the point where I memorized the Holy Qur'an! In my past life, I was the example every mother used to warn her daughter against the deceptions of the world. I was a modest, sensible woman who knew herself. My teachers were proud of me before the storm of destiny shattered my history and painted me with a black brush that will follow me until my last breath. I brought shame to my family and humiliated my father to the point where people questioned his parenting. If you know the beginning, you don't know the end, so do not challenge anyone’s life until you have walked in their shoes.”

“You call me a prostitute? We will settle this on the Day of Judgment, the Day of *Yaumul Taghabun*, when Allah gathers all His servants from the time of Adam to the end of time.”

I picked up my bucket and mop and retreated into the kitchen, locking the door behind me. I collapsed onto the floor and sobbed, the prayers I had memorized slipping from my mind in my grief.

When I finally gathered the strength to come out and clean the spilled water, I saw him sitting on the sofa, his eyes closed as if sleeping. But I knew he was awake.

**Note:** The story ends mid-sentence as Saif appears to be reflecting on Amatullah's powerful speech. Would you like to continue with more pages?