When Taj went to inform Ummi of Chief’s request for her, she was greatly alarmed — dread and fear filled her heart. She wondered why he wanted to see her.

She could not leave her room; only when Taj called her on the phone to remind her of Chief’s request — asking her to come to his sitting room immediately — did she reluctantly wrap a long hijab and, nervous, go to his sitting room. She paused at the door to steady herself before greeting him in a composed voice.

He returned her greeting while seated on the sofa, one leg crossed over the other, his eyes on his Apple iPad as he scrolled. She entered and he motioned to the chair facing him; a table separated them.

After she sat and lowered her head, weighed down by the situation, he said with an air of control, “I hope you are well.”

She barely managed, “I am fine, how are you? How’s work, how is your family?”

“Alhamdulillah I am fine; my family is also in good health.”

There was a brief silence, then she heard his voice again.

“I wanted to hear about your life story.”

She narrowed her eyes, wondering if he had heard something from Benazir’s group.

He paid no attention to her mood and continued speaking without looking up; his eyes remained on the iPad as he pressed it.

“The day your friends came to this house, Taj told me about what happened when you saw each other, and he heard from his ex-wife that you are their confidante…”

After saying that he did not look up; her expression changed into pure pain and worry. She did not want anyone to know her story — she felt shame — and she did not want to relive her old wounds. Why did Chief want to know her story? Even Taj, who was closer to him, did not ask; only he, who had never entered her circle, wanted to know, and that made her reluctant to tell him.

“You stayed silent and said nothing,” he observed.

Like someone forced, she fidgeted. Her voice became small and soft: “Sir, I’m sorry to ask: why do you want to hear about my life?”

“Because I want to reconcile you with your friends. From my understanding there was a quarrel, and something happened that caused the split.”

Her face hardened completely — she had no pleasure in hearing that — and she said, “I respect you very much, sir. I hope I never face the day that you ask me for something I cannot give; but I forgive you, and I cannot tell you my story…”

He gently lifted his reddened eyes and fixed them on her face; a calm settled over her and a strange composure took hold so that she could not finish her sentence.

“Please tell me, if you trust me. But if you feel uncomfortable, don’t force it.” His soothing tone made her feel as if it were Shureim speaking to her; even his face seemed momentarily to take on Shureim’s expression. Before she began to tell him her life story, she felt a reluctance, but then gradually she narrated everything that had happened to her up to the point she left her father’s house.

Tears welled in her eyes as she finished. He consoled her with sympathy until he won her over.

“How did you end up leaving this country? Did you go back to live in America after you changed your life?” she lowered her head under the weight of her shame.

“I will understand you, Ummi. Before you started working for us, we already knew about your life in America, so don’t worry — what happened to you is a test from God.”

He said comforting words until she felt she could tell him everything. Slowly she revealed what happened after her separation from her father.

She barely finished telling the story before she saw how deeply his feelings were stirred; his body trembled with anger and sorrow. He had never hated anyone the way he now resented that man; the cruelty had been extreme. After separating her from everyone, he had made her a prostitute. In anger he slammed his hand on the table.

Alarmed, she asked, “Sir, what’s wrong? Didn’t the story I told you please you?”

“Are you still involved with that uncle of yours?” he asked.

She shook her head. “We separated a long time ago.”

He looked at her in a way that made her blood run cold — she hadn’t thought he knew anything.

“For God’s sake, tell me the truth!” he demanded.

On the verge of sobbing she pleaded, “Please don’t force me. I cannot answer your question; forgive me…”

He gave a rueful smile and asked, “Okay, did you ever get pregnant by him?”

She stared at him bewildered, wondering why he would ask such a question — not because she respected him any less but because she didn't expect to be interrogated like a journalist.

“No. But I did have relations with him, and because I had a miscarriage he withdrew from visiting me. I did that because I didn’t want to ruin my body shape and I didn’t want more children. My child that I left behind was enough for me to finish my life — as it turned out, the baby I was carrying went mad and died without my knowing…”

She burst into tears and he soothed her until she quieted down.

“But why did you never accept his proposal of marriage?” he asked.

Through drying tears she said, “Because I never loved him enough to marry him. And whenever he pressured me to accept marriage, once I agreed and we began preparations, it would all go wrong until he abandoned the idea. That is why, up until now, he has not married me.”

She lowered her head; her body chilled by his demeanor — she felt shy, thinking he blamed her life. Her eyes filled with tears.

“I’m sorry if my story upset you. That is why at first I didn’t want to force myself to tell you.”

Slowly he opened his eyes wider and shook his head. “It’s not what you think, Ummi. Your story broke my heart. I feel compassion for your life.” His tone calmed her.

“Thank you for trusting me with your secret.” She gave a small smile.

“But you also seem troubled. Don’t say I made you worry. You look worn out; there’s no energy left in you.”

A tight smile crossed his face. “Don’t worry about me; fever bothers me but I feel a little better.” She shook her head. “My lord, the state you are in is worse than fever. Please don’t hide things from me. Since I’ve earned your trust and you told me your secret, you should also tell me what is troubling you. Even if I can’t find a solution I will pray for you.” She looked at him tenderly.

He was silent for a moment, thinking whether to reveal what he knew.

In a soft voice he said, “Ummi, we have begun to identify who the elders of the Kurkukun Kaddara (Kaddara prison) are! And we suspect your friend Benazir’s uncle is one of them…”

Before he finished, she widened her eyes; her smile vanished as though she had never known how to laugh.

She tried a clever denial: “Sir, do you really mean that? By God I’m not saying this to flatter you… it can’t be true, big boss cannot be one of them; he is not a sorcerer nor evil. I know who big boss is! I know his inner nature; please re-investigate and you will confirm I speak the truth!” She said, voice a little sharp, insisting on her conviction.

“Do you not think this man may have an evil purpose toward you, Ummi? You are a teacher, learned and able to tell right from wrong. How can you consort with a sinner and even defend him against accusations?”

“Don’t you think because you showed you didn’t love Dr. Shureim you attracted a plot that separated you from your father? You ran away in the middle of the night; how did you meet him then? Would a spirit (aljani) appear in the middle of the night without firm reason? It’s all part of his plan, Ummi…”

She fell silent for a while, not knowing how to convince Chief. It seemed to her as if he was beginning to pull away.

“Use your intellect, Ummi. Why did he pay for your studies in Germany? Why did he rent a house for you, and every weekend he would visit and sometimes spend the night at your place?” he said, looking deep into her eyes.

She was completely confused, but she could not accept his words because she trusted Uncle Musa more than anyone; he had sheltered her, loved her when everyone else ran away — he became her family when she had none to rely on.

A rueful smile crossed his face because he knew she would not easily believe him.

He reached into the front pocket of his jallabiya and produced some photos.

As if from above she heard him say, “I know you are still together, Ummi, because there was a day he called you on the phone while you were in the toilet; Batool saw and took a picture without your knowing. Right now I have evidence to confirm my claim.”

She was utterly stunned, but she did not believe his words.

He finished speaking and spread the photos on his table. When she looked at them, she was terrified and immediately recoiled. In astonishment she asked, “Sir, where did you get these photos?”

She asked urgently, wanting an answer. He did not reply immediately; instead he took one photo and compared it with the others.

Now totally bewildered, her lips trembling she asked, “Baby Pretty, sir — where did you get their photos?”

He inhaled before replying, “I will tell you where I got the photos, but first tell me what the relationship is between the people in these photos?” She nodded and began to explain.

“I know Natasha and him were together; she was his courtesan and an English woman. And Baby Pretty — he cared for her since she was a little girl, but when she turned sixteen he gave her away and returned her to her mother here in Nigeria…”

Chief Owais closed his eyes in disgust at what twisted his heart; in his mind he declared that they were two: one he sacrificed, the other was with her mother. As they had suspected, he sacrificed one and the other remained with her mother.

“Sir, what happened, Ummi? Please, since I answered your question, tell me where you got their photos! I would like to know.”

He reached into the drawer in front of him, took out Unaisah’s diary, and placed it on the table. “See where I got the photos. That diary belongs to one of the inmates of Kurkukun Kaddara. Don’t you remember the girl Unaisah who told the story of her father deceiving her and dedicating her to the Kurkukun Kaddara as a ‘Korean School’…?”