A special midnight update for the woman who prefers that I update during the day. Milady 😌❤️, this is for you.
The transition was inescapable. The day he would be crowned as the Khalifa of the Emirates. What he dreaded had come to pass, and it was time to face the reality ahead of him. He had an entire sultanate ahead of him, and there was no time for dulling. Not at all. It was a huge responsibility, and he was prepared fully for it. Through the grace and fall of it all.
He was ready. He was ready to commemorate the new chapter of his life with his family and a bunch of supportive friends. With wisdom passed down from generations of competent rulers, and proficiency etched from experience.
In his chambers, Zayn sat quietly on a stool in front of the vanity as his mother made the final touches to his turban. He was fully clad in black regal attire, etched with gold-colored embroidery at the hems and openings. It was the same attire his father wore on his coronation day. The best part about it was that, the embroidery was solely done by his late grandmother.
Mama Aisha took a stance behind him when she was done and positioned her hands on his shoulders. Zayn gazed solely at his reflection in the mirror before raising his gaze to meet his mother's. She wore a small smile that reflected on his face.
" You remind me of your father," she spoke softly, looking down to adjust the attire at his collar. "And just like him, I pray you rule justly. You are more than eligible to do it."
Zayn nodded in affirmation.
"In Shaa Allah."
Her smile widened. " Now why don't we freeze down this memorable moment?"
" I don't see why not," Zayn reached for his phone from the vanity and set it ready to take a picture. At this juncture, Mariya's obsession with mirror pictures was starting to rub off him. He clicked a few pictures and gave his phone to her.
" Send them to me," Mama Aisha demanded as she swiped through the pictures. Her gaze softened on him when she placed the phone back on the vanity. She leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to his forehead.
" I missed this," he confessed.
His mother acknowledged his confession with a hum. She missed it too. " Let's get going now,"
Taking that as his cue, Zayn got off the stool, heading out to the throne room, where the occasion would take place before moving to the durbar grounds.
The distant sounds of trumpets and drums mixed with the constant ringing of ululations that echoed through the hallways grew clearer with each step they took toward the designated hall.
Each step he took was a step towards a great commitment.
The halls were lined with people, showering his every step with praises.
“ Allah ya raya zaki!"
" Allah ya raya sarki dan sarakai!"
His mother used another door to get to the women's side of the hall, which meant that he had to walk through the aisle alone. He was greeted by familiar faces who were there to do nothing but offer support. Dignitaries from Kano and other states were present to grace the occasion, and it was nothing short of an honour to him.
The mass crowd stood on their feet to acknowledge his presence. They didn't get back to their seats until he settled down on the throne his father and those before him ruled on.
The swearing-in process was smooth, without any hitches. It was memorable and it reminded him of the day his father got throned. It was the same setting__ just a few faces missing from the crowd, including a young Zayn who thought he would be Emraan's greatest supporter throughout his journey as the Emir. Situations change people. He could vividly remember how shocked he had been when Emraan first disclosed his aspirations to abdicate. He never thought he would grow up to be the Emir, but here he was, sitting on the throne and being sworn as a ruler. So far, he was handling everything well.
He recalled being a bit nervous about it because he felt he was too young to be the ruler, and his father assured him to his heart's content. His father's words were the only thing holding him firm at the moment
Shoulders squared up to maintain a relaxed but stoic posture and glammed in an attire at exuded royal grace, the only thing that differentiated Zayn from the portraits of the past Emirs that were plastered on the walls was the face behind the turban that concealed half of his face. One would have never noticed the glossing of his eyes when he got pronounced as the Emir of Kano, His Highness, Zayn-Ashraf Malik I.
He would give his one and all to honour that title.
After receiving congratulatory greetings, from the many faces in the hall, they dispersed to the durbar grounds for the events lined up for the day. Till then, he had about an hour to himself.
After he was sure that the throne room was cleared and devoid of anyone's presence, he strolled back in the direction of the room, only stopping when he reached the place. He responded to the greetings of the two guards who were stationed at the huge double doors. They were uniformed in red and green traditional attire.
Zayn walked into the throne room, savouring the feel of the huge responsibility on his shoulders. One that he had agreed to take on. There were portraits lined at one particular wall of the room, just behind his throne. He would need some time to ease into that.
Staring at the throne in front of him, he pushed back the thoughts of what would have happened if Hassan or his father were the ones to ascend after his father. That would have been pure dread.
Zayn traced his fingers over the majestic chair as he made his way to the portraits, each looking clearer with the development of technology. He recognized every person in each portrait by face (that could be attributed to visiting the room too often), their achievements through the course of time, and the stories he had heard from his father and grandparents. One day, his picture would hang up right beside his father's, while his son stands right in his current position.
He couldn't gaze at his father's picture for long, afraid he wouldn't be able to keep his mind from reeling down memory lane.
" Khalifa," A voice echoed softly through the space.
That voice was his saving grace. He didn't need to turn back to know who it was.
" Malika," he also called out. He heard her footsteps draw closer to him by the ticking of the clock. She stopped only when she got to his side, levelling with his stance. She scanned the portraits lined on the wall before looking back at him. She had to raise her head a bit because he was taller than her, and he looked even taller with the clothes he was wearing.
All it took was his arm around her shoulder to draw her closer to him. She chuckled lightly.
" Allah ya raya zaki," she praised, and he had to slide his arm from her shoulder to get a better look at her. She laughed at the gesture.
" You are making me feel old," he grumbled. The transition from being called a jerk by her to the praises she was showering him with at the moment wasn't as smooth as he had expected, but it was all worth it. Every single bit of it.
" Get used to feeling old then," she shot back at him. The space was engulfed in a spell of silence before Mariya spoke again. " I'm proud of, Ashraf. All your achievements, and your losses that led to you being this great. I'm sure you'll be a great ruler. I'm at your service, Your Highness."
" I love you, Malika," he tried to interlace his fingers with hers, making the folded piece of paper she held fall to the ground. He had noticed it before.
She squatted to pick it up and handed it to him. He took it from her, only after helping her back onto her feet.
" Mama Aisha asked me to give this to you," she clarified.
Zayn unfolded the piece of paper, already making out a few words. It was his father's handwriting. He would recognize that cursive handwriting even in his sleep. Even the stamp of his signet at the far bottom of the paper proved so.
Mariya watched intently as he read through the note, taking in the stretch of his smile, to the tiniest crease of his brow. He would have invited her to read if it was meant for her eyes, so she stayed within her boundaries.
After a stretched minute, he turned to her. " Abba wrote this," he revealed, folding back the note. " We have a few things to put in place."
Confusion was vividly contoured on Mariya's features. "Menene?" She asked.
" Just a few more wise words he had for me. He also asked that we check on Hassan." Zayn answered.
Mariya didn't know what was more confusing. Talking of Hassan, she would never forgive him for the things he had done to her. Never.
The word 'forgive' seemed to vanish from her dictionary whenever Hassan's name was mentioned. Everyone who knew about her chapter with Hassan would never motivate her to do so.
She hoped Lawal meant it for the best.
She was just about to throw a string of questions at him when they got interrupted by Emraan.
" Allah ya raya sarki!" They turned to him with a smile.
He came to a halt, sliding his hands into the pockets of the inner kaftan of his babbanriga.
He heaved out a content sigh, relishing the sight in front of him. He was happy to know that the throne he had abdicated was in good hands.
" This is wholesome," he commented.
Emraan stalked towards them, and engulfed Zayn in a big hug, patting his back in a friendly manner.
Mariya only stood back to allow the brothers to have their moment. They pulled back after a short while. Emraan turned to her with one of his curt smiles. It was impossible not to return the gesture.
Zayn thought of revealing their father's message to Emraan, but he didn't want any decline in mood. He looked so happy.
" Let's get going now," Emraan proposed. " The durbar grounds await us."
" Toh," Zayn agreed, already making his way out of the place with Mariya beside him.
At the durbar, was a combination of the splendid display of culture Kano had to offer. It was nothing short of beautiful, with a few of the ambassadors around admitting that it was one of the best events Kano had to offer to them. After a number of speeches and more displays of regal essence, the durbar came to a close, rounding up with the events of the day.
At the gazebo in his manse, Zayn sat with Mariya while their friends were seated about in the grass, going about their own things. The rest of the married couples had isolated themselves just like Mariya and Zayn, talking about something no one other than them could hear.
Ameer lay his head on Haseeb's lap as the rest of his body was splayed on the grass. He lay quietly, enjoying the feel of Haseeb's hand massaging his scalp absentmindedly as he spoke to Sayida who at that time, was seated beside him. He wanted to play with his brother, but the baby was asleep, so he was stuck with his parent's entourage. He admitted that he missed Zainab a bit. Just a little bit because she could get annoying at times.
" So when are you going to visit Hassan?" Mariya asked as her hand unconsciously cradled her bulging tummy.
Zayn had told Emraan and his friends about what the late sultan wanted his sons to do, and they weren't the least against it. If anything, it was a way to honour what seemed like a part of Sultan's last wishes.
" Tomorrow," Zayn replied, drawing closer to her. He offered her a bowl of cashew nuts, which she accepted readily.
Mariya rested her head on his shoulder as his hands automatically slid around her shoulders, holding her in place.
" Don't let him get into your head," Mariya cautioned. That man could be as irritating as hell. He had a thing of crawling under your skin to play with every single nerve.
Zayn only nodded. " When are you going to do the gender reveal?" He enquired, steering the conversation to a more pleasant topic.
" Next week," she bubbled excitedly.
" I can't wait. Trust me, it's going to be a boy."
" M-hm," Zayn shook his head. " Let's end it here, otherwise, this is going to be the umpteenth time we're having this banter."
" Fine," Mariya raised her hands in mock defeat, tickling a bout of laughter out of Zayn. " You sure know me."
The atmosphere died down into minutes of serenity before Zayn spoke up. " I love you. I'll forever do."
" I love you too, " she didn't doubt that. Not for once.
*~*
Their heavy footsteps were the only sounds that echoed within the walls of the hallways they trekked along. It ft suffocating. Too suffocating for someone new to the environment. Gradually, one would get used to it.
The Malik brothers halted when the policeman in front of them came to a stop. Ahead of them, was a dark wooden door. The decision to be where they found themselves at the moment was crucial. Otherwise, they would have been somewhere better.
The policeman opened the door for them__ a gesture that was well appreciated.
Emraan and Zayn stepped into the room, taking in the surroundings. The room was almost empty, save for the two chairs that were meant for them, and a ceiling fan for proper venting. Three pairs of inbuilt light bulbs rid the space of darkness.
The only thing that separated them from the man on the other side of the room was an inch-thick glass panel that allowed sound to travel to both sides of the space.
Hassan stared at them as they silently took in the room. He almost scoffed as a wave of nostalgia hit him. Always the careful ones. He should feel that much nostalgic, but it couldn't be helped. There were times when he felt deep remorse for all that he had done, but he knew it was late. Too late to reverse his actions. The damage had already been impacted. He didn't expect forgiveness from anyone when he hadn't even thought of forgiving himself yet. Although, a part of him hoped for it. Sometimes, he thought of the possibility of what would have happened if he had accepted from the start that the throne wasn't meant for his bloodline. Has he given up fighting for it?
Heck, there was nothing to fight for in the first place. None of it belonged to him. Not the throne. Not Mariya. If he had sewn that onto his brain since the beginning of time, Emraan wouldn't have had a brush with death, and Zayn's child would have been born by now.
" Hassan," Emraan's commanding voice snapped him out of his haze.
He looked up to Emraan, only to meet with nothing but angry eyes. That was when he knew that they had been compelled to visit him. It was his fault that the eyes that used to look at him with a sense of brotherhood had turned to nothing but disgust and intolerance. He turned to Zayn only to see nonchalant eyes staring back at him.
" I would have asked you two about your well-being, but you look quite fine," Hassan spoke. His gaze fell on their unoccupied chairs behind them.
" I don't know what brought you all here, but it's nice to see your faces again."
" He's still as witty," Emraan spoke particularly to Zayn, not worried about Hassan hearing what he had said about him.
Hassan huffed out a short chuckle.
He felt Zayn's gaze on him. It was too intent he could feel the heat of it on him, boring holes into his being. Not the type of stare that would send one cowering away, but that type of stare that exuded a hint of helplessness. He almost predicted the next words that came out of Zayn's mouth.
" What happened?"
Something stirred behind Zayn's outward stoic resolve, making it waver a bit. He needed answers, otherwise, he would run mad. What happened to make Hassan change that much? They had a wholesome childhood together. He knew the answers to that, but it would be better if he heard it from Hassan himself.
Even Hassan didn't have the answers to that, and he meant every single word he breathed out, not caring if they were taken into consideration.
Words he hardly ever uttered.
" I'm sorry." He drew in a sharp breath, clutching the sides of his trousers. Their reaction was as expected.
" You expect us to believe you?" Once again, Emraan internally questioned their late father's reason for asking them to visit Hassan.
" I hope," he answered. " I know my actions can't be reversed, but I want you all to know that I'm really sorry." About Mariya, he was yet to make up his mind about that. " I felt the gravity of what I had deprived you of, the very moment I held my son in my arms. Fortunately, he's free from a person like me. Although it hurts, it's the best for him."
" I'm glad you know that," Zayn chipped in.
" Henceforth," Hassan continued. " I want you to raise him."
Zayn did a double take while Emraan threw his head back in laughter. That laughter of his hasn't improved a bit.
After killing his child.
" Aren't you afraid that he'll do something to your child?" Emraan questioned. A part of him already knew the reply to that.
" This is Zayn we are talking about."
Of course, they knew that. It only sounded a bit ridiculous.
Come to think of it, it would be a long process getting the child out of his mother's custody and even, the effort it would take to convince Mariya to get aboard with them. If Zayn was to father that child, then Mariya would have to play a huge role in it too.
" His mother is willing to fully let him to you after he has been weaned. I've already spoken to her about it. " Hassan added rather desperately.
" Why?" Zayn posed a simple question, yet heavy on the mind.
" I want to make up for what I took from you. Besides, you are fit for the role. Everyone knows your kind of connection with children."All he wanted was for his son to be in safe hands. He knew the plans Ayoola had for the baby who was only months old. He schemed to set it to vain.
" I'll think about it," Zayn finalized, giving no room for any more such talks. " Anything else?"
None of them expected what was to come. " Thank you for coming here." Emraan couldn't deny that he had softened a bit. He could forgive Hassan for the attempt to murder him only because Hassan's crimes were heavy enough to keep him jailed for a long time. So they didn't have to worry about him repeating his actions. As for his qualms with Mariya, he'll have to settle that with him. That would be a hard nut to crack because Mariya didn't even want to look at his face.
" And for the naming my son." He was truly grateful. " Hydar. It's beautiful."
Hassan gazed at them as they exited the room, knowing it would take another lifetime before he set his eyes on them again. For now, he was doing his best to rectify his mistake. However, his efforts seem so little compared to his deeds.
Salam Alaikum,
I wasn't supposed to update this today, but here we go.
Any thoughts?
Jama'a we are almost done with this book, and I can't wait to introduce you to the next book I have in store.
This is za cover
👇
Keep the comments coming.
See y'all.