A storm was brewing from the east, and it seemed like it would rain soon. Zarah hurriedly left the shelter she was sitting under, knowing that if it started raining, it could flood. A tear gathered in her eye as she had no refuge, and everyone in the house mocked her. In a trembling voice, she raised her hands to the sky and said, "Oh Allah, bring me relief and deliver me from this distress. Oh Allah, be my protector." When she looked up, she saw a large house, seemingly an inherited mansion with fifteen sections, built in a traditional style. The household was such that everyone minded their own business, with no one caring about the other's plight. Everyone fended for themselves, including Malam Yusif Mai Taba's household, which lacked proper upbringing, filled with addicts and thugs. Everyone had to fend for their own food; if you found some, you ate, if not, you stayed hungry. Malam Yusif Mai Taba had four wives. His first wife, Hadiza, was a domineering and arrogant woman with four daughters, all married except the youngest, Basmah. His second wife, Larai, had two sons, Nura and Dauda, who lived with their wives in the house. His third wife, Hindatu, had four sons, all unmarried except Rufa'i, who was known for his effeminate behavior and lived in Lagos. Hamza was a thug, and Aliyu was a vigilante but also an addict. His fourth wife, Fa'izah, had passed away during Zarah's birth. The other addicts in the house also lived there. The sun rose and set without any significant events. In Addis Ababa, Ethiopia, Emir stood in front of a grand house, knocking hurriedly on the gate. The gatekeeper peeked out and asked in Amharic who had given him permission to enter. Emir replied, "Tell him it's me." The gatekeeper said, "He said no one should enter." Emir quickly called the house owner, who didn't answer initially but picked up after three calls. Emir, knowing the person's nature, said, "For the sake of your prophet, open the gate and let me in." The gatekeeper, after a brief conversation, allowed Emir to enter. I followed closely behind, almost stumbling due to the house's grandeur. Emir, in his haste, left me behind, but I quickly caught up. We entered a lavish parlor with beautiful white curtains adorned with blue flowers, royal sofas, and a blue Turkish carpet with white flower designs. It was like a paradise on earth. I was struck by a large portrait of a young man, around thirty-six years old, who didn't look Hausa at all, likely a half-caste. He was fair-skinned, wearing white glasses, holding a beautiful chocolate-colored girl who resembled him. She wore a white t-shirt with 'BETTER LIVE' written in black and black pants, with a gold watch on his wrist. I quickly looked away due to his intimidating presence. I heard footsteps descending the stairs, and a man in an ash-colored jallabiya appeared, looking more handsome in person. Emir greeted him, "Good morning, Dr. Afif," but he didn't respond, instead sitting on a sofa with one leg crossed over the other. Emir thought to himself, "Today, the royalty is close." Emir handed him some files, which he reviewed one by one, asking questions and receiving explanations. After finishing, Emir left. Dr. Afif's phone rang, but he ignored it, lost in his thoughts about his past. He didn't want to remember his past life, focusing instead on his current concerns. He had everything in life except children, which he valued the most. His eyes changed color, and veins bulged on his head. He threw the table in front of him in a fit of rage, saying, "Why are you doing this to me? What did I do to deserve this? This is the saddest night of my life. Who killed you? What did you do to deserve this? This is an injustice. I swear I won't rest until I find who killed you, Jiddah. Your blood won't be shed in vain. I'll never find anyone to replace you, Jiddah." The story continues as he threw a flower vase in anger, shattering it, and unknowingly stepped on the broken glass, causing his hand to bleed.