He arrived dressed in very fine, expensive clothes, looking exceptionally good. He entered the police station, and the officers gave him a seat when they saw his appearance and wealth. He wore white sunglasses. They brought out the file and started writing before the DPO himself came out.
He looked at Annoor and said, “Annoor, right?”
Annoor crossed his legs and replied, “Really? When you ordered my arrest, didn’t they tell you my name?”
The DPO said, “Behave yourself. You’re standing before the law here—no matter your status, you won’t intimidate us.”
Annoor sucked his reddish lips and said, “So you already know my name, yet you’re asking me again as if I should repeat it. My name is Annoor.”
The DPO clicked his tongue and said, “Do you know why you were arrested?”
“Silly question,” Annoor replied.
“You impregnated a girl named Maryam. Maryam is your girlfriend—you know her, right?”
Annoor said, “What? Pregnancy? Me? Did I go and impregnate her in my sleep without knowing? Me? A woman even seeing my lollipop is rare. I’m a lion, DPO—one leader. I don’t have a girlfriend; who would even be leading me on a bed? Wait—Maryam who? Maryam Sahabi, your secretary?”
Annoor smiled and said, “Oh my God. She said she liked me, I got angry and slapped her, and now she’s framing me. I have CCTV—bring it and check.”
The DPO said, “She’s coming in now.”
Annoor replied, “So they gathered people and embarrassed me over a pregnancy? Some useless pregnancy? Even if, hypothetically, I did get her pregnant, my uncle would accept it—what’s pregnancy anyway? But it’s not mine, so why should I accept it?”
As they were speaking, Maryam entered—a very big woman, heavily built, almost 30 years old. She burst into tears as she came in and said, “Here he is! Wallahi, he’s the one who got me pregnant!”
Annoor looked at Maryam and said, “When? Where exactly did my package enter your hole?”
He fixed his sharp, commanding eyes on her, and she started stammering, “I… I…”
Annoor said, “Take us to court, wallahi—you’ll explain everything there.”
Maryam’s body went weak, and she knelt down, saying, “Please forgive me, I lied. I just wanted you to marry me.”
A female police officer grabbed Maryam roughly and took her away. She was locked in a cell.
Annoor said, “Keep her locked up. She’s going to court—I’ll take my rights. Just like that, she wanted to force marriage on me and block my chances of marriage. In our family, look at how things are. Maryam, you’re finished—not me. Even Uncle Jauro will deal with you for framing his son.”
The police apologized to him, greeted him respectfully, and he left straight for home.
He headed to their massive house in G.R.A. The gatekeepers opened the gate wide for him. A young girl—looking like a little charity child, no more than 18 years old—peeked out quickly. When she saw that it was Annoor’s car, she ran out. She was wearing a long silver gown, holding an ice‑cream cup and eating it, bareheaded, her hair neatly styled.
She quickly opened the car door for him. He stepped out smiling. She hugged him happily and said, “Welcome, Yaya.”
“Alright, Iman Sanabe,” he said. “Where’s my ice cream? Did you do your assignment today?”
She nodded while still eating the ice cream.
He said, “Open the back of the car and take your chocolate. But give Nabeela her own too—I know you’re stingy.”
She rushed happily to get it and followed him inside their luxurious living room.
Habiba, Jauro’s wife, smiled and said, “So you’re back, my son.”
Annoor replied, “Yes, Ummi. How’s home?”
“Fine. Where are the children?”
“Nabeela and the others are in the room studying—what do you call it in English again?”
“Assignment,” Annoor said.
“Yes, that’s what they’re doing. But your person here finished hers earlier since she’s been waiting for you. And don’t forget your appointment, Doctor.”
Iman Sanabe felt shy and closed her eyes. “Oh Allah, please stop teasing me,” she said.
Annoor looked at Iman and said, “Sanabe, has my room been arranged?”
“Yes, Yaya. You know I never fail.”
He went upstairs, Iman following him.
“Don’t follow me,” he said.
She pouted and said, “Yaya, what did I do? Don’t you like me anymore?”
He didn’t even turn back—he just walked away. She sat down in the living room angrily.
Uncle Jauro then came in. You wouldn’t easily tell he was wealthy—he didn’t wear expensive clothes, and you wouldn’t know from his appearance. It was only his cars that revealed his wealth.
As he entered, the children came out greeting him, “Welcome, Uncle.”
He looked at Iman and said, “My youngest, who touched you?”
She frowned and said, “Uncle, Yaya hates me.”
Nabeela looked at Iman and said, “She’s the one disturbing him too much. If she follows him to the bedroom, she’ll say she wants to sleep there. Iman doesn’t know she’s grown up.”
Nabeela added, “Only stubborn children behave like Sanabe.”
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He arrived dressed in very fine, expensive clothes, looking exceptionally good. He entered the police station, and the officers gave him a seat when they saw his appearance and wealth. He wore white sunglasses. They brought out the file and started writing before the DPO himself came out.
He looked at Annoor and said, “Annoor, right?”
Annoor crossed his legs and replied, “Really? When you ordered my arrest, didn’t they tell you my name?”
The DPO said, “Behave yourself. You’re standing before the law here—no matter your status, you won’t intimidate us.”
Annoor sucked his reddish lips and said, “So you already know my name, yet you’re asking me again as if I should repeat it. My name is Annoor.”
The DPO clicked his tongue and said, “Do you know why you were arrested?”
“Silly question,” Annoor replied.
“You impregnated a girl named Maryam. Maryam is your girlfriend—you know her, right?”
Annoor said, “What? Pregnancy? Me? Did I go and impregnate her in my sleep without knowing? Me? A woman even seeing my lollipop is rare. I’m a lion, DPO—one leader. I don’t have a girlfriend; who would even be leading me on a bed? Wait—Maryam who? Maryam Sahabi, your secretary?”
Annoor smiled and said, “Oh my God. She said she liked me, I got angry and slapped her, and now she’s framing me. I have CCTV—bring it and check.”
The DPO said, “She’s coming in now.”
Annoor replied, “So they gathered people and embarrassed me over a pregnancy? Some useless pregnancy? Even if, hypothetically, I did get her pregnant, my uncle would accept it—what’s pregnancy anyway? But it’s not mine, so why should I accept it?”
As they were speaking, Maryam entered—a very big woman, heavily built, almost 30 years old. She burst into tears as she came in and said, “Here he is! Wallahi, he’s the one who got me pregnant!”
Annoor looked at Maryam and said, “When? Where exactly did my package enter your hole?”
He fixed his sharp, commanding eyes on her, and she started stammering, “I… I…”
Annoor said, “Take us to court, wallahi—you’ll explain everything there.”
Maryam’s body went weak, and she knelt down, saying, “Please forgive me, I lied. I just wanted you to marry me.”
A female police officer grabbed Maryam roughly and took her away. She was locked in a cell.
Annoor said, “Keep her locked up. She’s going to court—I’ll take my rights. Just like that, she wanted to force marriage on me and block my chances of marriage. In our family, look at how things are. Maryam, you’re finished—not me. Even Uncle Jauro will deal with you for framing his son.”
The police apologized to him, greeted him respectfully, and he left straight for home.
He headed to their massive house in G.R.A. The gatekeepers opened the gate wide for him. A young girl—looking like a little charity child, no more than 18 years old—peeked out quickly. When she saw that it was Annoor’s car, she ran out. She was wearing a long silver gown, holding an ice‑cream cup and eating it, bareheaded, her hair neatly styled.
She quickly opened the car door for him. He stepped out smiling. She hugged him happily and said, “Welcome, Yaya.”
“Alright, Iman Sanabe,” he said. “Where’s my ice cream? Did you do your assignment today?”
She nodded while still eating the ice cream.
He said, “Open the back of the car and take your chocolate. But give Nabeela her own too—I know you’re stingy.”
She rushed happily to get it and followed him inside their luxurious living room.
Habiba, Jauro’s wife, smiled and said, “So you’re back, my son.”
Annoor replied, “Yes, Ummi. How’s home?”
“Fine. Where are the children?”
“Nabeela and the others are in the room studying—what do you call it in English again?”
“Assignment,” Annoor said.
“Yes, that’s what they’re doing. But your person here finished hers earlier since she’s been waiting for you. And don’t forget your appointment, Doctor.”
Iman Sanabe felt shy and closed her eyes. “Oh Allah, please stop teasing me,” she said.
Annoor looked at Iman and said, “Sanabe, has my room been arranged?”
“Yes, Yaya. You know I never fail.”
He went upstairs, Iman following him.
“Don’t follow me,” he said.
She pouted and said, “Yaya, what did I do? Don’t you like me anymore?”
He didn’t even turn back—he just walked away. She sat down in the living room angrily.
Uncle Jauro then came in. You wouldn’t easily tell he was wealthy—he didn’t wear expensive clothes, and you wouldn’t know from his appearance. It was only his cars that revealed his wealth.
As he entered, the children came out greeting him, “Welcome, Uncle.”
He looked at Iman and said, “My youngest, who touched you?”
She frowned and said, “Uncle, Yaya hates me.”
Nabeela looked at Iman and said, “She’s the one disturbing him too much. If she follows him to the bedroom, she’ll say she wants to sleep there. Iman doesn’t know she’s grown up.”
Nabeela added, “Only stubborn children behave like Sanabe.”
Jauro said, “Leave my child alone. Come, let’s go, Iman—my blessed one. Ignore them.”
Iman asked, “Uncle, what did you buy for us?”
Jauro said, “I even forgot—it’s in the car.”
Nabeela handed her the key and said, “Go and bring the things; they’re in front of the car.”
Nabeela himself was a young man—slightly older than Annoor by about five months.