At about 11:00 p.m. at night, there were not many people on the street—only a few here and there. You could see the glow of streetlights along the road.
I noticed a young lady who looked like a bride because of her beauty—very beautiful.
She was wearing a purple gown decorated with golden stones, a dress that fit her perfectly. Just the shape of the gown alone would tell you how elegant her figure was.
She was fair-skinned, very white in complexion, with beautiful hair and a pointed nose, thick eyebrows, and a small mouth with pinkish lips.
Despite having her natural hair, she still wore a golden attachment. Her ears were well adorned, and she even had a nose piercing.
She held a large golden trolley bag in her hand and was pressing on her phone—an iPhone 7 Plus—clearly making a call.
A maroon-colored Venza stopped beside her and signaled for her to come closer.
She hissed loudly, so loudly that even someone inside the car could notice the sound she made.
The man stepped out. He was wearing a fine shadda with an elegant design, a spotless white flowing robe. He was tall, almost giant-like, and looked very handsome.
“Young lady, good evening. You’re really beautiful, honestly. Don’t you know that standing here could cause an accident? Please allow me to drop you at home.”
She hissed again, “Mtssss! Look here, sir, you’re not the one I’m waiting for. Can’t you see? Move your feet and go. Do you understand? Nonsense, stupid!”
He stood there with his mouth wide open, staring at her—astonished that a woman would call him “nonsense” and “stupid.” He thought to himself, Who is her father in this town? Does she even know who I am?
As if she could read his thoughts, she burst into laughter. “Instead of wasting time thinking about whose daughter I am, if you annoy me with unnecessary talk, you’ll end up enjoying trouble.”
They suddenly heard the horn of a black Prado. The driver hurriedly stepped out, trembling.
“Hajiya, please for the sake of God, forgive me. My daughter is in the hospital. Please pardon me for stopping like this.”
She smiled—it was her driver. “It’s nothing, but be careful next time.” She handed him ₦10,000. “Take this, buy her medicine, take a tricycle and go. I’ll drive myself.”
He squatted down to the ground, thanking her repeatedly. She entered the car and left the young man standing in the cold.
He also entered his car and followed her, driving fast so as not to lose sight of her.
Through the mirror, she noticed he was still following her. Near the gate of a hotel, she parked.
He parked as well, and they both stepped out. She picked up her phone and made a call; shortly after, some hotel security personnel came out. She handed them the car key, and they drove the car inside.
She walked toward him, shaking slightly. “Sir, I know you came to punish me—well, here I am. Kill me and satisfy yourself.”
He was unable to speak because of the sudden rush of feelings he experienced. She had a powerful effect on his heart. He thought, With all this beauty and class, she’s going to spend the night in a hotel?
“Impossible,” he said firmly.
[Promotional insert]
YAR MALAM
TAKI HALIN MALAM
By
Fresh Khady
Sincerely speaking, I really love you, my fans, because your love for me is uncountable.
I’ve seen your calls and messages—thank you for the massive support.
Honestly, I wrote this book not to insult anyone, but because fans complained about my silence in releasing a new novel. That’s why I came back with a story full of lessons.
Follow me,
Yours sincerely,
Fresh Khady
₦200
She frowned angrily and spoke with irritation. “Here I am. I know you followed me to punish me, right? Well then, here—kill me.”
He found himself unable to do anything to her because of the strong aura she carried. “Glory be to the Almighty who created this girl,” he muttered under his breath.
She looked him up and down and hissed. “You’re just a small shameless man. Look, I have a lot to do, unlike you who has nothing doing.”
She frowned again. “Before I leave, I’m Mufleeha by name—so you’ll remember me and enjoy punishing me.” She walked away, leaving him standing there.
He watched the gate and repeated softly, “Mufleeha… hmm, a sweet name. You’re so beautiful—why isn’t your character beautiful too?”
He entered his car, drove off at speed, and stopped in the parking space of his house. He sat for a long time, lost in thought, before going inside.
In the living room, he met Meenal sitting with her chin in her hands; it was obvious she had been crying. She rushed toward him, and he gave her a faint smile.
“Prince, where have you been today? I kept calling you and you didn’t answer.”
He hissed lightly. “We had a meeting. The boss came to Nigeria.”
After taking his bath, he ate, went to bed, and slept—without even looking at Meenal.
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At about 11:00 p.m. at night, there were not many people on the street—only a few here and there. You could see the glow of streetlights along the road.
I noticed a young lady who looked like a bride because of her beauty—very beautiful.
She was wearing a purple gown decorated with golden stones, a dress that fit her perfectly. Just the shape of the gown alone would tell you how elegant her figure was.
She was fair-skinned, very white in complexion, with beautiful hair and a pointed nose, thick eyebrows, and a small mouth with pinkish lips.
Despite having her natural hair, she still wore a golden attachment. Her ears were well adorned, and she even had a nose piercing.
She held a large golden trolley bag in her hand and was pressing on her phone—an iPhone 7 Plus—clearly making a call.
A maroon-colored Venza stopped beside her and signaled for her to come closer.
She hissed loudly, so loudly that even someone inside the car could notice the sound she made.
The man stepped out. He was wearing a fine shadda with an elegant design, a spotless white flowing robe. He was tall, almost giant-like, and looked very handsome.
“Young lady, good evening. You’re really beautiful, honestly. Don’t you know that standing here could cause an accident? Please allow me to drop you at home.”
She hissed again, “Mtssss! Look here, sir, you’re not the one I’m waiting for. Can’t you see? Move your feet and go. Do you understand? Nonsense, stupid!”
He stood there with his mouth wide open, staring at her—astonished that a woman would call him “nonsense” and “stupid.” He thought to himself, Who is her father in this town? Does she even know who I am?
As if she could read his thoughts, she burst into laughter. “Instead of wasting time thinking about whose daughter I am, if you annoy me with unnecessary talk, you’ll end up enjoying trouble.”
They suddenly heard the horn of a black Prado. The driver hurriedly stepped out, trembling.
“Hajiya, please for the sake of God, forgive me. My daughter is in the hospital. Please pardon me for stopping like this.”
She smiled—it was her driver. “It’s nothing, but be careful next time.” She handed him ₦10,000. “Take this, buy her medicine, take a tricycle and go. I’ll drive myself.”
He squatted down to the ground, thanking her repeatedly. She entered the car and left the young man standing in the cold.
He also entered his car and followed her, driving fast so as not to lose sight of her.
Through the mirror, she noticed he was still following her. Near the gate of a hotel, she parked.
He parked as well, and they both stepped out. She picked up her phone and made a call; shortly after, some hotel security personnel came out. She handed them the car key, and they drove the car inside.
She walked toward him, shaking slightly. “Sir, I know you came to punish me—well, here I am. Kill me and satisfy yourself.”
He was unable to speak because of the sudden rush of feelings he experienced. She had a powerful effect on his heart. He thought, With all this beauty and class, she’s going to spend the night in a hotel?
“Impossible,” he said firmly.
[Promotional insert]
YAR MALAM
TAKI HALIN MALAM
By
Fresh Khady
Sincerely speaking, I really love you, my fans, because your love for me is uncountable.
I’ve seen your calls and messages—thank you for the massive support.
Honestly, I wrote this book not to insult anyone, but because fans complained about my silence in releasing a new novel. That’s why I came back with a story full of lessons.
Follow me,
Yours sincerely,
Fresh Khady
₦200
She frowned angrily and spoke with irritation. “Here I am. I know you followed me to punish me, right? Well then, here—kill me.”
He found himself unable to do anything to her because of the strong aura she carried. “Glory be to the Almighty who created this girl,” he muttered under his breath.
She looked him up and down and hissed. “You’re just a small shameless man. Look, I have a lot to do, unlike you who has nothing doing.”
She frowned again. “Before I leave, I’m Mufleeha by name—so you’ll remember me and enjoy punishing me.” She walked away, leaving him standing there.
He watched the gate and repeated softly, “Mufleeha… hmm, a sweet name. You’re so beautiful—why isn’t your character beautiful too?”
He entered his car, drove off at speed, and stopped in the parking space of his house. He sat for a long time, lost in thought, before going inside.
In the living room, he met Meenal sitting with her chin in her hands; it was obvious she had been crying. She rushed toward him, and he gave her a faint smile.
“Prince, where have you been today? I kept calling you and you didn’t answer.”
He hissed lightly. “We had a meeting. The boss came to Nigeria.”
After taking his bath, he ate, went to bed, and slept—without even looking at Meenal.