BEYOND AMBITION

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

As soon as the call ended, Hajiya Rahina scoffed, shaking her head.

"That foolish Bilki thinks she knows everything… useless pauper! She believes she's helping me achieve my goal? If only she knew I’m way above her level! A mere primary school graduate trying to act smart around me?"

Rahina burst into laughter, amused by her own thoughts. "At best, Bilki can only be my servant, never my friend!"

On the other side, Bilki rolled her eyes, clicking her tongue in irritation. "What an i***t! A complete waste of space. I’ll just milk her dry and build myself up with her money. Does she actually think the advice I gave her will work? Hah! Just wait and see—Alhaji Mohd will divorce her soon enough. Then she’ll know exactly who Bilki is!"

Readers, do you see this? Betrayal upon betrayal. Each woman was plotting against the other, and neither had an ounce of sincerity. Sadly, this kind of backstabbing has become common among so-called friends, especially women. Instead of uplifting one another, they compete, fueled by envy and malicious intent.

How did we get here? How did friendship turn into a battlefield where everyone secretly prays for the other’s downfall?

May Allah cleanse our hearts from jealousy and ill intentions.

On Omar’s side, the situation had escalated beyond control. It took all of Mama’s effort to pull him away before he did something worse. They quickly carried Suleim to the family doctor, who attended to her wounds and dressed them carefully.

Abdallah, heartbroken over his little sister’s pain, couldn't hold back his tears. As for Omar, his entire body trembled with anger. The patience he had maintained for so long had finally snapped. He had ignored his siblings’ reckless behavior for years, letting things slide for the sake of peace, but enough was enough. If they wanted war, they would get it.

Meanwhile, Sadiya lay in misery. Her body ached from the brutal beating she had received, swelling in painful patches. She wailed in agony, but that didn’t stop Aisha and the others. They continued their insults sharp and relentless.

Sadiya, however, was no fool. As she endured their scorn, her mind churned with vengeance. She swore—no matter the cost, even if it drained her entire salary—she would destroy Omar and his mother. She had relied on her own mother for too long. Now, she would handle things herself. Omar and everyone supporting him would regret ever laying a hand on her.

The burning sensation of the hot water Aisha poured on her neck snapped her out of her dark thoughts. She let out a bloodcurdling scream.

"Aisha, I swear on my mother, I will kill you! Are you trying to end my life?" Sadiya shrieked, writhing in pain.

And I can only say... Heeee! This is only the beginning!

Omar's heart was heavy with frustration. The entire house felt suffocating to him. Without a second thought, he stood up and left, determined to escape the chaos. At first, he aimed for Sultan’s office, but midway, he changed his mind. He knew that seeing Sultan would only worsen his anger.

So, where did he end up instead?

Well, dear readers, I followed him—I couldn’t resist the gossip! Lol!

Driving at a slow pace, Omar found himself in Iklas’ neighborhood—a rough, ghetto area. It had been six days since he last set foot there.

As he turned into her street, his eyes immediately caught sight of her.

Iklas stood at the side of the road, deep in conversation with two Igbo men.

She was still in her school uniform, a clear sign that she had just returned from school since it was only 1:30 PM.

Omar’s grip on the steering wheel tightened. His six-day absence, and this is what she was up to?

A deep frustration once again consumed Omar's heart. He was already drowning in anger when he stumbled upon an even more infuriating sight—Iklas chatting freely with some shabby-looking Igbo men, laughing and talking without a care in the world.

As he approached, his rage boiled over.

He slammed the horn—BEEEEEP!

The loud sound immediately caught everyone’s attention, making them turn toward his sleek, intimidating car.

Even Iklas, turned to see what was happening.

Omar lowered his tinted glass, locking eyes with her.

Without saying a word, he signaled her to come over.

Understanding the cue, Iklas quickly wrapped up her conversation.

"Bye, Emma!" she waved at one of the men.

"Gomnati, Gomnnnati!" Emma and Dennis teased in their Igbo accents, grinning.

Iklas laughed and high-fived Emma before responding, "Yeah, that's me."

Dennis chuckled, "your first salary will be mine gomnati?"

Iklas smirked. " It will be all yours!"

They all laughed, and she raised her hand confidently. "In government work, we move forward—we won’t be left behind!"

As she approached Omar’s car, another guy, Saleem, called out, "Gomnati, just make sure you actually work in the government first!"

Iklas lifted her hand playfully, then opened the passenger seat and got in.

Before she fully settled, she leaned out of the car window and shouted back, "Saleem, don’t worry! My first salary includes your share too!"

Just then—

BANG!

Omar jerked the car forward, and Iklas' forehead slammed against the dashboard.

She screamed in pain.

Another sudden brake—KYAAAA!

Then—BANG!

He pulled the car again, making her head hit the windshield this time.

Her scream turned into loud, painful sobs as sharp pain radiated through her skull. A large swelling was already forming on her forehead.

But Omar didn't stop.

He sped up, the car shaking violently as if it might flip over.

Iklas wailed, clutching her throbbing forehead as the pain spread across her entire body.

By the time they reached her house, she practically jumped out of the car as if escaping death itself.

Just before she could run inside, Omar lowered the glass again.

His voice was low and menacing.

"You need to be very careful. I am not someone to play with. I’m warning you, Iklas—think about your safety and do what is right. Let your ears hear what your eyes will soon see."

His eyes darkened further.

"Next time, there won’t be a warning."

With that, he sped off, his heart still burning with rage.

He didn’t even know where he was going—he just needed to get away.

Eventually, he found himself driving towards his luxurious guesthouse in Gwagwalada.

It was a massive property—fully staffed, perfectly maintained, and spotlessly clean.

But even in that perfect silence, Omar’s mind was far from at peace.

As for Iklas, she stood there for a long time, lost in thought.

What exactly had she done to him?

Why did he hate her so much?

What was her crime that made him treat her this way?

It was as if he had chosen to despise her for no reason at all, carrying a burden of hatred meant only for her.

She clicked her tongue in frustration, gently rubbing the painful swelling on her forehead.

With a deep sigh, she turned and walked home, mumbling under her breath.

"So after all this, he really wants to kill me for nothing?"

Ummi stopped Iklas in her tracks, her eyes narrowing with concern as she asked,

"What happened to your forehead?"

Iklas sighed before responding,

"I got into a fight at school, Ummi. With another girl. She hit me on the head with a chair, so I smashed a rock on hers too."

Ummi shook her head, clicking her tongue in disapproval.

"Oh, well done, Iklas. May Allah help you," she said sarcastically.

"Foolish girl, move out of my way before I slap you. You act like you don’t know you're grown already!"

Then, as if suddenly thinking of a solution, Ummi smirked and added,

"Let me just wait for my blessed son, Umaru. I’ll let him deal with you since he’s the only one you seem to listen to."

"But Ummi, what exactly am I doing wrong that you keep comparing me to that ruthless stranger? We’re not even related, yet you love him more than us..."

Before she could finish, Ummi landed a sharp smack on her, making Iklas jump up and run off. She hurried to the bathroom, performed her prayers, took a bath, and had her meal.

Afterward, she lay down, her mind drifting into different thoughts—but mostly about Omar.

The more she thought about him, the lighter her heart felt. She realized she'd rather think about Oga Omar than her school. Whenever her thoughts wandered to school, she immediately pushed them away, whispering,

"Nope, I’d rather think about Omar."

She smiled to herself, shaking her head.

"Gosh, I’m such a fool. What’s there to even think about? What would I even do with him? My own future husband will be way more handsome than that Boss anyway."

Mama Omar called Sahar’s phone multiple times, letting it ring up to five times, but Sahar didn’t answer.

After forty minutes, Sahar finally called back. She knew it was her mother-in-law calling because she had the number saved, but she still pretended not to recognize it.

"Hello, who is on the line, please? Who am I speaking with?"

Mama Omar paused, listening to Sahar’s polished English. She understood what Sahar was saying—thanks to Abdallah, who had been teaching her—but she still couldn't respond fluently in English.

"Sahar, it's Mama Omar."

"Ohh, Mama. How is home? How is work?" Sahar asked casually.

"We are fine, Alhamdulillah. Sahar, I heard about your recent trip, and I just wanted to say that I found it inappropriate. Your—"

Before she could finish, the call was cut off.

Mama Omar tried calling again, but this time, after just one ring, another woman answered, speaking in fast English.

Mama immediately knew Sahar had given the phone to someone else to be rude on her behalf.

The disrespect stung deeply, but she chose not to tell anyone about it. Instead, she dressed up, called the driver, and personally went to Sahar’s family home.

When she got there, she told Sahar’s parents everything.

Sahar’s mother shrugged and smirked, saying,

"Hajia, Sahar is just a young woman. You people should be patient with her. Honestly, I don’t see anything wrong with what she’s doing. You’re making a big deal out of nothing, as if we live in a village. Times have changed. Besides, Sahar is educated and has a big job, so of course she will travel frequently."