BEYOND AMBITION

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

"They drink alcohol there, Omar! Men and women dance together inappropriately, indulging in all sorts of immorality! I pleaded with her not to go, but she refused to listen. She never heeds my words—she only follows whatever she has planned for her life!"

Kaka Ummi burst into tears, crying bitterly.

"it's okay Ummi. I'll handle her now. Any bad behavior she thinks she enjoys, I will correct it," Omar said firmly.

Iklas pouted and left the living room. She managed to take a bath, then returned. She had carefully done her makeup and put on one of the dresses she recently bought—a fitted gown with long sleeves, just above the knees, snug at the top and flared at the bottom. It was orange and black, and she looked undeniably beautiful. She even draped a thin orange scarf over her shoulders, determined to impress.

She wasn’t used to wearing heavy, traditional fabrics, so she avoided them. But she didn’t understand why she wanted to look especially good today.

She walked past Omar in the living room without looking at him and headed straight to the kitchen, calling for Suhaila. They set the food in front of Omar.

Omar glanced at her—she looked beautiful, but why couldn’t she dress properly? There was a guest in the house, yet she chose to wear something revealing. And worse, everyone else was also looking at her like that.

Ummi spoke up. "Omaru, I need to go to the neighbor's house for a condolence visit. I'll be back soon, not long at all."

"No problem, Ummi. Take your time," Omar replied.

Ummi then turned to Iklas. "Stay here with him until I return, you restless troublemaker. Every day, you're roaming around in revealing clothes! You never wear proper clothing."

She sighed. "Omaru, please eat the food, for Allah's sake. Don’t let me return and find out you didn’t eat. I won't be happy."

"Okay, Ummi," Omar responded.

As soon as Ummi stepped out, the room fell into silence. No one spoke.

Suhaila had already fallen asleep.

Iklas lowered her gaze, avoiding looking at Omar. Her heart was pounding for no reason.

Omar fixed his gaze on her, his face stern.

"You don’t listen, do you?" he barked. "Before you destroy yourself, you better stop this nonsense. You think you’re grown enough to go to a party—and not just any party, but one full of useless people? Your grandmother is here, struggling with you, and you keep stressing her. Watch yourself. I don’t care if we’re related or not—if I ever catch you misbehaving, I will deal with you."

Iklas was stunned by Omar’s audacity. Who did he think he is to interfere in their lives? is he their father? They weren’t even close, yet he was speaking as if he had authority over her.

"Even me, readers, I think Omar is overstepping here. lol

She pouted. "But sir, it’s just Ola’s mom’s birthday—"

"Shut up!" Omar cut her off. "You’re not going anywhere."

She sighed dramatically. "Well, I already changed my mind, sir," she said in a quiet voice.

"you shouldn't have change your mind. I would have deal with you"

Silence filled the room again.

After a while, she hesitated before speaking. "Sir?"

"I’m listening," he replied.

"Please eat your food."

Omar scoffed. "I should eat this nonsense? Did anyone tell you I eat food made by girls like you?" He leaned back. "I’m only eating because Ummi insisted."

She clenched her jaw, feeling irritated by his words. What was his problem? Normally, she wouldn’t let anyone talk to her like this. But for some reason, with Omar, she couldn’t fight back.

"Maybe it’s because of everything he’s done for us," she reasoned.

"Just give me water," he muttered, snapping her out of her thoughts.

Quickly, she stood up and poured him water into a clean, elegant glass.

Omar took it with an air of arrogance, drank, and stood up.

"If Ummi asks, tell her I left when she returned," he said before walking away.

"Please, just wait for her to come back, or at least let me call her now, please," Iklas pleaded.

Before Omar could respond, they heard Ummi’s voice as she entered the living room.

"Yawwa, Ummi!" Iklas said quickly. "He’s about to leave, and he didn’t even eat anything!"

Ummi’s mouth fell open. "Haba, Umaru, how could you do this to us?!" she exclaimed. "We accepted you with open arms, even though we didn’t know you before, even though you’re not our relative. We still trusted you! And now that we offer you food, you refuse? As if we’re giving you poison or some disease?"

She shook her head. "If you really want us to be at peace with you, just eat—at least a little. If you feel disgusted by it, fine, I won’t force you."

Omar hesitated, then quickly sat back down.

"Haba, Ummi, it’s nothing like that," he said. "Please forgive me—I’ll eat."

A wide smile spread across Ummi’s face. "Ahh, good! But still, you made us feel bad."

She turned to Iklas. "Go and serve him the food. I’ll go finish sorting out some things."

As she left, Omar found himself watching her, feeling strangely amused and impressed.

"This old woman is something else," he thought, his gaze lingering on her the way a son looks at a mother.

As soon as she opened the flask, a rich, mouthwatering aroma filled the air, hitting Omar’s nose with an irresistible scent.

The fried rice was perfectly seasoned, mixed with tender liver and other delicious ingredients. She carefully served him a generous portion, then opened a beautiful glass bowl filled with crispy fried chicken and placed it beside the plate. She also added a fresh, colorful salad and poured him a cold glass of coconut juice.

Omar sighed, picking up the spoon reluctantly. With a slight frown, he took his first bite.

The taste exploded in his mouth.

"What kind of magic is this?" he thought. The food was incredible.

Inwardly, he wanted to groan in satisfaction, but on the outside, he kept his face stoic, even frowning slightly.

Iklas, watching him closely, felt her heart sink. His expression looked unimpressed.

"Did he hate it?" she wondered, panic rising in her chest.

She had put so much effort into the meal, and now she felt like crying. She didn't want to hear that her cooking was not good enough.

Iklas didn't know why it mattered so much that Omar liked her cooking. But for some reason, she wanted his approval. Maybe it was his dominant presence, or maybe it was just the way he carried himself like someone who couldn’t be impressed easily.

Her eyes stung with unshed tears, and no matter how hard she tried to hold them back, one drop escaped.

Omar saw it.

And instead of feeling guilty, he almost laughed. He had been deliberately pulling her leg, exaggerating his expressions to make her nervous.

In truth, the food was incredible. The flavors were rich, balanced, and addictive. But now that he had committed to his act, he had to see it through.

He held his stomach dramatically, acting like he was about to be sick. “Ummi really forced me to eat this,” he muttered. “This isn’t food, Iklas. You’ll kill someone with this kind of cooking.”

That was the last straw.

Iklas felt a sharp sting in her chest, and this time, she couldn’t stop the tears from gathering. Quickly, she turned away, rushing into the kitchen before he could see just how much his words had affected her.

A few moments later, she returned, her face composed but her eyes still slightly red. In her hand was a neatly wrapped package. She held it out to him, her voice calm but firm.

“Here,” she said. “Take this for your mom.”

His Thoughts Stopped Abruptly

This girl was truly surprising.

She is only 17 years old, yet she already understood the importance of giving gifts to elders—something that pleased him deeply.

It made her even more admirable in his eyes.

Taking the package from her, he simply said, “Thanks. Call Ummi.”

As he watched her, he noticed Iklas pausing to write something in her notebook.

He had no idea what she was jotting down, but after she finished, she quickly left to call Ummi.

Meanwhile, Iklas had already done her calculations.

This week, they had prepared Dambun Nama (a spiced meat dish), but they hadn’t eaten it yet. So, she decided to give it away as a gift instead.

That was why she had adjusted her plans.

When Omar left, he greeted them with a farewell, and Ummi also gave him a message for his mother.

---

When he arrived home, he went to check on Sahar—after all, as her husband, she was his responsibility.

Upon entering, he asked the housemaid, “Where is Sahar?”

She responded respectfully, “My lord, she traveled today. She said to inform you that she has gone to Ghana for some work.”

Omar simply replied, “Okay.” Then, without asking further, he left for his mother’s house.

---

What Omar Didn’t Know

Sahar had completely changed.

She was no longer the woman he thought she was.

She had fallen into a dangerous lifestyle, associating herself with wealthy, influential men—especially those with money to spare.

Her transformation had been orchestrated by none other than Hajiya Talatu, the wife of a governor.

Hajiya Talatu had planted an idea in her head:

“Your husband is always traveling. You two have no real connection. You have strong desires, so why deny yourself? You have money, and young men these days are desperate for it. They’ll do anything for cash. So why not enjoy yourself and pay them to satisfy you?”

And that was exactly what Sahar had started doing.

She used her wealth to fulfill her own desires, surrounding herself with young men who would do anything for money.

Instead of fixing her marriage, she had chosen a path of destruction.