BEYOND AMBITION

CHAPTER EIGHT

meanwhile, Iklas had just returned from school. She prayed, ate her lunch, and quickly picked up her tray of boiled eggs to head to her usual selling spot.

Omar, on the other hand, had already arrived at the place where he had first seen her. It was 11 a.m., but she was nowhere to be found. He waited, glancing around restlessly, but there was no sign of her.

Frustrated, he parked his car and called over a young boy selling goods nearby.

“Hey, do you know a girl who sells boiled eggs around here? Slim, beautiful, light-skinned—”

The boy’s face lit up. “Ohhh, you mean Gomnati?”

Omar’s brow lifted. “Yeah, that’s her.”

The boy nodded. “She’s still at school. She usually comes here around 1 to 1:30 p.m.”

At that moment, Omar realized that the time matched when he had first seen her the previous day.

Omar handed some money to the boy, got into his car, and returned to his office. Exactly at 1 PM, he went back to the spot where Iklas usually sold her goods, but she was nowhere to be found. Frustrated, he clicked his tongue in annoyance.

Then, he spotted her emerging from a rundown alley, struggling to walk under the weight of her load. A basket of eggs rested on her head, and a bag of apples hung from her hand.

A deep sense of pity washed over him, almost bringing tears to his eyes. Seated in his car, he observed her closely, watching as she began selling her goods.

Omar picked up his phone and made a call—who he called and what he said remained unknown.

Less than ten minutes later, a car pulled up beside Iklas's goods. The driver requested to buy all her apples and eggs, insisting on taking everything at once.

Overjoyed, she eagerly sold everything to him. But as she counted the money afterward, she realized he had given her an extra 5,000 naira.

She immediately separated the extra amount, planning to return it if she ever saw the man again. If not, she intended to give it away as charity on his behalf.

She jumped excitedly, laughing with joy as her goods were completely sold out. Grinning from ear to ear, she exclaimed, "Wow! I'm so lucky!"

Omar, still seated in his car at a distance, watched her every move. He remained there until she finally left for home, then drove back to his office. But for some reason, he felt an unusual sense of happiness today. The moment he saw Gomnati, all his worries seemed to fade away.

Meanwhile, Hajiya Rahina and her group had agreed that they wouldn't start their scheming until Alhaji—Omar's father—returned to Nigeria.

The next day, exactly at 1 PM, Omar parked by the roadside in a different car, waiting for Iklas to come out from the same alley he had seen her emerge from the day before.

He sat in his car, enjoying the cool air from the AC, as he watched her step out, carrying only a basket of eggs. Today, he noticed there was no bag of apples. Did she run out of apples? he wondered, shrugging slightly.

She reached her usual spot and began calling out to customers. Omar started his car and slowly drove onto the main road. As he approached her, he steered slightly to the side and slowed down. She didn't bother checking who was inside—she simply hurried toward the window and placed a bag of eggs against the glass.

The moment he rolled the window down, a gust of cool air and his intoxicating cologne hit her. Taken by surprise, she glanced inside—and there he was, in all his glory , sitting in the driver’s seat.

Peeking in with a smile, she greeted, "Good afternoon, Boss. Passing by again today?"

He didn't respond. His face remained unreadable, as if he had never seen her before. Embarrassed by his silence and his piercing stare, she stepped back, ready to leave.

"Hey!" His sharp voice stopped her in her tracks.

She turned around, now mirroring his stern expression. "What is it?" she asked.

Omar raised a brow. Did she just talk back to me like that? He almost smirked but held himself back. Instead, he leaned slightly forward and spoke coolly yet firmly.

"Don’t you have any other means of making a living besides this? Every day, you’re running through the streets, surrounded by men. And why don’t you dress properly, like a decent Muslim woman? You let all these men stare at you."

She shot him a sharp glare. "And how is that your business? What does a monkey care about a bridge?"

She wanted to hurl harsher words at him, to put him in his place, but something about his commanding presence held her back. Omar wasn’t the kind of man anyone could mock easily. His face was always serious, unreadable—he wasn’t someone people took lightly.

Normally, Iklas had no trouble dealing with men, but this one? He made her hesitant. And yet, here she was, talking back to him. She lowered her voice, but she still made sure to sound firm, as if she were scolding him. If someone overheard, they might even think they were playfully chatting rather than arguing.

Omar, amused by her reaction, chuckled lightly. "Hey, relax, young lady. I didn’t mean to offend you. I just asked a simple question, and you have to answer me."

She scoffed. "Well, you’ll be waiting at the station for a long time before you get that answer."

Her sass made him smile, though he quickly hid it. He had already figured out that Gomnati had a strong personality—she wanted to be respected.

"Alright, alright, I hear you," he said, raising his hands slightly in surrender. "Next time I come back, make sure you have some eggs for me to buy."

With that, he bought everything she had left again, just as he had done before. She happily counted her money and walked off, completely unaware that Omar was following her in his car.

He watched from a distance as she turned into a narrow, rundown alleyway and entered a small house. Omar frowned slightly. So this is where she lives?

Shaking his head, he turned his car around and drove back to his office, his mind filled with thoughts. He hadn’t expected Gomnati to be living in such harsh conditions.

From that day on, Iklas never saw Omar again. She wondered if he was angry about what she had said to him. Deep down, she knew she had been rude—she had taken his kindness for granted. The thought of her own ungratefulness haunted her, refusing to leave her mind.

At first, she kept her worries to herself, but eventually, they started to show.

It was Saturday, and she sat quietly, lost in thought. Her grandmother, Ummi, peeked into her room, frowning.

"My dear, why have you burdened yourself with all this unnecessary thinking? I don’t understand you anymore. Alhamdulillah, we have food, we have something to drink, and you're still in school by God’s grace. Yet here you are, worrying over nothing."

"Ummi, I swear, I messed up."

"What did you do, Iklas? Speak, I’m listening."

"It’s about the man who bought all my eggs and apples that day—the one I told you about, the rich man. He asked me about my business, but I forgot all the good he did for me and spoke to him disrespectfully. And now, I haven’t seen him since. I don’t even know if he’s okay."

Ummi sighed. "Hmm. So that’s what’s bothering you?"

"Yes, Ummi. You haven’t even seen him—he’s so handsome, very stylish. He’s even more good-looking than I am! And the way he carries himself, Ummi... You should see his smile."

A small smile tugged at Ummi’s lips as she watched her granddaughter. "You’re describing him as if he’s some prince from a fairy tale."

Iklas blushed slightly but remained quiet. The truth was, she didn’t understand why she was so bothered by Omar’s absence.

Grandmother Ummi let out a loud exclamation. "Laa ilaaha illallah! I have seen it all! Iklas, don’t let the jinn possess you! Or could it be that you have fallen for him?"

She shook her head dramatically. "From the moment you let him talk to you and even accepted his gift, I knew something was off. You, who never accepts gifts from men, always saying they only give to take advantage of young girls—yet this one had you jumping with excitement! Every time you see him, you won’t let us sleep with your endless talk about him. And now, you’re here, losing sleep over him? Ha! If you want to see him again, just keep working—he will find you."

Iklas pouted. "Kaka, that’s not it at all! Haba, Ummi, you don’t understand. How old am I that I should be talking about love?"

Before she could continue, Ummi landed a playful knock on her head. "Get up, get up! Go and prepare dinner before I lose my patience with you!"

"Ouch! Ummi, you’ll give me a headache!" Iklas whined, rubbing her head dramatically.

"Good! Maybe that headache will shake some sense into you!" Ummi teased as she shooed her off to the kitchen.