BEYOND AMBITION

CHAPTER SEVEN

Omar clicked his tongue in frustration, thinking to himself, That girl has really been wronged.

Sultan, who was already shocked, gathered the courage to tap Omar on the shoulder. "Friend..."

Omar turned to him with a glare. "What's the matter, man? Don’t start bothering me."

Sultan smirked. "Oh wow, so you've been caught, huh? Friend, that girl is absolutely stunning. But you’ve really surprised me, Omar. You’ve traveled the world, been around European women, and yet I’ve never seen you look at a woman with kindness before. But now, over a simple street vendor, you've completely lost yourself. You’re out of control."

Omar shot him a sharp look. "See yourself, Sultan. What would I possibly want with that girl?"

Sultan folded his arms. "Look, man, I’m just saying—Omar, the guy who never gets involved in anyone’s business, who never helps anyone unless they ask, who barely even smiles at men, is now out here smiling at some random girl? You even gave her money she didn’t ask for, insisted she take it when she refused, and bought street food—something you never do."

Omar sighed in frustration. "Sultan, please, what is this? What’s your problem? Do you even know what made me talk to her? And now you’re here talking nonsense. Why would I be interested in a little girl? What would I possibly do with a street vendor? And not just any vendor—the worst kind of street selling! I only felt sorry for her, that’s all."

Sultan burst into laughter. "Keep deceiving yourself, but I swear, whether you like it or not, you’ve started falling for that girl."

Omar snapped back loudly, "God forbid! Over my dead body!"

Sultan laughed again, leaning closer to study Omar’s face. "Wow, so you’ve found yourself a beautiful girl. Honestly, you have great taste. Who knew Omar could smile like that—such a nice smile, too? Even I got to witness it today, thanks to your new catch."

Omar clicked his tongue in irritation. "Yeah, yeah, whatever."

The driver listened to their conversation and silently agreed with Sultan. Within minutes, Sultan was laughing at Omar repeatedly—until he noticed Omar was about to get seriously angry. Only then did he stop, knowing full well how hot-tempered Omar could be.

Sultan then turned to the driver. "Idi, hand us that apple and those eggs. Let’s eat the bride’s cooking."

Omar didn’t even glance at them. But the moment the food was handed over, he snatched it right out of Sultan’s hands. "You’re not eating this, Sultan."

Sultan laughed. "Oh, I see. Since the bride’s hands touched it, you’re jealous and don’t want anyone else to eat it before you."

Omar remained silent, ignoring them completely. Even after they finished their work, he was still upset with Sultan. On their way back, Omar kept glancing around, searching for Iklas, but she was nowhere to be seen.

Sultan noticed and burst into laughter again. "I’m sorry, friend. I didn’t mean to laugh, but I couldn’t help it. Your bride has gone home. Stop searching."

Omar clicked his tongue in annoyance. He grabbed one of the apples he had bought from Iklas, lowered the car’s glass, rinsed the apple with water, and took a big bite. Crunch. He even closed his eyes in satisfaction.

He ate two apples in silence. Then, determined not to be left out, Sultan grabbed two for himself. The remaining two were handed to the driver.

As they drove, Omar unwrapped the boiled eggs, ate one, and handed the rest to the driver.

Sultan, on the other hand, was completely baffled—almost scared, as if some spell had been cast on Omar. The Omar he knew never ate food from just anyone’s hands. He never ate anything that had been exposed to the sun on the streets. Yet, here he was, casually eating a boiled egg bought from a street vendor.

This girl had truly ensnared him.

When they arrived home, Omar didn’t waste time. "Get out of my car, man," he told Sultan.

Sultan smirked. "You’ll come looking for me next time, and I swear I’ll get my revenge. You know my payback is always brutal."

Ignoring him, Omar drove straight home, skipping his usual visit to his mother.

When he entered, he found Sahar lying on the couch, chatting on her phone.

"Salam," he greeted.

She responded casually, "Welcome," without even looking up, continuing with her chat.

Omar didn’t spare her a glance either. He headed straight to his room, took a shower, and then ate the takeaway meal he had brought with him. After that, he performed his Asr prayer and spent time reciting the Quran and doing other acts of worship until Maghrib. Then, he went to the mosque.

When he returned, he found Sahar in the same position—she hadn’t prayed. He was tired of scolding her about it.

---

Meanwhile, at Haj Rahina’s house, Sadiya and Naja were chatting with Umma about the men they were dating, bragging about how they were spending their money.

Aisha smirked. "Me? I always make sure to fill my tank. I take so much from them. They carry me like a queen, and I never let my tank run dry."

The girls laughed, entertained by their conversation.

After a while, they got up and went to visit Omar’s mother. The three of them walked in as if they had good intentions.

"Oh, the young ladies are here today," Mama said.

Sadiya clicked her tongue in annoyance and gave her a cold stare. The other girls did the same.

Naja muttered under her breath, "Look at this woman acting all high and mighty. Witches, all of them."

Sadiya smirked. "I swear, we will put an end to their scheming."

Just then, Abdallah stood up and grabbed Naja, starting a playful fight. At first, it was lighthearted, but then he threw a punch at her.

Seeing this, the other girls jumped in to defend her. Though Abdallah was young, he was strong, and it took all of them to restrain him.

As they left in frustration, Aisha turned back and smirked. "You'll regret this, kid."

Mama simply pulled her son away and retreated to her room. She was used to these kinds of situations and didn’t bother getting involved.

Instead, she called her driver and took both Sulaiman and Abdallah shopping. Even Mama herself indulged in a little shopping spree.

Just as they left, Omar arrived at the house. He noticed that his mother’s part of the house was locked, but since he had a spare key, he let himself in. Without paying much attention to anything else, he headed straight to his room.

After performing his Isha prayer, he made himself a cup of coffee, drank it, and then lay down in bed.

But sleep didn’t come easily.

Iklas invaded his thoughts, refusing to leave his mind.

Why was he even thinking about her?

What connection did he have with her that made her occupy his mind like this?

Omar frowned, frustrated with himself. He needed to find out more about that girl. There was something about her that unsettled him, something he couldn’t quite understand.

And the most puzzling part? He had no idea why he cared so much about seeing her again.

Her name slipped from his lips.

"Gomnati."

It took a long time before he finally drifted off to sleep.

Mama had no idea that Omar had spent the night at home until she saw him coming downstairs, fully dressed for work.

He was wearing an expensive brown suit that gleamed under the light, exuding elegance and a refined fragrance.

Mama’s eyes widened in surprise as she watched him. "Omar, so you spent the night here? Where did you leave your wife? Are you sure you’re treating her fairly? Be careful not to neglect your responsibilities as a husband."

Omar smiled and pulled her into a hug. "Come on, Mama. She works night shifts, remember? Sometimes, I go three whole days without even setting eyes on her. She prioritizes her job over our marriage. I've tried talking to her, advising her, but it’s pointless. She doesn’t care about my needs. She doesn’t know what I like, what I dislike—she doesn’t even care about me at all."

Sighing, he sat down beside Mama, resting his head against her shoulder. "Mama, you know I don’t love her. Not even a little. The only reason I married her was to obey Baffa’s wishes. But despite that, I still tried—I tried to force my heart to accept her, to make myself love her. But Mama, how can I love someone who brings me nothing but misery? Every single day, she pushes me further away."

His voice turned bitter. "Baffa has chained me to a lifetime of unhappiness. Every day, she makes me resent her even more. And I won’t lie to you, Mama—I know you already see what’s happening. You know what Sahar is like. I hate her. I don’t love her. I can’t stand waking up to see her beside me. But I endure it, for Baffa’s sake."

Mama was overwhelmed with pity for her son. She sighed and said, “Have patience, my dear. I know everything, and I understand your pain. Keep praying—Allah will bring you a change that is best for you. One day, He will bless you with someone you truly love, someone who loves you in return. For now, continue being dutiful.”

Then she patted his back gently. “Come, let’s have breakfast.”

After finishing his meal, Omar left for the office. But even at work, his mind was restless. He kept thinking about how he could see that street vendor girl again.

Eventually, he made up his mind. He called Idi, his driver, and took the car keys from him. Today, he wanted to drive himself. He didn’t want anyone to know where he was going.

---

Meanwhile, Sadiya and Aisha were gossiping about their love lives.

“Aunty Sadiya, I think you should get married before you get too old,” Aisha teased.

Sadiya scoffed and rolled her eyes. “Please, aging isn’t a problem when you have money and good skincare. The only women who age badly are the ones who let themselves go.”

Aisha giggled. “Still, you need to settle down. So, have you found someone?”

Sadiya smirked. “The men around here? Please. They don’t have the kind of money I need. But there’s one man—Alhaji Adam. He only has one wife, and he’s never had children. He’s wealthy enough for me.”

Aisha clapped excitedly. “That’s a smart choice! If you marry him, you’ll have everything. You’ll still have your government job, and he’ll build you your own house. That’s the life!”

They both burst into laughter, high-fiving each other.

Sadiya turned to Aisha. “And what about you?”

Aisha grinned. “You already know my plan. I’m going for a man who has lived in Europe—someone rich, cultured, and sophisticated.”

The other women in the house soon joined them, and the conversation continued with endless chatter and laughter.