Daughter of the Buried Truth

Nuratu had everything, power, money, respect. But beneath the luxury lived a fire no one could control. On a normal afternoon, that fire met the wrong men... And sparked a chain of events she could never escape. ************************************ KANO, NIGERIA — December 2023 She sat in the luxurious car, scrolling through her expensive phone, her mood light and filled with quiet excitement. Slowly, she lifted her eyes toward the window, watching the calm flow of the road as the car moved at a steady speed. Then she glanced back at her phone—12:58 p.m. Turning toward the driver, she said softly: "Saleem, please drive a little faster. You know Daddy doesn't like waiting." With calm respect, he replied, "Yes, ma'am." Barely three or four minutes passed when Saleem suddenly slammed on the brakes. She jerked forward in shock, her heart racing as she looked at him, frozen in fear. "Innalillahi wa inna ilaihi raji'un..." she whispered, trembling. Saleem quickly shifted his focus back to the road, leaning slightly out of the window as he exclaimed, "See that one there! They've hit someone. The speed they were driving at was too much." She didn't wait for further explanation. "Saleem... are we the ones who hit him?" In a snap, he pulled his hand back from the steering wheel, shaking his head firmly. "No, no it wasn't me. It's those ones." He pointed toward two Toyota Land Cruiser Prado SUVs parked in the middle of the road. Slowly, she turned her attention toward the vehicles, studying them carefully. One thing became immediately clear: the cars had stopped, people were already gathering around the man who had been knocked down, the poor water vendor who pushed his cart along the road. But not a single person from the SUVs had stepped out to check on him. The sight angered her deeply. Her chest tightened with frustration, and before she realized it, she was already reaching for the door handle, determined to get out of the car. Saleem spun around quickly, eyes wide with worry. "Please, ma'am... I'm begging you. Don't step out. Let me handle this." His voice trembled as he reached for the door, trying to follow her. But she didn't even glance his way. She pushed the door open and stepped out. Saleem pressed a palm to his forehead, dragging in a shaky breath. Fear tightened inside him as he watched her walk off. He knew her. He knew exactly what her temper could do, it terrified him. She cut through the crowd with fast, determined steps. People parted as she pushed her way forward until she reached the injured man. He lay on the ground, clutching his leg, shaking his head in silent agony, as if only he understood the depth of his pain. Fury flared in her eyes when she turned toward the cars that had hit him. What shocked her most, and irritated her deeply, was that the drivers were still honking, demanding space to drive away, as though nothing had happened. That only sharpened her anger. She fixed her gaze on their number plates, studying each one with disbelief and rising heat. The loud chatter of the boys gathered there made her shift her attention toward the group that was shouting insults. She picked out one of them and said firmly, "Please calm down. Someone find a vehicle to take him to the hospital. Since he's stable for now, may God protect what comes next." She turned back toward their car, grabbed her handbag, pulled out an unknown amount of money, and handed it to Saleem. "Find transport and follow them to the hospital." Saleem looked up quickly, surprised, about to speak, but she stopped him. "Give me the car key," she said, stretching out her hand. He hesitated for a moment, as if unwilling to hand it over. "But ma'am..." he started. She raised her hand again, this time with sharp authority. "I said give it to me." He immediately passed it to her. She took the keys swiftly, got into the car, and began trailing the vehicles. Saleem froze, panic rising in him. He knew her all too well, if she caught up with those drivers, things would not end quietly. And he had no idea how he would explain this to Daddy, because Daddy was the one who told him to pick her up. Without delay, he pulled out his phone and tried calling. Meanwhile, the cars ahead slowly found a way out. Despite the crowd blocking the road, it didn't stop them from searching for an escape route little by little. With sharp speed and skill, she kept trailing the car until fortune favored her, she cut in front of them. They had no choice but to pull over by the side of the road. In one swift motion, she opened her door and stepped out, breathing hard. There wasn't a trace of fear on her face. She walked straight to one of the cars and knocked on the rear window. Silence. No one opened it. So she stepped back, folded her arms, and made up her mind: she wasn't going anywhere until someone came out of that vehicle. She already knew they couldn't escape. It was a narrow street with very little traffic, no space to maneuver. If anyone had to give way, it would be them or her. And she had already decided it wouldn't be her. Not after what they did. She wasn't the type to fear confrontation. She stood there like a soldier, her face hard despite the burning sun. It was supposed to be a cold season, but today the heat was merciless. None of it bothered her. From their behavior, it was clear the men in that car were the stubborn type, the kind who never admit fault. She remained there for nine... maybe ten minutes, completely still. Then her phone began to ring. She exhaled sharply when she saw the name flashing on the screen: Daddy. She took a moment to steady her breath, then placed the phone to her ear and greeted politely. On the other end, Daddy's voice came instantly: "Nuratu, you've gone completely quiet. Where are you and Junior? You still haven't picked him up?" She pressed a hand to her forehead, she had forgotten completely. One glance at the screen told her how late it already was. She had been so consumed by the chaos that Junior slipped her mind entirely. But lying wasn't in her nature. With respectful calmness, she replied, "I'm sorry, Daddy. Something unexpected delayed me on the road, but I'm heading to pick him up now, insha'Allah." "Alright, no problem. May Allah bring you home safely. But hurry, you know we have things to do." "Okay, insha'Allah. We're on our way." She responded softly, then dropped the phone onto the passenger seat, her heart tightening. Someone must have called Daddy to report what was happening, she could feel it. With no choice, she turned back. She didn't look at the cars again. Disobeying Daddy was never an option. She got into her car and pulled off with force. Inside one of the cars, a composed man had been watching everything unfold. He smiled faintly, then signaled to his drivers to follow her discreetly. She drove calmly but with a storm inside her. She hated leaving the matter unresolved. Her phone rang again. She answered with polite composure. "Ma'am, we're done here. Everything is ready, we just need your signature on the contract," the voice said. She adjusted her tone. "No problem. I'm on my way. I'll arrive in about five minutes. I'm in a hurry, so arrange everything before I get there." "Alright, no problem, insha'Allah." With practiced ease, she pulled into the parking lot of a large plaza known for selling foreign furniture. She locked the car and headed inside. Just then, a young man, no more than thirty, hurried toward her with a clipboard and pen. He began to introduce himself, but she stopped him. "I've already reviewed the contract," she said. She signed swiftly, handed back the pen, and walked out without taking a seat. She stood outside, surprised to see a car parked wrongly completely blocking hers. Her irritation flared again, but when she recognized the vehicle, a slow smile crossed her face. "Good. Exactly how I wanted it," she said inwardly. This time, she didn't intend to entertain them at all. She walked quickly to her car, opened the door, and began gathering her things. If she had to leave the car behind and use another ride, fine. Whoever was inside that vehicle had no right to frustrate her. She would deal with him later. But then he opened the door of his car and stepped out with confidence, walking directly toward her. She heard his voice behind her: "So this is your strategy? I thought you'd stay and continue what you started." She didn't look at him until she finished packing her things. Then she lifted her head, their eyes met. Shock swept through her. She had never seen him in person, but there was no mistaking it. This was Ashraf. Still, she was an expert at hiding her emotions. She turned away casually and replied, "No, I didn't stop because I gave up. I simply have more important things to do right now. So wait for me, heartless man." She walked past him without another glance. He watched her leave, then let out a small smile. "I'm waiting," he said quietly. He entered one of the cars, and they drove off, leaving the one blocking her behind. She gave the departing cars a long, meaningful look, then turned and prepared to leave the plaza. Just then, Yazid, the manager, rushed toward her in a panic. The story had obviously reached him already. "Madam, please let me drive you in my car," he urged. She didn't even look at him. She signaled to one of the security guards and said: "Get me a tricycle." Everyone froze, staring at her. Yazid tried again, even more desperate. "Please, Ma'am. Even for the sake of oga, let me drive you. He will scold us if we let you leave like this. Please." She still didn't look at him. Instead, she turned to the security guard again and said: "Should I go out and find one myself?" "No, no," the guard replied quickly, then hurried out to get it. Around 2:30 p.m., they approached the row of luxurious mansions in Nassarawa G.R.A, deep in the heart of Kano Dabo. She held a beautiful little boy, no more than four years old, tightly in her arms. His frightened eyes lifted to hers as he whispered: "Ukhty, Daddy said we shouldn't ride in a tricycle. He told me people get kidn*pped in them. Please, let's get down." His voice cracked as tears gathered in his eyes. She smiled faintly, thinking, If people were easily kidn*pped, I wouldn't be alive to give birth to you. They would've taken me long ago. But when she looked at him again and saw the tears beginning to fall, her expression hardened. She snapped: "Be quiet! Didn't I tell you to be brave at all times? You're a boy not a girl, stop this nonsense." Because he knew his mother's temperament well, he immediately swallowed his cries and held her even tighter. Slowly, they approached a magnificent house, the kind whose architecture and beauty deserved its own description, but there was no time to admire it. She instructed the tricycle rider to honk. He honked until he grew tired, before two security guards finally marched out angrily, assuming strangers were causing trouble. She lowered her facemask. Instantly, the guards froze and bowed slightly. "We're sorry, Madam," they said as they hurriedly swung open the massive gate, a gate that looked more like the entrance to a palace than a home. Once they were inside, she spotted Daddy and Saleem standing in the courtyard, as if they had been waiting solely for her. She paid the tricycle rider generously, and he drove away joyfully, showering her with thanks. Then she approached Daddy and Saleem. She shot Saleem a sharp look the kind that made him lower his head immediately. She knew he had reported everything. She turned to Daddy, but before she could utter a single word, he launched into a furious scolding about her riding in a tricycle, shouting as if he might strike her. Then, in a moment so shocking it felt unreal, she heard him say: "...and if you continue this reckless behavior, I swear, I'll take Junior away from you." He pulled the boy from her arms.