😩😊It’s been a long road to get to this point. I feel happy and proud that I was able to finally reach the end of TURMOIL. I still have much of this story to tell, which is why I have decided to make this the first book in a trilogy, which remains unnamed, presently. I didn’t begin this book with the knowledge that it would be in three parts, yet here we are.🤷‍♀️
Once again, I thank you for your support from the bottom of my heart. Without further ado, I give you the finale of Turmoil.👇

Chapter 39

Muslimah VII


Operation Ruination was officially underway.

Prof. Jaiye had invited me to his office as soon as I’d called to tell him I was ready. Now, standing here in his office, I prepared to tighten the noose around his neck.

“Sir, please. Reconsider your decision and spare me…”

“No chance of that, girl.” He said, looking down his nose at me. “Graduation or Ruination.?”

“Graduation,” I replied quietly, false tears staining my cheeks. I stared at him through my lashes and spied him sporting a triumphant smile. He’d taken the bait, fool that he was. I tried to hide my own smile

“Good choice.” Prof Jaiye’s lecherous gaze roved over my body, as he spoke. He even licked his lips. I gagged. “I knew you’d come around.”

I wished I could tell him what he didn’t know. That I had been wired and every single part of our conversation was being listened to inside a van off-campus. I had no idea how Kamaal had done it, but he had come to school in the morning with an undercover unit at his back. The team leader had told me to make sure Prof Jaiye fell 100% and to leave no room for him to talk his way out of the case. With those words ringing in my head, I continued.

“So, to graduate sir, I have to sleep with you?”

“Come, come now. Don’t be like that. It won’t be that bad. I’m a lion in bed, even if I do say so myself. And at least others have never complained.” He laughed then. A full-throated, belly laugh that had tears streaming down his cheeks. I smiled as well, unable to fathom how a man’s base desires could rob him of his mental faculties of discernment. I wasn’t surprised though. I had encountered enough men like Prof. Jaiye to know.

Prof. Jaiye rose from his seat and started towards me.

“So where do we meet? Here?” I asked abruptly.

He stopped in his tracks, his laughter dying out. He even had the grace to look appalled. “Goodness me, no. My office is out of the question. Not enough space to move around and get down properly.”  He wiggled his brows at me while mimicking the movement of copulation.

It was a struggle to keep the vomit down. I wished I had a camera there and then to capture his shame

Prof Jaiye continued towards me.

Don’t let him touch you.” Kamaal’s voice echoed in my head. When Prof Jaiye had almost reached me, I side-stepped him. He threw his head back again and laughed.

“I understand. You’re one of the shy ones. Don’t worry, you’ll get over it. In my experience the shy ones usually make for better bed partners.” He tilted his head to the side. “Or are you a virgin?”

I froze, but only for a second.

“Where do I meet you, sir?” I asked in place of an answer to his question.

“Don’t worry. I shall text you the address of the hotel room and number alongside the date and time.”

“Alright, sir. I‘ll be expecting your message.”

As I walked to the door, he hit my bum from behind. Shocked and fuming, I whirled around, hand raised ready to slap the nonsense out of him. Before my hand could connect, he tutted, wagging a finger at me.

“Oh no, you don’t. Otherwise, the deal is off.” He lowered his voice to a whisper. “Don’t try any tricks. Be there on Monday. ON. TIME.” He jerked his head in the direction of the door. “Now, get out.” The last words were spoken in an even tone, which was more than I could say for my boiling emotions.

Seething, I left his office banging the door shut.

“Filthy pervert. Unrepentant degenerate.” I mumbled under my breath.

“Calm down Muslimah. You did a good job.”

I started in surprise, having completely forgotten about the wires. Kamaal’s smooth voice in my ear calmed me a little.



As I stood in front of the gas cooker in Jemima’s kitchen, I thought about Operation Ruination. Monday was only a few days away. Four days to be exact. I felt nervous, scared, and excited all at the same time. Prof Jaiye had forwarded the address for our meeting two days earlier.

Wine&Dine Hotel and Suites.
Suite Number 501
A luxurious suite for a beautiful princess.

What baffled me to no end was that he had so much money to lavish on depravity. NO wonder his wife had left him.

The team had instructed me to lay low until Monday. They had gone ahead to contact the hotel management and obtained their co-operation. Cameras had been planted all over the suite at my suggestion. I wanted Prof Jaiye to go down without a sliver of doubt.

The plan was to get him in as comprised a state as I could manage without doing the same to myself.

“Muslimah you have to call on the wiles you possess. You must always be in control of your emotions and be alert. Do not eat or drink anything. Control the situation by steering the conversation to the direction we want.” The team leader had lectured me the day before.

I assured him to trust me to do a good job. I for one had resolved on the D-day to wear two more hijabs, plus two blouses and trousers underneath my jilbab.

Kamaal on the other hand was worried. He’d protested vehemently against going to the hotel, insisting that the evidence collected from the office would be enough to lock him away. The team leader had however managed to convince him that taking this step was the best course of action.

After eliciting a promise from him that I’d be careful, he’d agreed. Since then, he’d taken to calling me every day in the mornings to check on me. It was a no-brainer. I got accustomed to receiving his calls. I wondered why he hadn’t done so today. It was already past noon.

He’ll still call, I told myself, trying but failing to quelch the rush of warmth that came from thinking about him.

“Muslimah, how far now? Lunch nko?” Hadiza called from upstairs. After Jemima’s text informed us of Abdul’s decision last week, we had decided that one or two of us should always be by her side. Her mum had been out of the country but was set to arrive the next day. Until then, we wouldn’t rest easy.

“Almost done!” I called back, switching off the cooker. Lunch was semolina paired with egusi soup. It was spicy, just like Jemima liked it. I dished the food and placed it in a tray, hoping she’d at least take a few bites more than this morning at breakfast.

Balancing the tray in my hands, I made my way up the stairs and into Jemima’s room. She sat on the floor, spread-eagled, messy head in her hands. Hadiza sat beside her, a worried look on her face.

“Jemima, Muslimah’s brought your meal,” Hadiza said softly

Jemima groaned, shaking her head. “I have no appetite.” Her voice sounded hoarse from all the crying. “Take it away”

“Eat dear, if only a little. For your baby.” I pleaded.

Jemima raised tortured eyes at me. “How can I eat when Abdul has pushed me away?! He has been discharged and I «m not allowed to see him. I can’t hold him or take care of him.” Tears slipped from her eyes down her cheeks then, and my heart broke. “He won’t forgive me Muslimah. I don’t know why, but he refuses to.”

“He will Jemima. He only needs time to sort through his feelings. I am sure he still loves you.” I said.

Jemima shook her head. “I doubt that. He doesn’t love me anymore. And I can’t blame him, afterall it’s my fault he’s paralysed. He may never be able to teach his son how to play football or run around with him and it’s all my doing!”

Hadiza’s voice was soothing. “Don’t say that Jemima. The accident would have happened, anyway. Whether he was going to work or someplace else. It wasn’t your fault. Allah has a reason for everything. We only have to exercise patience and trust Him.”

I rolled my eyes. Abdul had become a cripple. Jemima was alone and on the brink of divorce. I failed to see the ‘grand plan’ in all of this.

“You may tell me differently, but I know within me that I had a hand in it. He was on the road that night to bring me back home… arghhhhh!” Jemima screamed.

Panicked and scared half to death, the tray clattered to the floor. “What is it?”

Hadiza pointed to the floor in front of Jemima. Liquid had begun to pool in between her legs. My mind raced. Did this mean the baby was coming? Is this how a new life is brought into the world?

Jemima was panting, grunting, and crying at once. I stood transfixed to the spot, barely registering Hadiza trying to get Jemima up. How she could be so calm and in control was a mystery to me.

“Muslimah, help me with her,” Hadiza said with enough force to bring me out of my trance. Fast as a flash, I joined her in bringing Jemima to her waiting car downstairs.


I was scared for Jemima. We had received no news since she had been wheeled into the birthing room over three hours ago. The reception was empty save for us, which I felt was a good thing. I had no idea if it was supposed to take this long. I would have asked Hadiza, but her pacing was wearing me out. Perhaps I was no better, with my fidgeting and nail-biting. I looked to my right where Hajia and Abdul waited. Hajia stood right behind Abdul’s wheelchair. I could tell he was trying to appear calm, yet his hands trembled slightly on his chair’s armrest. I felt a wave of pity for Abdul, unable to imagine what he must be enduring.

It had been a shock to see him immobile for the first time. Nevertheless, I was glad he had shown up. I had been afraid he wouldn’t. When I’d made the call to inform him about Jemima being in labour and asking for him, I had been unsure. But he had calmly replied that he’d be there.

Unfortunately, he and Hajia had arrived minutes after Jemima had been wheeled into the birthing room and the doctors had refused to allow him in given his situation.

I steered my thoughts away from Abdul and focused on Hadiza, who was still pacing. I went to join her and at the same time, one of the doctors appeared at the reception. All of us crowded around him immediately.

“How’s she, doctor?” Abdul asked.

The doctor grinned. “Congratulations sir. Your wife has given birth to a baby boy. She and the baby are doing very well.”


Abdul clapped. Hajia and Hadiza made sujood. I jumped up in joy, happy that nothing had gone wrong. Glad that at least God had come through for my friend.

He may yet come through for you Muslimah.

I ignored that infernal voice in my head in favour of searching for my ringing phone. I doubted God would come through for me. He never had and probably never will.

I excused myself from the merriments inside to take the call from Kamaal. At least he was someone that was coming through for me. I smiled.

“Kamaal, what’s up?”

“Assalamu alaykum, Muslimah. I have news for you.”

“Waalaykumsalam. Really?” I asked, nervous. “Did something happen to the plan?”

“Yes and No.” Kamaal exhaled before replying. “Prof Jaiye died this morning. Of a heart attack. Reports say he was on his way to school when he slumped against the steering wheel. His car swerved and hit an electric pole. He died on the spot.”

Time stood still. Everything appeared to be happening in slow motion. My brain refused to register what Kamaal was telling me. Prof Jaiye had died. He was dead.



How come?

Muslimah are you still there? Talk to me.

My phone had since slipped from my nerveless fingers and had dropped to the ground with a clatter. I felt relieved. Like a weight had been lifted off of me. I smiled. Then giggled until it morphed into full-blown laughter. I knew I shouldn’t be feeling this way about the death of another human being, but Prof Jaiye was no ordinary human being. He had fancied himself a ‘god’. Unbeatable. Untouchable.

Prof Jaiye had thought he had won yet knew not that the time had come for him to leave this earth.

Yes, Prof Jaiye’s been beaten. Touched by the one true God, his creator. Allah has come through for you Muslimah, wouldn’t you agree? A thousand manifolds. From whence you never expected. Isn’t that what you’ve always wanted? What you’ve craved all these years? Do the needful, before it’s too late for you too.

The words formed in my mind, weaving a path from my throat up to the tip of my tongue. I moved my lips, to bring forth the sound. To say the words I had refused to speak for a long time. The words that acknowledged the might of the One God. The words that were a source of redemption for me,

My lips moved finally, wet with the torrent of tears my eyes were shedding.

“Allahu Akbar.”

It rolled off my tongue like silk.




Welcome Him into your heart, Muslimah. It’s been long overdue.


Allahu Akbar! Alhamdulillah! Finally Muslimah submits, finally!

Book one of the trilogy comes to an end at over 60k words strong. Alhamdulillah. I want to say Jazaakumullahu khayran to every one of you for going on this journey with me. For taking out time to read. For your likes, comments, and shares. For your unflinching support. Thank you.

See you soon!

P.S Has anyone got any ideas for the title of the trilogy? I’ll be reading your suggestions!



10 thoughts on “TURMOIL- 39”

  1. Popoola Mujidat

    You’re an awesome writer to have kept me glued till the last line.

    Baarakallahu feekum

    Hmmm…. Stiffed tongue

  2. SubhanaLlah! It’s finally completed! And I love the trilogy idea.

    I need to go through the story again to give an idea of a title for the trilogy.

    You’re amazing, Sister.

    Thank you for sharing your anazingness with us. ❤

    1. You’re amazing for reading and supporting me from the beginning until this point

  3. Maashaa Allah
    Excellently woven
    Lots of lessons there in…
    More grace Sister.
    BaarakalLAHU feeh Aameen

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