The Gala Night
The ballroom of the Transcorp Hilton shimmered under crystal chandeliers. Politicians, businessmen, and their wives moved in circles of power, their laughter polished, their conversations heavy with influence.
Tonight’s charity gala was meant to raise funds for orphans — a noble cause, but also a stage for wealth to display itself.
Abuja Marriage By Fatima Zahra Umar
Maryam Bello stood quietly near the edge of the hall. At thirty-eight, she had long mastered the art of being present without becoming spectacle.
Her deep green gown was modest but elegant, her scarf pinned neatly, her eyes calm as she listened more than she spoke. Since her divorce, Maryam had chosen dignity over noise, her life now centered on her art gallery and her faith.
She was not here to be noticed. But she was noticed all the same.
Across the room, Sadiq Ibrahim Danjuma watched her with an intensity that unsettled even him.
At twenty-four, he was already a billionaire — the youngest in Nigeria. His empire stretched across oil, real estate, and technology. He was handsome, adored, and endlessly pursued. Tonight, women younger than him hovered nearby, laughing too loudly, trying to draw his attention.
But he did not see them. He only saw her.
The auctioneer lifted the next item — a painting of an almajiri boy bent over a slate beneath the glow of a streetlight. A portrait of determination. Maryam lifted her paddle quietly, her heart tied to the work’s message.
Before another bid could rise, Sadiq’s deep voice carried through the microphone.
“Ten million.”
The room fell into murmurs. Heads turned. Sadiq stood effortlessly confident in a finely cut kaftan, his gaze fixed not on the painting — but on Maryam.
The auctioneer, delighted, tried to continue. “Do I hear—”
“Let it go to the lady,” Sadiq said, his voice calm, decisive.
A ripple of whispers filled the ballroom. All eyes swung to Maryam, who felt her cheeks warm under the sudden spotlight. She inclined her head politely, her lips forming a quiet “thank you.” She neither smiled nor looked at him again.
Maryam is The Only Woman Who Captured My Heart, Changed my life–IBB
The event carried on, but the air shifted. Whispers traveled like fire: Who is she? Why her?
When the auction ended, Maryam glanced across the room — but Sadiq was gone. No words, no approach, no intrusion. He had disappeared as suddenly as he had entered her life.
It was only later, as she sat in her car outside her home, that her phone lit up with an unfamiliar number. For a moment, she hesitated. Then she answered.
“Assalamu alaikum, Hajiya Maryam,” the voice was deep, steady, unmistakable.
She froze, her breath caught. “…Wa alaikumus salam. Who is this?”
A soft pause, then: “Sadiq Ibrahim Danjuma. I didn’t want to disturb you at the gala. But I could not leave tonight without introducing myself.”
Her pulse quickened. Silence stretched between them, thick with the weight of what had already begun.
And in that silence, Maryam knew — this was no ordinary man’s attention. This was a storm at her doorstep.
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