Imperial Niqqah

Prologue - Life of KAK

A/n - Hello there, just a heads-up;  all this is from my head, so if anything doesn't correspond with the facts, it's made-up. I'll be explaining any other details as I go on. Btw I'm a Nigerian Muslim so be rest assured that this won't be your regular Muslim novel. Enjoy!

"Agent Kassim, please report to the autopsy room. The body will arrive in ten minutes." A voice from the office phone filled the quiet office beside the prayer room.

"On my way sir." Came my reply.

I wiped my mouth and went to the bathroom to wash my hands and face. My dark, tired eyes steed back at me, the brown looking even darker with the presence of exhaustion in them.

  I began fixing my look because Lord knows I looked messy. Once my bun was fixed, my veil secured comfortably on my head and no hair was peeping out. I'm smoothed out my button up shirt, applied lip balm and walked out.

I grabbed my bag and breathed deeply. I loved my job, but sometimes having to work with blood from a corpse while running on no sleep and five cups of coffee can be a bit overwhelming. I steeled myself and made my way to the autopsy room.

"Khadijah! Wait for me please!"

I turned to see the only other person who's skin was as darker than mine as well as my best friend.

"Hurry up then Hafsah. I want to get this over with so we can go home and rest."

"Yes yes, I know. I wonder what kind of body we'll be working with today."

I shook my head. For someone who can barely talk above a whisper in front of a crowd and screams when she sees a dog taller than her knee, she's surprisingly comfortable and even happy around dead bodies.

I look down at her with a tired smile as she went on about what she'd heard concerning the body we'd be working with. However the only thoughts in my head were what to eat and how the heck she performs surgery with an Abaya and almost never get it stained or even trip on it.

She was wearing a dark blue abaya with navy blue wedges. She looked exhausted like me despite her excitement, though I couldn't blame her. She had been working all day and was now about to go into an 11-hour surgery.

As we walked to the autopsy room together, I got a call. It was my Father. My groan echoed through the mostly empty halls.

"Uncle Kassim calling?" Hafsah giggled. I glared at her while taking out my phone. I sent him a text saying I'd call him later then turned off my phone

"Just when I thought I'd finally be getting a break, my Dad decides that's the perfect time to ruin my day." I said.

Hafsah consoled me as we walked into the autopsy room and got our scrubs on. Despite surgery not being my field, I'd been working with Hafsah and other surgeons long enough to be able to assist in diagnosis outside of blood analysis.

I did my best to push the thought of speaking to my Father to the back of my head. Ever since I got to New York six years ago he's been breathing down my throat even more than when I was in Kuwait with him. The pressure to be successful was quite of a pain.

11 hours later and we had another successful autopsy. The results would be sent to the medical unit while a copy was sent to the team working on the case and we got the weekend off. After cleaning up, I decided to call my dad while I was still too tired to even think about being pissed.

"Assalamu Alaikum Father."

"Wa Alaikum Salam Khadijah. I'm sure you are busy so I'll be quick. Tomorrow we'll come to New York to celebrate your birthday with you."