They say gullibility is the undoing of the innocent, but Zahra always thought it was her greatest virtue; she could always live free without worrying over unnecessary thorns on her path. Sixteen and full of life, she is not to know the trials that await her as she smiles eagerly into the most beautiful eyes she ever saw... Question is; how long would it take to be broken by a narcissist whose ego threatens her very sanity? Sharif Adam is the perfect definition of a poop in a golden cup. Handsome with a gentle face, his striking physical feature would deceive the most intelligent of women. Within his comfort zone, he is meaner than the meanest mean person. When he gives a limit, you don't cross it. To cross it would mean to leave forever...

*Could you ever love a broken person?* "I understand that you're broken," he said as he lifted her chin so she stared directly into his eyes. "But I want you to understand that it is my job to restore the happiness you lost. I am your husband now, Afrah. And it is my responsibility to make you happy. So that is my mission from now until the end of time." Afrah stared down at her hands, feeling as though her soul was being wrenched from her body. She couldn't look him in the eye. Not after what she had gone through. Not when she still saw the devil in his eyes. * It is said that the most painful wounds leave the deepest scars. No one could attest to that more than Afrah Aminu. For eleven years she's kept a secret to herself, knowing that she might never be able to tell anyone. Not that she wanted to. But now, with the sudden arrival of a strange man in her life, she finds herself thrown into the terrifying situation of having to relive it all. As he tears down each and every wall she has set up around her heart, the memories of that haunting night come crashing in waves. Will she be able to survive it? Or will she be crushed underneath its weight?

#1 in Sultan, more times than I can count. "Promise me, promise me oh brother, that you will take care of Sultan, promise me you will rule this Empire justly and truthfully in my absence. Promise me you will guard the throne for him, and when he reaches the age of 21, promise me you will marry a righteous woman for him and make him Emir."

Salamatu smiled and scoffed, her signature evil gesture. This was not the first time her husband Mallam Garba was bringing a new wife into their home and she was sure it's not going to be the last, but what she was most certain about is that, this new wife, just like the 18 others that left before her, would not live to tell the story in Garba's house. A dramatic polygamous household, awestruck and humor filled rollercoaster.

Fahad: 16, The Ambitious Zafreen: 14, The Independent Nadia: 12, The Naive Baariq: 14, The Fierce Hinad: 5, The Lovable Alamin: 5, The Exotic Sameera: 8, The Rebel Kamil: 7, The Genius Farhana: 6, The Realist Ayman: 7, The Challenged Habiba: 10, The Responsible Aairah: 4, The Sweet Zainab 3, The innocent Marjan: 2, The Inquisitive Ihsan: 1, The Spirited Fifteen lives, all so different, yet bound together by fate in a knot that cannot be undone... "You must have met so many families, yet none as unique as ours"

The sound of the shattering glass sent a chill down my spine, forcing me to withdraw deeper into the corner where I was tucked in. "Mansur, please stop. At least for Aaliyah's sake." I begged, the tears streaming down my cheeks. He swung around to face me, his eyes blazing with rage. "To hell with you and that bloody girl." he yelled. Do you hear me, Salma? To HELL with you and her. This is my house, and I can do whatever I want." he yelled, throwing the bottle at my dressing mirror. The glass shattered all over the room, the larger pieces landing on some of the bottles on the drawer beside the dressing mirror in which I kept my incense sticks. This caused them to shatter as well, the glass falling everywhere across the room. I could hear Aaliyah crying in the next room, but I could not go to her as Mansur was blocking the door. "You will learn your place today." he yelled, unbuckling his belt. I shut my eyes as the tears continued to flow, knowing all too well what came next. The first strike was always the one that hurt most.