Forever More

“Mallam Junaidu, ina rokan ka kayi sauri. Please drive faster. I'll miss the test.” Yasmin urged, slumping against the car seat as the old man nodded hastily. Her phone buzzed, distracting her from the bustling road. “Amrah! Are you in school, babes?” she chirped.

“I am in the car behind you. And we are cooked!” Amrah’s soft laugh echoed through the phone. “There’s a seminar today in my faculty. Ya Khalifa and Ya Mubarak are on their way. You know what that means!”

Yasmin groaned loudly. “Babe, prepare for my funeral. My dad is going to kill me!” Her words were abruptly cut off as Mallam Junaidu slammed on the brakes. Her Goyard tote bag slid down the seat, and she let out a startled hiss. “Mallam Junaidu, lafiya? What happened?”

The old man turned, his eyes locked on something ahead. “Hajiya...” His words trailed off as the sound of loud sirens filled the air. Yasmin’s eyes widened. “Am... Amr...” she stuttered, her voice barely above a whisper. Amrah’s gasp was loud and dramatic, even through the phone. “Babe, join me in the funeral plans.”

The call dropped. A convoy of black-tinted cars – Rolls Royces, G-Wagons, and Prados – drove into the school, accompanied by army trucks. The plate numbers all carried the same initials, ones that Yasmin had grown up with. A sense of foreboding settled in the pit of her stomach.