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"Queening is the courage to define and see yourself as the highest form you can be."
— Mitta Xinindlu
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"Kings and Queens aren't made from smooth sailing. They fight, they struggle, they take what's theirs, they survive—and when they fall, they rise again."
— Marion Bekoe
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MiMie's Monologue:
I woke up,
into a world where everything about me felt… misplaced.
Not broken. Not wrong.
Just different in a way this society didn't quite know what to do with.
People here, in Yola town, like to whisper about how girls are supposed to be—soft, pastel, predictable and humble. They'd tell me pink and purple were "girly colors," like it was a rule written on the walls of the universe.
But I always gravitated toward blue. Sometimes black. Colors that didn't apologize for existing.
My mom used to say I was born under circumstances that were "special"—unexpected, a little wild, and brighter than anything her family had seen. Her family was famous in Yola for their beauty, and she loved to tell me I was the most beautiful baby they'd ever welcomed. People would literally stop her on the street just to look at me.
But beauty never mattered to me.
Not in the way they expected it to.
Growing up, I didn't like dolls or anything "girly," but I didn't fit in with the boys either. I wasn't built for categories. I loved art, puzzles, anime, and those thriller–mystery movies from my dad's collection that I definitely wasn't supposed to watch. I made my own worlds when the real one felt too small.
And even when I was young, I could read people—their moods, their fears, the words they swallowed. It was like standing in a room full of open books.
Sometimes my mom would look at me with this warm, glowing pride.
But other times… she looked scared.
One afternoon, when I was only 9 years old, I sat beside her working on a puzzle when she finally let that fear slip through.
"So much light… so much potential…" she whispered, her fingers brushing my cheek as if checking that I was real. "I fear this society will try to squash every bit of it out of you, MaiJiddah."
I looked up at her, startled by the sadness in her eyes.
The weight of something bigger than me seemed to settle over both of us.
"With the norms and culture here, in Yola town" she continued, "it's hard for a girl to succeed without marriage being the center of her life. Girls marry early. And when they do, many lose their identity. Their potential disappears into the background."
I frowned.
"But Mom… you and Dad turned out okay. You're equals, no! no!!, that's not the word I want to use, Ehm… I mean there is Equity between you two, I mean, You're a team, You compliment each other as the two halves, You love each other beyond anything, I can feel it, because that same love was the one both me and my siblings feel, protecting us, everywhere we go, some times like a cloud covering the scorching sun, sometimes like a warm blanket in a cold night, at least that's how I usually imagine and feel, with my little 9 year old brain."
Her expression shifted instantly—fear melting into that bright smile she saved only for us.
"Yes, you're right, baby girl. Your father and I are a team. But we learned that the hard way. We were the exception. We fought the norms and we paid for it."
She ran her fingers through my dark hair, messing it up playfully.
"You're only 9, but you understand things like an adult. That scares me. This society doesn't know what to do with a girl like you."
But sitting beside her, I felt safe—like nothing in the world could touch me.
"I just want you to become whoever you want to be," she whispered. "And I will fight anyone who tries to take that away."
I turned to her quickly.
"But Mum, both you and Dad won't ever let anything bad happen to me or my brothers and sisters, right?"
She didn't even blink.
"Of course not. We love you all too much. Nothing will ever happen to you."
Her voice trembled on ever, but I was too young to understand why.
⸻
Tahir's House
A few days later, everything in my life felt calm again—at least on the surface.
We were going to Tahir's house for a family get-together, something that always made my chest flutter with a warmth I couldn't explain, to see my one and only Childhood friend.
And then there he was.
Tahir.
My childhood bestfriend who somehow felt like more than a friend, even though we were too young to name whatever existed between us. He stood a few paces away, waving at me, one hand in his pocket, the other brushing through the air like a soft invitation.
His greyish-blue eyes glowed under the daylight—the kind of eyes people remembered. The kind that made you wonder what secrets lived behind them.
"Yo… hey… MiMie," he called out.
I swear my heart did this weird sparkly thing, and suddenly I was hopping toward him like someone had filled me with helium.
"Hey, Tahir," I beamed.
"I have missed you… so very much."
He looked away, pretending to be shy, though I could practically hear his heartbeat from where I stood.
"Hmm… really? Well… I missed you just a bit."
I gasped dramatically and punched his shoulder, playful and accusing.
"Liar! Liar! Pants on fire! You missed me so much more, and you know it!"
"No, I don't," he said, still acting. "I only missed my cat, Missy."
He rubbed his shoulder like my punch had nearly sent him to the ER.
I burst into laughter.
"Speaking of which—where is she? I thought you were bringing her over," he asked.
"Ehm… about that…"
I started laughing again, because the story was ridiculous.
"My mom said I can't. I forgot to fix her kitten box, and her nails were so long she was scratching everyone. I think the real reason is she scratched my mom twice last night and ran off to my room."
"Seriously?" Tahir laughed with me.
"Anyway, what are we going to do first?"
He perked up instantly.
"Well… my dad bought me a brand-new PlayStation. I was waiting for you to help me unbox it."
"What?? Really?! Let's go!"
We walked together through the hallway when I suddenly paused.
"Wait. Weren't you excited about that PlayStation since midterm break? Why didn't you open it the moment they bought it?"
Tahir scratched his neck shyly.
"Hmm… well… what's the point? You weren't here. All the exciting moments are better when you are next to me."
A strange warmth spread through my chest.
"Awwwn… really?"
I turned away from the hallway lights so he wouldn't see how red my face had become.
"Yeah," he said casually. "Let's go. I bought the car racing game you said you liked."
"You bought Crash?! I love Crash!"
We entered his gaming room—his lair.
Shelves of gadgets. A huge flat-screen TV. Two curved monitors. A VR set. A mini fridge. Snack bar. A room built for joy.
"Malik came the other day," Tahir continued. "He begged me to unbox the PlayStation. I told him I was waiting for you. He said he'd join us later."
"Oh really? So he came back from vacation?"
"Hmm… you can say that. But not really."
"What do you mean?"
My stomach tightened. A memory of Malik's older brother flashed through my mind.
"Muktar snitched on him. Lied about him. Their parents believed their golden child, over Malik of course… as usual. So Malik stayed behind with his grandma as punishment."
"Wait… seriously? That's awful."
I crushed the bubble wrap in my hands, furious.
"He told me he was so excited."
"Yeah. The golden child never tells the truth, but they believed him anyway."
Tahir was connecting cables when the door suddenly exploded open—
And trouble walked in.
⸻
The Gaming Room incident
AyMan slammed the door so hard the walls echoed.
"Hey… loser," he spat toward Tahir.
Then his eyes landed on me, scanning me slowly.
"Oh hey, MaiJiddah. Didn't know you were here."
I exhaled sharply. "Hi, Ayman."
"Oh, sorry," he added mockingly. "I forgot you preferred MiMie, right?"
Tahir clenched his hand, knuckles cracking softly.
"Yo… what do you want?" he asked flatly.
The air thickened instantly.
I could read the shift in his posture, the tension in his jaw.
Trouble—inevitable, heavy—had entered the room.
AyMan strutted forward.
"Hahaha… relax. I came to launch the new PlayStation with you and…"
He paused, turned to me, smirked.
"And her."
"Dad bought one for you. Go play yours," Tahir said, voice sharp.
Ayman laughed.
"Nah. I want to play with yours. Gimme that."
He grabbed the controller.
Tahir didn't budge.
I sensed the escalation rising like a storm. To diffuse it, I offered Ayman the controller in my hand.
He tilted his head and flashed me a death-stare—seeing right through what I was doing.
Then he smirked again.
He didn't want the controller.
He wanted to take anything Tahir valued.
Including me… of which he tried but I couldn't give him the time of day.
He vowed to torment Tahir every chance he gets…
That was his favorite game.
And then—he shoved Tahir.
Hard.
Tahir crashed backward into the stand that holds his headsets, the shelves collapsing, gadgets breaking beneath him.
My heart plunged.
Not fear for myself, but for him.
Ayman didn't hesitate. He stalked toward me, grabbing the controller from my hand so aggressively it nearly snapped. He winked at me.
Then he turned back to Tahir.
"My poor little bro," he mocked. "Did you accidentally jam into your headsets?"
He moved closer, "That's right, because of you, Dad had to shut down that Program, for the perfect heir, the perfect human, My birthright… You think you have any right being happy in this house, with your friends. ? Hhahah, as long as I am round, forget about peace and entertainment with your friends."
He added few steps closer to Tahir.
He swung the controller high—
My breath caught—
He threw it.
It smashed against the wall behind Tahir with a violent BANG, shattering into scattered buttons across the tiles.
I gasped.
But Tahir didn't flinch.
Ayman suddenly stepped back.
He knew that expression.
Everyone did.
The moment Tahir went blank…
He became dangerous.
He moved faster than anyone his age had any right to.
He leaped forward, feigned a high kick, flipped midair, and struck Ayman's inner knee.
Ayman collapsed instantly, hitting the floor with a painful yell as his head slammed against the door.
He rolled out into the hallway.
Tahir grabbed my arm—
We had to run.
Before I knew it, I was already sprinting. Tahir followed, delivering one last kick to Ayman's ribs as we passed, sending him rolling again.
We thundered upstairs, laughing breathlessly even though we both knew we were in trouble. But running with him always felt like freedom.
"Let's hide in my Dad's study," Tahir said.
We rushed into the study—quiet despite the gathering happening in the house—then slipped toward the far end.
Toward the room behind the shelves.
The secret library.
The door was locked, secured with a passcode.
Tahir typed it in.
A soft click—red light turning green.
We jumped inside and locked it behind us.
Outside… silence.
Inside… we finally breathed.
——————-
Inside The Secret Library
The moment the heavy door sealed shut behind us, the world outside faded.
Silence wrapped around us—thick, dusty, ancient silence—broken only by the sound of our unsteady breathing.
Tahir leaned against the wall, catching his breath.
I rested my hands on my knees, laughing through the adrenaline still buzzing in my veins.
Then, slowly, the panic slipped away.
And the awe settled in.
The secret library was nothing like the main study.
It felt older.
Holier.
Shelves stretched impossibly high, filled with books rare enough to belong in museums—books sealed in glass cases, books with covers older than our grandparents, books whose dust carried centuries in their scent.
We both straightened up, our eyes adjusting to the soft golden lights.
And then we started laughing again—quiet this time, almost in disbelief.
"Seriously, what is wrong with your brother?"
Tahir brushed off his clothes.
"Hmm… well… believe me when I say this— to my dad, he is more normal than me"
"Ooh… actually… I think it's true," I teased. "Ayman is more normal. For his age at least."
"Hahaha. Funny," he muttered, rolling his eyes.
"I'm serious. He acts like a child—which he is. But you don't act like a child… and neither do I."
"Hmm… as long as you include yourself, then I don't mind."
"Okay, so what was he blabbering about regarding a program, an heir or his birthright" I asked, rising and drifting toward the huge glass enclosure at the center of the room.
"Hmm well, regarding what he said about program and heir," he paused, stared at the neon lights "He is just talking about him taking over Dad's empire, as the first son, you know, his birthright and whatnot."
He walked slowly, like someone slipping back into old memories he'd buried.
The dusty smell of ancient pages clung to everything.
I worked past him then said " Oh really now, doesn't he know that you don't care about your Dad's empire?, seriously though, what's wrong with him, isn't he like too young to even be thinking about such things."
"Hmm, well beats me, I have no idea why he is like that"
We drifted deeper into the shelves, fingertips tracing the spines of books older than both our families combined.
"Seriously though, being normal is overrated," I said, moving down another aisle.
"Hmm… of course it is," he answered, lifting a book with a blue woolly cover. "But being mediocre is underrated too."
I turned, confused. "What do you mean? Mediocrity is as normal as it gets."
"Nahh…" He exhaled. "Mediocrity is peaceful when you accept it. I always wanted to be mediocre. To fit in."
I paused at the next shelf.
"You and I both know we'll never fit in. And we definitely don't have the privilege of being mediocre."
The heaviness of that truth settled over both of us like dust.
My eyes drifted over the shelves until I found a book that looked ancient—really ancient—its reddish leather cover cracked like old skin, its spine warped by time.
My demeanor shifted instantly.
"Tahir, come and see this book," I called. "It's so ancient and old… it looks like my grandpa. The old hag."
My fists clenched.
Anger stirred like a spark beneath my ribs.
Tahir reached me immediately—he always knew when my mood changed.
"Hmm… you mean your namesake—Granpa Jiddah," he said lightly, trying to ease the tension.
But my chest felt tight.
"Who else but the raggedy vampire who sucks life force out of my parents?"
The words shot out before I could stop them, and I slammed my hands against the glass.
Tahir stepped closer, voice soft but firm.
"Ooh okay… hey… get over here. Let's move away from the glasses, Mimi."
"Why do they hate my mom so much?" I whispered. "Why?"
He sighed—a long, tired, knowing sigh.
"Hmm… it's annoying, to see old people with supposed wisdom, acting as if they lack such…" Tahir also clench his fist hard. Then continued
"I think they hate her because they're backwards, stuck in old rules and culture. Just like my grandparents hate my sweet mom. They think both our moms stole their sons. 'Enchanted' them. Made them break cultural norms. Caused them to Elope, ran off to a foreign country, got married without their parents blessings, stayed for years, before coming back to Yola."
He sounded frustrated.
Almost defeated.
We stood there for a minute or so, both of us frustrated, even though we were only children and we couldn't understand everything and don't actually know what actually happened.
Few minutes later
We drifted toward the reading table beneath the neon lights overhead.
I lifted my hand to the glow above us.
"Imagine being named after both my paternal grandparents," I muttered. "Granma Hauwa. Granpa Jiddah. Hence… Hauwa Mai-Jiddah. A name given to appease them, but still in vain. That's why I preferred the name my mom calls me—Mimi."
Tahir nodded slowly.
"MiMie… you know we're in the same boat. As you already know, my given name was Salman. To appease them. But I strongly dislike that name. So I took my maternal grandpa's name. My dad tried to make me stop using it at school. But I didn't."
He clenched his fist toward the neon light.
I stood up and walked toward him.
"Tahir… thanks for always understanding me. For being there whenever I need someone…
Someone who actually gets it.
Someone who understands me.
The real Me…"
He looked at me with a soft smile that made my heart hitch.
I quickly looked away, cheeks growing warm.
"It's like you were truly sent to be by my side," I whispered.
"Hmm… Of course I'm here," he answered immediately, then continued "We've been placed in this situation from the start. May be its destiny or fate, or may be it's just random. But either way, it's perfect, to be the person next to you. It's the only reality I can relate to. And you are the reality I want to live with, throughout my childhood and beyond.
So it's me and you, MiMie. Against all of them. It's always going to be like that."
My throat tightened.
"Tahir… then promise me. No matter what the circumstances… whenever one of us needs the other, we'll always be there."
I extended my right pinky toward him, the neon lights turning my skin pink.
He looked at me—really looked—then brought forward his own pinky.
"Well… as long as you promise the same."
He hooked his pinky with mine.
"Then it's me and you against everyone. To infinity and beyond."
And right there, in the center of the dusty secret library, beneath soft neon lights and shelves full of forgotten worlds—the promise of a lifetime was made.
After that, the heaviness slowly lifted.
We wandered again, laughing at random book titles, making weird jokes only we understood.
Then I froze—eyes wide, a spark of excitement lighting me up from within.
"Hey! This is it! This can explain why you've got such beautiful greyish-blue eyes!"
Tahir came over, not even needing to look.
"Let me guess… you're on page 111, where they explain the Waardenburg Syndrome."
I stared at him.
"Well… yeah. Damn. I thought your photographic memory would be full by now."
"Nahh. I read almost every book in this room… the last book I read from here was eleven months ago."
"So… does this explain your condition?" I asked, genuinely curious.
"Nahh. Do you see me with a hearing aid?"
"Hmm… not really."
"Didn't you read it properly? It's a syndrome. Comes with hearing loss."
"Oh… yeah. Here it is." I flipped the page. "But what about albinism—haha, silly me. You're no albino."
"Like I told you before… recessive gene. One in thousands. Rare, but nothing special."
"Well, to me it is," I murmured.
"I love your eyes."
He looked away immediately.
"Don't look at me like that…"
"Hahahaha! Somebody is blushing."
But while I teased him, he drifted toward another shelf—one holding a tall, dusty book covered in blue fur-like leather.
His entire demeanor changed.
The title read:
"The Optimum Human Program."
He froze.
Completely.
His fingers trembled as he pulled it down, wiped the dust, and stared at the title like it was a ghost wearing his childhood.
He began flipping pages.
Shadows fell across his face.
His memories—his painful ones—seemed to crawl out of the book like smoke.
Training. Drills. Mental quizzes. The pressure carved into his bones.
A vivid painful Memory of him, his brother being trained rigorously by so many instructors including their father, training that lasted for over few years since he turned 4 years, till 5 months ago, Tahir can hear the conviction on his fathers words from memory.
"In order to mold you into the perfect specimens, in order to turn you into an Optimum Human, with vast capabilities, be limitless, for the sake of this Family, I will do whatever it takes, to make sure at least one of you is strong enough to lead My vastly rich and powerful empire one day… so you must master all these skills and techniques, my children, no matter how painful it is… I will have an heir worthy of …"
Without warning, he threw the book across the room.
It hit the floor with a deep thud.
I turned sharply.
"Tahir… are you okay?"
"What? Ehm… yeah. I… I am."
But he wasn't.
He kicked the book under the shelf, shoving the memory away.
I walked closer.
"Tahir… what are you hiding?"
"Nothing," he said too quickly.
"I just found a book from my early childhood. Reminiscing. About beautiful memories."
I frowned—but before I could question him further—
He stiffened.
"Shhhh…"
Footsteps.
Voices.
Four distinct adult voices.
My heart lurched.
Our parents.
We were trapped inside the secret room.
Tahir scanned the wall, searching his memory.
He found a switch beneath the table, flipped it, and a panel lifted—revealing a huge one-way glass pane.
A surveillance window.
And on the other side… were our parents.
Sitting at the main study table.
Four documents in front of them.
"What… is this?" I gasped.
Tahir whispered, "My dad's secret room controls."
A speaker crackled.
His father's voice filled the air.
"So we are all in agreement, right?"
I held my breath.
MiMie's mom:
"Are we sure this is the only way to break the cycle and ensure our children's future?"
Tahir's mom:
"Yes. We have to be sure… before making such a decision."
MiMie's dad:
"There is no other way. So let's agree."
They all nodded—four parents sealing something none of us asked for.
Tahir's dad continued:
"Let's sign these legally binding wills. On this day, 19th September, 2015, The Families Alwaleed Salman of the Salman empire, and that of Abd_Ghani Jiddah of the Jiddah Group, Hereby Make a pact, a will, an Oath, That on 19th September, 2031… we will marry two of our children from each family to two from the other."
My breath broke.
My heart froze.
My mom's voice cracked:
"My MiMie is going to marry Ayman? Why not Salman? She is closer to Salman than anyone… they care about each other."
Tahir's mom answered:
"Because Ayman is older. He will be more mature for MiMie, by that time he will be 27 years, And MiMie will be 25 years, Just like Tahir."
My stomach twisted.
Tahir's dad added:
"And Tahir will marry MiMie's younger sibling, Amreen, who will be 23 years"
My dad's voice was steady:
"Then it is settled. Even after our deaths, this decision is set in stone, in other to save them, in other to save the two empires, this arrangement should happen"
My mom whispered, while wiping tears from her eyes:
"I hope they understand one day. I hope they forgive us. We just want to free them from societal pressure and cultural expectations, hence free them from both of our parents influence"
And with that—
All four parents signed the wills, made the pact, took the oath.
Binding us.
Deciding our futures.
Without ever asking us.
I felt the world tilt beneath my feet.
Tahir stood frozen beside me.
The question echoed between us like thunder:
What will we do now?
Follow their decision?
Or keep the promise we just made moments ago?
"we promised 'me and you against everyone.
But now… that everyone… included our own parents."
To me… watching this felt like a nightmare slowly solidifying into reality.
And
I couldn't wake up.