Desert Winds
Ayokemi, a vibrant Nigerian woman in her late twenties, is reeling from heartbreak. Just two weeks after a painful breakup with her longtime boyfriend, she is shattered to discover he’s already married — a union hastily arranged after her father refused to bless their relationship. Betrayed and emotionally drained, Ayokemi makes an impulsive decision to leave Nigeria and clear her head. She books a trip to Dubai, hoping the unfamiliar sands of the desert will bring her peace and perspective.
In Dubai, on a solo desert safari adventure, fate intervenes. While juggling her lunch during a bumpy camel ride, she accidentally spills her food — right onto a stranger. Embarrassed, she rushes to clean it up, only to be gently stopped by the man. He's calm, composed, and surprisingly kind. She doesn't know who he is, and he doesn’t say much, but his regal air and magnetic presence leave her unsettled — in a good way.
A few days later, while walking through a luxury district, a sleek car pulls up beside her. The window rolls down, and to her shock, it’s the same man — only this time, he introduces himself: the Crown Prince of Dubai.
Curious and amused by their unusual encounter, the Prince offers her a ride. During the drive, they talk — about where she's from, what she does (a budding fashion designer), and why she came to Dubai. Their chemistry is instant, yet Ayokemi remains cautious, still bruised by her recent betrayal. But the Prince is gentle, persistent, and refreshingly down-to-earth. Eventually, she agrees to go on a date with him.
What follows are two whirlwind weeks of magic. They dine under the stars, explore the city’s hidden corners, and talk for hours about dreams, fears, and fate. For the first time in a long while, Ayokemi feels seen — not just as a woman, but as a soul.
On her final night in Dubai, emotions run high. As they share a passionate moment, love overcomes restraint. They make love — and as Ayokemi lies beside him, still caught between wonder and fear, she slips away before dawn, leaving behind nothing but a faint trace of blood on the sheets.
The Prince wakes to find her gone — and the blood tells him what she couldn’t. She was a virgin.
Stunned, then overwhelmed with emotion, he realizes he’s fallen for her — not just for her beauty or charm, but for her vulnerability, courage, and spirit. Her departure leaves him restless. He refuses to move on, delaying arranged royal marriage plans, and begins a quiet but determined search to find the woman who changed his life in just two weeks.
Two years have passed since Ayokemi left Dubai without a word. Now a mother to a mixed-race son named Malik, her life is a whirlwind of silent battles. Her family, proud and traditional, keep pressing her: Who is the father of your child? But Ayokemi remains silent — a mix of shame, stubborn pride, and heartbreak keeping the truth locked away. This wasn’t how she envisioned her life: unmarried, a single mother, and haunted by a man she can’t forget.
Her son, though, is the light of her life. With warm brown eyes and a royal calm about him, Malik carries an aura far beyond his years — something no one can explain.
Back in Dubai, the man she left behind — now His Highness, the new Ruler of Dubai — has spent years searching for the mystery woman who changed his life. With power now at his fingertips, he focuses on reforming trade relations and investing in promising African businesses. One such opportunity leads him to Nigeria — and to the doorstep of Ayokemi’s family, unknowingly.
Their company had been trying to get a royal investment for months, and finally, he agrees to a formal meeting at their Lagos office. There, he’s introduced to Ayokemi’s older brother. The moment he sees him, something stirs inside the Crown Prince. I’ve seen this face before, he thinks, but brushes it off as déjà vu.
The business meeting is a success. Impressed by their innovation and professionalism, he agrees to a strategic partnership. As a sign of goodwill, Ayokemi’s parents invite him to dinner at their family house.
Ayokemi is unaware and uninterested. She has no idea her past is about to walk right through her front door.
When the Crown Prince enters their elegant family home, he’s greeted warmly. The evening is full of laughter and toasts, until he wanders into their living room and pauses in front of a framed family photo. There she is — Ayokemi.
His heart stops.
He turns sharply and asks, “Who is this woman?”
Her father replies, “That’s our daughter, Ayokemi. Our last born.”
The Prince’s eyes widen in disbelief. He tells them everything — the desert safari, their two weeks together, the night she disappeared, the years he’s searched.
Shocked, her parents ask, “How long ago was this?”
“Two years,” he replies softly.
A long silence follows before her mother says gently, “You’re the father of her son.”
The room stills. The air thickens with stunned realization.
The Crown Prince stands frozen, a cocktail of joy and heartbreak washing over him. He has a son.
They tell him Ayokemi never revealed the father’s identity, and now they understand why. She had been protecting herself — and their child — from shame and rejection. Without telling Ayokemi, they begin to secretly arrange a reunion. Not just for her and the man she left behind, but also for the father to finally meet his son.
The arrangement was perfect. Too perfect.
Ayokemi had been invited to what she believed was a casual family dinner. No pressure. No drama. Just a chance to breathe outside the whirlwind of motherhood for one evening. But as she walked into the living room, her entire world tilted.
There he was.
The man she had spent two years trying to forget. The one who left an imprint on her soul that no time or distance had erased.
The Crown Prince — no, now the Ruler of Dubai — stood holding her son.
Ayokemi froze. Her heart thundered in her chest, panic rising like a wave. Tears welled up in her eyes before she could stop them. This can’t be real, she thought. Her knees nearly buckled beneath her.
He turned and saw her.
In that moment, time stood still. Their eyes locked — two people with a thousand unsaid words between them. He took a tentative step toward her, his hand reaching out instinctively. She stepped back.
“No,” she whispered, shaking her head, her voice tight with emotion.
But then his eyes dropped to the little boy in her arms. Malik, just two months shy of turning two, giggled joyfully, wrapping his tiny arms around the man who had unknowingly given him life. The Crown Prince held his son tightly, his hands trembling slightly, overwhelmed by the reality before him.
“Ayokemi,” he said softly, “he’s beautiful. He’s perfect.”
He looked back at her, his eyes glassy with emotion. “I never imagined I could be a father. But now that I am... I don’t want to live another day without him. Or you.”
She said nothing. Her mind was a storm — thoughts, regrets, anger, and buried affection crashing into each other all at once. She glanced at her parents, seeking answers, strength, something to hold on to. But they simply nodded, encouraging her silently with soft, knowing eyes.
The Prince knelt slightly, playing with Malik, laughing as the toddler tugged at his beard. The joy in his face was unmistakable. Raw. Pure. Real.
For thirteen long minutes, Ayokemi said nothing. She just watched — stunned, silent, and unable to comprehend that this moment was actually happening.
He stood slowly and faced her again. His voice low, reverent.
“I’ve waited for this moment every day for two years,” he said. “You disappeared, and I really didn’t have a way of contacting you. I searched everywhere... I couldn’t stop thinking about you. I never stopped loving you.”
She blinked, tears streaming now. She didn’t resist this time when he gently reached out and rubbed her shoulders. His touch was warm, familiar, careful.
“I’m sorry for that night,” he whispered. “I should’ve known. I should’ve waited. I was a fool. But if you give me the chance, I want to spend the rest of my life making it up to you — to both of you.”
Her lips parted, but no words came out. The tears spoke for her.
They sat together for over two hours, joined by her parents, speaking openly and honestly about the past, the pain, the future. There was no blame — only truth, longing, and healing.
And when he finally said the words — “I want you to be my wife” — it wasn’t a royal declaration. It was a man, deeply in love, asking for forgiveness, for a second chance, and for forever.
Back in his hotel suite, the Ruler of Dubai sat silently for a while, holding his son’s tiny blanket in his hand — still catching the faintest scent of Ayokemi’s perfume. It felt like a dream, yet everything was real. His heart was full, but he knew the road ahead wouldn’t be easy.
Later that evening, he called his mother. His father had passed years ago, but his mother, regal and wise, remained a pillar in his life.
“Mama,” he said softly over the phone. “There’s something you need to know. I’ve found her… the woman I told you about. And she has a son. My son.”
There was silence, and then a joyful gasp on the other end.
“You mean I have a grandson?” she exclaimed. “Oh, my dear son, Allah has blessed us. You must bring them home. Bring her and your son. Our family is not complete without them.”
The next day, he returned to Ayokemi’s family house with her parents and shared the news.
“My mother is overjoyed,” he said. “She wants you and Malik to come home with me. As my wife. As the mother of the future heir to Dubai.”
Her parents beamed with pride and gratitude. “This is a blessing,” her father said. “A second chance at life, Ayokemi.”
But she didn’t smile. She didn’t say a word. Her eyes turned cold, distant. She shook her head slowly, lips pressed tight.
“No.”
The word dropped like a stone in the room.
Her mother’s expression crumbled. “Ayokemi… why?”
“I can’t,” she said quietly, then louder. “I won’t. You all think this is a fairytale, but it’s not. I’ve been alone for two years — carrying shame, pain, and silence. He left me! He didn’t come after me. I didn’t even know what I was to him. And now he wants me to smile and walk into some royal palace like nothing ever happened?”
He tried to step closer, but she pulled back. “I don’t know what love is,” she snapped. “I’ve never been loved. Not really. So don’t ask me to pretend like I do now.”
Everyone tried to speak. To beg. To reason. But she stormed off, leaving behind a room full of confused, heartbroken faces.
That night, alone in her room, Ayokemi broke.
The tears came in waves, uncontrollable and loud. She hugged her pillow like it was the only anchor she had in a world that didn’t make sense. For years, she had built walls around her heart — thick, high walls meant to protect her. But now, the man she had loved and hated all at once was back, willing to give her everything, and she didn't know how to let herself feel again. Why does this hurt so much? she asked herself. Why does the thought of losing him again feel worse than being alone?
She didn’t sleep that night.
The next morning, after hours of silence and reflection, she made her decision.
She would go with him — not because she trusted love, or fully forgave him, but because she knew something was missing in her life. And because he had made a deal with her family — one that could elevate their business to unimaginable heights. She owed her parents too much to throw that away.
So she agreed.
“I’ll marry him,” she said quietly. “But don’t expect me to fall in love overnight.”
And with that, the Ruler of Dubai returned home — hopeful, uncertain, and determined to win the heart of the woman he had never stopped loving.
Three weeks later, the quiet hum of a luxury car engine pulled up at the gates of Ayokemi’s family office in Lagos. The guards, startled but polite, bowed slightly as an elegantly dressed Arab woman stepped out. Her presence was unmistakable — regal, composed, wrapped in deep gold silk with a veil that shimmered under the sunlight. She was flanked by attendants, but she walked alone with confident grace.
The moment Ayokemi’s parents laid eyes on her, they knew.
This was her. The Queen Mother of Dubai. The mother of the man their daughter had given her heart — and child — to.
They welcomed her with deep Nigerian hospitality, bowing, smiling, and guiding her to the guest lounge. What was meant to be a brief visit turned into a five-hour conversation filled with laughter, shared wisdom, and cultural warmth. Tea was poured. Stories were exchanged. The Queen Mother was not just royalty — she was deeply human.
“I have waited too long to see my grandson,” she said softly, her hands resting gently on her lap. “And to meet the woman who carries the heart of my son.”
Later that evening, they took her to the family house. She sat on the plush sofa, straight-backed yet relaxed, looking around the room with calm curiosity. Her eyes caught a photo on the shelf — a picture of Malik, laughing in a park.
Her face lit up.
She stood and walked to it, holding the frame delicately. “He looks just like his father,” she whispered to herself, smiling.
Then the door creaked.
Ayokemi entered the house, tired from an errand, and paused as soon as she saw the stranger. An elegant Arab woman sitting in their living room, staring directly at her.
Their eyes met.
Ayokemi froze.
It took only a second to realize who she was. The woman stood up slowly and smiled — soft, warm, maternal.
Before Ayokemi could speak, the woman stepped forward and gently took Malik into her arms. The little boy giggled instantly, as though recognizing her spirit. She kissed both his cheeks and hugged him like he belonged in her arms.
Ayokemi was stunned. Not out of fear, but confusion. Her past was suddenly standing in front of her, smiling kindly and speaking softly in a language of grace she didn’t expect.
The woman sat her down. Without a word at first, she took Ayokemi’s hand and rubbed her cheek gently. “You are beautiful,” she said in slow but perfect English. “We have waited for you for a long time.”
Ayokemi’s heart pounded. Memories of the pain she endured from her ex-boyfriend’s mother in Nigeria surfaced sharply — the insults, the shame, the subtle rejections. She had braced herself for something similar now.
But this woman was different.
“I came,” the Queen Mother said, “to carry my grandson and his mother home. My son has waited — with a full heart and empty hands — hoping that one day he will hold you again, not just in memory, but in life.”
She paused, then continued with great care.
“We are here to honor your customs. We understand that in Nigeria, a bride price is paid. We respect that. That is why I have come myself — to officiate the proposal, to bless this union, and to fulfill what is honorable.”
Ayokemi said nothing, blinking back emotion she didn’t know how to name.
“We want to take you home,” the woman said. “To Dubai. There will be a grand wedding. The world will witness the joining of two great cultures. But more than anything, this is about love. And about our family being whole.”
She reached again for Malik, kissed his hand, and stood.
“But I will not pressure you,” she said. “I am a mother, too. I know fear. I know what it is to love with doubt. So I ask only one thing — think about it. And give me your answer… in five days.”
With that, she bowed slightly and left the room — leaving Ayokemi in silence, holding Malik tightly in her arms, overwhelmed by emotions she couldn’t yet name.
The next day came quietly, but Ayokemi’s heart was far from still.
Her phone rang.
The name on the screen made her chest tighten — Habeebullah.
She hesitated for a moment, then picked up.
His voice came through steady, warm, and sincere.
“I know my mother’s visit was a surprise,” he began. “But I needed you to see how serious this is for me.”
There was a pause. He continued, his voice low and heartfelt:
“I love you, Ayokemi. I mean every word I’m about to say. I want to marry you — not because of our son, not because of duty — but because I choose you. I want to take care of you. I want to show you what love is, in and out of bed, in private and in public. I want to spoil you, protect you, support you, care for you… make you mine.”
Ayokemi swallowed hard, her throat tight.
“I want you to be the mother of all my children. I want to build a life with you. And I mean every single word.”
But on the other end of the line, there was only silence.
She didn't say a word. She didn't cry. She didn't sigh.
Just silence.
Then finally, softly: “Okay. I’ve heard you.”
And she ended the call.
For the next four days, Ayokemi lived inside herself. Her mind was quiet, but her heart screamed.
She couldn’t understand how someone she hadn’t seen in two years could shake her so deeply. Why do I feel like this? she asked herself again and again.
She watched Malik play in the yard, chasing sunlight and butterflies — and all she wanted was to give him what she never had: a whole, loving family.
But ghosts still haunted her.
She remembered her ex. The rejection. The humiliation. The ache of not being “enough.” Not good enough for him. Not good enough for his mother. Not good enough to be chosen.
And yet… here was Habibullah. A king in his own right. A man with wealth, power, legacy — and all he wanted was her. Not a perfect woman. Not a queen molded by tradition.
Just her.
He didn’t want someone “good enough.” He wanted someone he could do life with. And somehow, he believed that was her.
On the fifth day, the call came.
Habeebullah’s mother.
Her voice was calm and regal. “My dear, we gave you time, as promised. Have you decided?”
Ayokemi inhaled slowly. She had practiced the words for days — not out loud, but in her soul.
“Yes,” she said gently. “Yes, I will marry your son.”
There was a long silence. Then laughter. Joy. Gratitude.
Ayokemi smiled through tears.
Yes, I will go to Dubai, she said again to herself in her heart. Yes, I’ll be the wife he deserves. I’ll be the mother my son needs. I will be whole.
That night, she lay in bed, clutching her son close — not out of fear, but peace.
Her “yes” wasn’t just an answer. It was a beginning.