Auren Katin Kasa Part 1 Compleete Hausa Novel

She was washing dishes at the kitchen sink, standing as she worked. She was wearing a long red atampa dress with yellow stripes running across it. The dress fit closely to her body. Her head was wrapped in a scarf the same red color as her outfit. She had a very firm figure; from behind, you could notice how her hips gently swayed as she moved while washing the dishes. She had the kind of body shape known as an hourglass, or figure eight. Her hips were masha Allah—very prominent—yet she wasn’t fat at all because she was tall.

Salim came running and stopped beside her, saying, “Big sister, good afternoon.” She turned to look at him, then looked at Salima who was standing next to him smiling at her. She smiled back at them. When I looked at her face, I said masha Allah—she was beautiful. A young lady, a true Black beauty, with a rich chocolate complexion. She wasn’t very dark, and she wasn’t fair either; she was slightly lighter than Salim and Salima, but still clearly within the chocolate skin tone category.

Her nose was even more pointed than Salim’s and Salima’s, giving her face extra elegance and brightness. She had big, round eyes that stood out on her face, framed with long, delicate eyelashes. Her eyebrows were full and almost met in the middle. Her mouth had a beautiful oval shape that was very attractive. She wasn’t wearing anything on her lips, yet her lower lip looked as if lipstick had been applied. The lip line was slightly dark—but not too much—which added to the beauty of her mouth. She looked to be no more than nineteen years old. Her chest was well-proportioned to her body, and she didn’t have a big stomach at all because she was tall and slim, though she was still well-shaped.

She simply smiled at them, then looked closely at Salim before opening her mouth and saying, “Oh God, Salim, what’s wrong with your forehead?” He kept quiet because he was afraid she might scold him. Salima quickly spoke up and said, “Sister Amra, he went to play with those naughty children, and they hit him on the forehead with a ball. I told him to stop going to them, but he refused—now look at what he’s done to himself.”

Amra looked at Salim, then removed her hands from the dishes and said, “Salim, I thought we talked about this. I told you to stop going to them because whenever you play with them, they always hurt you. And if you try to fight back, their parents will end up blaming you. Please, Salim, have mercy on us and stop going to them. Just stay and play by yourself, okay?”

He nodded and replied, “Insha Allah, sister, I won’t do it again.” She smiled at him, pulled him closer, and said, “Come here, let me take a good look.” He stepped closer, and she bent slightly and gently massaged his forehead. He opened his mouth, about to cry, but when he saw Salima about to hit his mouth to stop him, he shut his eyes tightly. Slowly, Amra continued rubbing until the swelling on his forehead went down. He sniffed back tears and said, “Sister, it really hurts—my head is starting to ache.”

She looked at Salima and said, “Salima, go to the room. There’s Panadol in the drawer by my dressing mirror. Give it to him to take, then let him lie down before the Dhuhr prayer is called.”

Salima took Salim by the hand and led him into the house, while Amra returned to washing the dishes.