Bakon Lamari Part 1 Complete Hausa Novel

He closed his large eyes and gently stroked his beard, hearing the sound of her crying through the phone pressed to his ear.

She was speaking to him, but because she was crying so much, her voice could barely come out.

“Brother, please come to Kano. I’m in trouble. There’s no one who can stand up for me except you. No matter how big you think my problem is, brother, please help me.”

He stayed silent as if she wasn’t even talking to him. After a moment, when he felt like responding, he said:

“Amatu! Be patient with life. Everyone faces problems before reaching where they want to be. Please, don’t call me again. You’re a married woman.”

Click! He ended the call, letting out a hot sigh through his mouth.

He stood up, tossed the phone aside, and went into his bedroom. He was very tall, with the build of a strong man. Being a soldier who had gone through intense training, every sign of strength was visible on his body. He was very fair, with large eyes, a long nose, and a neatly kept beard that enhanced the handsomeness of his face. On his forehead was a large prayer mark, dark and prominent. His head was completely shaved, not a strand of hair left. He rarely smiled, and one would hardly expect to see him laugh. He was self-controlled, and by his age he was approaching thirty-eight.

He bathed and dressed in his army-green uniform, then went outside, locking his door behind him. He headed to the field within the barracks where they trained younger soldiers in combat tactics.

He refused to let thoughts of her or her crying enter his mind, focusing instead on the work before him.

KANO

She threw the phone aside, covering her mouth as her crying grew louder. Out loud, she said:

“Ameerah, you wronged me by giving me brother’s number and telling me to call him. I knew that even if he had a solution, he wouldn’t do anything for me. I knew he would never help me in this life. I’ll keep praying for Allah to bring a solution to my situation.”

She said this as she collapsed onto the patterned carpet in the sitting room.

A harsh shout made her lift her head quickly. Her body began to tremble the moment her eyes met her husband, IMRAN.

“Give me the phone in your hand. Who did you call, you deceitful devil?”

Trembling, she handed him the phone. She feared him so much that even hearing his voice startled her.

Imran’s hand was shaking with anger as he checked the call log. His eyes fell on the number she had saved under “Our Brother.”

He hurled the phone at the TV stand, then burst into laughter, clutching his stomach.

“So your heart still hasn’t given up loving Ahmad Ali? Know this well—Ahmad is far beyond your reach. Even though he’s your brother by blood, he’s now so far from you that you’ll never reach him again.”

Terrified, Amatullah lifted her tear-filled eyes. Her lips trembled as she spoke:

“Shame on your terrible words, Imran. May Allah protect me from ever loving my own brother. If your filthy heart is making you think that, then remove it from your mind. By Allah the Almighty, I, Amatullah Shu’aib Makama, have never felt love for Brother Ahmad in my heart…”

He didn’t let her finish. He grabbed her, slammed her against the wall, and gripped her throat, glaring wildly like a madman.

“Am I lying? If it’s not love, why did you call him, you wretched woman?”

He spat in her face as he spoke. She clutched her throat, gagging, not even caring about the spit—only struggling to get her breath back.

She collapsed onto a chair in tears, still holding her neck.

He stepped back and sat on a chair facing her. Reaching into his pocket, he took out a cigarette, lit it, and began to smoke. In moments, the smoke and smell filled the room. She tried to vomit, but he wouldn’t let her. He moved closer, blowing smoke into her face while narrowing his bloodshot eyes, which had turned red and frightening to look at.