Dingishin Kwado Part 2 Complete Hausa Novel

I headed for the door and left, going straight to my room. I sat at the edge of the bed, my eyes dry while my heart felt unbearably heavy.

I wanted to cry, just to relieve the jealousy that had built up inside me, spreading through my entire body and unsettling me.

Out loud and forcefully, I recited Innalillahi wa inna ilayhi raji’un!

No matter how much I turned on the air conditioner or the fan, it had no effect—sweat continued to pour from me.

I paced back and forth in the middle of the room.

I tried to strengthen myself by reflecting honestly and forcing my heart to endure the worry. I said aloud, “I must not allow a minor disturbance to shatter the peace of my heart again.

I believe I have already endured far worse. What happened in our family home frightened me more than his intention to marry another wife. It has passed, even though things are still unresolved. Therefore, no trial in life could be more distressing than that experience.

And since my heart did not falter then, nothing now should make it falter.”

I went to the bathroom and performed ablution. I prayed without much calm, but at least I completed ten rak‘ahs. I could not form specific supplications; all I could do was repeat Innalillahi wa inna ilayhi raji’un and Hasbiyallahu wa ni‘mal wakeel.

Until midnight, I sat on the prayer mat reciting whatever remembrance came to my lips, seeking calm for my heart because I could not ask Allah for anything specific.

As dawn approached, sleep began to pull at me. Summoning courage, I got up, performed ablution again to fully refresh myself, and did not rest until I had prayed Fajr.

I felt some relief from the thoughts that had tightly gripped my mind. But I still found myself consumed with curiosity about where he intended to keep the bride he planned to marry.

My heart thumped violently as I remembered we were close to finishing the house. The land was indeed his, but about ninety percent of the money for construction came from my savings. We sold two of my plots to start the building, and when the money ran out, I continued investing heavily until we reached the painting stage, leaving only minor finishing tasks.

I muttered aloud, imagining the magnitude of the plan in front of me.

When I felt overwhelmed, I began chanting praises to Allah aloud. By Allah’s will, calmness settled over me, and I fell into a deep sleep on the prayer mat.

I enjoyed that sleep because it had been a long time since I slept so peacefully. I didn’t wake until around ten in the morning. I was surprised I hadn’t even noticed the usual movements of the children. I was certain they had come in—Amrah and Alti must have kept them from disturbing me. Farha had been gently coaxed to agree to go to school without seeing me.

I offered blessings on the Prophet, then stood to go to the bathroom. I bathed immediately and dressed in a light gown. At that moment, Alti gently pushed the door and peeped in. Seeing me already standing after my bath, she entered fully and cheerfully said, “You’re awake, Mahmah? I’m glad you slept well. It was really hard convincing your daughter to go to school.”

I smiled and said, “Farha is my world. I know it was not easy for you.”

With care, she said, “I made you peanut pap. Should I fry akara for you? I cooked it last night and kept it in the fridge.”

I smiled and replied, “Thank you for your effort, Alti. May Allah reward you for me.”

Her face brightened even more as she said, “Ameen, Hajiya Mamah. May Allah multiply the joy in your heart and on your face.”

I replied, “Ameen, ameen. I’ll bathe properly now—start frying around ten.”

“Alright,” she said energetically and left, saying, “Alhamdulillah!”

After finishing my breakfast, I cleared the dishes and took them to the kitchen. I sat in the living room while Alawiyya entered my room to clean. It felt as if Sahal had been removed from my heart entirely—I did not even feel the desire to see him.

I stayed in the living room until she finished and sprayed air freshener around the room.

A little later, I returned to my room and sat on the carpet instead of the bed, taking one pillow from the bed. I found myself revisiting memories of our past life, distancing myself from thoughts of Sahal and his plan to marry again—something he believed could humiliate me if I opposed it.

I sighed and leaned back against the pillow. I closed my eyes and let my mind wander, reviewing the events firmly etched in my memory, allowing them to serve as lessons and warnings.

When I saw Abida deeply engaged in her studies, I went to the kitchen to prepare food for us, knowing she would not speak to me again until she finished her tasks.

The next day, she returned straight to Katsina.

At that time, Sahal’s support for Farouk became very strong. He paid for Umrah for me, him, and all our children. He also sponsored his parents, even though they had already gone. A year after our trip, he sponsored Baban Zaria and his wife—Amrah’s counterpart.

He showed me generosity in every way, providing for me as if money meant nothing. During this time, I weaned Farouk, and Amrah started school.

My focus shifted to writing about foods and their benefits. For example, I would write about apples and their nutritional benefits for humans, the nutrients they provide, and the types of people who need them most. Sometimes, I wrote about mangoes. All of this was shared on Facebook, which was my only platform at the time. Before I knew it, I had gained many followers and expanded my snack business.

I became a well-educated, elegant woman, supported by a husband who strengthened my business. Our parents were well-off and continued to serve us, even after marrying us off, without expecting anything in return—we did it to seek blessings.

I became a “big madam.” My curves became more pronounced, and I dressed in ways that drew attention. My skin received proper care with oils and soaps, and my fragrance was distinctive because I used designer perfumes.

All of this made Sahal cling to me even more, aware that I suited men wealthier than him. In fact, he himself was given to me completely after three full years, through Abida.

Even five years into our marriage, I cannot say I was unhappy because of his marriage alone. There was only one issue: he lacked strong desire. That was the only deficiency because my own desire was very strong. I accepted the lack of fulfillment as the trial of my marriage.

Strangely, as time went on, the issue worsened. Sometimes, a whole month would pass without him seeking me. Only when my restlessness became obvious would he romance me until I found relief.

I began to wonder if his health was declining. I researched foods that could boost his desire and prepared them daily, but nothing changed. I consulted doctors, who prescribed medication, but after taking one or two doses, he abandoned them.

At that time, I was still young and feared resorting to desperate measures—like secretly adding substances to his drink—because I feared he would discover it and accuse me of witchcraft.

The situation was too heavy to discuss with anyone. I had no choice but to endure, constantly trying to suppress my feelings, accepting it as the destiny Allah chose for me.