Furar Danko Part 2 Complete Hausa Novel

He lay sprawled on his perfectly made bed—the kind in Nigeria known as a 6-by-6. The mattress was exceptionally soft, and the white bedsheet was equally smooth; even a casual glance could attest to its comfort. As he exhaled with small huffs and the sweat on his body glistened, it was obvious he had just finished a rigorous training session. He wore short JC pants that reached mid-thigh and a shirt, along with football boots that clearly marked him as an athlete. His body sprawled across the bed, legs dangling toward the floor. A heavy breeze brushed past as he opened his eyes, their color striking against his dark features. There was no smile on his face; his expression carried more seriousness than anyone was used to seeing.

With energy reflecting perfect physical health, he sat up gracefully, drew in a small breath, furrowed his brow, and began unlacing his boots. Once done, he kicked them aside, grabbed his shirt, and, in a frustrated motion, threw it to the floor. He turned toward the tall glass wall of his spacious bedroom and pressed a small green button. Slowly, the glass split in two, forming a door. Entering, still slightly annoyed, he stepped into a pristine bathroom. Directly under the shower, he let the water cascade over him, releasing a deep sigh of relief.

This was Aliyu Mika'il Idris Mawashi, known in the football world as Smart Mawashi. Though he had only returned from the UK, London, three months ago after signing with Queen City, a relatively small club, it was expected to be a stepping stone to greatness. The once reserved, quiet Smart had now transformed. No longer the silent type, he had even developed some swagger, a change born from the intense events of the past three months—some of the most critical in his life. At this time, he had been preparing to build an extraordinary life with his wife, dedicating himself fully to the promises and trust of their shared life. But fate intervened.

His wife had left him just as his dream of being a prominent footballer abroad seemed to be coming true. Slowly, everything played back in his mind in precise detail, as if it were happening now. (After leaving home that day, he had gone to their house worried about the trouble he had caused Lulu. He found Asma’u gone, with Ammah attending to some chores at Aunt Bilkisu’s. Only Maryam and Ammah were there. They didn’t sit long before greeting their mother. He informed her that he had come to take one of them—Maryam—because Mawaddat was unwell. Ammah immediately alerted him not to worry and asked him to take Maryam while she figured out Lulu’s situation. Maryam quickly prepared, bringing some millet porridge for the journey. Soon, they arrived; it was early morning, and the roads were clear. However, upon seeing the living room door ajar and Lulu’s book on her bed, he paused, realizing someone must have left it open by mistake. Gathering his courage, they entered. Maryam sat in the living room while he went to his bedroom, telling her to go check Lulu’s room. Maryam acknowledged, and he entered his own room. Not long after, he emerged again, noticing Maryam acting nervously. “Are you okay? Go ahead, I’ll be back,” he said. Maryam quickly explained, “Yaya, Aunt isn’t here. I checked the toilet and the kitchen—no one. But her wardrobe was messy, and even a box that should not have been taken had been moved.” His chest tightened with anger as he hurried to her room. As Maryam had described, it was as he saw it, and there was nothing useful left in the room. His legs shook, but he steadied himself. His eyes fell on a piece of paper on the bed. Picking it up, he read:

"I despise you, Aliyu. I never want to see you again in my life. Go, and may Allah deal with you, oppressor. All your promises were lies; you never meant them. Forget me forever, because no matter the distance—high, low, east, or west—you will never find me again. If you wish to torment yourself by looking for me, go ahead, but no one, not even Uncle Yousuf, has the right to make me return to you."

Clutching the letter, he quickly sat down, invoking Allah’s name. He remained there for some time, fuming silently, until Maryam, unable to wait any longer, entered the room. Her concern was evident as she saw how quickly their cousin had been overwhelmed. She called to him, but he raised his hand and gave a sharp gesture for her to leave. Frightened, she exited swiftly. Not even a minute had passed when Ahmad arrived, calling her. She immediately cupped her ear to hear him, explaining the situation. Ahmad entered the room, his face betraying anger and concern. In short order, he told him, “Leave the house.” Even though this distressed Ahmad, he tried to calm himself, intending to ensure she would not leave the house. Uncle Yousuf called; with difficulty, he managed to answer and inform him of the situation._