Love Circle Part 1 Complete Hausa Novel

She whispered softly to him, “Am… sorry, love. It wasn’t intentional.”

Fannah stood up, her face tight with tension. She didn’t say anything, just headed toward the door. She quickly raised her hands to her face as if about to cry and said, “I said I’m sorry… okay, give me a punishment, whatever it takes, I’ll do it.”

Fannah looked at her—she knew Maryam couldn’t stay angry at her for long—but Fannah still held her head high and kept her face stern. Seeing her beginning to soften a little, Fannah knew she had to act. From the moment Maryam arrived in the country three years ago, Fannah had learned her in-and-out behaviors. If she was angry, she would understand—so she kept her stern face. Maryam whined softly, “Please…”

Fannah grabbed her ear and squeezed it firmly. “Maryam!” she said sharply. Maryam winced in pain and replied,

“Yes, love?”

“Maryam!”

“Yes, dear?”

“Maryam…”

“Yes! Please, it’s okay. Pass your warning, just don’t remove my ear.”

Fannah said, “How many times have I called your name?”

Maryam, almost crying, said, “Three… but please take your hand so I can hear you properly. I swear it hurts…”

“Enough,” Fannah said. “Know the value of time. You’re not in Africa, so stop African time.” She finished speaking and pushed her gently. Maryam also pouted her lips.

Seeing the look Fannah gave her, Maryam spread her hands and said, “But I’m Nigerian, so don’t blame me for anything I do.”

Fannah replied, “I’m Nigerian too, but yours is worse.”

They began walking. Maryam said, “Ah, yammata, we’re in Nigeria, right?” Fannah glared at her.

“See what you mean…”

Maryam teased, “Okay, let’s see. You’re Nigerian, right?”

Fannah nodded confidently.

Maryam smiled. “Okay, name the 36 states in Nigeria.”

Fannah rolled her eyes. “Don’t insult my intelligence…”

“Yes, I heard you fall…”

“Abuja, Katsina, Kano, Kaduna… Lagos…” She paused, rubbing her head.

“You mean you’re saying you won’t finish?”

Maryam laughed. “You won’t remember, madam—you were born and raised in the UK. You’ve never been to Nigeria before, so babe, you’re not really Nigerian.”

Fannah, frustrated, said, “But my father is Nigerian, so I’m a citizen too. I look like Nigerians, all my relatives live there, so I am… and my tribe is Hausa-Fulani. I speak the language and communicate with it. What else?”

Maryam raised her hand. “Be in your country, stay with them, know your culture, vote for a leader that represents you… But you don’t know anything. You only know that your father is a citizen. That’s it. Be there, even if you don’t live with them, but at least go once in a while. Not just stay here… You don’t know anything about the country’s struggles, yet you call yourself Nigerian. Madam, you’re not Nigerian.”

Maryam finished, laughing. Fannah stayed silent, not wanting to let her hurt her pride. Her mother had said, “She’s only been to Nigeria once, and since then she hasn’t gone again…”

Maryam wanted to visit Nigeria to see her relatives, even though she wasn’t sure if they wanted to see her—but she wanted to see them. She wanted to know that they were her family, to experience her country. But she knew it was impossible; for 18 years they hadn’t returned. Her father hadn’t told her anything about the country or the relatives, nor when they would go. Yet she felt deep inside that one day, eventually, she would go, meet her relatives, sit with them, and live among them forever, God willing.

Maryam remained silent, observing. Whenever they spoke like this, she noticed Fannah’s worry. She knew Fannah was concerned and wanted to understand what troubled her cousin about their country—but she had no way to know, and it didn’t affect her directly.

If you want, I can also rewrite this in a smoother, more natural English narrative version that keeps the emotions and tension intact, almost like a novel scene. It would read more fluidly than a direct translation.