Sanadin Boko Part 4 Complete Hausa Novel

Her words struck me like a sudden cold wind; my body went icy. I quickly got up from in front of the mirror, returned to the bed, and sat down, overwhelmed with intense frustration. It felt as though my surroundings couldn’t contain me, so I sank onto the bed with my eyes tightly shut.

No matter how hard I tried to stop the tears, they wouldn’t obey me. They spilled over the corner of my eye, and from my left eye, they ran down my nose. I managed a small smile, though it carried no joy—just a reflection of the hurt Hafsat had caused me.

He remembered how she had stood up and told him she was a harlot, and he felt as though he had buried his own head in shame. He looked at me and said, “Get up now. Why are you lying down?”

I let out a sigh, my voice cold, and said, “I didn’t know we were going to a beauty competition if I hadn’t wasted my time preparing for the trip. Go ahead, give her the award you prepared; I bow my head in respect.”

He paused for a moment, probably reflecting on my words, then said, “When you’re ready, I’ll wait for you in the car if I have permission to give orders.”

It was as if I shouldn’t get up, but I had no choice—I had to return to the mirror. I put on my black jilbab with a red trim, its sleeves also red, and wrapped myself with a small scarf that was red at the edges. My shoes and the little accessories I wore were all red. I sprayed myself with perfume, looked in the mirror, and smiled faintly—I looked good. But my heart was heavy because of the words he had spoken to me earlier.

I reached the driver’s side, where he was seated. In a soft voice, I said, “Let me greet them first.” He lifted his eyes to meet mine, and we stared at each other. Quickly, I turned to the side, folding my hands over my chest. He said, “Go ahead, but don’t dawdle.”

I looked at him and said, “I was waiting for your command. I always follow the others’ lead. I said I’d go to Fadima’s place first. Everyone seemed happy that I was going there. From what I noticed, they wanted to respect their sister.”

I moved forward as he opened the door. The house was spacious and incredibly beautiful, with fragrant flowers lining the path. I followed him through the stunning living room. On the wall was a large framed portrait leaning against it. I glanced once at the picture and looked away—it seemed to depict people of Arab or Indian descent.

He looked at me and said, “Sit down, I’ll call her.”

He walked away saying, “Sweety…” I felt a pang of jealousy, as if wanting to block his words.

I sank into a cement-colored leather chair, following everything with my eyes. Some things I didn’t even recognize; I had never seen them before. Eventually, I turned to the large TV screen on the wall, where some Indians were dancing. It wasn’t their dance that fascinated me; I stared at them out of sheer frustration. I tried to calm myself, telling my heart to be patient. I knew that someday, this story would be resolved.

They held hands tightly as they came out, pressing against each other. Something seemed to press against my chest as if I were embracing them with my own hands. My inner voice urged me to stand, but quickly I said, “A’udhu billahi minash-shaytanir-rajim” three times, then prayed, “Allah, remove this darkness from my heart, grant me strength, for my heart cannot endure it.”

As they approached, I stood up. My heart raced, but I felt a smile emerge that I didn’t even know I had, and I reached out my hand to her. I said, “May Allah’s peace, mercy, and blessings be upon you.” She extended her hand in return, saying, “Ameen. May Allah’s peace be upon you too.” We shook hands, then released them, both sitting down. She said, “I always wanted you to come and greet me.” I said, “Well, today I’ve come to see you.”

She got up and headed to what I guessed was the kitchen. He took the remote and switched the TV channels, then left the room. She arrived with a cup and a juice box in hand, her smile modest. She set them on a stool and handed them to me before sitting down. I took the cup and leaned back in the chair, sipping while watching the TV.

She went toward the room he had entered, and I was left seated. I quickly drank the juice, so its sweetness wouldn’t turn bitter from frustration. About ten minutes later, she returned, and he also came to the living room. I checked the wall clock—it had their photo on it. I said, “Since we’ve greeted each other, I should head home.”

He looked at me and said, “This is home too.”

His assistant began arranging food on the dining table and called us, “Honey, come eat.” He looked at me and said, “Get up, let’s eat.” I replied that I had already eaten. She said, “No, you must eat.” I and her sat, while he remained at his place. She asked, “Should I serve you?” I said, “I don’t know your portions,” and he arranged the plate for them. He said to her, “You serve your own,” and looked at her with a wink. She playfully slapped him, and he caught her hand and kissed the palm. She squealed slightly.

I turned away, my phone ringing in my purse. I got up to answer it. He looked at me and asked, “Where are you going?” I said, “To answer a call.” It was Umar. I whispered greetings. He said, “So Inna should greet them too? I just came home; I’ll go serve them some drink.” I said, “Okay, Umar.” I greeted Inna.

I said, “Are you leaving?” She said, “Yes, we’re ready to go. I wanted to give you advice again, Hafsatu. Stay in your room, be patient. I beg you, no matter what, do not act against my wishes. Protect yourself and keep the secret. You’ve been blessed by God with a respectable husband—keep this secret safe with Him.”

I broke down in tears, forgetting where I was. Her words reminded me of the past, when Inna had begged me to take care of myself and preserve my dignity, but I hadn’t listened. I thought to myself, “Even if it’s not my heart’s desire, Inna, only death will separate me from Abubakar’s house.” I promised her that I would never act against her wishes again.

I spoke slowly, through tears. Abubakar glared at her from where he was watching me. Then he came toward me just as we finished greeting each other. I had wished them a safe journey and buried my face in my lap, crying in frustration. What else could I feel?