Triplets Part 1 Complete Hausa Novel

A deep and pleasant sleep had taken over her, the result of the peace she found through the prayers she had been making while repeatedly mentioning the names of Allah.

Even in her sleep, the poor girl kept sighing heavily. Today she had witnessed with her own eyes the power of supplication. Because if not for the prayers she had been making, wallahi, after the serious mistake she committed today, they might have been carrying her corpse instead.

Meanwhile, on Jelly’s side, in Abbi’s house, Jelly and Hanan were sitting in the downstairs living room. Aunty was busy arranging food on the dining table upstairs. Ayla, on the other hand, was with her husband. The previous day she had suffered greatly at his hands, which left her with a high fever, so he didn’t allow her to come out. He kept her with him, taking care of his wife.

Jelly and Hanan were watching television. In the short time Jelly had stayed there, she had already influenced Hanan’s style of watching movies. Jelly was a master when it came to films—she was extremely skilled at it. She knew many Indian songs by heart and loved dancing passionately like a granddaughter of Michael Jackson. She could dance very well, and because she wasn’t overweight, she moved freely without feeling shy about her body, giving herself fully to the rhythm.

While they were like that, Hajiya Batula entered the living room and found them there. She had just taken a bath and was dressed in an elegant and expensive black lace bubu gown.

Their entire family was beautiful, almost like Europeans or Arabs. In their family there were two main skin tones: some were very fair like Europeans, while others had a chocolate complexion.

Abba himself was extremely fair, and so was Hajiya Umaiya. However, Imran had a chocolate complexion like Rimsha.

The same pattern existed in Abbi’s house as well: Aafia and Irfan had chocolate complexions, unlike Umaisha, who was extremely fair—as if touching her skin would make blood appear immediately.

As for Jehan, she was also very fair like their father. Jelly’s father himself wasn’t extremely pale, but he wasn’t dark either—he had the typical light Nigerian complexion. Meanwhile, some of the others had a kind of fairness that seemed foreign, almost as if somewhere among their ancestors there had been a European or an Arab. One of the two must have existed in their lineage, because their brightness didn’t seem entirely local—it felt like it came from elsewhere.

Hajiya Batula looked very beautiful as she entered. She walked over and sat on the sofa near them and asked,

“Jalila, where is your younger sister?”

Jelly pouted her lips as if she was about to respond when Ommu suddenly came downstairs, angrily shouting at them to either reduce the volume of the TV or switch it off completely.