Auren Babban Mutum Book 1 Hausa Novel Complete
Around five o'clock in the evening, the house buzzed with activity, filled with guests from the village—Zarah's father's family. Inside her room, Zarah lay on her bed, feeling unwell and searching for an excuse to avoid the commotion. The noise from outside grew louder, prompting her to glance out the window. The courtyard was packed with cheerful visitors, but she turned away, muttering to herself, “All this fuss over a wedding is nothing but a waste of time and effort.”
Whispers circulated among the guests. "Where’s the bride? Has she gone to get dressed?" someone asked.
Larai replied, "By God, she’s in her room. I saw her lying down." She hesitated and added, “I was supposed to help her get ready, but I forgot.”
Maryam, another woman, scolded, “How could you be so careless? How do you take a bride to a rival's house without preparing her?”
Larai laughed it off, saying, “Every household is different, but don’t worry—I’ll get her ready even if time is running out.”
With that, Larai and Maryam headed to Zarah's room. Their journey was brief, but Zarah sensed their approach. She remained on the bed, feigning sleep.
As they entered, Maryam remarked, “She’s asleep, poor thing. Her eyes are swollen. Why isn’t she feeling well?”
Larai quickly dismissed the concern. “Oh, it’s just a fever. But don’t worry—this marriage won’t fall apart over a little sickness.”
Maryam frowned. “You should be more considerate.”
Zarah, hearing their conversation, slowly opened her eyes. Her body was cold as if she’d been drenched in water. Maryam asked gently, "Zarah, are you okay? Have you eaten anything?" Zarah shook her head weakly.
Larai scoffed. "You haven’t eaten? What are you waiting for?" Zarah, intimidated, quickly lowered her gaze. Larai brought her some food, but Zarah barely touched it. She forced herself to take a few spoonfuls before saying, “I’m done.”
Maryam urged her to get ready and head to her friend’s house to prepare. Zarah, feeling overwhelmed, muttered under her breath, “What’s the point of preparing for an old man?”
As they left the room, Larai turned back, her tone sharp. "By God, if you embarrass me at this wedding, you’ll regret it. You’re avoiding him, yet I’m the one paying the price." She tossed N50,000 at Zarah, adding, “That’s for your hair—Alhaji Sa’id gave it to me to make sure you look good. I’ll add another N150,000 later.”
Zarah stared at the money as Larai stormed out, tears streaming down her face. She kicked her feet in frustration, feeling trapped and humiliated.
After washing up and putting on a skirt, Zarah left the house unnoticed, avoiding the other guests who were gathered elsewhere. Her walk, though hurried, was determined, her posture revealing her inner turmoil.
As she passed a group of young men, they began to mock her. "Look at her, marrying an old man just for his wealth," one sneered.
Another chimed in, “Money silences everyone. If you can marry an Arab for riches, why not her?”
Their laughter stung, and Zarah ran past them, tears falling as she made her way to her friend Aysha's house.
In the courtyard, Aysha looked up, startled to see Zarah crying at her feet. She helped her up, asking, “What’s wrong, Zarah? Don’t let this get to you.”
Zarah sobbed, “Everyone knows Alhaji is greedy. They’re forcing me into this!”
Aysha sighed, trying to console her. “What about the money they’ve given you?”
Zarah wiped her tears. “I’ll use it for myself, for my body. I’ll do what I want.”
Aysha chuckled. “Let’s go out tomorrow and take care of things. Time is running out, but we’ll manage.”
Zarah laughed weakly. “I’m not going anywhere, Aysha. I just came here to clear my head.”
Aysha smiled and said, “Even without dressing up, you’re beautiful, Zarah. And now that you’ve caught Alhaji’s attention, your life will change. You’ll live like a queen, like an Arab woman. Be grateful—this is your blessing.”
Despite Aysha’s words, Zarah felt the weight of her predicament. Her beauty and wealth were of little comfort when her happiness seemed so far out of reach.
