Auren Kwangila Book 2 & 3 Hausa Novel Complete
Both got into the car. Abdulazeez started it, thinking to himself, The driver must have fixed it. He pulled the handbrake, and the girl beside him cried out in pain. She seemed fragile, unlike a rickshaw puller. He wondered how he could be married to someone so delicate and weak. A bold and energetic man like him needed a strong woman, not someone from a family that melts under pressure.
He drove her to the hospital where their family records were kept, at DIFF. The doctors immediately took her in. He realized that her file was already active, thanks to his mother, who had been ensuring she received regular check-ups for her pneumonia since they returned to Abuja. They admitted her to a special room and provided close care. After ensuring she was settled, Abdulazeez showed Harira where to sit and left for home.
Back at home, he washed up and prepared for work. He hadn’t taken any time off for his marriage and didn’t even consider himself a groom. To him, he was still single—Abdulazeez Hamzah—until the day Muazatu became his wife. At the office, he dived into a new, challenging case that kept him occupied, leaving no room for thoughts of another woman, including Suhaana.
Meanwhile, Suhaana’s fever subsided as she rested. When the doctors deemed her stable, they allowed Harira to enter with strict instructions to avoid disturbing her. Harira sat by the door, expecting Abdulazeez to return, but she eventually fell asleep. She woke only at noon when the call to prayer sounded. She glanced at Hafsat, who was also awake but lying quietly.
“Hafsat, are you awake?” Harira asked, helping her sit up.
The nurse entered, pushing a medicine cart. Smiling at Hafsat, she said, “You’re awake? That’s good.” Hafsat nodded weakly. The nurse turned to Harira. “Make some tea for her, and I’ll give her her medicine.”
Harira hesitated, glancing around the room. There was nothing to make tea with. “Please, could you help me? Her husband hasn’t returned since he brought us here,” she said.
The nurse raised her eyebrows in disbelief. “He left his wife here sick and didn’t even leave anything for you two?”
Harira stayed silent, equally surprised. She couldn’t even recall if Abdulazeez had greeted her properly before leaving. “Please, just help me with the tea,” she finally said.
The nurse sighed in frustration and returned with tea, borrowed from another patient. As Harira reached to help Hafsat, she waved her off, trying to sit up on her own. The nurse handed Hafsat the tea, which she sipped slowly, as though reluctant. Afterward, she was given medicine and instructed to rest further. The fever had broken, and her condition was improving.
“Good,” the nurse said. “Rest some more. The doctor will check on you in the evening, and you might be discharged then.”
“Okay,” Hafsat murmured from under her pillow.
At six in the evening, Abdulazeez left work, tired and hungry after only having coffee all day. Placing his laptop and legal robes on the passenger seat, he began driving home. Passing by the hospital, Hafsat suddenly came to mind. He quickly reversed and turned into the hospital, his heart heavy.
This is what it means to have a burden, he thought bitterly. I need care myself, not to shoulder someone else’s.
He parked and sat for a moment, conflicted. But then he sighed, silently praying, Who am I even angry with?
Stepping out of his car in his black suit, his steps were calm but firm as he entered the hospital. He greeted softly and approached the room where Hafsat was. Inside, the doctor and nurses were tending to her.
Nurse Hindatu, who had earlier planned to berate Hafsat’s husband, froze when Abdulazeez entered. His commanding presence and charisma silenced her, leaving her unable to deliver the reprimand she had prepared. Instead, she found herself simply staring, her energy dissipating in his shadow.
