Me Zanyi Da Ita Book 1 Hausa Novel Complete
Mama Jummai handed me a long dress Baffa had brought to the hospital. It was a white gown adorned with large red flowers. I sat on the bed, staring at it, but didn’t bother putting it on since I knew I’d be going home soon.
While I sat quietly, the door opened, and a man entered. His face seemed oddly familiar, but I couldn’t recall where I had seen him before. Dressed in a black suit and blue shirt, he moved around the room with an air of authority. His cologne lingered in the air, sharp and unmistakable. His black shoes gleamed, and his overall appearance resembled that of a polished black American.
As he approached my bed, fragmented memories began to surface, piecing themselves together. My heart clenched at the sight of him; his presence stirred a mixture of emotions—disdain and bitterness overshadowed everything else. His cold demeanor only heightened the tension as he leaned slightly toward me, his long legs positioned at the edge of my bed.
The other doctors were nearby, scribbling notes, but he stood out. One hand casually rested in his pocket, and his piercing gaze locked on me. With a sharp tone, he asked, “Your pain—what’s wrong with you now?”
I didn’t respond, lowering my head instead. He leaned closer, touching my forehead with his finger, and repeated, “Are you deaf? Can’t you hear me, or are you refusing to speak?”
Anger flared within me. I turned my head sharply, glaring at him with enough intensity to match his arrogance. His expression faltered, as if my reaction took him by surprise. I wondered what his issue was—why he acted this way, and why I seemed to be the target of his contempt.
Before I could dwell further, Baffa walked in. He greeted the man briefly and then turned to me. “The doctor says we’ll be discharged today. How are you feeling, Dijah? Does anything hurt?”
"I’m fine, Baffa," I replied quietly.
The man, whom I now realized the others addressed as Dr. KB, snapped his head up at the sound of my voice. For a moment, he seemed puzzled, as if trying to place it. "When she’s ready to speak properly, let her say goodbye," he muttered, signaling to the other doctors to move on to the next patient.
His words stung. I felt an overwhelming sadness, a sense of humiliation. It was as if even here, he had found a way to belittle me. When he finally left, the tension in the room eased.
Later, as he sat in his car, Dr. KB appeared to be in deep thought. Something about me unsettled him, and though he couldn’t quite place it, my voice echoed in his mind. "Who is she?" he muttered to himself, gripping the steering wheel tightly. "Why do I feel like I’ve heard her voice before?" Taking a deep breath, he shook his head in frustration and drove off.
At home, he was greeted by his sister Nana, who sat scrolling through her phone. "Welcome, bros!" she said cheerfully, but he barely acknowledged her. "I didn’t come here for small talk," he replied curtly, settling into a chair nearby.
Nana laughed lightly. “What’s with the attitude? Why won’t you even answer my greeting?”
"Because I have no patience for nonsense," he said, clearly irritated.
She clapped her hands playfully and went upstairs to call their mother. When their mother arrived, she fixed him with a knowing look. “Are you done sulking today, Kabir? What’s bothering you now?”
Before he could respond, she added, “There’s a girl I know near their house—a smart one. Kabir, you should meet her. Since you can’t seem to choose a wife for yourself, I might have to choose for you.”
Kabir sighed, lowering his head. "Mum, I’m not ready for this conversation," he said softly, kissing her forehead. “Let’s discuss this later, when I’ve sorted everything out.”
As she left, Kabir couldn’t shake the image of the girl from the hospital—her glare, her defiance, and the faint echo of her voice. Something about her refused to leave his mind, and it unsettled him more than he cared to admit.
