Gudun Kaddara Book 1 Hausa Novel Complete
The Sultana let out a cry of shock as she followed her companion into the room. Bibi supported her, her voice filled with concern as she said, "Ashsha, ashsha, my dear, what brought you to such pain? I told you not to hurt me." She gazed at the tears streaming down the Sultana’s trembling face. The emotional intensity hit Bibi like a physical slap—raw, stinging, and unforgettable. For a moment, it was as if she had never understood the pain of a slap until now.
"She told you when she left this room and went to the living room among the men without you knowing," the man said, pointing at the Sultana before dropping his hand and leaving the room in evident anguish.
Sultana’s face was red with tears as Bibi tried to soothe her, rubbing her cheeks tenderly. Yet the pain ran deeper. She clutched at her chest as if her soul was being crushed, her cries rising like someone enduring unbearable agony.
“By God, my face is in pain, Bibi. I will not accept this, and I will not forgive him,” she sobbed, her words stabbing Bibi’s heart. Bibi stared at her tear-streaked face, a face that had rarely shown anything but love and devotion.
“Sultana, what about your husband?”
“He is cruel, Bibi. Just because I stopped dancing when I heard the music, he came after me and hit me! What have I done to deserve this?” Sultana’s voice cracked with disbelief. Bibi was speechless, unable to reconcile the couple she knew with the scene before her. Sultana and Maina were inseparable—Maina, who was her world; Sultana, who wouldn’t eat or sleep without him. And yet, today, everything seemed to have shifted.
“But Sultana, how many times have I warned you about coming here? To avoid a day like this—when Maina would find out?”
“Warned me? Who forced him? Does he think I’ll just obey him? I’m not afraid of him,” Sultana snapped, defiance blazing in her eyes. Bibi froze in shock. Maina, who had become a terror within the house, was never challenged openly. But here was Sultana doing so.
“Sultana, what’s wrong with you? Are you losing yourself?”
"Leave me alone, Bibi, if you’re just going to take his side," Sultana retorted. She pushed Bibi’s hand off her lap, stood, and locked herself in the bathroom. She sat on the toilet seat and cried, her sobs echoing as though they were a melody of sorrow.
Bibi, left alone, glanced at the bathroom door in despair. No words could soothe Sultana’s turmoil now. "God willing, He will resolve this for us," Bibi muttered as she picked up her schoolbag, uniform, and hijab and left the room.
Inside the bathroom, Sultana stared into the mirror. Her face was swollen and red, the sting of the slap still fresh. She touched her tender cheek, disbelief washing over her. “Is this how much a slap hurts?” she whispered. She couldn’t recall the last time she’d been struck, if ever.
“God is enough for me,” she muttered, tears falling anew. She sank back onto the toilet seat, consumed by anger and sorrow. The man who once held her heart had now ignited a fire of resentment.
Meanwhile, Maina prepared to head home after a long day. He had wanted to come back earlier, drawn by the cold weather, but his studies delayed him. As he organized his room and opened his wardrobe, his gaze lingered on the orderly rows of clothes, his mind far from the turmoil brewing at home.
