Kana Naka Book 1 Hausa Novel Complete
Kai Tsaye said, “Umma, I'm waiting for Ahmad to finish preparing and pray for us.”
Hafsatu turned around as Fa'iza rose after dressing Ahmad in his nightwear. Their eyes met, Hafsatu's gaze cold and penetrating. In a calm yet firm tone, she asked, “Hafsatu, today... did you come in?”
She spoke while attempting to pick up Ahmad. Hafsatu, seated by Amir's bed, replied, “I've been coming in for a while. Amir, open your hand so we can pray for you.”
Amir hesitated, but Hafsatu gently took his hands and began reciting the Prophet’s bedtime prayer with conviction. The little boy's hesitant murmurs gradually became steady and clear, thanks to Fa’iza’s efforts in teaching him. She had ensured her knowledge wasn’t wasted, protecting herself and her children in the process.
After finishing the prayer, Fa’iza left the room and headed to her bedroom, which overlooked Shashen Ishaq. She placed Ahmad on the royal bed, noting he had been unwell and restless for the past two nights. The room was cluttered, with an oversized wardrobe dominating the space and the toilet door ajar. The untidiness frustrated her as she tidied up, thoughts of her frustrations bubbling beneath the surface.
As she exited the room, she nearly bumped into Hafsatu, who stepped back and said, “I didn’t know you were coming in.”
Hafsatu held her gaze steady. “How are you, Fa’iza? Is Ishaq returning today?”
Her voice was louder than usual, as though testing Fa’iza’s reaction. Startled, Fa’iza asked, “Yes… what did you say?”
"Ishaq is back," Hafsatu repeated, her voice sharper.
Fa’iza’s eyes widened in surprise. “When? I didn’t know!”
"I’ve been in the living room before coming to Amir’s room," Hafsatu replied firmly.
Fa’iza hurried out, mumbling, “Is he in his part of the house?”
Hafsatu called out after her, “Yes!”
As Fa’iza walked, adjusting the slipping sleeve of her Atamfa dress, she reached the kitchen. She opened the fridge, retrieved some orange juice and water, set them on a small tray with cups, and made her way toward Ishaq’s section of the house.
The door to the living room was slightly ajar, revealing an opulent space with honey-colored furniture, matching curtains, and a three-tiered carpet. The room was filled with the faint, magical scent of Ishaq’s signature rose perfume.
Placing the tray on the center table, Fa’iza hesitated before heading to the adjoining bedroom, where she expected Ishaq to be. She opened the door with a soft greeting. There he stood, clad in soft white pajamas, holding his phone, his gaze cold yet calm as he faced the mirror.
Seeing him, Fa’iza instinctively turned to leave. Her hand was on the doorknob when his voice stopped her.
"FA’IZA!" he called sharply.
Startled, she turned, her collar trembling in her grip. His piercing gaze froze her. As she approached cautiously, Ishaq raised his hand, his voice dripping with disdain. “Leave. Seeing you is an insult to me.”
His words cut deep, carrying eight years of unspoken resentment. Though she hadn’t expected kindness, the weight of his anger crushed her. Kneeling, she pleaded softly, “Please… be patient.”
Ishaq’s anger flared. “Patient? Have you refused to be patient? Or is it me who has wasted time on you?”
He leaned closer, his voice harsh. “You dare to think I despise you? Since you stepped into this house, you’ve treated me as if I were invisible. Now you suddenly think it’s proper to greet me and acknowledge my presence? You feel lost? Ashamed?”
He gestured toward the door. “Leave! I don’t want to see you. Your presence only deepens my sorrow.”
His voice cracked slightly as he added, “Until tomorrow, I won’t stop cursing Hajiyar Karofi and Baba for forcing this marriage upon me. Fa’iza, my pain will never fade.”
