Kana Naka Book 2 Hausa Novel Complete
Mama held him in a daze, her body trembling as she whispered, “Ishaq… will I see you again?”
Her composure shattered, and she broke into a cry she had been holding back for so long—a cry different this time, a mix of pure joy, fear, and despair. Ishaq hugged her tightly and, in a soft yet cold voice, said, “Mama…” But even as he spoke, his mind drifted. We are all alone in this world, he thought. Even a mother, the one who gave us life, faces sorrows we cannot ease.
Mama’s mother ushered Yaya Ishaq into the house, settling him onto a chair. She sat beside him, tears streaming down her face as she drank water, muttering curses. “Whoever caused this pain, Ishaq, may God never grant them peace in this world.”
Her voice broke further as she wept. “Between us and them, God is enough. We will never forgive them.”
Ishaq, desperate to console her, replied gently, “But I’m here now, Mama. Please, don’t cry like this.”
The room buzzed with subdued greetings. Aunt Badaria and Anty Binta embraced him, offering hushed words of solace. Hajiyar Dala, with a soft smile, said, “Ishaq, you are fortunate. May God continue to bless you.”
Dr. Lawal, a guest seated nearby, broke the tension with a teasing remark. “We’ve been in Abuja since Jamal said this—he cried like a woman the whole time.” His light-heartedness drew faint smiles, but Ishaq, still burdened, extended a hand and said, “I’m fine. They didn’t harm me. But if you don’t stop crying, Mama won’t stop either.”
In a corner of the room, I stood still. Farhan took my hand, his voice soft as he called, “Umma…” Memories of the past swirled in my mind—his childhood, his stubbornness, and the love that bound us despite everything. Gratitude filled my heart. Thank you, God, I prayed silently, for sparing him.
In another room, the children were oblivious to the weight of the moment. They noticed Ishaq and gasped in excitement, rushing toward him. “Daada!” they cried, their small voices full of joy. Anum led the charge, with Musty and Ahmad Amir close behind. “Alhamdulillah, Daada is back!” they exclaimed.
Mirmishi clung to him, rubbing her little hands on his head, whispering, “I missed you, Daddy.” Anum burst into tears, and Ishaq coaxed her gently, “Don’t cry. Did you pray for me while I was gone?”
Anum nodded earnestly. “We did, Daada. Umma told us to pray, and we did. Every day, we prayed for you.”
Ahmad added, “Umma even read the Qur’an for you, raising her hands to ask God for your safety.”
The room fell silent as Ishaq’s emotions overwhelmed him. His love for his children deepened, and he pulled them into a tight embrace. Then, our eyes met. For the first time, Yaya Ishaq acknowledged me, his voice soft and tender as he spoke.
“Fa’iza…”
I blinked, startled. The room fell into stunned silence. All eyes turned toward me. His voice broke through again, filled with gratitude. “Thank you… Thank you for not letting my children cry in my absence. Even when I was lost in despair, I found peace knowing you were there for them. You cared for them better than I ever could.”
His words, heavy with emotion, brought tears to my eyes. He smiled through his own tears, a smile filled with pain, gratitude, and something new—hope. I stood frozen, struggling to find my voice.
Was this the same Ishaq I had known all my life? Or was he someone new, transformed by pain and redemption?
Gathering my courage, I replied softly, “May God grant you strength to overcome this trial and make it a means of your growth.”
His voice, cool yet humble, answered, “Ameen, Fa’iza. Ameen. Ameen.”
