Rayuwar Rayhana Book 3 Hausa Novel Complete
Dr. Mansur leaned back, asking Inna Juma once more as Rahane slid a cushion behind his chair. Unbothered by her hesitation, he repeated,
“And did you grind the fish in a blender before adding it?”
Rayha chuckled, but Inna Juma tossed the question back at him with a teasing grin.
“Father, are you curious, or does he remind you of Malam Hudu? My grandfather, Yalwati's father?”
Realizing the banter, Dr. Mansur smiled, finished his meal, and stood up. He tossed the safari oranges into the trunk, grabbed his car keys, and made his way to the door, still smiling.
“Forget it, Inna Juma. She calls me her grandfather; it's best I treat her as my daughter-in-law. She's always teasing, but she just doesn't want to admit how much she cares. After all, I am her mother, her father, her confidant, and her friend. And you, her grandmother.”
He paused before continuing,
“Let me head home. I’ll drive with energy now that I’m feeling light. This go-slow traffic is all I know—it’ll carry me till evening. Kano is full, thank God Kano Dabo’s blessings have spread across Nigeria.”
Rayhanah opened the car door for him, and as he got in, she said,
“Sleep well, Daddy.”
She waved until he drove away, and the guard locked the gate behind him. Heading back inside, Rayhanah noticed something on the beanbag near Inna Juma.
“Lah! Inna, Daddy forgot his phone!” she exclaimed.
“Save it for tomorrow so he can collect it,” Inna replied.
“He won’t come tomorrow. He’s going to Takai at the end of the month. Let me keep it safe.”
Rayhanah took the phone to her room, placed it on her bed, and went to perform ablution for the evening prayer. By the time prayer was called, she was seated on her prayer mat, dressed in a flowing abaya and a white hijab that reached her knees. Her rosary in hand, she quietly praised God until it was time to pray.
As she stood for prayer, Daddy’s phone began ringing, a loud and insistent tone that could disrupt anyone. She ignored it, but the caller persisted, ringing over and over. Finally, after finishing her prayer, she picked up the phone, intending to switch it off.
“Honestly, this AKTH emergency unit won’t let Daddy rest,” she muttered. “Even when he sleeps, they call, and he leaves at night. I wish he’d left the phone behind to rest for one day!”
But as she glanced at the screen, she froze. The number wasn’t local—it was international. A strange unease washed over her, a mix of curiosity and foreboding. She felt compelled to answer, suspecting the caller was in urgent need.
When the phone rang again, she hesitated but finally answered,
“Daddy isn’t with his phone! Please, be patient!”
The voice on the other end was soft, calm, and soothing, though it carried an intensity that left her momentarily breathless. The silence that followed was unnerving, so she quickly hung up, turned on the A.C., and returned to her prayers before heading to bed.
Meanwhile, Ibraheem stood on the balcony of his house, phone in hand, staring at the rain as it watered the flowers below. The voice on the other end had been extraordinary, unlike anything he’d heard before. It left him feeling oddly restless, stirring something deep within him.
Who was the girl with his father’s phone? He knew his father well, and it wasn’t Abida, Jawahir, or Azizah. None of them could have ended up with the phone. His curiosity piqued, he called again.
This time, she answered, her tone lighter, perhaps because of her mood.
“Who are you?” he asked directly.
