Taki zaman Aure Book 2 Hausa Novel Complete
“Do you know her?”
I turned to look at her, shaking my head as tears streamed down my face.
"Oh, I’ve never even seen her," I managed to say between sobs. “It was Kareem who made me feel sorry for her. He must be devastated now.”
“Do you know that everyone alive is already dead? They just need prayers. But if you keep crying like this, even your mother would have lost her mind seeing you.”
I stayed silent, unwilling to respond. Perhaps she didn’t understand the pain of losing a parent because she wasn’t attached to hers. The barrister sighed and glanced at her before speaking.
“I’m sorry, Noor. No one is beyond redemption. Let me take my leave now.”
He turned and walked out of the room. I followed him as he went into my room, grabbed his keys, and left the house. Once alone, I collapsed onto the bed, crying bitterly. Thoughts of Kareem consumed me. I couldn’t imagine how he must feel. Losing my mother had been unbearable even when she was still around. How much worse would it have been if she were gone forever? And Kareem—unhappy in his marriage—must be drowning in sorrow.
Barely thirty minutes later, the woman who had been waiting for me entered the room. She seemed disoriented as though lost in her own world.
"Are you still crying, bride?" she asked. “Forgive us; everyone is alive and dead.”
She sat beside me, gently rubbing my back in a comforting gesture.
“Hmmm, I’m surprised you feel sorry for Kareem. I wonder if you know what’s been hidden from you.”
I sat up, wiping tears from my eyes, and looked at her.
“Like what? Are you saying she’s not dead?”
“She’s dead,” the woman said. “I’m not talking about her—I’m talking about Kareem himself.”
“What do you mean?” I asked, confused.
“Listen, sister, there’s so much you don’t know. But now, I’ve come to ask a favor from you.”
I wiped my nose and looked at her expectantly.
“What kind of favor?”
“By God, if anyone—your brothers or the barrister’s brothers—comes to you saying I’m not well, understand this illness is not my fault. No one will understand. Everything that has happened in this house or between me and even our husband should remain a secret. Don’t let anyone hear of it. Even in Islam, secrecy is important. It’s consent. And a man loves a woman who keeps his secrets. But my secrets are different from yours, and what’s between me and him is also different.”
I nodded, reassured.
“God willing, I won’t share your secrets or anything about your health with anyone.”
She smiled, satisfied.
“And Madam?”
“That’s what I heard the barrister call you. I don’t even know your real name.”
"My name is Aisha," she said, correcting me. “The name ‘Madam’ is something the barrister gave me. Call me Aisha. I don’t like being called Anty, Yaya, Maman, or anything like that.”
Her words lingered, especially when she mentioned Hafiz telling her I didn’t like him. She repeated it so often that it stirred something in me. Even if I didn’t like him, it was God’s will.
“Tohm. In Shaa Allah,” I replied.
"Good," she said. “Let me take a bath and relax a bit.”
"Okay," I said.
She left the room, and I went to the bathroom to wash my face, trying to calm the storm in my chest. Shortly after, a steady stream of people started coming to see the bride—his brothers, my brothers, and others. Hana, who had come yesterday, was the only one I could confide in today. My tear-streaked face gave me away; everyone could see I’d been crying. Some of my father’s brothers, who had disapproved of the marriage, might even think I cried out of hatred for it. The barrister’s brothers seemed distant, their gazes cold, and they left shortly after lunch was served by Zainab, Yar Fulani, and Hana.
Later, Aisha returned, and we chatted until around 4 p.m. when Hafiz came back, picked her up, and they left for the funeral home.
As the house emptied, Hana pulled me into a room. We sat down, and she asked, “Noor, why are you crying over your husband’s friend’s mother? She’s not your mother. Why does it affect you so much?”
"Hana," I said, “is it wrong to feel pity? By God, Kareem is kind, even though he separated me from Zafeer. I feel like I hate him, but then I think about how we felt when Mama left us. How much worse must it be for him to lose his mother?”
