Daga Raino Part 1 Complete Hausa Novel

Children surrounded the car, touching it continuously; Nadiya let out a subtle hiss of annoyance and adjusted Sultan, who was sitting on her lap.
Dr. Mansur looked at her and asked, "Are you okay...?"
She didn't say a word to him. She opened the door, stepped out, and placed Sultan on her shoulder. She felt a growing hatred for the town consuming her. Had he not insisted on coming, she wouldn't have wanted to spoil her plans, nor would she ever have allowed him to visit his birthplace.
It was a dilapidated mud house.
Sitting by the entrance of the house were almajirai (Islamic school pupils)—some were writing while others were reciting their lessons.
An elderly man was seated with an old-fashioned, loose-leaf edition of the Qur'an. He slowly raised his head, deeply surprised—was his vision playing tricks on him, or was that really Mansur today?
It had been over five months since the boy last called or sent a message. Thinking his eyes were failing him, the old man reached for his clear reading glasses and put them on.
Dr. Mansur Suleiman Azare walked over, knelt all the way to the ground, and greeted Malam Babba Me Allo. Across the entire town of Azare, if you mentioned that name, you would be brought straight to him—he was a prominent, highly respected scholar.
With his head bowed, Mansur said, "Malam, good afternoon."
Setting the Qur'an aside, the old man replied, "Mansur, everything is fine. Is that really you visiting today...?"
Keeping his head low, Mansur said, "Yes, wallahi. I hope I find you all in good health...?"
"Alhamdulillah, everyone is doing very well," he said, picking his Qur'an back up.
Mansur raised his head, looked over at Nadiya standing off to the side, and gestured with his eyes for her to come over.
Though she was thoroughly infuriated, she walked over and said, "Good afternoon."
Malam warmly replied, "Good afternoon. How is my grandchild...?"
"Alhamdulillah, he is doing well," she said, averting her gaze.
He reached out and took Sultan. The little boy looked at him and laughed—Masha Allah, he was a naturally cheerful child.
Mansur stood up, and she did as well. It took every ounce of patience Nadiya had to watch Malam scoop some water into a silver cup and feed it to Sultan. The boy just stared at him as he offered the water and let him drink it.
The moment they stepped into the entryway (sora) of the house, she dug her heels in, stopped, and said, "Sweetheart, seriously, go get my baby back for me. Didn't you see the water Malam gave him? What if he catches some disease...?"
Frowning, he replied, "Nadiya, what are you trying to say? That my father would give Sultan something harmful...? Why are you acting like this...? The very water you see there is what I drank growing up until you saw me, said you loved me, and married me."
As soon as he finished speaking, he walked ahead. Stunned into silence by his frustration with her, she hiked up her abaya, letting out a quiet hiss.