Dan Shaye Shaye Ne Part 1 Complete Hausa Novel

A Stormy Evening and a Beautiful Girl
 
The storm gathered heavily, the sky turned red, and the wind blew strongly. A young lady walked quickly, dressed in a yellow and red patterned atamfa decorated with stars. Its repeated washing had made the fabric appear faded, almost white in parts.
 
She was light-skinned but not too fair, with abundant black hair, thick well-shaped eyebrows, bright eyes, a long nose, and a narrow but attractive face. Her small pink lips looked like she wore lipstick, though she did not. She had a striking Fulani figure—shapely hips like a Coca-Cola bottle, slender fingers, and a balanced height—not too tall, not short. Her slimness showed only at her chest and hips.
 
This beauty had stirred jealousy among her half-siblings, making them despise her. She hurried along, holding a basket of fruits that weighed her down. With no change for transport, she had to walk the long distance from the fruit market back to her guardian’s home.
 
Her path stretched past the commissioner’s residence before reaching her own street. Clouds thickened, the storm raged louder, and fear gripped her—she had to hurry before heavy rain caught her.
 
A Drunken Drive and a Sudden Accident
 
Elsewhere, a man drove recklessly, his hand clutching a bottle of alcohol. He was drowned in sorrow, tormented by an accusation of adultery he never committed. In frustration, he gulped more liquor, threw away the bottle, then grabbed another. His blurred vision and unsteady hands lost control of the car; it swerved and crashed.
 
Shaken but alive, he struck the steering wheel in frustration. Suddenly, he heard a scream—a girl’s voice, crying and calling on God. His bloodshot eyes widened as he saw the young fruit seller, badly hit, her head bleeding, her basket shattered, and fruits scattered on the ground.
 
In panic, he staggered out of the car, tried to lift her, but she fainted in his arms. He carried her into his vehicle, intending to rush her to the hospital. His security men arrived, alarmed, but dared not interfere, for he was already furious.
 
At the hospital, the staff quickly wheeled her into the emergency room. Her head wound was dressed, and her injured arm stitched. Finally, she was placed on a bed with IV fluids. He ignored greetings, his focus solely on her survival.
 
Hospital Struggles and Hidden Truths
 
Nurse Ingozi entered later, adjusting the girl’s drip. When the girl stirred awake, she panicked, crying, “Where is my fruit? Momy Maimuna’s fruit…!” Unable to calm her, the nurse injected her with a sedative until she slept.
 
Dr. Tahir, a close friend of the driver—Fawass—later discovered the injection and scolded the nurse. He confronted Fawass about his drinking. Fawass, ashamed, admitted the truth: he had not drunk for weeks, but something drove him to it.
 
He narrated: the previous evening, he had returned home early. While preparing to bathe, he heard movement in his bedroom. To his shock, he found Ikilima, someone dear to him, committing fornication with another man on his bed. The sight broke him; he left silently, unnoticed, and drank heavily to drown his pain.
 
Tahir listened, horrified. The two men later visited the girl’s room together, watching her still unconscious. Fawass was filled with guilt—his drunkenness had injured an innocent soul.
 
Awakening and Unfolding Fate
 
As dawn broke, prayers filled the hospital air. The girl slowly awoke, feeling pain in her head and hand. Seeing the nurse in white, she thought of an angel. Memories rushed back—her basket, her fruits, her guardian’s errand. She wept bitterly, repeating her words about “Momy Maimuna’s fruit.”
 
Her tears struck the hearts of those around, though she was soon calmed back into rest. Meanwhile, Tahir tightened security around the hospital due to rising child abductions.
 
Later, Fawass, remorseful, sat reading the Qur’an. Tahir confronted him again:
 
“Do you know what you did yesterday?”
 
Confused, Fawass struggled to recall. Slowly, the reality hit him—his reckless drinking, his crash, the bleeding girl. “Ya salam,” he whispered in shame. Tahir reminded him that his addiction had almost destroyed not just himself but another life.
 
Fawass buried his face in his palms. “What have I done…?”