El Habeeb Part 1 Complete Hausa Novel

He walked over to his luxurious office chair, which was still wrapped in its protective leather covering and looked as though it had only been placed there that very day. He sat down after saying *Bismillah*, as had become his habit—he never sat down without saying it first.

Lowering his head slightly, he pressed one hand against his forehead while the other began tapping a pen lightly against the desk. After settling into the chair, he slowly swivelled back and forth.

There was a mountain of work before him because preparations were underway to establish a new leather-processing company under their main company. That was why he had barely had a moment to rest these past few days; he was constantly busy. The workload had even helped reduce how often he thought about the mysterious girl from his dreams—until today, when everything suddenly came flooding back as vividly as ever.

There was a knock at the door.

“Yes, come in,” he said softly, in the naturally pleasant voice Allah had blessed him with, without opening his eyes or stopping the gentle movement of his chair.

A handsome, tall young man entered the office, looking sharp in a light-blue suit and carrying a large pile of files.

“Mazajeeee!”

The young man exclaimed as he dropped the stack of files onto the desk, pulled out a chair, and sat down with a cheerful expression.

The chair stopped moving abruptly.

He clicked his tongue softly, opened his eyes, and shot the young man a glare.

Speaking quietly, almost as though talking itself was an effort, he said,

“That’s exactly my problem with you, MJ. You’re crazy. How can you just walk into my office without offering *salam*, as though you’re not a Muslim?”

“Oh, shit! Wallahi, it completely slipped my mind,” Mujaheed replied, lightly tapping his forehead.

He closed his eyes again without saying anything.

MJ smiled, grabbed both his ears apologetically, and said,

“Forgive me, my friend. My head is still on my shoulders. *Assalamu alaikum.*”

He adjusted himself in his seat, returned the greeting, and extended his hand towards MJ. MJ did the same, and they shook hands.

MJ pulled the documents closer, intending to begin explaining them to him, but then noticed that his friend had relaxed back into the chair, tilted his head upward, and was staring at the office ceiling, beautifully decorated with carefully arranged lights.

MJ simply stared at him for a moment, studying him closely.

It was obvious that his friend—and relative—was troubled by something.

Adjusting himself in his chair once more, MJ said,