Garkuwa Biyu Part 1 Complete Hausa Novel

He gently drove his car into the compound after the security guard threw the massive gate wide open, and headed toward the parking space. After a couple of minutes, he opened the car door, swung his elegantly dressed legs out, and stepped down, briefcase in hand. A pair of glasses sat on his handsome face. Locking the car, he paced forward slowly with a calm, captivating stride. The security guard quickly hurried over and bowed before him in deep respect.
"Welcome back, boss."
He smiled, nodding his head. "Thank you, Umar. How is the house, and how was your day? I hope everything is fine?"
Umar bowed even lower. "Alhamdulillah, we had a peaceful day. However, a little while ago, I saw Garkuwa come out of the house crying. When I asked him what was wrong, he refused to speak. Look, he is sitting right over there by the parlor entrance."
His face clouded with displeasure. He glanced over and spotted the boy sitting with his chin resting in his hands, a look of deep worry etched on his face. Turning his gaze back to Umar, he offered a small smile.
"Alright, no problem, Umar. Go back to your post. I will look into his worries myself."
Umar stood up, expressing his gratitude, while he began walking slowly toward the six-year-old boy, who was sitting on the steps leading into the main parlor.
He stood in front of the boy for a moment, staring down at him with a mix of concern and a racing heart, before he slowly slid down into a squat before him. Raising his gentle hand, he placed it over the boy's hands and pulled them away from his face. Startled, the boy snapped his head up. The moment he recognized the person in front of him, he quickly lunged forward and threw himself into his chest, wrapping his arms around his neck. His tears broke free anew, soaking into his father's shoulder.
For two long minutes, he just let the boy cry and sob, waiting until he grew calm before using his hands to lift his face and look at him. He gently wiped away the tears. The boy stared back at him, his face screwing up as if he were about to burst into another round of weeping. He quickly shook his head and spoke to him softly.
"I don't ever want to see tears in Hamza Garkuwa's eyes again. You are a warrior, Hamza, and a warrior doesn't cry; his heart is always resilient. The only reason I let you cry just now was so you could find some relief. You know, sometimes when a child is crying, it's best to let them get it out so that the weight can lift from their chest. From the warmth of your tears, I knew this came from a place of deep worry, which is why I let them flow to ease your burden. But what is troubling you so much that you couldn't even stay inside the house and had to come out here to cry?"
The boy lowered his head, nervously playing with his father's fingers, and spoke in a fragile, childish voice.
"I just don't like seeing my Ammi cry, Abba. That's why I came out here."
"Did she cry again today?" he asked sharply.
The boy nodded, his eyes welling up with tears. "Yes, Abba, she cried a lot. Her eyes are completely red."
He closed his eyes and softly muttered, "Surely to Allah we belong and to Him we shall return." He quickly stood up, took the boy's hand, and said, "Come on, let's go inside."
The boy stood up, then reached out his hand and said, "My Abba, give me the bag so I can carry it for you." He handed it over, then wrapped an arm around the boy's side as they walked into the parlor.
She was sitting on one of the sofas in the parlor, her head buried in her lap. Their greeting of peace (sallama) didn't make her look up. They stood there watching her, catching their breath. He slowly turned to the boy and spoke in a quiet tone.
"Go take my bag to the bedroom. Once you're there, stay inside and do some reading."
The boy complied and walked away, looking back at them repeatedly until he disappeared into the bedroom. He then stepped forward quietly, sat down right beside her, and gently reached out to lift her lowered face, wanting their eyes to meet. A sharp shiver ran down his spine when he saw how intensely red her eyes were—clear proof that she had been weeping bitterly. He used his finger to wipe away a stray tear, then gently drew her into his arms, holding her tightly as he let out a deep sigh. He ran one hand through her soft, short hair, while using his other hand to gently massage her back.