Garkuwa Part 2 Complete Hausa Novel

Garkuwa Part 2 Complete Hausa Novel
He suddenly felt something rushing through him—zrr zrr zrrrr—starting from the palm of his hand all the way to the center of his head.
 
He quickly shut his eyes tightly, clenching her closer to him, as an intense sensation pierced through his body—from his chest, down to the soles of his feet, and to each of his toes.
 
His lips began to tremble, as if they were about to fall off.
They turned red and shiny like someone had applied oil to them, becoming soft like flower petals.
 
Goosebumps erupted all over his body, even up to his scalp.
 
He opened his eyes slowly, his breathing changing rhythm.
He couldn’t fully open them due to the overwhelming, tear-like feeling that welled up inside—not actual tears, but something that deeply touched his core.
 
It was his first time in life, the very first moment his hand had ever touched it—that sacred part of a woman—naked, unveiled.
It struck him unexpectedly, shaking his soul to the core.
 
Slowly, he drew her closer to his body.
Opening his lips softly, voice trembling and deep in his throat, he whispered:
"Alhamdulillah… Alhamdulillah… Ya Subhanallah. Glory be to the Lord of the worlds."
 
His voice melted further, becoming hard to even hear as he continued:
"A'ich… Ahhh’i… chhhh…"
Then silence fell. His breath was nearly being snatched away.
 
Aysha, still deep in sleep, rolled over and cuddled him tight, shivering lightly.
 
His body trembled even more.
 
Summoning the last of his strength, he carefully carried her in his arms and walked toward the bedroom.
He gently laid her on the bed, switched off the light, then lay beside her, pulling the cover over them.
 
Drawing her closer, her body warmth pressed against him.
He placed his hand on her back and slowly ran his finger up the soft curve of her lower back to the top of her hips, like the glide of a feather.
 
She began to shiver slightly, her chest pressing harder into him, her hand sliding around his neck.
 
Softly, he whispered,
"Ah, Mamey… you're about to strangle me."
 
Then he rolled her under him.
She opened her eyes quickly, saying,
"Wayyo Yah Sheykh!"
 
He pressed his forehead against hers, biting her lips gently.
She jolted and pulled back, saying,
"Wayyo Ummey, my lips!"
 
He lowered his head to her chest.
 
Without planning, without meaning to, and without even desiring it consciously, he found himself pressing his lips against her nipple.
 
She gasped sharply.
He held her tightly, softly licked it like he’d found a sweet.
They both let out a deep, fiery breath together.
 
She placed her palm on his head, whispering, voice shaky:
"Washhhh Yahhh Sheykh!"
 
Their bodies trembled as one.
She let out a strange cry she couldn’t explain, flailing her arms.
 
He rolled to the side, pulling her tightly against him, burying his nose in her neck and breathing in deeply.
 
Softly, in a whisper, he said,
"You taste sour… You haven’t bathed."
 
He pressed his nose into her neck again, hand on her chest.
She winced and snuggled against him.
He lifted his leg and placed it over her.
Then closed his eyes, resting with her.
 
And just like that, sleep took her away.
 
As for Sheykh, the moment had gone far beyond what he expected.
He felt an overwhelming, luxurious calm sweeping through his soul.
 
 
---
 
At dawn…
 
Galadima and the rest had already gathered in the sitting room waiting for Sheykh to lead the dawn prayer.
 
But for the first time in his life, Sheykh missed the dawn prayer due to a sleep filled with deep meanings.
 
He slowly opened his eyes.
Seeing them lying so close together reminded him of everything that happened the night before.
 
His face hardened as he glared at her.
He quickly got up, went to the bathroom, bathed, and made ablution.
 
He came out, put on a clean white cloak and a robe, neatly folded the clothes he had worn, and packed them in his bag.
 
As he applied perfume, he sat at the edge of the bed and said,
"Aich… Aich, wake up. Go pray. We're leaving soon."
 
She stretched, pulling the cover tighter around herself.
 
Seeing that, he turned and left.
 
She, thinking he was gone, went back to sleep.
 
He returned to lead the prayer, and after the prayer and morning remembrance, he told everyone to get ready for departure.
 
Galadima stood and said,
"We’re all ready. Let’s go."
 
They all walked to the parking lot with their bags.
Sheykh headed back to their room.
 
He found her still in bed as he’d left her.
 
He scowled, moved closer, and said,
"Have you woken up and prayed yet, or what?"
 
Startled by his voice, she sat up—forgetting she wasn’t wearing a top.
 
His eyes landed on her chest.
She followed his gaze and quickly pulled the cover over herself.
 
He hissed, then said,
"Get up and bathe. Go pray."
 
He turned his back to her.
She dashed into the bathroom.
 
She bathed in hot water, which soothed her aching body.
 
Meanwhile, he picked up her bra and top from the living room, folded them neatly, and placed them next to his.
 
He pulled out a brand new dress and a matching veil from his bag.
 
Turning to the bathroom, he said,
"Bring me my towel."
 
She stepped out, wrapped in a soft towel, panties in hand.
 
He handed her the new dress, saying,
"Aunty Hafsat got this for you—for our Umrah trip."
 
She accepted it quickly, saying,
"Thanks a lot. May Allah bless her and grant her desires."
 
"Amin," he said quickly.
 
She noticed how much joy he found in her making prayers for his beloved Aunty Hafsat, and how happy it made him when she prayed for Allah to grant their wishes, especially for him and Umaymah.
 
She softly called,
"Yah Sheykh…"
 
He turned, his heart fluttering every time she called him that.
 
"Yes?"
 
Staring at his back, she said,
"My bra…?"
 
He smirked,
"It smells sour."
 
He zipped the bag shut.
 
She pouted, put on the dress, and wrapped the veil around her head.