Idan Kaya Ya Gaji Part 4 Complete Hausa Novel

Morning Confusion
 
Until morning broke, Sabuwa had no idea what state she was in. Her handbag was still inside Dr. Kamilu’s car, and since he tossed it there, he hadn’t thought about it again until his phone died. Dr. Kamilu didn’t return to the hospital until evening, just as Dr. Mu’awiya was preparing to go home for rest. He went straight into his office and found him sitting there — with his own bag placed on the desk before him.
 
“Ah, Doctor, you’re here? I was just about to shut down the machines and go home to rest,” said Dr. Mu’awiya.
 
Dr. Kamilu sank into a chair and replied, “I just managed to get in. I came to ask how the patient I brought is doing — how’s her condition?”
 
Dr. Mu’awiya adjusted his sitting position before he began to explain.
“She’s in a very serious condition. She’s battling depression, her blood pressure is extremely high, and she’s taken a very strong narcotic drug. You know how hypertension, drugs, and emotional stress are dangerous companions. From the test results, she’s deeply troubled mentally. Before the nurses injected her sedative, she kept mumbling strange words, repeatedly calling a name they couldn’t understand. Maybe it was pain… maybe confusion, or maybe hallucination.
 
She’s asleep now under sedation. You’ll have to continue monitoring her since you’re here.”
 
Dr. Kamilu kept shaking his head, wondering what could make Sabuwa endanger her life like this. He thanked God that when she fell at the hotel, she fell against him — otherwise, if she had hit the ground, she might have ended up paralyzed or dead. Truly, God must have sent him to be her shield.
 
“God help us, Dr. Mu’awiya,” he sighed. “Women these days have gone astray with drug use — it’s destroying them.”
 
Dr. Mu’awiya nodded. “Doctor, most of those addicted to such hard drugs do it out of emotional pain. They think it’s an escape but don’t realize they’re walking into destruction. That woman you brought in — such a beautiful lady — shouldn’t have let her life fall into this.”
 
Dr. Kamilu stood, inhaling deeply. “Which room is she in?”
 
“Room 4, second bed. It’s a quiet ward — all patients there need full rest.”
 
He nodded and went to Room 4. The room was silent except for the soft breathing of four patients, each asleep on her bed. Beside every bed were bedside tables filled with fruits, drinks, and other provisions.
 
Sabuwa’s table, however, was empty. He looked at her closely. Though he didn’t know her personally, he could tell she had lost weight — and even her features showed she’d been unwell for a long time.
 
He didn’t stay long. Back in his office, he suddenly remembered — her handbag was still in his car. Just as he rushed to go fetch it, Nurse Samira entered hurriedly.
 
“Doctor, the patient you brought yesterday has regained consciousness. She’s not talking yet, but tears are rolling down her eyes.”
 
Sabuwa Wakes
 
Slowly, I felt my eyes open, a heavy weakness spreading through every part of my body. My vision was blurry; I couldn’t tell where I was. I heard a man’s voice near me saying,
“The sedative shouldn’t have worn off yet. How come she’s awake? Let’s see what injection you gave her.”
 
After that, I lost all sense again — drifting back into a deep, heavy sleep. The painful memories of my first encounter with Babangida began to replay in my mind. My heart ached as though reopening an old wound that could make even an enemy weep for me.
 
Flashback Continues
 
“What’s your name, beautiful?” Babangida asked, his hands already roaming over me. I could barely answer until I forced the words out: “Sabuwa.”
 
He smiled. “Sabuwa — a name that suits you. Come on, let’s go dance. I don’t know if you smoke, or I’d have offered you one.”
 
I was already craving the club life, so when he held my hand and led me into the crowded, noisy dance area filled with wild behavior, I followed him without hesitation.
 
What happened between me and Babangida that night went far beyond dancing. We drank, we smoked — I lost count of how many sticks I had. Later, he dragged me into another room where his friends — Mustapha, Gaddafi, Hannafi, and the late Sani — were gathered with their girlfriends, eating, drinking, and laughing.
 
Mustapha teased, “Babangida, this one looks hot.”
 
Babangida smirked. “This isn’t one of those cheap girls, my friend. Look at her — you can tell she’s fire. Baby, come with me.”
 
He pulled me into the inner room, and what happened that night became the darkest memory of my life — a night I could never forget.
 
After everything, Babangida drew me close, whispering softly, “Sabuwa, I love you. You’ve captured my heart completely. But I’m a jealous man — I can’t stand seeing my woman with another man. I hope you’ll stay loyal to me.”
 
I laughed weakly and asked, “So, you want me to abandon all my boyfriends and belong only to you?”
 
He smiled, nodding. “That’s exactly what I want.”
 
That night ended with more passion, promises, and deceit — and by morning, he even gave me ₦10,000 and dropped me home. From that day on, I was completely drawn into his world — a world of sin, pleasure, and ruin.