Jami'in Sirri Part 1 Complete Hausa Novel

The Accident
 
She was driving her sleek black car, shining as if it had just been polished. Anyone could tell from the look of it that millions had been spent before buying it. The melodious recitation of the Qur’an filled the car’s speakers, echoing wherever she passed.
 
When she met a traffic jam, she sighed softly, turned her car, and took a smaller road. The houses in that area all belonged to poor people. She glanced around, shaking her head as she thought to herself, “Oh Allah, bless us with wealth and protect us from poverty.”
 
Just as she was about to leave the area, suddenly — she hit someone. She herself couldn’t tell how it happened. Panicking, she stopped the car and rushed out. Two men had already reached the scene.
 
“Oh God! Please, check if he’s not dead!” she said in fear as she saw blood dripping from the man’s mouth.
 
“Hey, you crazy woman! Driving recklessly through a poor neighborhood like this?” one shouted.
 
Another man sneered from a distance, saying, “That’s how rich people’s daughters behave — no manners, no fear of God, and no respect for others, especially the poor.”
 
Though their words hurt, she kept calm and said, “Please help me put him in the car so we can take him to the hospital before he dies.”
 
One of them replied carelessly, “Not my business. Let’s go, Sabi’u.”
 
An elderly man passing by stopped and said, “This is heartless. She’s asking for help to save a life, and you refuse?”
 
They responded, “Old man, we don’t know either of them. If you can help, then go ahead.” Then they walked away.
 
The old man shook his head, helped her carry the man into the back seat, and said, “Young lady, take him to the hospital. May Allah protect you. I’ll be going.”
 
“Thank you, sir,” she said, giving him some money before driving off in a hurry.
 
At the Hospital
 
Within minutes, she arrived at a well-known hospital. She parked quickly, rushed out, and called the security guards, who helped carry the injured man inside. He was immediately taken into the emergency room.
 
She began pacing anxiously in the corridor, too scared to go in. After some hours, a doctor came out wiping sweat from his forehead. She ran toward him and asked, “Doctor, please tell me he’s not dead!”
 
“Calm down, Doctor Nainaaa,” he said. “You’re a doctor too, but you can’t control yourself. How did this even happen?”
 
“Let’s discuss that later,” she said quickly. “First tell me, what condition is my patient in?”
 
The doctor sighed. “It seems he might have lost his memory, but we can’t confirm until he wakes up.”
 
“Oh God, I’m finished! Let me go in and see him.”
 
She didn’t wait for permission and rushed into the ward. He was lying there, half his body covered in bandages, a sheet draped over him. Despite the pain and bandages, his strikingly handsome face was visible — her heart whispered, “He’s so handsome.”
 
Exhausted, she sat on a chair, closed her eyes, and tried to rest. She hadn’t even come from home; she had just returned from a rural outreach trip before the accident happened.
 
Around 4:30, the man slowly opened his eyes. He stared at the beautiful lady seated beside him, but she hadn’t noticed him awake yet — her thoughts had drifted to her mother. When she finally looked up and their eyes met, she gasped and stood up abruptly, saying...
 
“Baseerata, you are my blessing.” ❤️
 
Recovery and Family Tensions
 
When he regained consciousness, she called the doctor, and they examined him again. He could move, but he couldn’t speak.
 
“Doctor, what’s wrong? He can’t talk — I hope I didn’t cause permanent damage!” she said, trembling.
 
“Calm down, Doctor Nainaaa. Everything will be fine, Insha’Allah,” the doctor reassured her. “But we’ll need brain specialists to check him.”
 
“Then I’ll arrange for him to be taken abroad,” she said determinedly.
 
“Let’s wait for Doctor Najib to examine him first,” he advised. “If he agrees, then you can proceed.”
 
She smiled faintly. “Thank you, Doctor San. I’ll come back tomorrow.”
 
Before leaving, she walked closer to the patient and said softly, “Please get well soon. I’ll be back tomorrow, and I hope you’ll be able to speak.” Then she left the hospital.
 
Back in her car, her phone rang repeatedly — many missed calls, mostly from Ummee. She finally picked up.
 
“Are you alright, my daughter? I’ve been calling!”
 
“Yes, I’m fine, Ummee. I just had a small accident. I hit someone, but he’s in the hospital now.”
 
“Subhanallah! I hope it’s nothing serious.”
 
“It’s under control, Ummee. I’m on my way home.”
 
She arrived at a magnificent mansion, parked, and stepped out. She wasn’t tall, with smooth brown skin, and everything about her reflected class and wealth.
 
Inside, she greeted softly and went to her stepmother’s room. “Mommy, good evening,” she said.
 
Her stepmother looked at her coldly before replying sarcastically, “So, the pampered princess finally decided to come see me? You and that fake holy woman you gossip with — your time is coming soon. Get out of my sight!”
 
Though hurt, Nainaaa said nothing. She had gotten used to the insults.
 
Her stepsister, Haira, followed her outside and held her hand gently. “Please don’t mind Mommy. I don’t know what’s wrong with her, but no matter what, we’re sisters. I’m always with you, okay?”
 
Nainaaa nodded, fighting back tears. “Thank you, sister.”