Kaifi Daya Part 1 Complete Hausa Novel

Room 204, A’isha Specialist Hospital.
 
Above the door was a nameplate boldly inscribed in purple:
 
Dr. Mimi B. Muhammad, MBBS, FMCOG
 
Inside the office stood a single desk. A stethoscope lay sprawled across it like a dead snake, with patients’ files arranged on the right and medical journals stacked on the left. Beside them was a framed photograph placed face down, and next to it sat a small, beautifully designed copy of the Holy Qur’an divided into sixty sections.
 
Two chairs stood in front of the desk. Her white coat was draped over the back of her own chair. Behind it was an enormous window overlooking the hospital’s vast garden, which constantly sent a pleasant breeze scented with plants and fresh grass into the office. Even so, the distinct smells of antiseptic and mint gum were always present.
 
She often told her patients, “Fresh air helps healing,” yet she never opened the window for herself.
 
Her medical certificates were neatly displayed on the wall, alongside a large framed inscription that read:
 
“Sometimes the doctor needs healing too.”
 
Slowly, she pushed herself up from the chair. Her desk was buried beneath towering piles of documents and patients’ files. A small wooden nameplate sat among them, bearing the inscription:
 
Dr. Mimi Basheer Anda
 
She felt like placing both hands on her head because of the overwhelming anxiety and sorrow consuming her. She did not even realise that she had begun pacing around the office. She was lost in a world of thoughts, fear and grief, burdened by the frustration that had filled both her mind and her heart.
 
She walked over to the desk and stopped beside it, placing a hand on its surface as she raised her face towards the ceiling.
 
She wore a long black abaya that fitted her figure perfectly. A small white hijab covered her head, though it could not completely conceal the thick, jet-black hair that fell over her forehead.
 
She was fair-skinned, but not pale. Her complexion had a rich tone resembling a perfectly roasted groundnut. Her eyes were deep brown—tired, yet sharp like a surgeon’s scalpel. She did not wear makeup to hide; she wore it like armour.
 
She was of average height, with a well-proportioned figure.