Karuwan Cikin Gida Part 1 Complete Hausa Novel

A Breeze of Secrets
 
A soft breeze blew through the trees as it danced across her light clothing. She stretched lazily, answering her phone with mild irritation.
 
> “Eman, I don’t think I’ll attend today’s lecture. Just sign me in.”
 
She listened briefly before scoffing.
 
> “Don’t tell me you slept at the club again. I can hear the music in the background.”
 
Eman laughed.
 
> “No club. I’m with Jee. I plan to head home soon—Mom isn’t well, and Islam told me it’s serious. But first, I want to handle this blackmail issue. If he pushes me, I’ll leak the video. I’m not ashamed.”
 
Jawaher rolled her eyes.
 
> “Forget that. My issue is worse—some annoying girl is coming to live in my house under the excuse of schooling. She’s the type that looks too clean to be innocent. My man doesn’t get it—I like my space!”
 
Eman chuckled.
 
> “Jawaher, are you afraid she’ll do to you what you do to others? Unless there’s something you’re hiding, why so defensive?”
 
Jawaher hissed.
 
> “I’ll make her prefer hostel life. She’s not staying in my house. Watch.”
 
Unexpected Guest
 
As Jawaher walked into the living room, she was startled to find her husband, Jawad, already home with their guest, Najlah, who sat quietly on the couch scrolling through her phone.
 
> “Sweet… you didn’t tell me you were coming,” Jawaher said, forcing a smile.
 
Without looking up, Najlah greeted her calmly. Jawaher ignored her and turned her attention back to her husband.
 
> “I thought you said she’d arrive the day after tomorrow?”
 
> “Plans changed,” he replied.
 
Najlah coughed gently to remind them she was still there. Jawad then turned to Jawaher.
 
> “Please take her to her room.”
 
> “Sure… dear sister,” Jawaher said with venomous sweetness. “Sorry if I’ve disturbed your comfort.”
 
Najlah stood, adjusted her hijab, and wheeled her suitcase behind her, silently.
 
She already knew Jawaher would be trouble. But she’d had enough experience with people like her. If Jawaher wanted drama, Najlah knew how to play that game too.
 
Tension Behind Closed Doors
 
Once in her room, Najlah called Hajiya, breaking into tears.
 
> “Hajiya, I can’t stay here. Aunt Jawaher is mean. Please let me live with Ya Aliyu and attend BUK instead.”
 
> “Be patient, Najlah. It’s only temporary. You’ll go home for holidays. This arrangement is what the family agreed on,” Hajiya advised.
 
Just as she ended the call, Jawad entered her room, startling her. She quickly wore her hijab.
 
> “Anything you need, text me. I’m flying to Dubai tomorrow.”
 
> “Thank you, but I don’t need anything. Abba got me everything.”
 
Jawad sat on the bed, his gaze lingering.
 
> “Aren’t you hot?”
 
She didn’t respond. Realizing how inappropriate his question sounded, he changed the topic quickly.
 
Aunt Jawaher’s Fury
 
Jawaher met Jawad in the hallway.
 
> “Your food is ready. Want to eat first or shower?”
 
> “Take some to Najlah. I’ll shower first.”
 
> “She’s just a girl,” Jawaher muttered bitterly, storming to the kitchen.
 
After collecting a tray of food, she headed to Najlah’s room without knocking. The room was empty, but she heard the shower. She turned to leave when Najlah stepped out, modestly wrapped in a towel.
 
Jawaher froze.
 
Something stuck in her throat. That figure? That skin? That confidence?
 
> “Your food,” she mumbled and left.
 
Clashing Worlds
 
Najlah sat, drying her hair, muttering to herself.
 
> “Crazy woman. She thinks she can intimidate me? I’ll handle her in three moves.”
 
She dressed modestly and looked for something to eat. The food didn’t appeal to her, and her stomach twisted in discomfort. She headed to the fridge—just water and soft drinks.
 
She wrapped her veil and left the room quietly. Descending the stairs, she caught sight of Jawad and Jawaher walking hand-in-hand like newlyweds.
 
> “Hypocrites,” she thought, “Pretending saints, but they’re shameless.”
 
> “Sister,” she said politely, “I can’t eat that food. I’ll cook something myself.”
 
> “Oh right,” Jawaher mocked. “You prefer local dishes. Kitchen’s that way.”
 
> “It’s good to keep our cultural food,” Najlah replied calmly.
 
Behind the Mask of Sweetness
 
At dinner, Jawaher served her husband.
 
> “Sweet, you haven’t said anything about my trip to Turkey. Zeey’s wedding is near. You know how close we are. I only need a month. We can video call. Please, let me go.”
 
Jawad hesitated.
 
> “Video calls can’t replace what I want from you.”
 
> “Please,” she begged, “Just this once. I’m not even asking for money. Let me support my friend.”
 
He wiped his mouth and sighed.
 
> “I’ll think about it.”
 
She squeezed his hand lovingly.
 
> “You’re going to Dubai too. Help me out.”
 
> “What about your studies? Who’ll stay home?”
 
Unspoken Warnings
 
Meanwhile, Najlah returned to her room, worn out from the day's subtle battles. She lay in bed wondering how long she’d have to put up with Jawaher’s hostility.
 
But one thing was sure.
 
She wouldn’t be bullied.
 
And whatever game Jawaher planned to play—Najlah was ready to outplay her.