Kayar Ruwa Part 1 Complete Hausa Novel

Lying on the Royal Bed
 
I was lying on a spacious Italian royal bed inside my magnificent bedroom. My S22 phone was beside me as I listened to the recitation of the Holy Qur’an in the voice of Mahmood Hosary. My eyes were half-closed as if I were asleep, the cool air from the AC brushing every strand of hair on my body, while my nose enjoyed the sweet scent of the incense burning in the burner—just the way I always prepare it so it doesn’t burn too strongly.
 
I wore a long, light material gown—one of my favorite outfits even though it isn’t expensive. My face was plain with no makeup, which only made the leanness of my face more visible.
 
Today, I felt weak, almost like someone who was sick or dying, even though neither was true. Since morning, my mouth had no taste and my heart kept sinking in a disturbing way. Because of that, I had been praying, doing tasbihi, and listening to the Qur’an to ease my loneliness. Yet despite all this, I strongly felt that something big was about to shake my world, something that might mark the end of everything in my life.
 
I let out a deep sigh and turned to face the entrance door, silently praying that whatever would happen should be for good, and that Allah should grant me strength to pass any trial and accept destiny.
 
I kept staring at the silver ring on my finger, feeling an overwhelming sensation, while a memory from years back pulled a forced smile onto my face—a smile of pain. I picked up my phone to check the time. It was five minutes past five in the evening. I sat up, surprised by how fast time had flown. “Already five? Truly, the world runs fast. May Allah let us complete our lives with faith,” I whispered.
 
I quickly placed my feet on the floor, adjusting my headscarf. I felt as though I would collapse—weak like someone drained by severe diarrhea in one day. I stood in front of the giant mirror, grabbed a tissue, and wiped the corners of my eyes because of yesterday’s lingering eye pain.
 
Staring at myself, I realized that if life and years truly exist, then change must also exist. I looked nothing like myself. My once youthful face—fresh and shining—was now lean. Before, I had a full, healthy body with no sign of stress or hunger. Now, my body looked like bones and visible veins. My eyes were deeply sunken, my cheeks hollow, and the glow I had was only the glow of extreme thinness. Even my chest had fallen flat like that of someone who had breastfed a hundred babies. I looked nothing like a twenty-two-year-old at all.
 
Suddenly my eyes filled with tears, though they refused to fall. I bowed my head, overwhelmed by pain and pity for myself, feeling a lump of emotion stuck in my throat that refused to pass. After gathering strength, I lifted my head again, pushing back the tears. I looked around the luxurious room—luxury enough for one to enjoy life without worry. Living in such a home that felt like Europe, wrapped in comfort, anyone who visited never wanted to leave. The whole wealth poured into building this mansion could make someone swear it wasn’t a place meant for ordinary people. If not for Allah’s mercy, such comfort could distract one from worship.
 
Many times, my friends and relatives told me, “Sa’ida, you’re blessed. You don’t get sad easily because Allah has given you everything—wealth everywhere. Look at the house you live in as if death doesn’t exist. Look at your cars—just sitting in them is enough to make someone gain weight and glow. You eat meat every day; you have nothing to worry about.”
But they don’t know the truth—that’s not where peace lies. Plenty of people die in luxury. Only a peaceful heart enjoys life.
 
I studied my reflection, sighing painfully with a wounded smile. They only see the empire Allah placed me in, but they never notice the challenges behind it. They don’t know I am not happy in this house. They don’t see the decay in me. They don’t understand that my past life was far better than this present one. They don’t see that I desperately need help. They think I can give them everything simply because they call this mansion “Sa’ida’s house,” not knowing that I own nothing here—it isn’t mine at all.
 
Yes, wealth, life, and health are blessings. Wealth is everything after health. There is nothing sweeter than being able to give rather than receive—eating well, dressing well, sleeping well, traveling by air wherever you want, spending without limit, mingling with the elites.
But what then? With all the riches and empire you live in, if you lack peace of mind, you have no happiness. As for me, I’d rather live in poverty with peace than in wealth without rest or calmness of heart.
 
I sighed again—a third heavy sigh—and forced a painful smile, shaking my head knowingly. I reminded myself that every level of success comes with challenges, that everything on earth has an end, and that trusting Allah is the only true investment. As long as today exists, so will tomorrow and the next day—everything will eventually fade into history. I adjusted my headscarf, applied some oil perfume, and left the room with slow, weak steps as if walking on ice.
 
I rushed out despite the discomfort in my heart. I knew Hubbi would be on his way home by now—perhaps he had even arrived without my knowing, since lately I only noticed his return if I stayed in the living room. I also hadn’t cooked, something I rarely failed to do. Even when he disliked my cooking, I still tried my best since the ingredients were always bought and stocked.
 
Immediately after leaving the bedroom, I headed directly to the upstairs kitchen. I opened the fridge and pulled out a container of stew ingredients I had prepared earlier. I never troubled myself with cutting or blending daily—I usually blended everything in large quantities and stored them. While cooking, I revised my thoughts.
 
In no time, I finished preparing jollof spaghetti, its aroma mixed with dried fish and fresh vegetables. I poured it into the expensive food container Hubbi brought from Dubai last week—the one Hamida said cost two hundred thousand. Then I blended pineapple juice and poured it into a jug.