Kiswa Part 1 Complete Hausa Novel

A Princess in Pink and White
 
A beautiful young lady sat gracefully on her bed in a room that screamed wealth and class. Everything inside carried a princess-like touch, decorated in shades of pink and white. Two beds occupied the room, each wide enough to carry two people. She sat quietly, tapping her tablet in deep concentration. Her skin was dark but flawless, the kind described as black beauty—smooth, well cared for, and glowing.
 
While she was still lost in her screen, the door suddenly pushed open. Another young lady of her age stormed in without greeting. She threw her handbag carelessly onto the second bed and kicked off her pointed shoes with exhaustion.
 
Kiswa, the first lady, glanced at her once then returned to her tablet. The new entrant, clearly annoyed, hissed and said,
 
“Wallahi Kiswa, you have a big problem. I walked in, you didn’t even say hi. Instead you behaved like I wasn’t here. Today was beyond stressful.”
 
Kiswa smiled faintly. She knew this girl too well—attention was her drug.
 
This was Faridha Aliyu, better known as Farry, only daughter of Alhaji Aliyu, elder brother to Zubaida (Kiswa’s mother) and her barrister wife, Juwairiyyah. Farry was the princess of the house, pampered, spoiled, and raised like royalty. Her two brothers, Sameer and Sageer, indulged her endlessly. Though arrogant, she loved Kiswa deeply, even though her mother hated Kiswa with passion—suspecting she might one day steal the love and attention of her sons.
 
Often, Kiswa found herself cleaning up after Farry’s messes, shielding her from trouble, and ensuring no harm touched her.
 
Setting her tablet aside, Kiswa spoke firmly:
 
“Farry, the last time I checked, your problem was barging in without greetings. Anyway, about that guy stalking you—it’s handled. But abeg, let me rest too. I have a life.”
 
Excited, Farry jumped to her side and held her hand.
 
“God! I love you, sis. Thank you. Expect a credit alert of 500k later.”
 
Kiswa frowned. “You must be crazy. How many times have I told you? If I help you, don’t try paying me back. If you want services, hire professionals. Not me.”
 
Farry giggled, still holding her. “Chill girl! I mean no harm. You know I’m financially better off. Look at me driving a Land Cruiser while you drive a 306. So, what’s wrong if I gift you?”
 
She adjusted her towel and headed to the bathroom, pausing to say, “Anyway, I’ll still send the 500k. Use it however you like.”
 
Kiswa smiled faintly and whispered to herself, “I have over 5 million in savings. I worked hard for it. I bought my own car. I don’t need to lean on anyone.”
 
From inside the bathroom, Farry teased back: “Five million doesn’t make you a millionaire. Quit that company job and join Dad’s firm. I promise you’ll earn more. You even rejected the car Dad bought you. Sometimes you amaze me.”
 
Kiswa, ignoring the jab, rearranged her bed and said, “You studied religion, right? Then you know talking too much in the bathroom is haram. Save the lecture until you’re out.”
 
That was Farry—never filtering her words, always saying whatever crossed her mind. But when it came to Kiswa, she was fiercely protective. Even when Kiswa first moved in, she fought hard so they could share a room, despite her mother’s objections.
 
Later, Kiswa picked up Farry’s abandoned shoes, muttering for her to stop scattering them everywhere. When Farry returned, freshly dressed, she grabbed Kiswa’s cereal cup without asking and began eating.
 
Kiswa hissed. “One day you’ll eat poison.”
 
Farry laughed. “Not from your hands, sis. You love me too much. Anyway, where’s your Haidar?”
 
Kiswa rolled her eyes. “Forget him. He thinks I can’t live without him. Let’s see who gets tired first.”
 
Farry chuckled. “That’s why I stay away from relationships. Money and power first.”
 
They both burst into laughter, their usual sisterly bond restored.
 
The Family Breakfast
 
It was Monday morning in the grand house of Alhaji Aliyu. Everyone rushed about, preparing for work. Kiswa, after praying Subh, had gone to assist Baraka, the cook. She loved helping, even though Baraka never expected it.
 
The rule of the house was clear: no one could eat breakfast until all were present. So, they all sat waiting for Kiswa. Barrister Juwairiyyah, clearly irritated, slammed her cup and hissed:
 
“Alhaji, why must we always wait for everyone? This girl delays us daily. I have court to attend. I’ll eat now.”
 
She began to prepare her tea, ignoring her husband’s silence. Sameer spoke softly, “Mother, yesterday it was Sageer who came late, and we still waited. Today’s delay isn’t even up to thirty minutes. It’s just 6:30.”
 
Annoyed, she turned sharply. “So you now defend her against me? Careful, Sameer, I’ll put you in your place.”
 
At that moment, Kiswa entered apologetically. “I’m so sorry. I delayed you all.”
 
Juwairiyyah hissed again. “Of course! They have nothing else to do but wait for you. Unlike me.”
 
Alhaji Aliyu banged the table so hard it echoed. His voice thundered, “Enough! How many times will I warn you? Leave my sister Zubaida out of your bitterness. Stop dragging her into everything.”
 
Juwairiyyah glared but swallowed her words. Dropping her spoon, she said coldly, “Fine. Keep shouting at me in front of the kids. It won’t hide the truth—your sister is a failure. And you pretending to care won’t change that.” With that, she stormed out, ignoring Sageer who called after her.
 
An uneasy silence followed until Kiswa sat gently beside Farry. “Sorry, everyone. I didn’t mean to cause trouble. I just couldn’t find my outfit. We’re expecting important guests at work today, and I wanted to look presentable.”
 
Her attempt at explanation drew laughter from the others. Sageer teased, “You should’ve studied journalism with your eloquence, not public relations.”
 
Kiswa smiled. “I only followed what my Appa wanted—business. Just like Mother chose law, Sameer chose immigration, and you, Sageer, chose accounting. Passion drives us differently.”
 
“Case closed,” their father said warmly. He admired Kiswa deeply. Though she refused to work in his company, he never pressured her, always keeping a place open if she changed her mind.
 
They ate breakfast together, avoiding further talk of Mother. Afterwards, each person left in their cars. Kiswa proudly entered her modest 306, content with what she had earned herself.
 
The World of AYZEL Foundation
 
Soon, Kiswa drove into the massive parking lot of AYZEL Foundation, the company where she worked. It was a powerful conglomerate dealing in sweets, chocolates, drinks, food, clothing, and much more.
 
The company was chaired by Alhaji Basil Madugu, a man widely respected for his generosity and integrity. He paid workers promptly and expected absolute dedication in return. Anyone working under him had to be serious, for he valued excellence above all.
 
It was for this reason he cherished Kiswa. As the Public Relations Officer, she was sharp, articulate, and dedicated beyond expectation. To him, she wasn’t just an employee; she was an asset.
 
Her colleagues respected her, too, for she carried herself with dignity, earned her place through hard work, and never allowed her family wealth—or Farry’s influence—to define her.
 
Despite her calm exterior, Kiswa’s life was a delicate balance. She loved her cousin Farry but often had to endure her excesses. She respected her uncle, Alhaji Aliyu, but constantly faced hostility from his wife, Juwairiyyah. She worked hard to prove herself independent, refusing favors, gifts, or shortcuts.
 
Her heart, however, was another battlefield. Haidar lingered in her thoughts, though she masked it with pride. Farry teased her about him often, but Kiswa believed her strength lay in proving she could live without him.
 
Through it all, she carried herself with grace—whether in the pink-and-white elegance of her bedroom, the tension-filled dining table of her family, or the polished professionalism of AYZEL Foundation.