Ko Da So Part 1 Complete Hausa Novel

A Marriage Torn in Silence
 
With eyes soaked in tears, she stared at him—her face filled with shock and fear. Could this really be Mukhtar? Her Mukhtar? The man who once swore eternal love?
 
She wiped her tears again, knowing it wouldn’t stop them from flowing. There he stood, her husband, dressed in his usual Friday white shadda, more graceful than ever. But his silence screamed.
 
“Please don’t do this to us, Abban Abdallah,” she pleaded, her voice trembling, unsure of the words to heal this sudden storm.
 
She stepped closer, clinging to hope, catching a glimpse of compassion in his eyes. Those same eyes had always spoken love even in anger. She was sure—he still loved her.
 
Then suddenly, like a slap, his voice came cold and clear.
 
> “I divorce you, Hafsa. One talaq. Leave my house now.”
 
The words dropped like a thousand bricks in her chest. Her knees buckled. “Innalillahi wa’inna ilaihirraji’un… you said what?”
 
The room spun around her. She collapsed.
 
The Children and the Weight of Loss
 
Mukhtar, seeing her fall, rushed and gathered her in his arms. Their children, hearing the commotion, rushed in. Confused, they followed him silently as he carried their unconscious mother out.
 
It was the first time they had seen their strong, ever-smiling Mami so broken. Hafsa was a woman of unshaken strength—never showing pain, always present for them, teaching them self-reliance while hiding her own storms.
 
Now here she was, weak and lifeless. The house grew cold.
 
Aiman, the youngest, paced the corridor. He had been waiting for his father since yesterday. His older brother Abdullahi, just twelve, had barely slept. He tried to reassure Aiman, but deep down he suspected the truth.
 
Their parents had changed. It wasn’t spoken, but everyone felt it.
 
The children surrounded their mother’s bed, watching her chest rise and fall. She tossed and turned in her sleep. They waited, hoped, prayed.
 
> “Mami, will you wake up?” Aiman whispered.
 
Kursum slapped him gently. “Can’t you see she’s sick? Don’t talk about food now!”
 
The children sat in silence again.
 
A Mother's Awakening
 
Their father entered the room. Aiman ran to him. “Abie, wake Mami. Please.”
 
Mukhtar stroked his son’s head but said nothing. Abdullahi, watching him closely, saw what no one else dared say: He is the reason.
 
> “How’s she doing?” Mukhtar asked. No one answered.
 
“I’ll take you home so you can prepare for Islamiyya.”
 
Abdullahi blinked. “But we’re on break, and... who will stay with Mami?”
 
Just then, Hafsa’s fingers twitched. Her eyes fluttered open. The children rushed to her.
 
> “Alhamdulillah,” Mukhtar muttered, moving closer, relief softening his face.
 
Her eyes locked on his. Tears flowed again. This time not of weakness, but deep hurt.
 
> “Mami, are you okay?”
 
“Should we call the doctor?”
 
“Please don’t cry, Mami...”
 
They begged, but she had ears only for Mukhtar. She searched his face for the three words her heart longed to hear.
 
> “I take you back.”
 
But Mukhtar turned away. Without a word, he left the room.
 
He didn’t smile.
 
He didn’t say sorry.
 
He didn’t say I still love you.
 
And that was when she knew—this was not a nightmare.
 
He meant it.
 
A Love With a Beginning
 
As she closed her eyes, drowning out her children’s voices, her mind drifted—to where it all began.
 
Their love story started in Dala, Kano.
 
The Humble Beginnings of Mukhtar
 
Mukhtar rushed through his food, knowing he couldn’t afford to be late. It was warm and delicious, but there was no time to enjoy it.
 
His mother, Inna Kulu, was busy fetching water from the family well, a short, slender woman in her mid-fifties with a sharp gaze. Life had been hard since her husband, Malam Adamu Mujeili, passed away. A calm, hardworking man from Yola, he had raised six children in Kano—Mukhtar being the first.
 
Since his death, Mukhtar had carried the weight of their survival. He put his schooling aside to work in the markets, feeding the family while his younger siblings tried to finish government school.
 
Eventually, he completed his studies in civil engineering, yet four years later, still no job. Nigeria’s system had failed many like him.
 
Inna’s Belief and a New Opportunity
 
A week ago, Inna Kulu had heard an ad on the radio. A school was hiring teachers.
 
> “Apply,” she had told him. “You never know.”
 
Mukhtar had smiled. He felt it was a waste of time, but he trusted her.
 
Now, as he stood to leave, she turned and asked:
 
> “Muntari, are you not going?”
 
> “I’m going, Inna. The tuwo was just too good,” he replied with a soft smile.
 
And with that, he walked out. Still carrying the past. Still unaware of the storm waiting at home.