Ku Yi Min Adalci Part 1 Complete Hausa Novel

"The world keeps turning, and the frog has landed in hot water." I constantly recall this proverb in my mind, because right now, it is playing out in my marriage. In the past, if someone had told me I could fall asleep without lying on my husband's chest while we were on the same bed, I would have doubted its possibility. If anyone had ever told me a day would come when my husband and I would share the same house yet sleep in separate rooms, I swear I would have leapt up and proudly denied it. But time has turned our marital life upside down, throwing us into the predicament we find ourselves in today—one that closely resembles the life of enemies rather than lovers.

I tossed on my huge bed, reached out, and hugged a pillow, well aware of my phone screen lighting up repeatedly, signaling that the caller had still not given up. I rolled over and looked at the phone—not to check who was calling, as I already knew, but to check the clock, which read 12:10 AM. If I swore, I wouldn't need to perform any expiation: only now had Sadam finished his calls and chats with the women he currently considers far superior to me. I strongly suspect they had aroused him, and now he was looking for a way to extinguish that fire through me. Because of this, I resolved not to answer his call, even though I hadn't forgotten the religious ruling regarding a wife who refuses her husband's call to his bed.

I was aware that my room door was unlocked, so his entrance didn't startle me, though it did surprise me. Instantly, I remembered the solemn oath he once swore to me on the day I was crying, assuring him I would never sleep in his room again. He had said, "I swear by Allah, Sayyada, no woman is worth me following her into her room to sleep with her. And since I am your husband, you must answer my call whenever I demand it."

Had I made him break his oath so soon? I closed my eyes as if asleep, right as he reached out and switched on the bedroom nightlight. He stepped softly, approached, and sat on the edge of the bed. "Sayyada, Sayyada," he began calling me in a soft voice, like a hypocrite.

I didn't move a muscle, so he reached out and touched my face. I snatched my face away quickly as if he were touching me with a red-hot iron. He gripped my hand tightly, shook it softly, and said, "Wake up. I've been calling your phone—turns out you were asleep."

I yanked my hand back and said, "I was not asleep; I just wasn't going to come! So you didn't believe me when I told you I would never sleep in your room again, did you?"

He let out a sigh, still speaking in that gentle tone he used to deceive me with in the past. "Come on, Sayyada, I thought we were past this."

I replied, "It will never be past."

He said, "When did you learn to be so defiant? When did you learn to argue with me?"

On the verge of tears, I said, "Ever since the day you showed me that my status and value have completely withered away in your eyes."

Is there a specific emotional direction or dynamic you'd like to explore next between Sayyada and Sadam?