Kulsum Part 3 Complete Hausa Novel

The Moment She Ran
 
She was almost collapsing when she snatched the office door handle and burst out, running wildly. She didn’t stop until she slammed into Taufeeq’s car — he was everywhere in her mind, moving in her thoughts. She was sure she had seen Turaki, not just someone like him. All she wanted then was to see Taufeeq come out so they could leave the hospital together, but ten long minutes passed and there was still no Taufeeq.
 
The Two Men
 
At last she saw two men approaching together — him and Turaki — whispering to each other. She didn’t know where to hide; she ran and crouched behind some shrubs, and from there watched them. They looked around at Taufeeq’s car; then Turaki turned and strode back toward the hospital, while Taufeeq drove off slowly down the road, eyes fixed, his face taut with worry.
 
When Turaki left the hospital gate, she slipped from the shrubs to the gate to hail a taxi to Victoria Island, to Sakeenah’s house. But the guards closed the gate and locked it, stepping aside and taking out their phones. Kulsum felt a heavy despair — they refused to look at her, they shut the gate and would not let her pass. Soon an Acura came out of the hospital. From a distance she knew the driver: calm, deliberate. It was TURAKI.
 
Recognitions and Panic
 
At that moment there was no glass covering his eyes — she could see him clearly and notice how he had changed. She begged the guards to open the gate but they ignored her. Turaki parked inches away as if to crush her with his presence. He sat watching her, a crooked smile at one corner of his mouth. He opened his car and came straight over, still in his black suit. Standing before her, she felt the gaze she had always seen in her dreams — a gaze she had never truly known in life.
 
“Sir, are you well?” she asked, voice trembling, eyes fixed on the dark deep of his stare.
 
“Did you block my way? Did I owe you money I haven’t paid?” he replied. Before she could measure what was happening, his hand found hers and pulled her into his car, shutting the door with his key. He started the engine; the guards saluted and opened his path.
 
They drove through Lagos while she had no idea where they were heading. “Are you kidnapping me? What do you want with me? Where do you know me from? I am a married woman — haven’t you seen me with my husband?” she cried, voice breaking toward sobs.
 
The driver didn’t answer, and Turaki only smiled that same fixed smile. She slammed her fists against the glass, willing it to break so she could scream for help — but the glass didn’t shatter and no sound escaped. She sobbed, calling for her aunt and uncle. Turaki laughed softly at her, the smile at the edge of his lips gentle as ever. “Just a little more, Batulu and Umma,” he said lightly.
 
Her tears kept falling. At a police checkpoint she cried out so loudly she thought her voice must be heard, but sound did not leave the car; only her raised hands signaled the officers. One knocked on the glass; Turaki showed his ID. The officer backed off, saluted, and the car sped into Ikoyi.
 
Inside the House
 
She did not stop crying — she knew if this was kidnapping then Turaki had succeeded. They passed many fine houses before turning into a one-story lodge. A guard opened the gate and Turaki drove in, parked among two other cars, and killed the engine with a relieved breath. He looked at Kulsum curled in the passenger seat like one who had been told of the death of her parents.
 
His own chest fluttered — the thrill of the moment made his heart beat fast. For Turaki it felt dreamlike: Kulsum before him. He prayed silently that this dream would not end until he saw them together as a married pair. All the years of searching for her, the desperate quest that had driven him across Nigeria for four long years, had led to this: he had found Kulsum and brought her to his office. Could he be foolish enough to let her slip away now?
 
“If you’re done crying, move so we can go inside,” he said.
 
Furious, Kulsum looked up, eyes squeezed shut with anger. “By what proof shall I follow you where I do not know? What right have you over me? Where did you see me — was I mistaken for street girls taken to guest houses in Lagos?” she demanded.
 
“I don’t know why I’m involved either,” he said blandly. “You don’t look like those girls, and this is not a guest house but a private home. The reason I had you come in is simple: you resemble the wife I never divorced, the woman I have been searching for. I just want to confirm—if UmmuKulsum is indeed the one I lost, then your reaction, this running, might mean you recognize me and are pretending. Or perhaps something else frightened you.”
 
Kulsum answered sharply: “I do not know you. I never saw you. I am married and with my husband. You forced the car door shut on me — you kidnapped me and brought me to a guest house. Between you and me there are thousands of miles.”
 
Turaki softened and smiled in a private, almost tender way. He admired her courage and felt the whole world had finally favored him. Perhaps it was the wrong time to find her — if she truly had a husband, his discovery of her now would destroy his life. For years he had remained single because of her; he had no children, no woman who pleased him. If she had moved on, he should not blame her — yet the thought of letting her go filled him with panic. He would not allow her to escape.
 
“Look, UmmuKulsum, we are not children. You can keep pretending if you wish, but if you stop and follow me inside, we’ll sit and talk calmly. I will understand and you will understand me,” he said.
 
Between sobs she asked how she could trust him to not harm her, how he expected her to enter a place where there would be only him and no chaperone, while she was a married woman. Turaki closed his eyes for a moment, the word “marriage” stinging him. She claimed she had a husband — the thought tormented him and made disbelief rise in his chest.
 
“Know this: you are under my protection, married or not. If I betray that trust may God judge me,” he said.
 
Kulsum rejected his pledge. “I don’t care for your protection. Let me go now. I don’t know you; I have never seen you. You took a married woman by force — that is an affront to marriage and human decency.”
 
Without another word Turaki stepped out, strode to her side, opened her door and gripped her hands, pulling her hard out of the car. “I never said you knew me. Come so I can show you who I am. I’m not saying you know me, Kulsum, but we must talk.”
 
They entered a neat English-style parlour. Before she noticed, he had locked the door and slipped the key into his trouser pocket. Kulsum stood, refusing to sit; Turaki walked to the center, hands in his pockets as usual, trying to meet the depth of her eyes with a pleading signal. She lifted her face but he
r breath trembled; even her breathing was shallow.