Kumallon Mata Part 1 Complete Hausa Novel

In the Hospital
She struggled and jerked herself up from the hospital bed through tears. A bag of blood hung beside her, still being transfused, yet it didn’t stop her from trying to rise. Beside her sat a woman who, from her appearance, was clearly her mother, holding onto her tightly for fear that in all that frantic movement she might hurt herself.
Through heart-wrenching sobs, pausing to catch her breath, she said,
“Umma, is that it now? Has Abu Arqaam left me…? Does this mean I’ve lost my lover? Umma, what is the point of my life? What is the use of my being in this world? What kind of harsh destiny is this? Why would he leave me when I wasn’t ready to live without him? Why did this illness strike me? Maybe it’s because of it that he abandoned me… I’m finished…”
Hearing that her rambling had gone too far, her mother quickly covered her mouth, shaking her head. Tears filled her own eyes out of pity.
“Bahijja, be patient and accept destiny, do you hear me? Insha Allah, you will find someone better than him.”
“Umma, I will never find someone like him…”
Before her mother could respond, a young man walked in wearing casual clothes. Seeing Bahijja’s crying and restless movements, he barked at her sharply,
“Swallow those tears and be quiet, or I’ll deal with you right here.”
Immediately she covered her mouth and fell silent, closing her tear-filled eyes. Soon sleep overtook her, though she kept sighing deeply. Seeing that she had finally fallen asleep, her mother looked at him and said softly,
“Sagir, why do you shout at her like that? Don’t you pity her condition? Anyone would be distressed—after the bridal gifts were brought and the wedding date set, then the groom came and took back his things… I think he changed his mind and decided he couldn’t marry a sick person.” She finished, wiping away her tears.
“Umma, please don’t worry about that matter. By God’s grace, when she recovers and gets better, she’ll return to school. That will help reduce her worries.”
“May Allah grant her healing.”
“Amin, Umma.”
Morning at Home
Calm and composed, she went about everything as usual. She wore very soft sleepwear—a small top and a short pair of shorts that didn’t reach her knees, liver-colored, along with a small white hijab that stopped at her shoulders. She held a mop for cleaning the tiles, scrubbing the place while clicking her tongue lightly and muttering in her heart,
“Children can really be troublesome… honestly, these kids are something. Just the other day they scattered this place with watercolor as if they were learning to paint for the first time right here.”
She kept grumbling until she finished cleaning. Then she took an air freshener and sprayed it around, followed by lighting a pleasant-smelling incense. From there she went into the kitchen, glancing at the clock on the wall of the living room. It showed a few minutes to 8 a.m. She hurried into the kitchen, knowing her little rascals would soon wake up. She began preparing breakfast, lighting the stove and placing a pot on it.
She worked calmly, fully focused on the kneaded flour mixed with minced meat that she shaped and dropped into hot oil to fry. Suddenly she felt a gentle embrace from behind.
“Oh God… you’re up already…” she said without turning, though she paused because of his hold—it made her momentarily weak.
He kissed her cheek and rested his head on her shoulder.
“Good morning, baby.”
“Morning. Let me do my work—go and look after your children, please,” she said softly, trying to free herself from his arms.
“No, I’m not letting you stress yourself. Leave it—I’ll get us something to eat.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll finish soon.”
He still didn’t release her. What she was frying began to overcook.
“Let me go so I can finish my work…”
He loosened his grip slightly, stepping back just a little. She turned and looked at him. He was still in his light sleepwear—an armless shirt and smooth sky-blue shorts.
“I keep telling you every day, but you don’t listen. Stop this behavior, otherwise one day your children will see you. Honestly, you’re still a child.”
He smiled as he watched her. Truly, Bilkisu would never change—her love for dignity and maturity ran in her blood. Without waiting for him to respond, she continued working, pushing his hand away from her body. She turned to look at him again, though their eyes didn’t meet.
“Please, baby, let me finish this work…”