Matar Uncle Part 1 Complete Hausa Novel

A cool breeze mixed with the darkening evening sky swept through the atmosphere, making the entire surroundings feel peaceful and soothing.
He sat quietly inside the massive garden of the mansion, a place beautifully decorated with luxurious ornaments and expensive relaxation spots.
A pair of white glasses rested on his eyes while all his attention remained fixed on the laptop before him. He did not even bother lifting his head, completely immersed in whatever serious work occupied his mind.
The ringing of his phone finally interrupted him.
Through the glasses, he glanced at the screen before releasing a hidden sigh and raising the phone to his ear after returning the salam.
After listening carefully to everything Abiy had to say, he calmly responded in fluent Arabic filled with politeness and discipline, assuring him that he would come over to his house Insha Allah.
He stood up and folded the laptop before him, and it was only then his full appearance became clear.
He was extremely tall. One glance at him was enough to reveal the aura of a powerful and heroic man. Fair in complexion, with large eyes, a sharp narrow nose, and a well-kept beard that perfectly outlined his handsome face. The neat grooming of the beard only enhanced the beauty Allah had blessed him with.
A single look at him would convince anyone that he was a complete and noble Arab man, someone whose presence alone carried authority and seriousness. There was absolutely no trace of playfulness on his face, and judging from his appearance, he could not have been less than thirty-seven years old.
Without hesitation, he headed straight toward the main section of the luxurious mansion.
It was the type of home only a famous billionaire or a highly influential figure in the country could own.
The entire sitting room was decorated mostly in off-white colors. There was not a single object in the place that failed to impress the eyes. Everything was perfectly arranged with the elegant taste Arabs were known for.
He moved directly into his bedroom, a room overflowing with luxury and comfort.
The sheer size of the room alone was enough to intimidate anyone. Inside it was a private sitting area furnished with elegant couches and a large plasma television. There was also a reading corner equipped with sophisticated study furniture.
Quickly, he took his bath since Maghrib prayer time was approaching and he hated missing prayers in congregation.
When he finished dressing, he looked stunning in a white Gezna outfit. On his wrist glittered an expensive luxury wristwatch, while the entire room became filled with the powerful fragrance of his expensive perfume.
He slipped his two costly phones into his pocket and walked out with pride and dignity, carrying himself like royalty. Yet even then, his face remained completely expressionless.
He walked straight toward his expensive Lamborghini. The gatekeeper hurriedly opened the gate for him and he drove out of the mansion.
Before heading to Abiy's residence, he stopped at the mosque near the estate gate to observe his prayer.
Afterward, he continued his journey until he arrived at Abiy's mansion.
The luxurious residence alone, along with the heavy security surrounding it, was enough to convince anyone that the owner was deeply connected to power and influence within the country. Even among wealthy Arab elites, owning such a mansion would place someone among the highest class of rich men.
He walked directly into Abiy's magnificent sitting room.
Seated there was the elderly Arab man, fair in complexion, and clearly around sixty-three years old.
With respect and excellent manners, he greeted him warmly.
The old man responded lovingly, stroked his head gently, and instructed him in Arabic to sit down.
After they both settled, the elderly man looked at him carefully and said,
"Muhammad Ali, I called you here for only one reason. There is a special favor I wish to ask from you."
Immediately, Muhammad Ali lifted his head toward him, then frowned slightly as he looked aside before saying,
"You are beyond asking favors from me, Abiy. All you need to do is give me an order and I will carry it out. To me, you are like a father."
The dignified old man smiled softly before replying,
"Indeed, Muhammad Ali, I see you exactly like a son I personally gave birth to. You are no different from Ramadan and the others. But despite that, I cannot force you into something you do not want. That is why I call it a favor, because what I seek is something extremely important."
He paused briefly before continuing,
"I want you to marry my daughter Zahra so that the bond between our families may become even stronger. I am certain that if your father were still alive, this would have made him very happy."
At once, all calmness disappeared from Muhammad Ali's face.
It felt as though something sharp had pierced directly into his heart. He tightly shut his eyes, struggling to regain his composure, but failed.
The words struck him like a thunderbolt.
Never in his life had he expected such a request from Abiy.
After a difficult effort, he finally managed to steady himself and lifted his head to speak, but the old man stopped him immediately by saying...