Ni Da Misbah Part 1 Complete Hausa Novel

She stood before a large, striking photo — her eyes fixed on it without even blinking. The reflection of her own image — just herself smiling beside her husband — filled the frame.
 
“Aunty Amna! Aunty Amna!! Aunty Amna!!!”
 
The whole parlor echoed with Aira’s voice. Amna froze where she stood, still facing that photo. Even now, seeing it annoyed her deeply, but she couldn’t show it — criticizing him openly could cause problems between them.
 
“Aunty Amna, can’t you hear me? I’ve been calling you since I entered the compound until I came in here, and still, you didn’t answer me. Why?” Aira asked, pouting playfully.
 
Slowly, the young lady turned around — that was when I got a proper look at her. She was of chocolate complexion, neither fair nor dark. Her lips were small, as if cut perfectly with a blade; her eyes, moderate and clear white; her nose, perfectly shaped for her face. Her hair fell neatly on her back, gleaming from how well it was cared for. Her skin was smooth, and she wore a maroon-colored atampa top and skirt that fitted her beautifully.
 
Well, readers, I’ll stop here and let you imagine Amna’s graceful appearance for yourselves.
 
In a soft voice she said, “Sorry, my Aira, I didn’t hear you. How are you?”
 
“You’re still where you always are,” Aira replied teasingly. “Hajiya upstairs is calling you.” With that, she walked out, pressing her phone.
 
Amna left the room too, heading quietly toward another part of the house. She gently pushed open the parlor door and greeted.
 
She found Hajiya seated, reading a newspaper.
 
Amna sat beside her, resting her head on Hajiya’s shoulder. “I’m here, Hajiya,” she said softly.
 
“I was wondering if I won’t get that tea of yours today,” Hajiya said with a smile.
 
“I’m sorry, Hajiya. I got caught up with something. I’ll make it for you right away.”
 
“Or were you staring at MISBAH’s photo again?”
 
Amna shut her eyes shyly and slipped into the kitchen without answering.
 
Hajiya laughed and said, “May Allah make it official soon. Let me call him — we haven’t spoken today.”
 
 
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He came out of the gym holding a towel, wiping away sweat. He was handsome — extremely so — tall, fair-skinned, with a well-groomed beard. One look at him and you could tell wealth and comfort had left their mark on his body.
 
The phone in his pocket rang. Hearing the familiar tone, he smiled and said, “May Allah bless our Hajiya with more health and long life — and grant my old woman, my dear wife’s mother, healing for her legs.”
 
They both laughed. “You rascal!” Hajiya teased from the other end. “You don’t even know where your wife is until I call you!”
 
“I’m so sorry, Hajiya,” he said, still laughing. “We’ve been very busy today. We had a special meeting with some top officials here about tomorrow’s match. My whole mind is on the game.”
 
“That’s fine. May Allah help you,” she said. “But when are you coming home?”
 
“You’re missing me already, my dear Hajiya? Insha’Allah before the end of this week. Tomorrow’s our final match — the one that brought me here to Canada.”
 
“We really miss you, MISBAH. Especially your sister, Amna — she talks about your return more than anyone.”
 
Her words struck him like hot water poured on skin. Instantly, the smile vanished from his face, replaced by deep irritation.
 
Of all the things he hated in this world, none compared to his hatred for Amna. The thought of love between them was impossible.
 
He said nothing. He ended the call, turned off the phone completely, and dropped it aside.