Ni Da Prince Part 1 Complete Hausa Novel

Morning Rush and Family Tension
 
She jumped up in panic, her eyes quickly catching the wall clock — she was almost late! Shocked, she wondered how sleep had overpowered her right there on the mat after her dawn prayer. She undressed, rushed outside to draw water from the well, and hurried into the bathroom. Within five minutes she was done, went back to her room, slipped into a long black gown, white hijab, picked her niqab and school bag. She wasn’t the type who cared much about makeup.
 
She entered her mother’s room and found her folding clothes. “Good morning, Umma,” she greeted politely. Her mother answered stiffly without a smile — something Salmah was already used to. Standing up, Salmah asked, “Umma, I didn’t see Abba. Did he go out?” Her mother frowned and replied, “Go and greet your grandmother. He’s gone out.” Salmah pouted slightly but obeyed, heading to her grandmother’s room, feeling uneasy inside.
 
She greeted her grandmother, who was lying down. The old woman replied proudly, “So, you’re off to your useless outings again?” Salmah forced a smile. “Goggo, I’m going to school.”
Her grandmother hissed. “Of course, you and that Kamal think you’re above your parents now!”
Salmah asked softly, “Goggo, why would you say that?”
The old woman sat up angrily. “Why not? Maybe Kamal has even forgotten you! He’s abroad, married now, and left you here flaunting yourself around!”
 
Tears welled up in Salmah’s eyes. She stood up, trembling. “I’m off to school,” she said.
“Go on, hypocrite!” her grandmother shouted after her. “Bring us shame and see what happens!”
 
Salmah ran outside wiping her tears. Her mother saw her passing through the courtyard but said nothing — she knew Umma would never interfere. Salmah quickly put on her niqab and left the house.
 
The Encounter with Prince Salman
 
She boarded a bus heading to school, rested her head on the window, and got lost in thought. How could there be no bond between her and her own mother? She sighed, pulled out Kamal’s picture from her bag, and whispered, “Brother Kamal, when will you come back? I miss you.” She started counting the days — he had promised to return in three weeks, and now it was already past that by five days. Three years apart… maybe he no longer cared.
 
When she arrived, she realized she was late. She began to hurry toward class when suddenly a speeding car almost hit her. Shocked, she jumped aside, but the car still brushed against her — she fell hard to the ground. People gathered, yet no one helped her. Through her tears, she squinted to read the car plate — “Prince 1.”
 
The car reversed and stopped right in front of her. Three young men stepped out. When she looked up, her eyes met Prince Salman’s — the arrogant rich boy from her school known for his disrespect. He smirked and said, “Can’t you see, Miss Preacher?”
She frowned silently.
He continued mockingly, “Should we have helped you with glasses instead?”
She glared. “You hit me, and instead of apologizing you’re insulting me?”
 
His friend Amir burst out laughing. “Apologize? Oh Prince, she wants an apology, can you believe it?”
Salman sneered. “You poor people are all the same,” he said, throwing a bundle of ₦500 notes at her. “That’s your problem, isn’t it?”
 
Salmah smiled coldly, picked up the money, walked closer, and placed it on his car. “Guys like you — who think money can buy everything — actually make me pity you,” she said firmly. The crowd gasped. She turned and walked away, tears in her eyes. Salman froze, anger surging inside him.
 
He rushed from behind and yanked her hijab off. She screamed softly, covering herself and trembling. Seeing her beauty for the first time only fueled his arrogance. He knelt beside her and said mockingly, “Now tell me, who looks more pitiful — you or me?”
 
Salmah kept crying silently. He laughed cruelly, “Useless beggar’s daughter,” and walked off.
She shouted after him, “And you think being rich makes you better?”
He stopped abruptly, turned, and hissed, “Do you even know who I am? Be careful, or I’ll ruin your life.” Then he left.
 
As his friends followed, Amir chuckled, “Man, you’re incredible.”
Salman scoffed. “Najib, drive!” he ordered coldly.
 
Salmah, still shaken, put her hijab and niqab back on and realized she had missed almost an hour of her lecture. She walked slowly toward class, hatred burning inside her. If only I could get a knife and no one blamed me, she thought angrily, I’d end this monster myself.
 
Gossip, Hunger, and Royal Family Secrets
 
Later, exhausted and hungry, she sat under a tree, counted her money — ₦350 — and took ₦100 to buy a bun. But as she handed it to the shopkeeper, a boy snatched it away.
“What’s this nonsense?” she asked angrily.
The boy grinned. “If you want to buy something here, you must first admit your hypocrisy — that fake act you pulled with Prince!”
“Excuse me?” she asked coldly.
“Oh, don’t pretend,” he sneered. “We all saw you showing off until he knelt beside you.”
Salmah shut her eyes, turned away, and walked off without her money while the boys mocked her.
 
She wandered far, sat down again, and burst into tears. Why was everyone staring? she thought bitterly. Taking Kamal’s picture again, she whispered, ‘Brother Kamal, please come back.’
Just then, a voice came from behind. “So, love affairs in school now?”
She turned — it was her friend Zee.
“Oh, Zee, it’s you,” Salmah sighed.
Zee sat beside her. “Girl, what’s going on between you and Prince?”
Salmah gasped. “You heard too?”
“Of course! A guy ran into class shouting that Prince took off your hijab. Everyone laughed!”
 
Salmah gave a weak smile. “Maybe I should just quit this school and wait till Kamal returns. When we marry, I’ll continue later.”
Zee frowned. “Over that arrogant fool? Don’t ruin your life! Do you even know he’s been in this school for two years and is still in level 200?”
“What?” Salmah asked in shock.
Zee nodded, laughing. “He even submits blank exam sheets!”
Salmah’s jaw dropped. “Blank? Then how did he pass level 100?”
“Rumor says the school director tried to help him, but he refused,” Zee explained.
“Why?” Salmah asked.
“No one knows,” Zee shrugged. “Maybe he just enjoys failure — or has his own dirty reasons.” They both laughed lightly, though pain lingered in Salmah’s heart.
 
Meanwhile, Prince Salman had already returned home. After his usual roaming, he took a shower, dressed up, and went to visit Fulani, one of the palace women who raised him. But as he reached her quarters, he overheard his elder brother Ishaq talking inside.
Ishaq was saying, “As always, Salman is out wandering. You know, Ummi, just because he’s our father’s second son doesn’t mean he’ll inherit the throne.”
Fulani laughed softly. “True, Ishaq. The throne isn’t about pity. Even if the king feels sorry for him because he’s motherless, that doesn’t make him a leader.”
Ishaq smirked. “Exactly. The useless one can’t even finish school.”
 
Standing outside, Salman froze, face turning red with rage. He walked back quietly, clutching his chest in pain, feeling like his heart would burst. Inside his room, he grabbed his medicine, swallowed it, and whispered tremblingly, ‘Inna lillahi wa inna ilaihi raji’un’. Slowly, calmness returned — but his eyes burned with silent fury.