Shu'umin Namiji Part 2 Complete Hausa Novel

Arrival at the Grand Mansion
 
Before a massive iron gate, her car halted. Moments later, its horn blasted so loudly it felt like eardrums would burst. Within minutes the trembling gateman swung the heavy gate open, and with reckless speed, she drove inside.
 
The way the car screeched into the compound alone revealed much about the person inside—arrogant, extravagant, and entirely careless. For fifteen long minutes, the occupant refused to step out.
 
Finally, a leg stretched outside—dressed in sleek black canvas with white laces. Slowly the young man emerged. SubhanAllah! That was all I could mutter when my eyes rested on him. He was strikingly handsome, the very definition of wealth, youth, and leisure.
 
Fair-skinned, with thick jet-black hair, he carried the aura of someone who spent hours at the gym. His broad chest filled out a spotless white T-shirt, tucked neatly into fitted black pencil jeans. His sharp features—brown eyes, long nose, and light-pink lips—were framed by perfectly trimmed hair.
 
With a subtle, mysterious smile playing on his lips, he walked towards the mansion’s grand sitting room, car keys jingling in his hand, earpiece still in place as music hummed in his ears.
 
Inside the lavish sitting room sat a graceful woman in her late forties, though her flawless beauty made her look barely thirty-five. Clad in expensive lace, with glittering jewelry at her neck and ears, she radiated wealth and elegance.
 
The young man entered casually, spinning his car keys.
“Hello, Mom,” he greeted in his uniquely deep voice.
She smiled warmly. “You’re welcome, my son.”
He only nodded and sank into a chair beside her, busy removing his canvas shoes.
 
(My dear fans, this tale is not like any other. Follow me to uncover the mystery of Shu’umin Namiji! Who is he? What are his battles? What destiny lies ahead?)
 
Zaid, the Arrogant Heir
 
“Where have you been, Zaid?” his mother asked gently.
He shrugged, lips curling. “Work kept me busy, Mom. Labisat should bring my food.” Without waiting for more, he rose and left.
 
Zaid headed toward a separate wing of the mansion, unlocking the door to his private quarters. Inside was a breathtakingly furnished lounge—white leather seats, soft brown carpets, golden curtains glowing in the sunlight. Every corner screamed wealth.
 
He stripped off his T-shirt and jeans, tossing them carelessly on a couch, before disappearing into his bedroom and luxurious bathroom. The marble floors, golden taps, and imported mirrors looked more like a palace than a home.
 
Minutes later, he emerged wrapped in a towel, his muscular body dripping water. Before a vast mirror, he rubbed scented lotions into his skin, dressing leisurely in a sky-blue shirt and jeans that hugged his frame.
 
His iPhone 11 Pro Max rang. Twice he ignored it before finally answering. The name Zee flashed across the screen.
“Hello, Baby!” came a seductive female voice.
Zaid smirked. “How are you, Zee?”
“I’m at your guest house. Come quickly.”
“Okay,” he replied curtly, slipping the phone into his pocket.
 
Just then, a knock rattled his door. “Who’s disturbing me now?” he barked.
“Bro, it’s me,” his sister Labisat said softly, balancing a food tray.
“Oya, carry it back! I’ll eat later.” He waved her away with irritation.
 
Moments later, he slipped into his shining blue sports car and sped toward his GRA guest house.
 
The Dark Guest House Encounter
 
The gateman opened promptly as Zaid’s car swept into the guest house. Inside, Zee rushed out to greet him, throwing herself into his arms, her body pressing against his chest. “Welcome, Baby,” she whispered.
 
He gave his sly smile. “How are you?”
“Perfect,” she purred, leading him inside the lavish sitting room.
 
Zaid flung off his shirt, demanding water. Zee hurried to fetch a cold bottle, her movements deliberate and sensual. He gulped it down and tossed the bottle aside. When she leaned forward to take it, her blouse slipped, revealing her curves.
 
Zaid’s eyes darkened. In seconds, his lips were on her neck, his hands pulling away every barrier of clothing. She melted beneath his touch, whispering his name. He carried her straight into the bedroom, laying her on the wide bed.
 
There, passion consumed them. Zaid was a master of seduction, his skill leaving Zee trembling, lost in waves of forbidden pleasure. They surrendered fully to sin, lost in a world of lust.
 
(Ya Allah, protect us from zina. Ameen.)
 
Zahra’s Struggles
 
Far from the grandeur of Zaid’s world, in a humble home sat an older woman on a mat, calling out angrily:
“Zarah! Zarah!!”
 
A gentle young woman of about twenty emerged, adjusting her hijab. “Yes, Inna, I’m here.”
 
“Since I’ve been calling, why didn’t you answer?” the older woman snapped, eyes sharp with disapproval.
 
“Sorry, Inna. I didn’t hear. I was preparing for school. We have an early lecture,” Zahra pleaded softly.
 
“Lecture? Lecture! You think school will cook food in this house? If you step out without finishing my chores, you’ll regret it!” Inna scolded, gripping her chewing stick.
 
With patience, Zahra bowed her head. “Please, Inna, I’ll do everything once I return.”
But her guardian only glared. “Start the work now!”
 
Resigned, Zahra cleaned the house, washed dishes, and kindled the firewood stove. By the time she finished, it was already past nine. Tears pricked her eyes—she had missed another lecture, just as last week.
 
Still, she dressed quickly in her brown hijab, slinging her schoolbag over her shoulder.
“Inna, I’m leaving now,” she said gently.
Her guardian only sneered. “Go, go to your boko! If you had a husband instead of this nonsense, at least I’d be free of you!”
 
Zahra said nothing. She stepped out quietly, hot tears sliding down her cheeks. She wiped them quickly before walking on, determined not to give up on her education.