Zaman Idda Part 1 Complete Hausa Novel

Hidden Pain and Bitter Promises
As soon as her eyes fell on him, she realized it wasn’t the first time she had noticed him. She knew that everything she had been searching for and failed to find, its loss was connected to her husband.
Still, she brushed it aside and wished him sincerely to change his ways, sooner or later.
He suddenly stiffened and began scratching his neck; she ignored it and threw him a soft smile, and he felt his courage drain away.
What kind of woman is she?
Am I even being fair to her?
She interrupted his thoughts by saying,
“Groom, why do you smell so nice after this bath—like today is special?”
He frowned slightly, tilted his head, and replied,
“Look at you, you’re starting again? I’m no groom here, wallahi. This bath is all yours, queen of women.”
She knew he was only speaking casually, but his words still made her very happy. She walked to the mirror, pulled a stool, sat down smiling, faced him and said,
“Please, Hayati, if today ends and you say thank you, that’s enough for me. But I left your message with my younger sister—greet her for me when you go out.”
She handed him the box. One part of her heart warned her, another pushed her forward.
He took it, pulled her close, and began planting hot kisses all over her, releasing a soft moan that showed pure happiness.
She was supposed to be crying over being separated from the most important thing left in her life, yet she smiled, gently tapping his back in comfort.
He said, “What kind of person are you? Your heart is renewed every day, your generosity increases constantly. What have I ever done to deserve you, my Noory?”
She lifted her face, met his eyes, her pain exposed. She wiped away thin tears that slipped out and said,
“Do just two things for me in this world, Hayati, and prove to me that you are not among ungrateful men.”
Quickly he asked, “What are they? Say it fast—in shaa Allah you’ll find me among just men.”
She pulled away and said, “Go. When you return, we’ll talk.”
She only said that so he would leave, hoping the violent pounding of her heart would calm down.
He wanted to speak again; she tilted her head and pointed to the door. He didn’t argue. He slipped the box into his pocket, kissed her, and left quickly.
She followed him, locked the room, slid down by the door, and burst into a heartbreaking cry.
Many times she wondered what kind of fragile creature she was. Why hadn’t she been able to fix her life? Why couldn’t she confront what hurt her most?
Naseer… always Naseer—forever her wound. Again today, he had stripped her of what little importance remained in her life.
Deception, Greed, and Silent Cruelty
Overflowing with joy, his heart completely light, he stepped into the compound. He turned around, surveyed the house, nodded proudly, and saluted himself, saying,
“My next target is this house. I already know it’s mine—only the documents remain to be signed. Get ready, Nuriyyah. Your months of crying are almost over. I won’t rest until I see you ruined, scavenging for clothes to wear, unable to find food or shelter. Then I’ll begin a new life full of joy and peace with my delicate new bride, Bintuuuuu.”
He said her name with passion, hope, and intense love, entered the car—which itself belonged to Nuriyyah—and drove out after the gatekeeper opened the gate.
She remained crouched for a long time, clutching her stomach in extreme weakness—pain and hunger overwhelming her. She couldn’t remember when last she had eaten because of this woman.
Hakima, wealthy and well aware of who was knocking, stayed silent. This too was a method of torture. She wanted her to come crawling on her knees, begging for help to remove the pregnancy. Hunger alone, she believed, would force her to surrender.
She had already blocked every possible way anyone could find out what was happening in the house. She feared no one; she simply wanted the case to remain silent—planning to kill her, bury her in the house, and let no one know.
All so she could quickly fulfill her desire to possess the house, the wealth, and the husband.
A Wounded Heart and Brutal Reality
She looked at him helplessly, her heart deeply wounded, sadness and the bitter gaze of pure ingratitude reflecting in her eyes. She wiped away the tears streaming down her face.
She tried to leave the room, but he quickly grabbed her.
He tilted his head, gazed at her with seductive eyes, slowly closed them, rested his head on her shoulder, and breathed warm breaths on her, forcing a sigh from her. His hand roamed her body as he said,
“Come on, Qurratul Ayn, this isn’t like you. You have a good heart, hm? I faced you confidently, trusting your support—don’t disappoint me.”
He hugged her tighter. She only sighed, saying nothing.
He shook her gently and said,
“Talk to me, sweetheart. Say something. I don’t like this silence. Even if you insult me, let me hear it—my love of my life.”
Truly, she couldn’t speak. She preferred to bear the burden silently rather than open her mouth and say something she couldn’t handle. He knew she wouldn’t say anything—this was one of the many tactics he used to get his way.
Suddenly, his phone rang. He ignored it, but it rang again. She gently freed herself and headed for the door, holding her chest tightly. She knew—even without him saying—that it was Bintu, the girl he was trying to marry.
As she left, he rushed to close the door, dancing lightly, answering the call with joy and excitement. They continued exchanging sweet words, and he promised to fulfill her wishes that very day. He knew Nuriyyah—he knew exactly who she was, even if she didn’t know herself as he knew her.
She went straight to her room, tears chasing each other, her heart aching terribly. She opened her safe and took out a sparkling box, hugged it to her chest. She wanted to cry out loud, but no sound came. She longed for a confidant—someone to share pain and joy with—but she had no one. Naseer had cut her off from everyone.
She opened the box; a blinding light shone. She brought out a precious necklace, then earrings and a bracelet, staring at them. She sought advice, but had no counselor except her heart—and her heart always answered yes when it came to Naseer.
For ten years, she had convinced herself that every sacrifice for Naseer was worth it. She gathered the jewelry, remembering its true owner and importance, yet when she needed help, Naseer had refused her.
She pushed the thoughts aside, placed the jewelry on the mirror to give him when he returned, knowing how happy he would be—and his happiness meant everything to her.
With force and fury, she grabbed her and threw her to the floor. Her head struck the kitchen tiles as she cried weakly, trembling in fear.
Foaming with rage, the woman shouted,
“Who do you think you are? Worthless thing! Even if your father rose from his grave, who allowed you to get pregnant—in my house? My children will not share inheritance with a bastard. I swear you will abort it or I’ll show you!”
With merciless cruelty, she stamped her foot on her stomach.
She screamed violently, writhing on the floor, while the other woman stood panting like a beast, eyes bulging with wickedness