Zulfa Part 1 Complete Hausa Novel

The Beautiful Environment
 
I saw a magnificent place where the entire area was covered with lush green grass carpets. The cool breeze blew gently, and the air was filled with the fragrance of colorful flowers arranged beautifully according to their colors. On one side, there was a swimming pool, not too deep, shining in a sea-blue color.
 
Then I noticed a white man dressed in a black suit and white shirt walking past. I followed him with my eyes as he spoke to someone, though I couldn’t hear what they were saying. After a while, he turned and left.
 
Thirty minutes later, I saw a woman whom I was sure was Nigerian walking quietly ahead, so I followed her gently.
 
“Oh Allah! We’ve been waiting for you since morning, but look at you sitting like a queen! You know I told you I hate laziness. If you can’t do the job they brought you for, then tell them! You’re not the only one who can do what they need. Don’t think you’re special just because God blessed you with beauty. As for me, I’m leaving; I can’t continue staying with you,” the woman said angrily to a young girl who couldn’t be more than 17 years old.
 
“Please, Mummy, don’t be angry. Don’t leave me, I promise I won’t be lazy again,” the girl cried, tears streaming down her cheeks, for nothing pained her more than seeing this woman upset.
 
“It’s okay, stop crying. Go and take your bath and then attend to them,” the woman replied softly.
 
Now I got a clear view of them. The woman was fair, Fulani-like, around 47 years old, elegant and full of grace. The young girl, however, was a perfect figure-eight beauty—everything about her body was balanced. She wore a small half vest and tight shorts that nearly reached her knees. She was a dark-skinned beauty with large sleepy eyes, soft black lips with pink in the center, and long, silky hair that reached her back. Truly, the girl was breathtaking—no fair-skinned woman could outshine her except in brightness.
 
After some time, I saw them walking toward another direction, and as they reached a particular door, it opened automatically.
 
The Morning Meeting
 
It was 8:00 a.m. I heard faint voices coming from the other side of the door, so I quietly moved closer to take a look. The place was exquisite—everything was white and golden. A long table stood at the center, surrounded by chairs like in a conference room. In front of each seat were teacups and sandwiches—clearly, breakfast had just been served. Everyone there was white except one man, whose Arab-like features stood out.
 
Then a white man entered, cleared his throat, and said, “Excuse me here!” The whole room went silent. He continued, “Miss is on her way here.”
 
After a short while, a woman entered pushing a trolley. She began clearing the teacups and plates neatly and professionally. When she was done, she left.
 
Then came the rhythmic sound of heels—kwas kwas kwas. All eyes turned toward the door, except the Arab man, who kept his back turned. The scent of her perfume reached him before she did, making him open his eyes slowly.
 
She entered gracefully, wearing a long peach-colored gown with a turban tied on her head. Calmly, she walked to her seat.
 
“Good morning, Miss!” they all greeted in chorus—except the Arab man.
 
One of the men, who introduced himself as Mr. Maxwell Ernest, began to speak.
“Miss, my name is Maxwell Ernest, and I’m the Managing Director of our company. We have a project for you, and we believe only you can deliver what we want.”
 
He pressed a remote, and a large image appeared on the screen. “This is the Mumbai Phoenix Mall. We want you to create an exact drawing plan of this mall. Here’s a flash drive containing its complete view. You can travel to Mumbai to study it yourself, because experience is the best teacher. Your payment will be two million dollars—about 720 million naira. If that’s okay with you, just sign here to show your approval.”
 
He pushed a file toward her. She looked at it silently and turned her face aside. The room fell silent; only the hum of the air conditioner could be heard. She could feel their eyes on her, especially the Arab man’s piercing gaze. Their eyes met for a brief moment that sent a strange feeling through both of them. He quickly looked away to avoid wasting time.
 
“I’ll go through it later,” she said softly.
“It’s okay, Miss,” Maxwell replied, shaking her hand politely. One by one, they left the room—except the Arab man, who kept his eyes fixed on her.
 
Another worker entered, picked up the file, and left. Then she stood to leave too.
 
Zulynah and Ya Mou
 
Just as she reached where the man was seated, he called softly, “Zulynah!”
 
She froze instantly, for that name struck deep into her heart every time he said it.
 
“Zulynah, are you angry with me?” he asked, his voice trembling. To her surprise, he spoke Hausa fluently, and his tone was soft—almost feminine.
 
“Zulynah, please talk to me, maybe my heart will stop aching,” he added emotionally, almost crying.
 
“Ya Mou…” she whispered, rushing into his arms. He held her tightly, exhaling deeply.
 
“You left without even saying goodbye,” she said, tears streaming again.
 
“I’m sorry, Zulynah. I had an emergency. I was called to NMC Specialty Hospital Al-Qusais. Please forgive me. I won’t do that again. And don’t cry—unless you want me to start too,” he said, still holding her. His eyes were red, filled with emotion.
 
“Ya Mou, I’ve stopped crying. Please don’t cry either,” she said, breaking the hug gently. He wiped her tears, and she gave him her sweetest smile—the kind that melted his heart instantly.
 
“I love you so much, Zulynah,” he said seriously.
“I love you too, Ya Mou,” she replied softly.
 
Just then, a female staff interrupted them. “Excuse me, Miss, you have a phone call.”
 
She picked up the phone, saw who was calling, and let it ring out before redialing. Then she pulled Ya Mou toward one of the sofas at the edge of the conference room and sat down with him.
 
From across the room, someone said teasingly, “Manya Manya, maganin Kanana Kanana!” (The great one, cure for the little ones!)
 
“She’s my boyfriend’s friend’s wife,” Zulynah replied, laughing.
 
Her words hit Ya Mou hard. Though he’d heard it before, it still stung deeply. Quietly, he leaned back on the sofa, eyes closed, heart pounding fast.
 
Then another voice shouted happily, “Manya Manya, good news!”
“What is it?”
“I just ate beans!”
“Really?”
“Yes, Zulyn Mou, I’m so happy!”
“Wow, I’m happy for you too! Tell my boyfriend’s friend that I’m rejoicing with him, and may God grant you safe delivery.”
“Ameen, Zuly! How’s Ya Mou?”
“He’s fine,” she replied, smiling at Ya Mou.
 
Then she added softly, “Here, talk to her,” handing him the phone. He greeted politely and prayed for her safe delivery, all while his heart beat wildly in his chest.