Turken Gida Book 2 Complete Hausa Novel

This time, the way he called my name made my whole body respond. It made me lower my head, then I had to lift it and look at him. Truly, in his eyes I saw what looked like tears filling the corners, and I also saw exhaustion, patience, and shame all at once.

“Sadiya…”

He said it again, in a kind of weakness. A weakness whose sound I could hear as it left his voice.

“Sadiya…”

“Ta…”

He spoke again, brokenly, clearly unable to control himself, as if he was about to reveal a secret.

I didn’t want to show him that I knew what was going on. Since he hadn’t told me, I wouldn’t show that I knew either. Truly, I endured it, because at that moment I felt like collapsing onto my knees from how much they were trembling. I felt a strange heaviness in my body, something that started in my heart and spread through my whole frame.

I did my best not to let him realize that I too was panicking, so I forced a smile—one you could tell was worse than crying, because it didn’t come from the depths of my heart.

As I smiled and looked at Yallaɓai’s face, I realized that today I wasn’t seeing him clearly in my eyes; he seemed strange to me, almost as if he was no longer my Yusuf.

“Sadiya ta. I’m back.”

He said it while staring at me, because his eyes had been fixed on me since earlier. As for me, with a trembling body and heart, I struggled to open my mouth, feeling my tongue shake inside my mouth.

“Yes.”

My voice trembled. I wanted to compose myself, but by Allah, I couldn’t. People, jealousy is a disaster—today I understood that truth again. No matter how much I wanted to act brave, I couldn’t. I felt something running through my blood. My head felt heavy, and I felt like I might fall from the shock and tension I was in.

“Yes, Yallaɓai n—”

The rest of my words stuck to my lips. I couldn’t call him “my Yallaɓai” anymore. Just today, as I looked at him, my heart beat painfully with the realization that Yallaɓai was no longer mine alone. He had risen from belonging to only me to belonging to both me and another woman. So this is how many women feel when a co-wife enters their lives? I had thought that if Yallaɓai ever married again, I wouldn’t be too bothered. But jealousy is not something to joke with. Truly, it is Allah who created us women, and He placed jealousy in our hearts—and He alone knows why He did so.

Especially since Yallaɓai’s marriage was something I was not prepared for. It came to me suddenly, unexpectedly, in a way I had never imagined. I never thought this was how I would begin sharing Yallaɓai with another woman. I never thought or foresaw it.

The sandals on my feet were soaked with sweat, and even the phone in my hand was damp from the sweat coming off my body.

Yallaɓai took one step, then another toward me. Quickly, I stepped back, trying to avoid our bodies touching, because today, for the first time, I felt I didn’t want Yallaɓai to come close to me. I tried to step back, but my body refused to cooperate because I was in panic. As I moved hastily, my foot slipped in my sandal and I stumbled backward, about to fall. I didn’t even know when my phone dropped from my hand. Then I felt Yallaɓai catch me instantly, holding me while looking at me before he said,

“Are you okay?”

He said it while staring at me. As I looked at him, I felt that if I continued looking at him, I would burst into tears and expose everything in my heart. He felt my body shaking and realized that I was panicking and not in my right state of mind. As he tried to steady me on my feet and draw me close, I watched his hands—and suddenly they seemed strange to me. Just that once, Yallaɓai’s hands felt like those of a stranger. I don’t even know when I shifted aside, avoiding his grip. I held onto the arm of a chair, breathing heavily, because I was sure my breath had tightened, as if it was about to retreat into my throat.

Yallaɓai looked at me in fear, looked again, then said,

“Sadiya? Are you okay?”

He said it while trying to move closer to me. Quickly, I stepped back again, but I didn’t let go of the chair beside me, because if I dared to release it, I wouldn’t be able to hold myself up.

“Sadiya, be strong. Sadiya, endure.”

That was what a voice inside me said. I quickly forced myself to take a deep breath, then let it out, while looking at my phone lying on the tiled floor. Yallaɓai followed my gaze, bent down, picked up my phone, and held it in his hand. He looked at me, wanting to speak, but even his mouth seemed heavy. I simply stretched out my hand, and he placed the phone in it at the same time saying,

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

I felt like glaring at him sharply; if I opened my mouth, I was sure I would snap and lash out. But I didn’t. I forced another smile and raised my hand slightly to signal that I was fine. I kept releasing deep breaths one after another, blowing air out of my mouth, trying to calm myself from deep within. I kept repeating Inna lillahi, asking Allah to grant me strength again.

By the will of Allah, I felt myself calm down. My body stopped shaking. I was even able to release the chair and stand on my feet. I looked at him standing there with his arms folded across his chest—not only me, he too was clearly shaken, with no calmness in him.

I didn’t stop to look at him again. I gathered my courage and moved toward the bags he had set down, picked them all up, and said,

“Jidda and the others got tired of waiting and have already fallen asleep.”

I said it to steady myself. At the same time, I lifted the bags, passed in front of him, and went to place them on the dining table. I didn’t open them. I wanted to turn back, but I didn’t want our eyes to meet again.