AJIYA A DUHU BOOK 2 Complete Hausa Novel Document by AJIYA A DUHU BOOK 2

Maanal carried the prepared food basket, thinking they were going somewhere outside the house. They walked with such enthusiasm that one would think they were going to see a mother and daughter—not a mother-in-law and daughter-in-law. Oum knew Mamy was from Abah’s section, so she didn’t say anything to stop Maanal from going to greet them. The house was unusually quiet, as if everyone was in their own section, except for the staff moving around cautiously, greeting them until they reached AA’s section.  

Maanal herself felt as if she didn’t want to go, but she couldn’t refuse Oum, no matter how difficult it was. Straightaway, Oum entered, knowing they wouldn’t find anyone in the downstairs living room. Maanal followed behind her, her heart heavy. When you enter with the greeting of fresh paint and new furnishings, you immediately feel the difference. Surely, any observer would say *Masha Allah*, because Daddy had put in so much effort—from Maanal’s section to Huznah’s, he had poured wealth into them.  

Despite herself, Maanal’s eyes welled up with tears as she looked around. A wave of love for Daddy and Ammie washed over her. The downstairs living room was breathtaking—she didn’t even recognize the kitchen anymore. Didi had already told her that from top to bottom, Daddy had filled their sections with everything they could need. Maanal’s heart nearly burst by the time they went upstairs. *Subhanallah*—everything was exquisite, though the work wasn’t completely finished yet, as some large boxes were still stacked to the side. The chairs had already been arranged, and just then, Fawzan walked in, likely coming from his own section.  

With concern, he said, "So you’ve seen Lilly, Auta’s wife?"  

Maanal quickly shot him a sharp glance before looking away. Fawzan laughed, and Oum, who was standing, said, "I’ve never seen anyone like you, Fawzan. If I don’t send you to rest in Kano, you won’t let my children have peace."  

Fawzan laughed heartily, sitting close to Oum and greeting her. Maanal also greeted him. Oum simply asked how her Auta was doing, but Maanal was too embarrassed to ask. Fawzan replied, "He’s doing very well, Oum. We even went to the mosque together this morning. Go in—he’s awake."  

Oum smiled and said, *"Alhamdulillah."* Then she turned to Maanal, who was standing stiffly. With gentle insistence, she said, "Auta is awake. Take the food and go in to see him."  

Maanal could only nod, though she felt like refusing—but there was no way out. She picked up the basket from the floor, and Fawzan pointed toward the room, teasing her. Today, she had no one to defend her except Oum. She stood frozen for a moment before knocking timidly with one finger, as if afraid. Honestly, if not for Oum, she wouldn’t have gone near that room, even though deep down, she was worried about his health.  

Hearing no response, she knocked again. Fawzan, watching from the living room, told her to just go in—there was no need to wait for permission. At that moment, she felt like crying but held back, as if afraid of stepping into fire. Slowly, she pushed the door open. She closed her eyes briefly, took a deep breath, and stepped inside, her lips moving in a silent greeting. She didn’t look around, quickly closing the door behind her. A faint scent filled her nose—something cool, like a light cologne that sent a shiver through her body. She exhaled deeply, releasing the tension in her chest.  

Then she walked further in, scanning the room as if no one was there. The bed was unmade, as if someone had just gotten up. The room was immaculate—not a single thing out of place. Despite the morning light, the room was dim, the curtains drawn, and the lights off, leaving only a faint blue glow. It gave the room a mesmerizing aura.  

Her heartbeat steadied, and she continued walking cautiously, as if trying to leave unnoticed. *Allah ya isa*—she wasn’t used to this room. But it seemed her plan to slip away unnoticed wouldn’t work. Just as she reached the middle of the large bedroom, the bathroom door—visible through the open closet—swung open.  

*Ya Allah!* She flinched at first, but then her eyes locked onto him, and her heart pounded wildly. She barely suppressed a gasp.  

He stood there, a small towel draped around his waist, his body glistening with water droplets—clearly fresh from a shower. Even his hair was wet. He froze, just as shocked as she was, clearly not expecting her. They had just returned, and he hadn’t fully recovered—she hadn’t even seen him since his illness.  

For a moment, it looked like he might scowl. But seeing how stiffly she stood, rooted to the floor, his lips curled into a faint, lopsided smile. His eyes darkened slightly, as if he wanted to devour her.  

The small towel slipped slightly from where it hung on his hips, revealing more of his sculpted frame. The towel rack near the closet door was arranged meticulously, as if designed to impress.  

Before she could react, he reached up, adjusting the towel before stepping fully out of the closet—completely unbothered.