MUWADDAT Complete Hausa Novel Document by MUWADDAT

Ayshatul Muwaddat lay awake, her eyes fixed on the glowing screen of her phone. Sleep eluded her as thoughts of Muhammad Auwal consumed her mind - he who had completely claimed her heart.

She continued dwelling on memories of their bond, one that had become fundamental to her very being. In solitary moments, her mind would wander nowhere except to thoughts of him. Her pulse would quicken as she imagined the rhythm of his life flowing through his veins. Every aspect of him fascinated her - particularly the timbre of his voice that sent shivers through her, his composed demeanor, his very essence. The yearning in her heart was so intense that even her phone resting silently on the nightstand seemed to long for his call.

One ring. Then another. His cool, soothing voice finally came through: "Hello, Aysha, nah..."

The rich sound of his voice made her eyelids flutter closed. She held her breath as a peculiar warmth spread from the crown of her head down to her toes, permeating every inch of her body.

Silence lingered between them. Neither spoke, communicating only through synchronized breathing and the frantic pounding of hearts that seemed to echo through their separate spaces.

When her voice failed her, he was the first to break the quiet. "Aysha, nah, you called me only to go silent. My heart tells me there's something you want to say - that's why you reached out. What troubles you? Speak to me..."

Her lips parted then closed, words trapped in her throat. When she finally spoke, it was barely above a whisper: "It's nothing really. I just... wanted to hear your voice." Did you miss me?

"Miss you? Like this?"

Just as she anticipated, he deflected with a soft exhale. She mirrored his sigh. "No, I didn't miss you."

A gentle smile softened his features. "I don't believe you. Your heart is keeping secrets."

She retreated into silence again. On his end, he closed his eyes, picturing her face. He knew her - truly knew her. Their connection transcended time and distance. Yet even now, she hesitated, holding back even as her soul reached for him.

After a thoughtful pause, his voice returned, softer now. "Since you called, let's continue on WhatsApp..." - then the call disconnected.

Without hesitation, she unlocked her phone, navigated to his contact, and sent a voice message, her tone steady but layered with unspoken emotion:

"Auwal, how are you? Is everything all right?"

Not like I am. The truth pressed heavily against her chest. I can't find joy in anything without you near. She sent the message, then collapsed back against her pillow, eyes squeezed shut. Her heart raced wildly beneath her ribs.

Two minutes later, his reply arrived. She sat up abruptly, fingers trembling as she played the message, pressing the earpiece close. His voice enveloped her, warm and urgent:

"Muwaddat, I know something's wrong. I swear, your absence feels like an open wound. You're all I think about - tell me what troubles you. I need to know."

She swallowed hard, her body thrumming with his nearness despite the distance between them.

Silence.

"You're not answering. Are you well? Please, talk to me, my Muwaddat."