NAMIJI ZUMA 1 COMPLETE HAUSA NOVEL

***He was driving slowly in his sleek Mercedes Benz C-Class in dark ash color. One look at the car, and it was clear it was brand new—it sparkled and gleamed, epitomizing class and beauty, a true first-class car in terms of elegance and design. The car rolled smoothly along the immaculate, well-maintained asphalt road, part of an area where wealthy people resided, so maintenance was constant. He headed straight to an impressive and well-decorated mansion, its outer beauty so striking that I was sure the inside must be even more spectacular. The gate stood out, an exquisite silver color that shimmered as if it were crafted from pure gold. He honked, and the security guard promptly came out, dressed in a blue uniform and black pants. He looked at the car in admiration, having never seen one like it before, and his gaze fell upon the license plate bearing the ‘AS’ insignia, prompting him to salute with respect. Although he couldn’t see who was inside, he gave his greetings regardless, his nerves getting the better of him as he opened the gate.
The car smoothly made its way to the parking area, and from the way he parked, one could tell he belonged to a distinct class—not the type given to flattery. After parking, he stayed inside for ten minutes before finally opening the door. Then, he took another five minutes before carefully placing his elegant feet on the interlocked floor of the mansion, adorned in spotless white, comfortable shoes. His long, slender toes were so attractive that if a woman looked at them closely, her attraction would be uncontrollable, and she might even reach a state of ecstasy without realizing it.
As he set his beautiful feet down, he emerged fully from the car, his tall figure capturing immediate attention. Subhanallah! He was tall, with the kind of height that automatically makes a man stand out in a crowd. His looks could bring admiration or even obsession, but they were beyond description; for many women, just one look at him would make them salivate. His chocolate skin had a slight sheen, glowing as if it was almost as light as a fair-skinned person’s. His skin was well-maintained, soft, and flawless, with a radiance that outshined the finest silk.
He was of medium build—not thin nor overweight—and his broad chest stood out as if he did weightlifting, though that was purely his natural physique. His well-defined facial features included thick eyebrows and thick eyelashes, so long that sometimes he had them trimmed to avoid irritation. His eyes were large and dark, with a rare, intense brown color that friends joked looked like they were custom-made for him. His lips were slightly dark, complementing his pink lower lip, enhancing his attractive mouth, and giving it an allure that defied description.
Dressed in a royal blue traditional attire with tailored sleeves, the fabric accentuated his muscular arms, one of which bore a tattoo on his right bicep that suited him well. He loved tattoos, having one done during a trip to America, though he’d have covered both arms if it weren’t for his mother’s disapproval. This wasn’t just any tattoo—it enhanced his already striking look, as if it had been created for him. In his life, he particularly favored wearing traditional tunics, hence he rarely owned other clothes, except for his work uniforms.
He leaned back against his car as he carefully observed the beautiful mansion, deep in thought. He was a man of patience, with endurance as one of his strengths, but few could discern his worries. Only his nanny, whom he regarded as his mother, could see through him. With a sigh, he released some of the tension within, pulling his phone from the car. Among his three phones—an iPhone 15 Pro Max, a Samsung, and an Android Nokia—he selected one and started walking towards the main house.
For about five days, he hadn’t slept well, as his mind and body remained restless. Eager to reach the cool interiors of the house, where the air conditioning would hopefully relieve his burden, he moved with a determined step, embodying the aura of a nobleman. The house had six sections, and he went directly to “Hajiya Mommy’s” part, the only woman his father respected in their household. Despite her faults, she had a motherly presence in his life.
He gently pushed the door, which opened to a fragrant, air-conditioned interior. The refreshing scent and cool air instantly soothed him, his tension dissolving as the blood circulated freely through his body. Gratefully, he muttered ‘Alhamdulillah,’ reflecting that it was because of his ‘real mom’ that he still found peace in that house.
He let out a sigh as he headed towards Hajiya Mommy’s lounge, checking his watch—it was ten in the morning. "Time isn’t rushing today," he thought, as his expression darkened with worry. He opened the door to her lounge, stepping into a tastefully decorated room with Army green and milk-colored upholstery and a unique design that indicated wealth from every angle. It was calm and luxurious, the kind of room that would mesmerize anyone with less than a strong constitution.
He reached one of the plush chairs and sank into it, resting his head back and closing his eyes, falling into deep thought. This moment allowed him to confront his regret about marrying too early in life, despite warnings from his friend Zaks that he might one day feel this way. Now, at only 22 years old, he was enduring a relationship he found deeply troubling, feeling trapped, and weighed down by his regrets.
Just then, the door opened, and an elegant woman who appeared to be around 45 entered, followed by an elderly man. She wore a red Abaya that suited her fair skin, giving her a graceful presence with a medium height and a look of dignity. The older man, dressed in traditional wear and leaning on a walking stick due to an injured leg, moved slowly behind her. With his tall, dignified posture, his age and wealth were evident in every line on his face.
“AS…” she called out as her eyes settled on him, sitting in the chair, his dignified presence immediately noticeable. 
The 10-minute drive brought him to an extravagant and imposing mansion, with a gate colored in golden light. Just by looking at the gate, it was obvious this house belonged to people who had prospered beyond measure. With a single honk, the gate swung open, recognizing his car plate, which bore the insignia of AS and ARMY at the top. He drove in and parked in a space, stepping out with a smile that betrayed his eagerness. It had been nearly two months since he last saw her in person, though they often spoke on the phone. When he left town, his work kept him extremely busy, but through everything, they communicated constantly. Whether it was making a purchase or choosing something, he would always call her to help him decide.
As he stood there, staff members began arriving one by one to greet him, each with respectful bows. He returned their greetings warmly, sensing, inexplicably, that someone was watching him. He turned toward a window and saw her standing there, looking at him. “Wow! You’re always beautiful. I guess I need to greet you properly, Momma…” he whispered softly to himself, smiling. She smiled back before stepping away from the window, disappearing from his sight. “First Darling…” he said, placing his hand over his heart, feeling it beat faster every time he saw her. He knew this feeling was love—a motherly love he cherished deeply.
He moved past the greeting staff, heading towards the large living room, a peaceful look on his face as he entered with a greeting. She was leaning against a wall, dressed in a red material outfit with green and golden flowers. His eyes took her in, from the bottom up. "Innalillahi wa'inna ilaihirraju'un!" he said silently in amazement. Her beauty was remarkable; her fair skin seemed flawless, with reddish highlights. Her feet appeared as if they had never touched the ground—smooth and delicate, with dainty toes, probably around size 36 or 37. She had an oval face with expressive, big eyes that drew one in, surrounded by full lashes and perfectly arched brows that nearly touched, thick and lush. Her nose was long, and her lips petite and soft—small enough that even a finger might barely fit inside. She had dimples on her cheeks and tiny, childlike teeth that complemented her thin, graceful neck.
She was of medium height, not too tall or short, with a balanced frame—not slender or heavy, just normal. Her shape was still apparent, though, with a well-formed bust, a flat stomach, and substantial hips. Even the sharpest eyes couldn’t detect a flaw in her. Although she was about 32, she looked no older than 20, her youthful beauty radiating. She had the kind of beauty that never faded—her features forever young.
"You were standing by the window watching me, weren’t you, Mom?" Aeezad said. Nabeelah didn’t respond right away. Almost without thinking, he continued, “You look stunning, Mom…” Aeezad finished with a soothing tone. She smiled, a dimple showing, and quietly moved to one of the large royal chairs in the living room, where she looked up at him, giving a small smile. With a sweet, gentle voice, she spoke, "My hero, my dear, my baby!" She averted her gaze as she said it, not wanting him to tell her she was beautiful. Despite her affection for him, she upheld her dignity, refusing to get too comfortable with his praises.
Aeezad felt warmth in his heart at her words and leaned into her touch, losing any pretense of cheer. She noticed his unease; from the moment she saw him at the window, she could tell something was troubling him. No one knew him like she did—she had cared for him since he was a baby and felt a mother’s love for him, even though she hadn’t borne him. "Mom, is Aunty Hafsa, Asmah, or Noor not here?" he asked. She nodded, her big, soft eyes fixed on him, then opened her small mouth to answer, “Aunty Hafsa went to the office, and Asmah and Noor are at school; you know it’s Monday…”
Standing there, looking down at her, he replied, “Okay.” “Come and sit down, my dear. Something is troubling you; tell me who upset my dear Aeezad.” She sat down on the two-seater, gesturing for him to come closer. Aeezad didn’t need a second invitation; he dropped to the carpet and laid his head on her lap, suddenly sobbing like a little child. He wasn’t sure why, but in her presence, he felt like a vulnerable two-year-old.
His tears touched her heart, and a deep worry rose within her as she noticed his silent sobbing. "I will never forgive whoever caused my dear Aeezad to cry. Please calm down; I can’t bear anything that troubles my heart…” she said, her voice cracking, on the verge of tears herself. She hated to see him sad and was ready to go to any lengths to protect him. She tried to gently lift his face, but he was still sobbing, with red, teary eyes fixed on her.
“Please, don’t cry, my hero, my dear Aeezad. You know I hate your tears; your tears hurt me more than they hurt you,” she murmured, trying to soothe him. He quieted down, as if her words reached some deep part of him. She carefully wiped his tears, flashing a comforting smile. "Good, that’s better,” she said. “Now, tell me what has been bothering you, my dear Aeezad.” Her heart overflowed with a motherly love so strong that she wanted to pull him into her very soul.
It seemed Aeezad was waiting for this moment, as he began to pour out his troubles, feeling as if he might burst. “Mom, can you believe what Na’eema is doing to me? I don’t know what kind of marriage this is; we’ve been married for almost two years, and she’s never stayed a full month at home. I asked her to come with me to Abuja, but she refused. Whenever I return, I find she’s never around—she’s always at her mother’s place or traveling, bringing her goods from abroad. She never even thinks of having children because her mother says she needs her for business trips. Mom, I am tired. I even went to see Daddy about it, but you know that wouldn’t help much, as everything is controlled by his wife.” His voice trembled with frustration and sorrow. “Mom, I have had enough; this is why I am here. You forbade me from dating other women, but you don’t understand. It’s not even about that…"
Nabeelah listened, compassion filling her eyes as he recounted his heartbreak. After a deep sigh, she spoke to him gently. "As I always tell you, patience is key. Sometimes, the things of this world require a lot of endurance, especially in marriage. Mommy is like a mother to you, so you should try to work things out with her peacefully, even if it means enduring difficult times for the sake of respect and honor. My dear Aeezad, I don’t want anything to trouble your heart…”
Just as he began to reply, mentioning another woman from his past, she stopped him, her face turning stern. “Is this really what you want, to return to those days? Do you know the consequences of such actions? You must understand, Aeezad, that the fleeting pleasures you’re considering won’t give you peace in the long term.”