Doctor Shazim season one by Kainaat 1 complete hausa novel

The coolness of the weather, coupled with the blowing wind that caused the tree leaves to sway, gave off a refreshing breeze. The remaining rainwater that hadn't dried up on the ground, along with the runoff into the gutters, clearly indicated that the rainy season had arrived.
The neighborhood was eerily quiet, as though no one resided there, due to the night and rainy conditions. Even during the day, these kinds of areas seldom have much movement, except for the glow of bulbs and street lamps illuminating the area.
This was a high-profile neighborhood, inhabited by prominent traders and senior government officials.
A car sped through the right-hand corner of the neighborhood, followed by four SUVs in close pursuit. The car dashed at high speed, leaving the neighborhood and merging onto the main road, while the other vehicles remained hot on its trail.
The driver’s desperation to escape was evident, as though he was fleeing for his life. Through the car’s mirror, he observed the headlights of the chasing vehicles. The pursuit continued as they approached the highway leading out of town. Despite his physical exhaustion and the beating he had endured, he drove on, seeking solace in prayers and hoping for divine intervention.
Glancing in his rearview mirror again, he no longer saw the vehicles that had been chasing him. He began to wonder if he had lost them. However, he maintained his speed, unsure of what lay ahead. Suddenly, a massive truck rammed his car from behind. Startled, he realized the pursuers must have taken another route to ambush him.
The truck hit his car with tremendous force, causing him to lose control and veer into the bush. In his panic, he kept driving aimlessly until he found himself at the edge of a massive and deep pit. With no other choice, he slammed on the brakes, realizing his ordeal might end here.
Before he could finish processing this thought, the truck struck his car again, causing him to hit his head and lose consciousness. The truck driver reversed and delivered another powerful blow, sending the car tumbling into the pit. The depth of the pit was so vast that no sound of the car hitting the bottom could be heard.
The truck driver parked at the edge of the pit and used his headlights to peer down. Seeing nothing due to the pit's depth, he laughed loudly, saying, "Now I’m certain my money will be complete. This guy is gone for good." He returned to his truck as his phone rang. The name "Boss" appeared on the screen. Answering the call on speakerphone, the boss’s voice came through:
"I hope you've finished the job?"
The driver replied, "This one is done for. He’s now with his ancestors."
"Good to hear," said the boss.
The driver asked, "What about his wife and kids?"
"Don't worry about that; the big boss will handle it. For now, send me your account details so I can transfer the remaining payment for the job."
"Thank you so much, boss," the driver said.
"Don’t mention it," replied the boss before hanging up.
The driver sent his account details, started his truck, and drove away.
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The house was not too small but not overly large either. It was a well-maintained middle-class home with a modern touch. The house was painted white and blue, including its gate. Upon entering the compound, one would first notice the guard's quarters to the left and the parking lot to the right, which housed five luxurious cars. A beautiful garden added a touch of elegance, followed by the boys' quarters at the back of the main house.
Inside the house, the living room was impeccably furnished in onion and peach colors. To the right was a twin staircase leading upstairs, and to the left was the kitchen and a dining area with seating for seven. A corridor led to four bedrooms on the ground floor, while upstairs was divided into three sections: the left wing for the lady of the house and her children, the right wing for the man of the house, and a separate section for their son.
A woman's voice echoed, calling out, "Aaimah! Aairah! Aairah!" A fair-skinned woman in her 50s emerged from one of the bedrooms, dressed in a pink Pakistani-style sleeping outfit. She headed toward another room, calling out, "Aaimah" and "Aairah."
The woman, though not slender nor overly heavy, had a graceful figure. She entered the room, which was beautifully decorated in pink and white. "Do you two know what time it is?" she asked, pushing open the door. The room was neatly arranged, with a pink-and-white bed, matching bedside drawers, a dressing mirror, a wardrobe, and a well-organized corner for school bags and shoes.
One of the girls lay on the bed while another emerged from the bathroom, wrapped in a towel, her wet hair cascading down her back. She was fair-skinned, with brown eyes, long lashes, and a slim yet curvy figure.
"Good morning, Mom," the girl said, adding, "Aaimah won’t wake up; she says she’s not done sleeping."
"Go and get ready. She’ll get up soon enough," said the mother, moving toward the bed. "Aaimah, wake up! It's time for school!" The girl on the bed stirred, laughing at her sister, who stomped her foot in protest.
Eventually, both girls got up and began getting ready, donning their school uniforms of white and pink with matching sneakers. Holding hands, they headed downstairs to their father’s section to greet him before his trip to Abuja.
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The living room upstairs was even more luxurious, furnished in sky blue and white. Their father, an elderly but distinguished-looking man, sipped tea as the girls entered, greeting him warmly.
"Good morning, Abie!" they chorused, sitting beside him.
"Good morning, my daughters. Did you sleep well?" he asked.
"Yes, Abie," they replied in unison.
"Good. Now, go have breakfast so I can finish mine and leave on time," he said.
Their mother entered, carrying his travel bag. "Girls, let your father finish his meal. It's time for you to eat as well," she said.
Reluctantly, the girls left the room, laughing and teasing each other as they headed downstairs for breakfast. Their parents exchanged amused glances, with their father remarking, "These girls are a handful!" 
LITTLE ANGELS PRIMARY AND SECONDARY SCHOOL is the name of the school. Just as the school uniforms are pink and white, the school building is also painted in pink and white.
They entered the school, and Mashaa Allah, it was a very beautiful school for wealthy children. The school is an upstairs building, with the lower floor for young students and the upper floor for older ones. They headed upstairs since the assembly had already ended and went directly to their class, S.S.3. When they entered, they found their form master preparing to leave after finishing what he had come to do.
"Aairah and Aaimah Muhammad Hashim, why are you coming late?" the form master asked. "Sorry, sir, we woke up late, which is why we are late, and it will not happen again," Aaimah replied, while Aairah gave him a dismissive look, as if she thought she was above apologizing.
"This should be the last time," the form master said, and then left the classroom.
They looked at each other and burst into laughter. Aairah imitated the form master, saying, "Why are you coming late?" in a mocking tone. They laughed even harder. "This should be the last time," Aaimah repeated, mimicking him, and this time, the whole class joined in the laughter.
They sat in their seats, still laughing. "May Allah guide you, twins. Now, all that is left for you is our prayers," said Aeesha, one of their classmates. "Aairah, even Uncle Hamza is speaking, yet you’re glaring at him." "You wouldn’t understand, Aeesha," Aairah responded. "Then explain it to me," Aeesha replied.
"Wallahi, Uncle Hamza annoys me. I used to think he was a good man, but he turned out to be useless. Didn’t you hear us telling him to stop coming to our house for lessons? Abdallah chased him away because he was doing things he shouldn’t. Imagine the nerve—he even said he liked Aaimah and used the lessons as an excuse to get close. One day, Abdallah overheard everything he said. That’s why Abdallah kicked him out and warned him not to come back. I’m telling you, Aeesha, the beating Abdallah gave us that day—Wallahi, we were beaten like church drums. Mom said it wasn’t her business, and Dad was out of town. That’s why every time I think of Uncle Hamza, I feel like strangling him," Aairah said, flaring her nostrils. "May Allah guide him," Aeesha replied. "Ameen," they all echoed.
"Be silent," their biology teacher said as he entered the classroom, catching them talking. They composed themselves and focused on the lesson.
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F.M.C MEDICAL CENTER
In his office located in the Amenity section, Dr. Abdallah sat with a phone pressed to his ear. "Come on, dude, I had to say it. After all the years we’ve been friends, you’ve never visited us. Even at Mom’s naming ceremony, you didn’t show up. It’s not right, man." "Sorry, my man, it’s not like that. I’ve been meaning to visit, but work has been overwhelming. Insha Allah, I’ll come soon," the voice on the other end replied. "Even I have a ton of work, but I still make time to visit you. What’s stopping you? Or do I need to arrange a wedding for you to show up?" Abdallah teased. "Look, even if you’re getting married, I’ll come. But don’t expect me to get married yet," the voice replied. "Fine. You’re impossible to convince. Please send my regards to Ammy," Abdallah said. "I will, insha Allah. Send my regards to your Mom too. Tell her I’ll visit very soon," the voice responded. "Let’s hope so. I know you too well." "Don’t worry, dude, I’ll come soon, insha Allah."
After ending the call, Dr. Abdallah prepared to leave his office for surgery.
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EKO HOSPITAL, 10:00 AM, LAGOS
Patients were seated in the waiting area, seemingly there to see the doctor. A nurse emerged from an office, appearing to be around 25 years old. She was dressed in white pants and a white shirt, with no hijab, unlike some other nurses wearing baby hijabs. She was light-skinned but not entirely fair.
She approached a patient, an elderly man who had not handed in his card. "Hey, bring your card," she said. "My daughter, I don’t have a card. This is my first time here," the man replied weakly, clearly unwell.
Switching to Hausa with some difficulty, the nurse said, "So, do you want me to make a card for you or what?" "No, I heard they give free medication here, so I came," the man replied.
The nurse gave him a disdainful look. "Hey, Hausa people always amaze me. Let me tell you, this is not a charity hospital. Stand up and make room for others. Does this place look like a charity hospital to you?" she said loudly, pointing him toward the exit.
Another nurse intervened—a beautiful, chocolate-complexioned woman of about 23 years, wearing a white baby hijab. She was Hausa, unlike the first nurse, Victoria. "Victoria, what’s wrong with you? Didn’t the doctor say to accommodate those in need?"
Victoria, unfazed, snapped back, "That’s none of my business. If you care so much, you handle him!"
The elderly man, too weak to move, sat trembling. Before Victoria could yell at him again, a thunderous slap landed on her cheek. Stunned, she barely recovered before another slap knocked her to the ground.
Everyone turned to see who had slapped her.
It was Dr. Shazim, dressed in his blue uniform with a black pair of shoes, holding a briefcase and a lab coat. He was tall, very fair, and strikingly handsome, with sharp features.
"Good morning, sir," the nurses greeted him nervously.
Without acknowledging them, he called security to assist the elderly man to his office. He turned to Nurse Hidaya and said, "What did I say about patients seeking assistance? If it happens again, there will be consequences."