Girma Ya Fadi 2 Complete Hausa Novel TAKORI

Their courage faltered, and their faces grew pale, frozen in shock. Could it really be Imran, standing with three cell phones in hand? He even came into our bedroom, asking where Zaynab was. Initially, they were scared, assuming he was there because of yesterday's issue, so they nervously replied that she was in the bathroom brushing her teeth. He said, “Alright, here’s your gift, and let’s hear if anyone calls me disrespectful names.” I could only hear Azizah’s shouts of joy because the phones he brought us were the same (all Nokias), except that only my phone had a Glo SIM card. After receiving mine, I tossed it under my pillow and forgot about it, as my mind was focused on the exams I was taking.
Today, after we finished the geography paper, Mr. Segun followed us. Since he arrived, he’d been persistently trying to talk to me, but I kept avoiding him. He was assigned as an invigilator from Minna, an official from NECO, with a face marked by scars typical of Nupawa men. But to be honest, he truly liked me and was genuinely interested in marrying me, not just fooling around.
Iftihal and the others found it amusing, and when he’d write them answers, they’d shamelessly copy them, laughing behind his back. To their surprise, I actually stopped to listen to Mr. Segun today. He wanted me to give him directions to my house because he planned to come and ask for my hand in marriage once the exams were over, reassuring me not to worry about his wife and children, as he would keep us in separate homes.
I said, “Alright.” He then asked, “Which city would you prefer—Minna or Sokoto?” I answered, “Whichever is more convenient for you.” He was overjoyed and couldn’t stop smiling. Meanwhile, GG was sitting on a bench nearby, observing us with a stern face. Mr. Segun asked for my phone number, and I told him I didn’t have it on me yet because I just received the phone, but I’d bring it tomorrow. He was thrilled, and we exchanged farewells as if he wanted to whisk me away right then.
After taking just five steps toward Azizah, GG appeared in front of me as if out of nowhere, his expression serious. He said, “So, Zaynab, you’re treating me this way just because you know I care about you?” I replied, “It’s not an insult, GG; I just think people like us are troublesome, so I was trying to save you from a tumultuous encounter.”
He burst out laughing, and I could even hear his thick, deep voice from where I was. He said, “Please, Zaynab, forgive me. Forget the past… I swear, ever since I realized how much I care for you, I’ve been searching for ways to get your attention but have failed…”
I glanced around for Azizah and spotted them calmly seated in Ya Im’s car, waiting for me. Ya Im was leaning against the car door, his left foot propped against it, arms folded across his chest, his intense gaze fixed on us. I pretended not to notice his presence, gave GG a soft smile, and he instinctively reached into his pocket and offered me everything he had without realizing it. I told him, “Keep your things; let’s go greet my brother over there. He actually mentioned wanting to be friends with you after I told him how you had me clean the toilets—he’d be your advocate for marriage.”
When GG glanced at Ya Im, observing his attire and the car he was leaning against, he froze. Though Ya Im wore dark glasses that hid his eyes, GG was shaken. “Are we really going to do this, Zaynab? I hope you didn’t take me seriously when I said I should be fired. Please, forgive me. This job is my livelihood—it’s how I feed my family and keep us going. I don’t have any hidden assets, just an old house back in my village.”
I smiled to reassure him and said, “I told you, let’s go. You don’t know the kind of generosity my brother has; he even said he could get you promoted to our school principal.”
Hearing this, GG adjusted his cap and straightened his collar, following me closely as if he were my bodyguard. Ya Im noticed us approaching and got into his seat, closed the door, pressed a button on the car door, and the tinted windows completely blocked our view. Before we knew it, he sped off, leaving GG and me covered in dust. But GG didn’t mind, and he kept expressing his sympathy, and I’m sure if he could, he would have wiped off the dust that stained my white uniform.
I felt utterly humiliated. Behind GG, there were other teachers and students who had witnessed the incident, and they didn’t know the reason. Ignoring GG, I left through the school gate, wiping away tears over the public humiliation Imran had inflicted on me. Yet, a part of me felt he wasn’t entirely to blame; after all, it wasn’t my father who had bought him the car.
I took a motorcycle back home and arrived at the gate to find Imran speaking with his friend Jabir. They both stopped talking and stared as I rummaged through my bag to pay the rider. Seeing me on a motorcycle only infuriated him more; he looked away and continued talking to Jabir, but his attention kept drifting back to me. After I went inside, Jabir teased him, pointing in my direction, saying, “That fresh babe, Imran? You have a beautiful one at home, yet you leave me to chase after all these deadbeat street girls?”
Imran turned and gave him a menacing glare, clearly aggravated, and replied, “If you want to fool around, know where to do it. Are none of my siblings safe? And let me tell you, not in this house, and you’re not even close to being able to mess with my sisters, J.B. They don’t know that kind of life. They’re innocent, so don’t you dare approach them, even as a joke. Now, get going before we have a problem…”
Seeing how fired up he was, Jabir couldn’t help but laugh, which only aggravated him more. Jabir continued teasing him by saying, “Your sister? Really? This fair-skinned one? I know Iftihal and Azizah, but this one doesn’t look like she’s from this household. She’s my type, big brother, and don’t worry—I’m interested in marriage, not games!”
In frustration, Imran turned and went inside, leaving him there, knowing if he stayed, things might escalate, and their years-long friendship would turn into a bitter memory.
When Azizah and the others saw me, they burst out laughing, and I joined them, laughing till we were out of breath. I said, “I’ve truly seen it all today. I’ve experienced the ultimate embarrassment, being on the back of a motorcycle like some street girl. Oh, God, forgive me.”
Mama entered from the hallway, saying, “Why did you leave Zaynab to take a motorcycle home? Do you realize if Abba hears this, you all might as well say goodbye to any comfort in this house?” They fell silent, and I quickly interjected, “No, Mama, it’s not their fault. I went to a friend’s place in the teachers’ quarters to collect past question papers, and they didn’t see me, so they left.” She replied, “Nonsense, as if they’re never at fault in your eyes. Instead of waiting for you or finding you, they just left? I’m done; I’ll let Abba decide. Zaynab is my responsibility. What if something terrible had happened to you at school?”
Seeing how seriously upset she was, we all pleaded with her not to tell Abba, with me even shedding tears. She said, “Alright, tell me the truth about why they left you behind. If not, I’ll certainly tell Abba.” I said, “I made a mistake.” She asked, “With whom?” Hesitantly, I replied, “Ya Im.” She widened her eyes and asked, “What kind of mistake?” My stomach twisted, and I felt a surge of panic, unsure of what to say.
“… Well, Mama, if you knew the mistake Zaynab made, you’d probably punish her yourself.” We all turned to see him standing at the doorway, not having entered, with his right hand resting on the doorframe, his face showing no sign of humor. He said, “Mama, Zaynab writes answers during exams for Iftihal and the others to copy. When I confronted them, they brushed me off, saying all the teachers are her suitors. So today, I decided to go and see for myself. To my disbelief, I found Zaynab with multiple men, some even offering her money. They stood there for half an hour, and then she had the audacity to approach me, acting as if I was invisible.”
Mama took a seat, looking at us, shaking her head in disbelief as we stood there silent and remorseful, tears welling up in my eyes. I started crying and swearing that I’d never copied any answers myself—it was only for Iftihal. She and the others swore that they didn’t receive any answers; they were only collecting them to pass to me.
Imran turned his back to us, laughing, and Mama said, “Alright, onto another matter. Since you’re all so interested in marriage, why don’t you focus on finishing your exams first? And what’s the real purpose of this cell phone? It’s like you think your father is a fool.” 
With great reluctance, Mama decided not to report us to Abba, but she gave us a stern warning and made us promise not to cheat again. I also promised I would no longer pay attention to GG, and she finally let us be. But that day, we truly learned a lesson and faced a frightening experience like never before. Especially me—I dreaded having Abba called in to see "BABA SA'IDU" over my mistake.
Later that night, everyone, including Azizah, was fast asleep, but I lay on my pillow, reviewing my book. Suddenly, I felt my pillow vibrate. I had completely forgotten about the phone I'd stuffed inside my pillow earlier that morning, so I threw the book aside and sat up in the middle of my bed, wide-eyed, trying to locate the source of the sound. Then I realized it was coming from within my pillow.
That's when I remembered the phone Ya Im had given us that morning. With a heavy hand, I reached out and pulled it out. The caller's number was hidden, and I hadn't saved anyone's contact yet. In a tired voice, I said, “Hello?”
He let out a soft sigh but didn’t respond. I repeated, “Hello?” This time, a little more forcefully. Silence again—nobody was on the line. Annoyed, I was about to hang up when I heard him say, “Zaynab, are you still awake?”
He spoke as though he didn’t want to or was forced to. I thought to myself, Well, I’m in God’s hands today—you called me while I was minding my own business, and now you're just quiet? Angrily, I asked, “Who is this?”
He chuckled softly, and though I couldn’t see him, I felt his smile in my chest. In a voice that sounded as if he had a cold, he said, “Please, forgive me for what happened earlier today. Everything I did, I did because I was JEALOUS of you, and if a man doesn’t get jealous, it’s because he doesn’t CARE…”
I made a dismissive sound and cut him off before he could finish his spiel, though I was genuinely surprised. I wondered if I had even heard correctly—was this really Imran?
"I still don’t know who this is because, as far as I know, I haven’t given anyone my number, and I don’t know what apology you’re giving. Perhaps you dialed the wrong number.”
With irritation, he replied, “Since you didn’t give anyone your number, that alone should tell you who’s speaking. I’ve been shocked by you, Zaynab, ever since I returned, and even now, I still am. I’ve noticed a lot of changes in your eyes, things that weren’t there before. I see traits I never saw in you in the past. I don’t know when you picked up such rude behaviors, but I can’t stand them. If you intend to keep acting this way, then I swear I’ll tell everyone in this house exactly what’s going on between us…”
I gave him a quiet laugh and said, “And who is supposed to be in something with you? I heard you mention my name loud and clear, but I still don’t know who this is. Besides, I don’t understand your dialect, so why don’t you learn proper Hausa?” With that, I hung up the call with a scoff, though inwardly, I admired his effort.
In the morning, when I checked my phone, the first thing I saw was a text message from him.
“The way you shut me out last night shows that you’ve started realizing your own worth.”
I scoffed, thinking, Ya Im really thinks he knows me well. He still doesn’t know who Zaynab-Abu is, nor who Abun Faruq-Abun Baba Sa'idu is. He doesn’t understand Kyautar Allah, the gift of Inna Rabi.
The next day, he didn’t even dare to follow us to school, which I took as his reluctance to face GG. That evening, we returned home exhausted as usual, and there was an unfamiliar, beautiful car parked at the house entrance. I was the first to go inside because the others had stopped to collect a message from the guard on behalf of Mama. Little did I know I was about to witness something unlike anything I'd ever seen.
As I entered the corridor between the inner house and the backyard, a strong fragrance filled the air, and I could hear the faint sound of a woman crying. It was Mami, her back turned toward him, sobbing, while he held her shoulders, trying to turn her to face him, his expression troubled as he spoke to her in a low voice.
Just one look at them, and I felt my heart ready to burst from jealousy for that woman—jealousy placed there by Allah. I rushed inside, dashed into our room, shut myself in the bathroom, and cried until I was exhausted. I could hear my phone buzzing away in my pillow, ringing until it stopped on its own.
I didn’t come out until it was time for the Maghrib prayer. I performed the ablution and prayed with full concentration, forcing myself to rid my heart of Imran. I realized I was deeply in love with him in a way I couldn’t express in words. I was so jealous that I felt like grabbing a gun and shooting Mami, even though he said he didn’t love her. But deep down, I knew I was only fooling myself. He had toyed with my mind, whispering sweet lies, making me feel that someone with a wife like Mami Abdulhadi could ever care for someone insignificant like me, boasting of her father’s status under the guise of love.
He kept calling until he gave up and eventually sent a message around 10 p.m.
“Answer your phone so I can tell you what I have to say. Ignoring my calls won’t change anything…”