NAMIJIN ZUMA 2 COMPLETE HAUSA NOVEL

Slowly, he drove along in his brand-new dark ash Mercedes Benz C-Class. A single glance at the car was enough to tell it was new; it sparkled and shone from every angle, embodying sheer beauty and class. It glided smoothly along the polished tarmac of the famous road, a route consistently maintained as it served the wealthy, who appreciated smooth travel. His destination was an imposing, exquisitely designed house—beautiful both inside and out. The silver-colored gate shone brightly, almost like raw gold.
He honked at the gate, prompting the security guard in a blue uniform and black trousers to rush out. The guard's eyes widened as he caught sight of the luxury vehicle, as well as the distinctive AS license plate. Quickly, he saluted the car with utmost respect and opened the gate without hesitation. Once inside, the man in the car parked with the confidence of someone accustomed to elegance and class. Even in his parking style, it was evident that he was of a different class.
After sitting in the car for about ten minutes, he opened the door, first taking five minutes to step out gracefully, his polished, delicate feet emerging in white, soft leather shoes. His long toes, straight and well-kept, would capture anyone’s attention. Even a casual glance at his feet could leave some women captivated. This man, tall and well-built, was handsome with chocolate-colored skin that radiated a natural glow, along with an athletic physique that was neither too bulky nor too lean.
He exuded sophistication in a royal blue traditional outfit, with muscles subtly showing under the fabric. A tattoo graced his right bicep, adding a touch of style. In his hands, he held three phones: an iPhone 15 Pro Max, the latest Samsung model, and an Android Nokia. As he moved toward the house, staff members greeted him, which he acknowledged with a nod, masking the inner turmoil on his face.
For nearly five days, he had been unable to sleep, feeling his chest tighten with emotions he was struggling to suppress. He walked directly toward his mother's wing of the house, a large estate with six wings in total. Though she was not his biological mother, she was the woman who raised him, and he regarded her as his mother without question.
Pushing open the door to her wing, he was met with a welcoming, cool blast of air conditioning that soothed him instantly. Taking a deep breath, he murmured, "Alhamdulillah… This house will always bring me peace, thanks to my real mom."
Just then, he spotted two figures enter the living room: a middle-aged woman dressed in a red abaya, her fair skin glowing, and a tall, stately older man, leaning on a cane. The man exuded an air of dignity and power, though his age was evident. The woman greeted him warmly, while the older man, his father, called him by a cherished nickname, "Jarumi" (Hero), in a gentle tone that reflected pride.
He greeted them both, bending down respectfully. His stepmother, Rafi’ah, responded with slight disdain in her expression, her eyes full of hidden motives. "Don’t trouble him with questions, Alhaji; he’s only now come to see us after almost a week. Let's give him a chance to settle in." Rafi’ah spoke with a coy, almost theatrical tone, casting side glances as she spoke.
"You're right," his father replied, swayed as usual by Rafi'ah's words. She ushered his father toward the dining area while Jarumi remained, his gaze following them with quiet contempt. In this household, only his mother held his heart. He had learned long ago not to expect any peace with Rafi'ah’s daughter as his wife—a situation he now regretted.
Barely containing his frustration, he left without a word, got into his car, and drove off at a brisk pace. Reaching for his phone, he hesitated before calling his real mom.
"Good morning, real mom," he said, his voice cool but full of warmth.
"My hero! Good morning," she replied, her tone soft and full of affection.
He smiled as they spoke, the troubles of the past few days momentarily forgotten. His real mom had been the one constant in his life, a true anchor, providing all the support and love he needed to withstand the challenges around him. 
The 10-minute drive brought him to an impressive mansion with an eye-catching golden light-colored gate. From a glance at the gate alone, you could tell it belonged to someone who was both wealthy and powerful. With a single honk, the gate was opened for him after his license plate was recognized, showing the AS and ARMY insignia at the top. He drove in, parked his car in the spacious parking area, got out, and smiled, his eyes brimming with the eagerness to see her. It had been almost two months since he last saw her; they'd only been keeping in touch over the phone due to his work obligations. Despite his busy schedule, they spoke frequently, and he involved her in everything, from the little things he did to major purchases—he’d even send her pictures of clothes for her to choose.
As he walked in, the household staff came over to greet him with respectful bows, and he responded warmly, his face lit up with joy. He suddenly felt as though someone was watching him. Turning towards the window, he spotted her standing there, looking at him. “Wow! You’re always beautiful; beauty like yours commands respect,” he murmured to himself, smiling at her as she too smiled back and moved away from the window so he couldn’t see her anymore.
“My First Darling…” he whispered, holding his chest over his heart, feeling it beat faster whenever he saw her or even thought of seeing her. He was certain it was the depth of his affection that caused his heart to react this way. Without finishing the greetings from the staff, he continued into the mansion's grand living room, softly saying “Peace be upon this home” as he opened the door and walked in. There she stood, leaning against the wall in a material dress of red with green and golden flowers. He scanned her from head to toe.
“Oh, God!” he muttered quietly, mesmerized by her beauty. She was fair-skinned with a natural blush, delicate and graceful. She had a full face, large doe eyes framed by thick lashes and perfectly joined brows that extended slightly onto her forehead. Her lips were small, almost as if they could barely fit a finger through them. Her beauty was unique and unmatched, with dimples on her cheeks and small, child-like teeth that complemented her slender, elegantly proportioned body. She was medium-height—not tall but not short—and her figure, though not overly slim, was well-defined. Her body had an alluring shape, and though she was 32, her appearance could easily be mistaken for someone in her twenties. She had an ageless charm, and her petite figure carried a mesmerizing grace.
“So, you were watching me from the window, weren't you, Mom?” said Aeezad. Nabeelah didn’t respond immediately. It was as if he was enchanted, saying, “You’re beautiful beyond compare, Mommy.” She just smiled at him, showing her dimples, and moved over to one of the grand royal chairs in the living room to sit. With a soft and pleasant voice, she said, “My brave little one, my sweetheart…” She then changed the subject to avoid him complimenting her beauty, as she didn't take those kinds of comments lightly. Even though she deeply cared for him, she always maintained her dignity and composure, feeling that such compliments could potentially be disrespectful if taken too casually.
Hearing the endearing title she used for him, a warmth filled his heart, and he felt like melting. “I love it when you call me that, First Darling,” Aeezad replied, though there was a hint of sadness in his face. She noticed the tension in him since she had watched him from the window and knew him better than anyone else in the world. She had raised him like her own since he was a baby, and the bond they shared was deep and unique, like that between a mother and her own child.
“Mommy, Aunty Hafsa and the others aren’t home?” he asked. She nodded, her eyes still focused on him, and opened her small mouth to reply, “Aunty Hafsa went to the office, and Asmah and Noor are at school—it’s Monday, after all…” He continued to stare at her just as intently as she was observing him.
“Alright…” said Aeezad. “Come and sit, my dear. Something is troubling you; tell me who has hurt my Aeezad,” Nabeelah said gently, offering comfort. She moved to the two-seater chair, and, as if he had been waiting for her invitation, he came over, rested his head on her lap, and burst into tears like a child. He didn’t know why, but every time he was in her presence, he felt like a small child again, fragile and vulnerable. The intensity of his tears alarmed her, and the warmth of his tears on her thighs sent a shock of empathy through her. His sobbing made her heart ache, and she found herself feeling his distress as if it were her own.
“I won’t forgive anyone who brings tears to my baby’s eyes. Please, don’t cry; it hurts me to see you like this…” Nabeelah spoke softly, her own voice cracking. She felt a pang in her heart and held him gently.
“Please stop crying, my dear brave one, my cherished one,” she soothed, caressing his head. He finally stopped sobbing but still looked pained as he started to pour out his troubles, almost as if he was waiting for this moment to unburden his heart.
“Mom, is what Naeema’s doing fair? Honestly? It’s like I’m married to a stranger. We’ve been married for almost two years, and she hasn’t stayed with me for even a full month. I asked her to join me in Abuja, but she refused, and every time I return, I don’t find her at home. She’s always at her mom’s, traveling to different countries to buy goods for her. The most painful thing is that despite everything, she still hasn’t conceived. My mother-in-law told her not to have kids so that she could continue her overseas business trips. When I talked to her yesterday, she actually told me that she doesn’t care about me and that she’d rather be with her mother than with me. Mom, I regret marrying Naeema; I haven’t had a single day of peace since. She constantly disrespects me, and I can’t even talk to her about it because her mother is always controlling everything.
“I’m tired, Mom,” he concluded, his head still on her lap. She looked at him, feeling both sympathy and understanding for his frustration. She sighed and then, in a calm and composed tone, said, “You know, as I always say, patience is necessary. Everything in life requires patience. Especially marriage—it requires resilience and strength. Think of your mother-in-law as a mother to you as well. So, please, just continue to be patient with them; for my sake.”
“Patience, patience, patience—that’s all I hear, Mom! I’ve been patient, but even patience has its limits,” he said, frustrated. “You even made me break up with my girlfriend Esther to marry Naeema. I agreed to marry early because of your insistence, and look how things turned out…”
Before he could finish, she quickly interrupted him with a stern look, not the usual gentle smile she wore. “So, you want to go back to that lifestyle, huh? Pursuing relationships outside marriage? Have you forgotten the consequences? Don’t you know how damaging that is? You only focus on the pleasure, right?” she said, filled with concern and slight anger. Every time he mentioned going back to his old ways, it felt like she wanted to discipline him sternly.