ZAN FASA KWAI COMPLETE HAUSA NOVEL BOOK 1 GIDAN IKO.

"Talai, where is Talai hiding? This old woman has abandoned me here, calling her till my throat dries out!"
The old woman came rushing in, almost tripping as she hurried to answer the call. She must have been at least sixty years old or more, her hurried steps barely steady. She threw a sharp look at her mistress as she sank to the floor before her.
"I’m here, ma’am. Please forgive me; I was in the bathroom. I've been unwell since yesterday; my stomach keeps churning."
"Oh, so you think finding a comfortable spot justifies ignoring me while I shout your name repeatedly? And now you claim it's because your stomach is troubling you? Isn't it your habit to eat indiscriminately like a scavenging animal?!"
The insult struck Talai hard, likening her to a scavenger. It pierced her heart, but what could she do? This was her livelihood, and this haughty woman—known far and wide for her arrogance—was her employer. It was no coincidence that they nicknamed her Izzatu (Arrogant One).
Interrupting Talai's explanation with a loud yell that made her ears ring, Izzatu barked: "Enough! Take my bag to the car immediately! Why are you hovering around like a statue?!"
Talai quickly rose, picked up the bag she dared not let her mistress carry, and followed behind, muttering quietly. Her frail body seemed to shiver under the weight of her mistress’s relentless abuse.
As Talai opened the car and placed the bag inside, she started to head back inside. "Did I dismiss you?" Izzatu snapped. "What do you think this is—a home for your ancestors?!"
"No, ma’am. I’m sorry. I thought I was dismissed. I won’t make the mistake again."
Izzatu glared at her before slamming the car door and driving off. Talai returned to the house, ignoring the burning humiliation, and began scrubbing the tiled floor as if it were a ritual. The churning in her stomach worsened, and she collapsed, vomiting violently. A fellow servant, Harira, came to her aid, offering her some saltwater for relief.
Later in the evening, Izzatu returned, and upon seeing Talai lying weak, unleashed another wave of anger. "So you’ve fallen sick, eh? Or is this just an excuse to avoid your chores?"
Harira intervened: "Please, ma’am, she’s been unwell all day, vomiting and having diarrhea. Let me take care of the rest of her chores."
"Did I ask you to interfere, busybody?!" she spat. "Talai, get up! Go finish the laundry. Or do you think I’m paying you to sleep all day?"
Talai, trembling with weakness, slowly rose to continue her work, though it was clear she was on the brink of collapse. Harira watched helplessly as Talai staggered away.
Later, Izzatu’s mother-in-law, Hajiya Mama, arrived at the house. Her presence filled the room with authority that even Izzatu dared not challenge. "Is she sick?" Hajiya Mama asked upon noticing Talai’s frailty. "Yes, ma’am, but it’s nothing serious," Izzatu replied dismissively.
Hajiya Mama’s face hardened. "And you didn’t think to take her to the hospital? You treat her like a slave, not a human being. Call a driver to take her now, or do you want her to collapse in your house?"
Talai tried to protest, saying she felt better, but Hajiya Mama insisted. Talai was taken to the hospital, treated with IV fluids and medication, and eventually brought back home.
The next day, Hajiya Mama confronted Izzatu in the presence of her husband. She berated her for her ill-treatment of the staff and demanded she change her ways or face consequences. Izzatu, however, burned with resentment. Later, she vented her frustrations, insulting Talai and the other staff, calling them ingrates and threatening to replace them all.
As the days went by, Izzatu’s marriage troubles began to surface. She had been married to a wealthy contractor for over a decade, but the lack of children weighed heavily on her. This issue became a source of tension with her in-laws, who pressured her husband to take a second wife. 
"What is it you want to tell me?" Even if Hajiya (a term for a respected woman, often a mother or elder) didn’t give birth to me, I thought her age would make her show some respect, let alone to me directly. So, don’t even start, because I can endure anything against myself, but I won’t tolerate any disrespect toward Hajiya, not even a pointed finger.
"Oh, so I’m the one to be blamed whenever there’s trouble, right? Am I the one interfering in their matters just to get insulted? Do I look like someone who lacks self-respect? Or do I seem like someone who just appeared out of nowhere with no origin?" Well, let me tell you this: I swear, I will not let anyone insult or trample me, not anymore. If it’s for you that I’ve been holding back, I will stop now. They think you’re doing me a favor, but if they push it, I’ll make it clear that you’re the problem, not me.
He looked at her and said, "I hope, among those you say you won’t let insult you, you don’t mean Hajiya? Let me be clear: there’s nothing Hajiya will want or suggest that I won’t do. I have no other wish or ambition except to live peacefully with her. Even if it’s marriage she wants me to take on, I’ll obey her. Be mindful of that."
She scoffed and stormed into the room, leaving him to watch her walk away with amusement. After she left, he chuckled. Jealousy! Every woman has her type, but is jealousy a character or just a habit?
From that day, Izzatu began acting differently, as if she was being encouraged by someone. However, because he was a patient man, he gave her the benefit of the doubt, thinking it might be because of Hajiya’s involvement in their lives.
Two weeks later, while at home watching television, a guest, Shafa, arrived with a beautiful young lady. They entered and greeted him, ignoring Izzatu entirely. After the formalities, Shafa said: "Hajiya sent me to bring Lubabatu. Here she is; she’s Asiya’s brother’s wife’s younger sister. If it pleases Allah, the two of you can get to know each other."
Lubabatu shyly looked down, and he felt uncomfortable. If not for Hajiya, when would someone bring a woman into his house like this? Shouldn't it be him who goes to meet her family? Izzatu, watching in disdain, burst out, "What kind of disrespectful marriage arrangement is this? Lubabatu, how dare you let yourself be brought to a man’s house instead of him coming to meet your family? What self-respecting woman accepts such humiliation?"
Shafa turned to her and said, "And what self-respecting woman talks this way in front of her husband? Whatever she can achieve by being here, she has already gained her respect."
In anger, he raised his hand to silence Shafa. "Do you dare bring Samira and Asmau’s kind of behavior here? You talk to her like this in my presence?"
"But didn’t you hear what she said?" "Enough! Leave. I’ll meet Hajiya to discuss this matter myself."
Shafa grabbed Lubabatu’s hand, and they left the house.
Once they were gone, Izzatu said, "I’ll be honest with you: if this marriage you’re planning goes through, I want you to release me from this relationship. I can’t deal with infertility and a co-wife, especially with your relatives who have no respect for me."
He didn’t reply and continued watching TV until his phone rang. It was a call informing him about a contract he had just been awarded to construct roads in a rural area. Although the contract was taken from another contractor, Kabir Mashi, and reassigned to him, he felt uneasy about the situation. Nonetheless, he accepted it and ended the call.
The next day, Hajiya Mama arrived unexpectedly. As he was about to leave the house, he stopped to greet her respectfully. "Yesterday, I sent Shafa and Lubabatu to you, but I heard your wife disrespected them?" "No, Hajiya, she didn’t do anything to them. I was actually planning to visit you when you came."
"Please, Hajiya, forgive me, but I’m begging you to let this marriage idea go. Only Allah can give children. If He wills, I will have them; if not, I accept my fate. There’s no need for more wives to solve this problem."
Hajiya sighed deeply. "Alright, Abdulkarim, I understand and accept your words. I’ll drop the idea of marrying Lubabatu for you. May Allah grant you your own children. But you need to caution your wife…"
"No, Hajiya. Since you’ve let go of your idea, I’ll now say mine." "Hajiya, do you know he’s the one with the issue, not me? I can’t stay married to a man who can’t father children. It’s been two years since we went to the hospital, where the doctor told us the problem was with him. He hid it from me to avoid me asking for a divorce. You’ve all been blaming me and pressuring me while I’ve been innocent. Hajiya, Abdulkarim has the issue, not me. Please, leave me alone to live my life in peace."
Hajiya turned to Abdulkarim, shocked. "Is this true, Abdulkarim?" He smiled wryly. "Hajiya, let’s not dig up the past. It won’t help us. Let’s leave everything to Allah and live peacefully."
"No, Abdulkarim. If you knew, why didn’t you tell me? If we had known earlier, we could have sought a solution. Allah has not sent down a disease without a cure."
"That’s true, Hajiya. Let’s look for treatment for both me and Izzatu."
But Izzatu interjected, "What does his illness have to do with me? He’s the one with the issue, not me. Why should I take treatment for his problem? I’ve had enough of this life. If he releases me, I’ll be happier, as I’ve wasted enough time already."