Waye Shi Book 1 Complete Hausa Novel

The office truly lived up to its name. Everything inside was sky blue and white—from the curtains, sofas, rugs, and walls. At the center of the office were luxurious chairs placed on a sky-blue rug, with a white center table.

He stood near the office window, both hands tucked into the pockets of his sky-blue suit trousers. The sleeves of his suit were folded back to his elbows, revealing a white shirt. He stood upright, which gave me the chance to observe his back properly. He was very tall, Masha Allah—his height carried no awkwardness or deformity often associated with tall men. His black hair was packed neatly into a ponytail.

The scent of his perfume filled every corner of the office. He let out a soft sigh and glanced at his silver wristwatch, which perfectly complemented his white shirt.

There was a knock on the office door. A young man, about thirty-five years old, entered, dressed in a white doctor’s coat. He was also tall—his height almost the same as the man standing by the window.

The only difference was that this one was dark-skinned and handsome. He wore round-framed glasses. He walked slowly while adjusting the files in his hands.

He sat on the chair behind the desk labeled DR. AHMAD, confirming that he was Dr. Ahmad himself.

After arranging the files on his desk, he raised his head slightly and looked at the man standing by the window, who for several seconds showed no sign of acknowledging another person’s presence. Dr. Ahmad smiled warmly and said,

“Sorry, my friend, I kept you waiting.”

Minutes passed, yet the man said nothing. Dr. Ahmad sighed softly—he already knew there would be no response.

“What does the report say?” the man asked in a deep, serious tone after nearly five minutes, without turning around.

“The same thing—no change,” Dr. Ahmad replied.

“But I think I have a solution,” Dr. Ahmad added, still serious.

Hearing this, the man left the window and began walking into the office. (Masha Allah, Barakallahu Ahsanul Khaliqin)—his beauty was striking. The most captivating feature of his face was his eyes: cat-like eyes with ocean-blue irises. Between his eyebrow and eye was a small black dot that made him look like a piece of artwork. His pink, heart-shaped lips glowed as if he had applied lip balm. His eyebrows were arched and thick with black hair—thicker than many women’s. His nose was long but perfectly balanced. His face was long and radiant like a new moon. He had a small goatee that wasn’t fully grown. Despite all this beauty, his face held no smile—this was simply his personality.

He had a long, elegant neck with a prominent Adam’s apple that bobbed up and down attractively whenever he spoke. The clothes he wore did nothing to hide his strong masculine build. There was a natural aura of authority and dignity Allah had bestowed upon him.

He continued walking while Dr. Ahmad followed him with his eyes until he sat on one of the sofas in the office.

“I’m listening,” he said tiredly, adjusting his position on the sofa and closing his eyes.

Dr. Ahmad stood up, walked over, and sat beside him, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“Get married,” he said, carefully watching his face for any reaction—but there was none.

He continued,

“I think this is the only solution left for you now, and that solution is marriage.”

Minutes passed. He finally opened his eyes and looked at Dr. Ahmad, who was still seated beside him, his hand unmoved from his shoulder. In a husky voice, he said,

“What does marriage have to do with my problem?”