ZINARIYA HAUSA NOVELS
The two friends stood together—one leaning on a car while the other stood facing him—talking at the entrance of a house. One look at it was enough to tell it was newly built, adorned with fresh decorative designs and new paint. It was a grand, spacious house, unmatched by any other in the neighborhood, even though the area itself was home to the wealthy, where you needed serious means before you could afford to build.
Salis looked at Nasir, anger written plainly across his face—an anger he could not hide—and said:
“Nasir, am I not the one who said I would marry Amrah? Well, now I’ve changed my mind. I won’t marry her again. I don’t care what people say about it. It’s just marriage, and honestly, I’m done—I'm not doing it.”
Nasir stared at Salis like he was some kind of fool, shocked by the sheer recklessness of what he was hearing. How could he say this just two days before the wedding? What did he expect that to mean? That they should disgrace themselves? In distress, Nasir said:
“Wait, Salis, are you in your right mind at all? Amrah is the girl you chased after and…”
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