FreeFreeDescription
Nihaad is an emotional Hausa drama centered on Nihad, a young girl whose life is thrown into shame, confusion, and family crisis after a damaging video spreads on social media. At the beginning, her family is shocked and disappointed, and Nihad is left crying, begging for forgiveness, and feeling that nobody is ready to hear her side of the story .
The story explores family honor, social-media scandal, harsh judgment, and the pain of being misunderstood. Nihad becomes the target of anger from relatives, especially because the incident brings disgrace to the family. Instead of being protected first, she is judged quickly, which makes her emotional suffering worse.
A major part of the story involves Khalil, who gradually becomes important in Nihad’s life. He is connected to the family but also carries mystery around his real identity and intentions. Farooq suspects that Khalil may not be who he claims to be, creating tension between them . As the story develops, Khalil appears to care deeply about Nihad and tries to understand what truly happened.
The novel also brings in another painful angle involving Nihal, who reveals that a man named Abdallah, the son of a minister, is connected to her suffering after she was pressured into interacting with him. This adds themes of manipulation, parental pressure, and the danger young women face when their choices are controlled by others .
Overall, Nihaad is about a girl’s struggle after public disgrace, the emotional damage caused by family pressure, and the search for truth, forgiveness, and healing. It is not just a love story; it is more of a family/social drama showing how quickly society condemns a girl and how difficult it is for her to rebuild her dignity.
It was a massive gym, containing everything one would need in any standard gym, and even more!
Its size was truly astonishing, and the equipment inside—anyone could see without being told—was the absolute pinnacle in terms of price, quality, and beauty. Only those informed would know it was a personal gym and not a public one, due to its sheer scale, elegance, and the immense fortune poured into it as if there were no tomorrow.
Beyond the interior equipment, there were massive speakers in the area that were almost intimidating in their height and width; one on the right and one on the left. They pumped out a deep, bass-heavy sound at a deafening volume that resonated through the brain.
He was running fast on the treadmill, pushed almost to its limit. With the music blaring at full blast, sweat poured from every pore of his body. One look at him and you would realize his mood was terribly foul; the way he ran and his heavy huffing were enough to tell the story.
He was tall and strong. His habit of daily exercise had helped sculpt his physique into a muscular build, though not overly bulky like a professional wrestler—just enough that at first glance, you knew he took his fitness seriously. His skin tone was neither very light nor very dark; a life of comfort and luxury had perfectly refined his complexion and color, making him a striking and impressive sight.
He ran for a long time, breathing heavily. Seeing that his anger was not subsiding at all, he pressed the button to slow the machine down gradually until it came to a complete stop.
He gripped both side handles and stood there, leaning forward slightly with his face toward the ground. He remained silent, trying to calm himself down, but he simply couldn't. His heart rate continued to climb. Without realizing it, he reached out and swiped the water bottle he had placed on the machine, sending it flying, before falling silent again and staring intently at the bottle.
After a moment, he took the remote and killed the music, then closed his eyes tightly, drawing in long breaths. It wasn't just what had happened that was upsetting him; it was the *way* it had upset him that bothered him most. Given his status and way of life, he wasn't supposed to be envious of anyone. He wasn't that type of person, and he didn't want to start now. Even though he was the one who deserved [the position]—everyone could testify to that—suddenly he saw it given to someone else. Still, he should have been happy for the person. It was obvious to him that it wasn't the betrayal that angered him most, but rather the fact that a position he had worked so hard for was handed to someone else. He hated this feeling deeply; he wasn't supposed to be this envious, no matter what.
The ringing of his phone interrupted his thoughts. He slowly opened his eyes, which had turned a terrifying shade of blood-red. He didn't move from where he stood, let alone make a move to answer it. Five missed calls logged in. He had been seeing the phone light up on the chair for a while now; the way the calls were coming in back-to-back was enough to let him know exactly who it was. In the whole world, she was the only one who had the nerve to pester him with calls like that. Remembering her and the audacity she had to stress him out made his temper flare even more.
Slowly, he tilted his head up and shut his eyes before whispering, "Ya Subhanallah..." (Glory be to Allah).
He stayed like that for a long time without moving, before lowering his head, taking a deep breath, and heading toward the bathroom inside the gym. Upon entering, he let the cold water run over himself. Only after he began to feel more composed did he slowly and calmly strip off his clothes and take a thorough, refreshing shower.
He got ready right there in the bathroom, applying lotion and spraying perfume. He put on an exceptionally beautiful and expensive milk-colored Nike hoodie, which made him look sharp and refreshed. He stepped out of the bathroom radiating a wonderful scent and undeniable handsomeness. Indeed, if there were an award for beauty, **ASAD** would surely take the number one spot.
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As he stepped out, the ringing of his phone greeted him. He acted as if it wasn't for him, taking his time to pour a cup of coffee and sipping it about three times before calmly walking over to where his phones lay on the sofa.
Just as he suspected, when he looked at the screen of the phone that refused to stop ringing, her name was displayed clearly: **"Ummee."** He simply hissed and stared at the phone, his anger mounting. Finally, just as the call was about to drop, he picked it up only to hit **reject.**
Silence followed. He paused for a moment, then switched that phone off, followed by his other phones. He wanted her to know the call hadn't dropped by accident—he deliberately cut her off and shut down his devices because of her annoying, persistent calls, as if she didn't realize it was early morning where he was. Besides, he was certain it was already past midnight in Nigeria.
He shoved the phones into his pocket, set down his cup, and headed for the elevator. It was only when he activated the lift and stepped inside that one would realize his gym was actually underground, beneath his magnificent villa in the city of **Saigon**.
She was pacing restlessly in the middle of his massive living room on the ground floor.
Realizing that pacing wouldn't help, she picked up her phone to try his line again. When she heard it was switched off, it confirmed her suspicion: he had rejected her call earlier and turned off his phone specifically because of her. She felt like her heart was about to burst with frustration. Furthermore, by some stroke of bad luck, she had been barred from going upstairs; the house staff left her stranded in the parlor as if they didn't know her status in the Master’s life.
"Though it isn't their fault," she whispered to herself, tears welling in her eyes. “He is the one who allowed it; I'm certain this is his own rule.”
Just then, the sound of the elevator reaching the floor hit her ears. However, she didn't think it was him, so she didn't even bother to turn around. She was struggling to keep her tears from falling, while he, as the lift doors opened, stared intensely at her back in surprise.
*So, she actually came...* he thought.
He could see heavy gold jewelry on her wrists, and the lace she wore was clearly of the most exquisite and expensive quality. Her suitcase and handbag were high-end designer brands, as was her veil. In short, she looked like wealth personified, even before she turned around.
Asad took a slow breath. Given how she had been calling him since yesterday and repeatedly today, he knew without a doubt that she wanted something from him. Seeing her here, he was certain she couldn't wait and had come in person.
"Good morning, sir," the voice of Jessica (a maid) interrupted both their thoughts.
Ummee spun around so fast she almost tripped. The elevator had chimed seven times before, and each time she turned, it was only a staff member. She hadn't expected it to be him this time.
She was very fair-skinned, striking to the eyes. She wasn't very tall and was slightly stout. Looking at her face, the resemblance to Asad was undeniable; it was clear she was his mother. Just as gold adorned her wrists, it also hung from her neck and ears, and her fingers were covered in rings—it was almost overwhelming how much jewelry she wore.
"Morning," Asad said shortly to Jessica. He then headed toward his master bedroom on the ground floor, where he intended to rest today. He didn't spare another glance toward Ummee once she turned around. His face was set in a deep scowl as if he had never smiled in his life. He merely waved a hand at the other maids who greeted him.
Truly, Ummee was the last person he wanted to see in his current state. Beyond her selfish reasons—which he was sure brought her here—he knew that before they parted, she would provoke him to the limit.
Asad headed straight for his bedroom, desperate to get inside and lock the door. However, since she was closer to the room than he was, she managed to get ahead of him with a quick, shuffling run. She grabbed his arm tightly, gasping for breath.
If she hadn't grabbed his arm, he would have simply walked right past her. He didn't want to see her, and he loathed standing near her. Seeing her reminded him of everything he had gone through because of her selfishness. Standing before her was dangerous; he felt he was on the verge of doing something disrespectful that he shouldn't do to a mother.
"Excuse us," he said without looking at anyone. Immediately, Jessica and the other staff members cleared out of the parlor.
Ummee said softly, “My God, Son, didn't you see me?”
After a long pause, he said, “I'm very tired. I want to sleep. What do you need?”
She smiled and squeezed his hand. “Is there anything I would need other than to see my son? I missed you so much, that's why I traveled to see you.”
The way he stared at her made her fall silent. Unable to say more, she slowly looked away.
Again, there was a long silence before he said, as if forced, "Since it's me you came to see, sit down then. Or a room can be prepared so you can rest. I will rest as well, and then we can greet each other properly so you can see me." He sounded exhausted. He felt she was making him talk too much, and he was not a man of many words.
Flustered, she replied, “Nooo, the driver who will take me back to the airport is outside; I didn't let him leave. Just sit for a moment so we can talk, then I'll be on my way.”
Asad slowly closed his eyes. After a moment, he opened them and said, “You’ve seen me. We don't need to sit. Goodbye. If you want to chat, wait until I wake up. My head hurts.”
With that, he skillfully and quickly pulled his hand away, bypassed her, and went into his room. He locked the door and leaned against it. For a moment, he wished it were true—that she had actually come just to see him and check on his well-being. He truly needed that. For five years he had worked tirelessly, using his wealth and intellect to build a massive company, only to be told yesterday that he wouldn't be named CEO because he was "too young" for such a position.
Many people were angry because everyone knew he was the most deserving. He had been the one to convince the board members not to pull their shares when things got rocky. He didn't hold a grudge against anyone, despite the disappointment; he had prayed that it was for the best. What bothered him now was this intense, uncharacteristic rage he was feeling. He hated it. He felt like he was being provoked into a state that went against his submission to God's will.
He was holding it together by a thread, but today he truly needed a family member to comfort him—a shoulder to lean on. He felt out of sorts, and he hated it.
He took a deep breath and said aloud, "Love and care are fake. They don't exist in this world; people just fake them." He went to his bed and sat down, resolving to handle this trial alone, as he always did.
After sitting for a while, he pulled his computer over and turned on the CCTV to watch her. He even found himself praying that she had indeed come all this way just to see him, even though he knew it was unlikely.
Suddenly, his mood shifted. A profound, abnormal sense of rage began to overwhelm him, consuming his strength. Then, as if he had been drugged, a heavy sleep suddenly overtook him.
He began to have a horrific nightmare. He saw himself and the man who had been appointed CEO in the middle of a vast, desolate forest. The man was lying sprawled on the ground, unable to move because of the damage Asad had inflicted on his midsection—and was still inflicting. The scene was gruesome. Even in the haze of a dream, he knew this was impossible; he would never consume another human being, cooked or raw.
He was desperate to wake up! It felt so real! It was as if he were half-awake and half-asleep, and no matter how panicked he became, he couldn't stop himself. After a while, a thought struck him, and in his terror, he began to recite the names of Allah and every prayer that came to mind. By God's grace, he woke up with a prayer on his lips, but he found himself on the floor by the door, and his computer was shattered.
He was completely disoriented and terrified. He felt like he wanted to vomit everything in his stomach because he was so disgusted by the dream. There was a foul, carrion-like smell in the air as he woke, but it seemed to fade away quickly.
Terror and intense distress continued to overwhelm him. Another part of his mind urged him to check the room's CCTV to see what had actually happened. His brain was clouded by fear and confusion. He stood up from the door and went to a different computer to check the footage.
When he checked, he didn't see himself at the door. The footage showed the computer being pushed off the bed in his sleep. He had woken up on the bed in a panic before getting up to check the computer he was looking at now. This contradicted his own sensation of waking up at the door.
He gripped his head tightly, feeling like it was about to explode, and began reciting more prayers. His heart was pounding. He began to feel afraid of the room itself. Feeling dizzy, he opened the door and stumbled out into the parlor, trembling with a profound sense of fear.
Because she was focused entirely on her phone call, Ummee didn't hear him come out. Even though Asad was shaken, he managed to keep his composure; he was a naturally gentle and calm person. Thus, his movements were silent enough that she didn't realize he was there.
"Don't worry," he heard Ummee say into the phone. “As soon as he comes out, he'll sign for us, then I'll bring it over. Tell them to give us more time, for God's sake. I don't want to rush him, or he'll realize I didn't actually come just to see him.”
The woman on the other end sighed. “Ummee, forget about the 'bonding' for now. Focus. If we get this contract, it's a life-changing chance. We need influential people like him to sign for us. Daddy signed the ones I gave them, but they said if the second one isn't brought within 10 hours, they'll give it to someone else.”
Ummee exclaimed, “You see? Asad is going to cause us a loss because of this useless 'care' I'm trying to show him! Fine, it's okay, I know what to do. As soon as he comes out, I'll find a way to get that letter and his signature. Insha Allah, we won't lose this contract.”
"Where are the papers?" his steady voice asked from behind her.
She spun around in a panic and met his blood-red eyes. Despite the air conditioning in the parlor, he was drenched in a strange, heavy sweat.
Terrified, she stood up. His appearance frightened her. “What happened to you? Are you okay?”
He swallowed hard, as if something were stuck in his throat, and said, “Ummee, where is the thing that actually brought you to this country?”
Gasping, she said, "Son, I told you, I came because I wanted to see you." Being an expert at lying with a straight face, she continued, “That other matter is just something we can do when you have time, but I primarily came for you.”
He closed and opened his eyes, exhaling sharply. “Ummee, for the last time, bring what you brought so I can do it now and you can leave. If not, even if you give it to me later, I won't do it. We'll just sit here and you can stare at me.”
His heart was burning with resentment. No matter how much he tried to avoid offending her as his mother, she kept pushing him. He didn't understand why she did this to him.
She knew Asad’s character well—he was a man of his word and rarely spoke twice. She knew that if she lost this contract, both she and her friend would end up in the hospital from the shock. So, without shame or fear of God, she opened her suitcase and pulled out the documents. She gave him a blank paper with a little writing at the top and bottom.
Despite his state, he looked at them. Seeing no need to prolong the encounter, he did everything right then. He wrote a guarantor letter on the blank paper and signed it, then signed the rest of the documents and filled in everything she needed. Without a word or a glance back, he said, "Goodbye," and went upstairs.
Ummee knew if she stayed to console Asad, she would lose precious time and the contract. And it wasn't certain he would even calm down. So, she took her bag and suitcase and headed straight for the airport, her heart light. Her joy over the contract completely made her forget the visible distress on her own son's face.
When Asad reached his room, it took a great effort to control himself. He began to recite the Qur'an quietly, eyes shut tight. Gradually, he began to feel a sense of relief.
Ummee had never lacked for anything in terms of worldly comfort, yet her desire to accumulate wealth was insatiable. He didn't know what she intended to do with it all. There was no one she wouldn't hurt in her pursuit of money.
A knock at the door interrupted his thoughts. Without looking up, he said quietly, “Come in.”
Jessica entered respectfully and handed him her phone. “It's from the board. They've been trying to reach you, but your phones are off. They need to speak with you.”
He reached out and took the phone, holding it to his ear without opening his eyes. “Talk to me...”
"Hello, Sir!" he heard the voice of the secretary of one of the board members.
With great effort, he said, “I'm listening...”
In English, the man greeted him and then delivered the news:
“The man who was appointed CEO has just passed away! He suddenly began to pass a strange kind of stool and couldn't stop it, and he was vomiting the same thing from his mouth. When he was rushed to the hospital, the doctors confirmed that his internal organs had completely disintegrated. It’s possible he was poisoned! The 'stool' they saw was actually his liver, which had liquefied and was coming out of both ends. All his other internal organs were also destroyed.”
