Luu Luu Book 3 Safiyya Huguma

Description

LU'U LU'U BOOK COMPELET 

What kind of house building was this, so completely different from all the houses lined up in orderly rows within the neighborhood.

From the outside, you would not give it that level of dignity and intimidating aura, just as you could never imagine finding deep inside the core of the house a kind of structure loaded with layers of security that took them quite a long time to breach before finally reaching the interior, let alone their target.

Slowly, he lowered the large document from his eyes... a document that was orange-peel brown in color, containing heaps of writings filled with extremely important information.

Dressed in completely black attire that further revealed his true essence... his composure imbued him with an intense, commanding presence. Although he did not give anyone standing there a direct view of his face... yet those eyes... those eyes drenched in a heavy load of countless profound matters... kept shifting between the people kneeling on their knees before him. These were people he never thought he would find inside the house, even though he knew... and felt in his bones, without a doubt, they were DANGEROUS ENTITIES capable of carrying a weight that not every heart could bear... and he reaffirmed this... he became certain of it the moment entering the house threatened to become a hazard to them.

From the wide parlor that served as the HEART OF THE HOUSE, and a perilous intersection connecting every hidden zone of the house... secret corners that an ordinary person could hardly see or comprehend.

With a deep sense of composure, he cast his gaze upon the man whose physique, bodily build, and style of dressing differed completely from everyone else kneeling in the parlor.

"TAMIM" The name struck his mind once more with a surge of astonishment and a deep sense of realization regarding the sheer complexity of the web binding everything together. Three individuals named TAMIM were born, created, and confirmed within the Kingdom of Agadez. For no other reason than to deceive clever minds, to twist the analysis and foresight of any thinker whenever the name TAMIM was uttered within the Agadez kingdom, leading every rational thought astray.

With gentle composure, he once again pulled his gaze away from the man... the man who had spent years tormenting his COUNTRY... the man who outlasted numerous heads of state who led their Security Agency until their tenures ended... stepping down with high hopes of capturing him... the man who became the source of terror instilled within the Kingdom of OROMO... the man who stripped peace and every ounce of joy away from the family of AJANI AHMED. Simply looking at him ignited a fire deep within his chest... just looking at him made him feel like executing every appropriate punishment right then and there... but there was still more... there was still time... not right now... not at this exact moment.

He wanted to serve as a MESSAGING VESSEL to every single branch and offshoot that had conspired in building him... in constructing his crimes... in cementing his existence. Twice he opened his mouth with the intention of speaking to him, only to close it again. He lacked certainty about anything he could say to him... yet he believed that despite his massive physique... this physical frame he took pride and boasted in was soft enough that deep inside his heart, he knew he felt it. It was a fierce struggle between them, Beeno... until finally, Muhammad Haisam had to take over... trapping him in a corner and forcing him into their hands.

The sound of approaching footsteps made him turn his eyes toward the direction of the noise. It was Omar Salawii and Abeer... and then his eyes landed on the young man walking right between them.

Haisam fixed all his eyes on him... just as the young man's eyes were locked onto Haisam's as if searching for something different... something that set him apart from all the other creatures present.

That heart resting inside Haisam's chest stirred... he felt a wave of vulnerability pierce through him. THE YOUNG MAN WAS THE ANSWER TO HIS QUESTION... his face alone was the ANSWER to the pile of unresolved questions lingering in his mind about the house.

He was seeing a young Ajani walking on his feet... and in some of his movements, it was Safeena. He was that infant... that baby who was taken away on the very day of his birth... he was that first-blood child... the very first offspring from Safeena's body...

Haisam continued watching him as they drew closer to where he stood. He felt his legs grow slightly cold as he studied the boy's demeanor, so he clenched both hands tightly, shoved them into his trouser pockets, and kept staring at the young man.

If his analytical reading today was accurate... if what his eyes were correctly perceiving... he saw a striking calmness and self-restraint possessed by the young man, something vastly different from AHMAD ALMAZ.

The mutual gaze between them did not break until they came right up close. With his eyes, he signaled Omar, then shifted his gaze to everyone else. They too understood his silent cue, and he slowly turned to start walking, but the words spoken by the elder Tamim in the Oromo language made him pause for a brief moment.

"I presume you are the blood of ABA JIFAR... that IBRHEEM whose destiny of losing his heir Saleem fell into my hands." He spoke in harsh phrasing, with that hardened heart whose expressions alone conveyed just that.

He felt the impact of those words hit deep inside his soul... he felt the weight of all his utterances completely... yet turning around to look at him in such a situation could trigger anything, so he chose to continue walking steadily, his voice carrying that imposing dignity.

"Beeno... I want the house obliterated." That short sentence contained a wealth of meanings that required no further translation for Abdii and the others.

A K H N A N

She could not name a specific thing holding onto her heart... but there was definitely some strange thing fluttering between her heart and her chest.

She felt a complete emptiness between her heart and chest when she found herself engaging in the recitation of the Qur'an after the silence and solitude she had chosen enveloped the room... her heart kept reminding her of his parting words:

"Listening to and reading the Qur'an frequently brings peace to the heart."

Slowly, the absolute truth of his words permeated her, a state filled with a profound sense of peace—one she never imagined could exist for body and soul after facing such a terrifying threat from human existence—flowed through her. That soft, gentle tone of hers that had managed to infiltrate the modern MP3 players equipped with bedside lamps. That soothing recitation... that voice radiating absolute serenity possessed by its owner even before one caught a glimpse of his actual face.

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Just like her... right now, as the sound of the recitation entered her ears with such peace and coolness, his face returned to her... his face flashed before her alongside all those movements of his that exuded majesty and pride... starting from that first day at the hippodrome... slowly up to the hours and moments that forged a great closeness between them... namely the Festival d'L'Air... the day that almost turned into a harrowing day that would have erased the QUEEN OF THE COUNTRY OF AGADEZ down to the lowest of creatures. But through the help of Allah, His presence... his heroism and a certain rare caliber he possessed enabled her to escape that terrible attack.

Slowly, she opened her eyes as the recitation reached the end of Surah Al-Baqarah, which coincided with a question shooting into her consciousness.

"Is there anything anyone could ever ruin in this world that equals the value of what he did for her?" The question descended upon her gently, merging with another query that followed.

"What if Tamim had succeeded in what he plotted... what if his plan had materialized... what if Haisam wasn't with them at that moment? ... what would have happened?" The question struck something massive inside her chest, forcing her to close her eyes a second time, and she found her lips uttering:

"Astagfirullahal azeem" With that unique ambiance echoing in her ears... with that voice of his... with that softness in his tone which had become like a guiding light for her, until she felt her composure steady itself—a state that coincided with the adhan (call to prayer) starting up on her phone placed beside her.

She stared at the phone as if listening and waiting for something; the adhan rang out calmly... the exact kind of adhan rendered by Masjid al-Haramain during every prayer of the five daily prayers, and she did not take her eyes off it until the phone finished playing the call to prayer.

Slowly, she reached out her hand, picked up the phone, and tapped it. He was the one who had set the adhan call on her phone back on that day he took her to that house... that same house whose location she still didn't know? Whose house was it in Agadez? The adhan that at the time felt like an annoyance to her... because every single time prayer time entered, it would disturb her with alarms until she dropped everything and went to pray. She tried every trick on the phone but failed to find where he installed the app, failing to understand anything... failing to comprehend anything. She had no choice but to give in, up until now when she had started getting used to it.

"The Messenger of Allah issued severe warnings regarding prayer... he cautioned us to guard its times; it is a matter where no matter how good your deeds are, if you suffer a flaw in prayer, you cannot pass before Allah... everything of yours... all your deeds become ruined... prayer alone is the cure... it mends the human heart and deeds. If you perfect your prayer, even sins will migrate away from you... but if you pray... and yet do not stop committing evil deeds forbidden by Allah... it is possible your prayer is fundamentally unaccepted... or not performed the way Allah desires, which is why it fails to exert influence over you to stop you from committing vile sins." She remembered one of his sayings she heard on a day they were studying Surah Al-Falaq.

Before she could make any movement, Birra asked permission to enter, lowering her head in her usual respectful manner.

"Prayer time has arrived, Your Highness," she said, keeping her head bowed. Akhnan glanced at Birra briefly. Was this the first time Birra was coming in to remind her of prayer time? ... so what happened? ... what brought about this change?

She did not dwell too long on that thought, because her body sensed where the shift came from, so she roused herself, sat up fully on the soft, small resting couch.

"Tanti Aisa sent a message... she said to inform you she has left... she said we should let you be without us formally announcing ourselves... let you rest... but she will return within a few days of your departure to witness your send-off, in sha Allah." She felt slight surprise at Aisa's departure at this moment. It wasn't the right time for her to leave, since the festival days weren't even over yet, let alone preparations for returning...

"Is there anything you need?" Birra asked again submissively. The statement surprised Akhnan slightly, prompting her to turn around and look at Birra. She knew... asking this kind of question to Akhnan was something new.

"Pardon... it was an instruction from Abdii, which he received from Sheikh Muhammad... no matter how minor your need is, it should be reported and attended to properly." She spent a few moments looking at Birra, the words settling into a different niche within her mind.

It wasn't the first day her needs were looked after... it wasn't the first time her needs became cherished and cared for... but today, everything felt different from how she was usually treated.

She said nothing to Birra and stood up quietly.

"I need to go to His Highness's library," she said just like that. She simply felt she needed to consult a book concerning the history of the Messenger of Allah. She wanted to gain enlightenment regarding the Prophet whom he frequently quoted. Today, for the first time in her life, she felt a desire to examine the life history of the Best of Creation and how he lived his life.

"However, Morsa Safiyya left a message." Akhnan blinked her eyes gently, opening them as she tucked her thick hair into a thin hairband.

"She said if possible, you should try to finish receiving the remainder of the body treatments for the remaining days." As if she wouldn't reply... with that trademark reticence that had become her second nature, she continued walking towards the restroom door and gave her reply before stepping inside.

"I will go... after I am finished with the library." For some reason, today for the first time, she felt a reluctance to tell Morsa Safiyya that she wouldn't comply with her request... nor would she answer her call.

When she stepped into the bathroom, Birra let out a small smile, turned around, and walked out to announce her departure from her quarters toward the section housing His Highness's library so the path could be cleared. It was a rule... a protocol strictly for her alone... she shared pathways with no one when she walked within the house. All movement would halt along the paths she took until she reached her intended destination.

H A I S A M

Wrapped in a towel tied around his waist—a towel whose length barely reached slightly below his knees—the briefness of the towel did not cover his sculpted physique and powerful, well-built frame that God gifted him with. It was a state he never allowed anyone to see him in... not even Omar.

The damp strands of hair dripping water were enough to tell you he had just taken a bath, letting water soak deep into his hair of true Oromo descent.

From his gait to his facial expression, you could read the lack of energy and the immense lack of cheerfulness weighing upon him. That was how he was... because deep inside his head, he felt as though small nagging voices had been echoing ever since the preliminary investigation concluded regarding the young man and the answer he gave after being asked his name.

"I HAVE NO NAME" That was the only name he knew as his own, as a full-fledged human being who had spent over twenty years living.

"THE BLOOD OF AJANI... THE BLOOD OF SULTAN MUHAMMAD HAMMUD" Those two statements—he felt there was never a time, condition, or chance they would ever be erased from his mind.

Even now, as he stood before the gorgeous, oversized mirror in his luxurious master bedroom... he thrust all ten fingers into his wet hair. He drew a deep breath into his lungs and exhaled after dropping his hands to his sides.

He had handled various cases involving all sorts of criminals... he had witnessed countless things that strengthened his faith... he had dived into perilous cases, uncovered truths, and verified the authenticity of the truthful... yet he had never witnessed such sheer mastery in the art of malice... seeking vengeance against the innocent... and the extreme defiance against Allah displayed by ZEENATUN ZAITUNA.

His large, exceptionally beautiful eyes—the kind of beauty where nothing altered their description as GORGEOUS—he closed them, thrusting his five fingers back into his hair and spreading them across his handsome face, characteristic of young Oromo youths of noble blood.

A burning sensation raged deep within his chest... a heat starting from his upper face down to his entire body whenever he remembered AHMAD, who shared blood with Akhnan... her full brother whom she had no equal, whom ZAITUNA wanted to force upon her as a HUSBAND?

"Ya salam," he muttered, clenching his fist as his heart questioned him:

"What if that had happened? What if everything had transpired just as she wished? What if everything had unfolded the way she plotted?" A sudden weakness seized his legs with a chilling sensation, as if the event was about to materialize right then... a unique vulnerability unlike anything experienced even in the thick of hazardous, complicated operations. He began stepping backward slowly, feeling as though the heavy burden inside his heart was about to overpower his entire physical frame.

Just as he was about to sit down, his phone call interrupted this rush. He reached out, picked up the phone, and checked the caller ID. It was Omar... only now did he remember he had left him waiting for a long time, so without wasting time, he answered the call, speaking briefly:

"Dhiifama, dhufaa jira (Pardon me, I am coming)." Omar said nothing, just as Haisam didn't wait to hear what he had to say before cutting the call; however, before he made any move, the green light gave him a signal.

It was a special green light he had invented and connected to wherever he wanted and needed within certain sections of his own quarters as well as parts of the palace, completely unknown to anyone. With composure, he stood up, walked over to where the small device was, retrieved his small system, and walked back to the edge of his rounded bed—which resembled a miniature world rather than a bed—sat down comfortably, and began connecting everything precisely to his liking.

With his hand resting on the stool supporting the system, he watched everything. She emerged clearly on the system screen as she walked gracefully, with Birra trailing behind her. It was a stride where you might mistake it for arrogance or coyness, but it was simply her natural deportment—a gait that under any circumstance displayed how majesty ran through her blood. Slowly, he pulled his eyes away, shifting them to the side where his phone rested, and a slender sigh escaped him. He picked up the phone and opened it with the intention of sending a message, something unraveling from the depths of his heart. Right now, seeing her again, he felt the stinging pain in his chest multiply... a slender, needle-like feeling resembling pity slowly piercing his heart. He felt as though he had lost a fraction of his endurance to watch her for long periods, feeling a greater need to protect her now rather than just gaze at her.

The call was answered on the first ring, and he placed the phone to his ear. He closed and opened his eyes simultaneously, feeling how his stomach still churned uncomfortably, congested with this inexplicable weight that he still failed to decipher. He moved his lips to return the greeting—those beautiful, captivating, and impressive lips.

"Where are they going?"

"The library, Obbo."

"Is there full security?" As if Haisam were right in front of him, Abdii nodded.

"There is, Obbo." Silence lingered for seconds, as if he wouldn't reply, before he said:

"As for Zaituna... I want her removed from the list of people permitted to see her directly... even if she requests it."

"Done, Obbo," Abdii said. Abdii's response brought an end to their conversation, and he calmly placed the phone back down.

He stood up and walked over to the mirror. He still felt his mind congested and cluttered with a multitude of matters. Whenever he remembered those two youths... whenever he recalled the events of the past moments, his anger multiplied.

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He was neatly dressed in black trousers and a dark olive green shirt—colors that sat with a unique pattern and harmony on his built frame, accentuating his height and well-toned muscular body, just as they brightened his fair skin and face, where today he lived up fully to his title of MISKILI ZAM.

His soothing fragrance was the final thing he turned back to place down, before heading briskly toward the door to step out, as though remembering he had forgotten something important.

His footsteps caused Omar to lift his head away from their ongoing direct video call discussion with Bobbo Muhammad Dawud.

"Here is Bobbo, Bobbo," Omar uttered calmly, sitting up properly on the chair.

He chose one of the chairs directly opposite Omar, and even before sitting down, he extended his long arm, pulling the system screen toward himself...

Summary

This excerpt from the Hausa novel Lu'u Lu'u (The Diamond) by Huguma continues a tense, deeply emotional narrative interwoven with high-stakes suspense, political intrigue, and personal introspection.

• The Confrontation & Revelations: Haisam reflects on a heavily guarded, labyrinthine fortress and a mysterious, orange-brown document containing vital information. He observes a room filled with kneeling captives, including a figure named Tamim, whose very name carries deceptive complexity across the Kingdom of Agadez. Haisam weighs his deep-seated vengeance against the perpetrators of Oromo and Ajani Ahmed's miseries, ultimately ordering Beeno to obliterate the facility.
• The Arrival of the Heir: Omar Salawii and Abeer arrive with a young man whose demeanor strikes Haisam deeply. Recognizing him as the infant son stolen from Safeena at birth (the blood of Ajani and Sultan Muhammad Hammud), Haisam experiences a rare wave of vulnerability and intense protectiveness.
• Akhnan's Solitude & Spiritual Shift: Meanwhile, Akhnan is alone in her quarters, finding unexpected solace in the recitation of the Qur'an, meditating on Haisam's previous advice regarding prayer. Birra arrives to inform her of Tanti Aisa's departure and relays an instruction from Abdii—ordered by Sheikh Muhammad—that all of Akhnan's needs must be meticulously met. Seeking intellectual and spiritual clarity, Akhnan decides to visit the ruler's library to study the life of the Messenger of Allah.
• Haisam's Inner Turmoil: In his private quarters, Haisam battles distressing memories tied to Zeenatun Zaituna's wicked plots and the horrifying thought of what might have happened had Ahmad Almaz been forced upon Akhnan. Through a secret surveillance system, he watches Akhnan walk gracefully toward the library. Disturbed by deep-seated anguish and a fierce protective instinct, he instructs Abdii via phone to strictly bar Zaituna from ever seeing Akhnan directly again. Dressed sharply in black trousers and an olive-green shirt, Haisam joins Omar on a video call with Bobbo Muhammad Dawud.

Description

• Tone: Intense, atmospheric, suspenseful, and emotionally poignant, blending military/detective grit with deep psychological and romantic tension.
• Setting: A high-security underground stronghold/palace complex in the Kingdom of Agadez, contrasting dark, tactical operations with serene, private quarters and intellectual sanctuaries like the royal library.
• Themes:
  • Vengeance vs. Justice: Haisam's internal struggle between executing immediate punishment on his enemies and adhering to a larger, calculated mission.
  • Identity and Lineage: The revelation of hidden bloodlines, stolen identities (the mystery of Tamim and the true heritage of Safeena's son), and the heavy psychological weight of family history.
  • Spiritual Awakening: Akhnan's gradual transition from viewing religious obligations as burdensome restrictions to finding genuine peace, discipline, and comfort in faith and prayer under Haisam's subtle influence.

Analytics

• Literary Style: Contemporary Hausa popular fiction ("Littattafan Soyayya & Action") characterized by rich descriptive language (miskilanci, expressions of royal dignity, emotional depth), cinematic pacing, and episodic cliffhangers.
• Character Dynamics:
  • Haisam (Miskili Zam): Portrayed as a formidable, highly competent, yet internally conflicted security commander whose tough exterior cracks only in the face of deep injustice or his growing, unspoken attachment to Akhnan.
  • Akhnan: Evolving from a distressed captive of circumstance into a dignified, self-reflective woman seeking knowledge and spiritual grounding.
  • Antagonists (Tamim / Zeenatun Zaituna): Represented as masterminds of deep-rooted systemic corruption, manipulation, and malice whose actions continue to haunt the protagonists.
• Narrative Structure: Dual-perspective storytelling shifting seamlessly between Haisam's tactical environment and Akhnan's internal world, connected by a network of loyal subordinates (Abdii, Birra, Omar Salawii) who execute orders and bridge the gap between the two main characters.