Part 1: Stalking at the Eatery

From a distance, she peered at the large building she was approaching, scanning the massive sea of cars parked outside as if searching for something specific. Finally, her eyes landed on a white Bentley. It was spotless; not a single speck of dust could be seen on its surface. She let out a soft sigh of relief and whispered under her breath, "Alhamdulillah (Praise be to God), he’s still around."
She quickened her pace toward the entrance of an upscale establishment named Cozy. Just as she reached out her hand to open the door and step inside, she paused for a moment. She looked down to check her reflection. She was dressed in tight white jeans that hugged her frame perfectly, paired with an incredibly stunning dark blue top that cropped just slightly below her belly button. A beautiful white shawl was draped loosely over her head, framing her face nicely and revealing almost half of her neatly braided hair, which was styled with small, attractive extensions. In her hands, she clutched two textbooks and an iPhone 13, while a small chic purse hung from her shoulder. Letting out another deep breath, her nervous energy was palpable. Slowly, she reached out, pushed the door open, and stepped inside.
The place was a highly sophisticated, beautifully designed eatery and bar. It wasn’t overly crowded, and most of the patrons present were white expatriates. Even the staff members were white, making it immediately obvious that the establishment was foreign-owned. Walking slowly, she surveyed the entire venue out of the corner of her eye. She made her way to the counter, pulled out a stool, sat down, and placed her textbooks and phone in front of her.
Right on cue, a white bartender approached her, looked at her, and asked, "What can I get you, miss?"
Glancing around briefly as if searching for something in the room, she replied, "Pierre Zēro Rosé, please. Two shots." Noting that she placed her order without even making eye contact with him, the bartender nodded, "Gotcha." He turned around, grabbed the non-alcoholic wine she requested, poured it into two glasses, and returned to place them in front of her. "Here we go," he said. She turned swiftly to look at him, hurriedly reached into her purse, pulled out some money, and handed it over, saying, "Keep the change." Before he could even respond, she turned her head away again, scanning the patrons in the room one after the other...

Part 2: Zayn and Mamu

"Hey Zayn, look," muttered a handsome, chocolate-complexioned guy from the far end of the spacious lounge. The lounge was filled with plush couches where patrons sat unwinding. He nudged a remarkably handsome, well-built, fair-skinned guy who was lounging back with his eyes closed, drawing from a shisha pipe and blowing thick smoke elegantly through his nose. He was dressed in matching black Louis Vuitton shirt and trousers. His skin was flawlessly fair and radiant. His short-sleeved shirt put his thick, muscular, toned arms on full display—he was the type of guy with a broad, athletic physique. Even with his eyes closed, he possessed a striking, almost feminine beauty that made it impossible to look away. His lips were heavily flushed red—perhaps a side effect of the shisha he was smoking. A sharp, slender nose sat perfectly on his face, complemented by thick, dark eyebrows. He had a distinct prayer mark (tabon salla) on his forehead, and his jet-black, shiny hair was coiled in tight curls reminiscent of the Tuareg (Buzu) texture. A well-groomed beard traced his jawline. Masha Allah—even if he had carved his own features, he couldn't have crafted such perfection.
Seeing that he had no intention of responding, Mamu snatched the shisha pipe right out of his mouth and snapped, "There you go again! Every time I try to talk to you, you completely ignore me."
Slowly, the fair-skinned guy opened his hooded, mesmerizing eyes—the kind of eyes that could leave any woman completely spellbound and utterly confused. He locked his gaze onto Mamu, and as if speaking only out of sheer obligation, uttered a cold, "What?"
Mamu smirked and gestured with his hand toward the counter. "Look over at the counter, your girl is over there. Your stalker is back, and by God, she can’t take her eyes off you! For heaven's sake, Zayn, have some fear of God and acknowledge this girl even just once. She’s been unable to building up the courage to speak to you for over two months, yet she follows you and stalks you every single day. You know she really, really likes you. Why do you constantly humiliate her like this, huh? Anyway, I don’t blame you. Frankly, if I were a woman, I wouldn't see anything appealing in you either. Look at you—you look like a hospital patient, sickly fair, like a disease. You fair guys have no real strength."
Zayn offered a faint, passive smile. He knew Mamu was just trying to bait him into a long afternoon conversation, and he simply didn't have the time or energy for it. He extended his hand, signaling Mamu to return the shisha pipe. Mamu set the pipe down on the table in front of them and grumbled, "That’s enough of that anyway. Look at your eyes, they’ve completely changed color. We have lectures right now, I think in the next five minutes."
Zayn let out a quiet suck of his teeth (tsaki), picked up the shisha pipe, and went right back to smoking. He scrolled through his phone, exhaling smoke through his nose without bothering to glance in the direction Mamu had pointed. Mamu watched him, feeling completely helpless about how to break Zayn’s shisha habit. It wasn't that Mamu didn't smoke it—he did, but only occasionally. Zayn, on the other hand, could indulge in shisha all day long, which was precisely why he rarely had a healthy appetite for food.
Noticing Zayn closing his eyes again, Mamu let out an irritated hiss, stood up, and barked, "Come on, mister, get up and let’s go!"
Zayn opened his narrowed, slightly bloodshot eyes and shot Mamu a fierce glare. He slowly set the pipe down and stood up. He was an exceptionally tall, broad-shouldered, and striking man—the ultimate archetype of a woman's dream partner. He snatched his car keys and phone off the table and walked ahead without uttering a single word to Mamu, heading directly toward the front counter.

Part 3: The Encounter at the Counter

From the distance, Aisha spotted him approaching the counter. With every single stride he took, she could feel her heart hammering violently against her chest. Even before he reached her, the intoxicating scent of his cologne wafted over, nearly driving her insane with infatuation. Sensing her entire body beginning to tremble with nerves, she hastily lifted her glass to her lips to take a sip, keeping her eyes glued to him out of her peripheral vision.
Just as he came to a halt right next to her, the bartender quickly stepped up and said, "Are you all set, sir?" Zayn didn't verbally answer; instead, he slipped his hand into his pocket, pulled out his wallet, and opened it to draw out cash.
Aisha was so intensely transfixed by his presence that she didn't realize she had tilted her glass too high, catching the liquid right against the bridge of her nose. Trying to inhale, she accidentally choked violently on the wine. In a sudden panic, the glass slipped from her fingers and shattered on the floor. She burst into a wild fit of coughing, wine streaming from her nostrils as her eyes flushed bright red and filled with tears.
Both the bartender and Zayn immediately turned to look at her. The bartender rushed over to her side, apologizing profusely, "Are you okay, miss?"
Despite her violent coughing, Aisha desperately tried to suppress it, forcing a strained smile to salvage her dignity after such an embarrassing mishap. She opened her mouth to speak, but another intense wave of coughing cut her off. Red wine splattered from her lips, dripping directly onto her white jeans and leaving prominent stains.
Suddenly, as if from nowhere, a clean white handkerchief appeared right in front of her face. The unmistakable, luxurious fragrance—a scent she associated with only one person in the entire world—radiated from the fabric. Slowly, she lifted her gaze from the handkerchief, tracking up his pale white hand, all the way up to Zayn’s face. He was looking her dead in the eyes.
Her heart skipped a frantic beat. With trembling hands, she took the handkerchief to wipe her face. Without giving her a second look, Zayn casually tossed the cash he had pulled out onto the counter, turned around, and walked right out of the establishment. Aisha slowly pulled the handkerchief away from her mouth, her eyes following his retreating figure until he disappeared from view. She let out a heavy sigh, looked down at the handkerchief, and completely forgetting her surroundings, pressed it tightly against her chest with a massive, ecstatic smile.

2. Summary

This segment of Alkawarin Zuciya highlights the deep, obsessive infatuation of a young university student, Aisha, toward a wealthy, stunningly handsome, and emotionally distant young man named Zayn.

• The Obsession: Aisha monitors Zayn’s whereabouts, locating his white Bentley outside an elite eatery called Cozy. She enters the high-end establishment simply to be in his presence, despite her intense nervousness.
• Zayn's Persona: Zayn is introduced alongside his friend Mamu. He is depicted as an incredibly attractive, wealthy, yet emotionally detached guy who heavily indulges in shisha to the detriment of his health. Mamu calls Zayn out for his arrogant habit of breaking women's hearts and completely ignoring Aisha, who has been stalking him for over two months.

• The Incident: As Zayn approaches the counter to pay his bill, Aisha becomes so overwhelmed by his proximity that she accidentally chokes on her red wine, spilling it all over her white jeans. In a rare gesture, Zayn hands her his beautifully scented white handkerchief to clean herself up, pays his bill, and leaves without a word, leaving Aisha completely spellbound and clutching the token to her chest.

  3. Literary & Cultural Analytics

  Cultural & Contextual Nuances

• Socio-Economic Stratification: The setting shifts significantly from traditional settings to hyper-modern spaces (Cozy eatery, iPhone 13, white Bentley, Louis Vuitton clothing). This mirrors a prominent theme in contemporary Hausa popular literature (Littattafan Soyayya), which often highlights the lifestyle of the ultra-wealthy elite (Yaran Masu Kudi) and international lifestyle choices in urban Nigerian universities.

• Religious Imagery vs. Modern Habits: The author adds depth to Zayn's character by describing him with a tabon salla (the prayer mark on the forehead signifying regular prostration in Islamic prayers), yet contrasting it with his heavy shisha habit and secular, high-end fashion choices. This dichotomy highlights the internal tensions between traditional Islamic piety and modern, affluent youth culture in Northern Nigeria.

  Literary Style and Tone

• Code-Switching and Digital Prose: The text utilizes heavy linguistic code-switching between Hausa and English phrases (e.g., "single dust," "white Bentley car," "what can I get you miss," "stalker dinka"). This style is standard for modern online Hausa serial fiction, catering to a young, tech-savvy, and bilingual demographic.

• The "Majiya" and Romantic Tropes: Aisha embodies the classic romance trope of the hyper-fixated lover willing to endure public embarrassment and emotional coldness just for a momentary interaction. The contrast between her frantic, nervous energy and Zayn's icy, hyper-masculine aloofness drives the emotional stakes of the narrative forward.

  💡 Guidance for Future Text

  If you have the next pages of this chapter ready or want to continue with the next scene where Aisha returns to her apartment and speaks with Juliana, just share the text. Would you like me to focus more on translating the dialogue, or do you want a deeper look into the character backgrounds as the story progresses?